Chapter Text
The problem starts because Shouto is looking for a photo.
A specific photo.
One taken months ago during a wet-condition training session.
Unfortunately, finding anything in her gallery is nearly impossible.
Not because it's disorganized.
The opposite, there are simply too many pictures.
Years worth, karting photos.
Ferrari photos, Track photos.
Class photos, Training photos.
Screenshots, memories, moments.
Thousands of them.
Which is why she eventually gives up.
"Find this."
Bakugou looks up from the telemetry report she drops onto the table "What."
"The rain setup photo from February."
"Why."
"Because I can't find it."
"Sounds like your problem."
"It is."
"Then why am I involved."
"Because I'm making it your problem."
Bakugou stares.
Then sighs.
Mostly because he's already involved.
Garage Three is quiet except for the sound of rain against the windows. The academy track beyond the glass sits empty beneath dark clouds.
Normal.
Comfortable.
The kind of evening they've spent together dozens of times.
Shouto slides her phone across the table, Bakugou takes it.
Immediately regretting the decision "Your gallery is ridiculous."
"You've been scrolling for thirty seconds."
"That's enough." He continues searching.
February.
Rain.
Setup notes.
The problem is that every few pictures another memory appears.
Class dinners, simulator sessions.
Karting days.
Ferrari visits, training weekends.
Months of academy life.
Eventually he finds the rain setup photo.
Then keeps scrolling.
Not intentionally.
Just enough to find the photos before and after.
Context.
That's all, then he pauses.
A photo of Kirishima asleep in a chair, another of Kaminari attempting something stupid.
A blurry picture of Jirou threatening both of them.
Normal.
Class photos.
Then another, Garage Three.
Then another, Garage Three again.
Another, Telemetry screens.
Rain outside.
Toolboxes.
Workbenches.
The familiar glow of monitors.
Bakugou blinks.
Keeps scrolling.
The same garage.
Again.
And again.
And again.
At some point he realizes something.
Most of these photos weren't taken during important moments.
No podiums.
No victories.
No major events.
Just...
days.
The kind most people forget.
A telemetry report spread across a table, a half-finished cup of coffee, rain on the garage windows.
Kirishima asleep, Mina yelling at someone, Momo reviewing notes.
Life.
The moments in between.
Then he notices himself.
Not once.
Not twice.
Repeatedly.
Standing beside a workbench.
Looking at data, arguing with someone.
Walking toward the track.
Leaning against a toolbox.
Reading telemetry.
In the background.
In the foreground.
Sometimes accidentally.
Sometimes clearly visible.
The realization settles slowly.
He isn't looking at photos of himself, he's looking at photos of moments she wanted to remember.
And somehow-
he's in a lot of them.
"Find it?" Shouto's voice breaks the silence.
Bakugou looks up.
She's standing near the coffee machine now, two cups in her hands.
He hadn't even noticed her get up.
"Yeah."
"Good."
She returns to the table and hands him one of the cups, the conversation should end there.
It almost does.
Then:
"You take a lot of pictures."
Shouto shrugs "I like remembering things."
Simple.
Matter-of-fact.
Like it's obvious.
Maybe it is.
She takes a sip of coffee and opens another telemetry report.
The discussion moves on.
Suspension settings.
Wet-weather performance.
Track conditions, normal topics.
The kind they always discuss.
Yet for some reason Bakugou keeps thinking about the gallery.
About those photos.
About how many there were.
About what she chose to keep.
Hours later they finally leave Garage Three.
The rain has stopped.
The academy grounds are quiet.
Streetlights reflect off wet pavement.
They split near the dorm building like they always do.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing different.
At least on the surface.
Back in his room, Kirishima is somehow awake, a terrible development.
"Where were you?"
"Garage Three."
"Again?"
"Again."
Kirishima starts talking about something.
Training schedules.
Class plans.
Maybe food.
Bakugou isn't really listening.
His thoughts keep drifting back to the photos.
To rain-soaked garages.
To ordinary afternoons.
To hundreds of moments preserved inside a camera roll.
Most people take pictures of important things.
Victories, trophies, milestones.
Shouto apparently takes pictures of things she doesn't want to forget.
For some reason, that thought follows him long after the lights go out.
And for the first time, he finds himself wondering which moments she considered worth keeping.
The answer is unsettling.
Because he already knows.
He was standing in most of them.