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At some point the certain friendships transcends ‘maintaining contact’ and just becomes a fully integrated ecosystem.
The Bakusquad over the years, had way too much shared history, way too many bodily fluids witnessed accidentally, and waaaay too many humiliating moments survived together.
They had successfully sped past the point of socially acceptable separation with the speed of a fighter jet. These people have known each other in the way only long-term friendships can. Not polished, not curated, but against each other’s will.
Now it had gotten to the point where breaking up as friends was no longer an option given the amount of information everyone had on each other.
Because that’s the thing it wasn’t as if they weren’t busy people.
They were pro-heroes with packed schedules— patrols, missions, interviews, paperworks, PR, collaborations, community meets, side hustles, series they had to binge watch— There was a lot of life that stood in between them and closeness, but instead of fading into low maintenance friendships and well wishes, the squad had ended up reaching towards each other naturally like tree roots underground.
Curling around each other despite being in totally different fields, keeping each other grounded as soil softens and weather tries to pull everything out.
They’ve seen each other sick.
Failing classes.
Passing them.
Post training concussions.
Crying over movies.
Crying over insecurities.
Throwing up.
Half asleep.
Shitty haircuts.
Glowups
After surgeries.
Breaking the top ten charts for the first time.
Getting casualties during a mission.
Disassociating.
Wearing pajama pants with holes in them.
Buying convenience store ice cream in the middle of the night at the ripe age of twenty-six.
There isn’t any mystique left.
Only affection.
And there was always that transitional era in long-term friendships where everyone slowly realizes oh my god we’ve crossed into a level of familiarity that cannot be undone.
Like the one time they were out getting dinner.
Mina was talking with her mouth full, Sero was instigating as usual, Kirishima was laughing so hard he was shaking the table. And then— Katsuki’s eyes had narrowed at Denki under the table.
“…are those my fucking shoes.”
A beat.
Everyone looks down.
And there they are, Katsuki’s expensive ass black sneakers—
On Kaminari Denki’s feet.
Denki immediately goes into defense “OKAY FIRST OF ALL—”
“THOSE ARE MY FUCKING SHOES.”
“Mine were wet!.”
“So you stole mine???”
“YOU WEREN’T USING THEM.”
Sero was already crying laughing, pounding the table, while Katsuki got progressively more offended because not only did this asshole take his shoes, he took the GOOD pair too.
The limited edition pair.
The pair Katsuki cleans manually.
Mina is wheezing because Denki genuinely does not understand why this is wrong.
Three years later Denki still wears Katsuki’s shoes sometimes.
But Katsuki would just sigh and tell him not to crease them.
Growth, baby.
Another time, it was their third year in high school.
Class A dorms was quiet, and most students were outside trying to enjoy the good weather.
Kirishima had just showered after doing extra training, towel slung low, walking into the dorm common room casually because this man has the survival instincts of a golden retriever, and he was confident nobody was there.
But Mina turns the corner.
Startles Kirishima—
And he drops the towel.
One second of full eye contact.
Then, screaming.
“OH MY GOD—”
“MY EYYYYYES—”
Kirishima drops EVERYTHING trying to cover himself “I THOUGHT EVERYONE WAS IN OUT—”
Mina was on the floor screaming like she’s been shot.
She takes out her phone and Kirishima screams back thinking he’s about to get recorded.
But Mina puts Sero on face time.
“Yo whats u— JESUS CHRIST.”
“HANTA I JUST SAW GOD.”
“YEAH AND I CAN SEE HIS DICK TOO.”
Kirishima didn’t make eye contact with anyone for a full two days.
By the time they hit their late twenties, Mina just throws towels at him and yells out “PANTS, WHORE.”
Character development.
There were also times where they collectively decided to give each other keys to their places because they keep breaking in.
Denki was half asleep in bed at two in the morning, when he heard a pan fall somewhere in his kitchen.
Immediate panic.
The man was a licensed pro-hero that had the voltage capacity to power a small country, but he still grabbed a bat.
He opens the door, and pads into the kitchen, ready to throw hands when he sees—
Shinsou Hitoshi.
Standing there, hair fucked up, face illuminated by his fridge light, dead-eyed squinting at him, as if Denki was the one disturbing him.
“…Hitoshi?!”
“Do you have any tomatoes.”
Denki gapes “What.”
“I ran out.” Hitoshi says in a sad voice.
“IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING.”
“So is that a no?”
Even their other personal relationships didn’t really survive the squad, like the one time Sero reacted to an awkward situation with the survival instincts of a man diffusing a bomb.
He’s in Katsuki’s house because he had to drop something off, when he opens a door mid-sentence. “Yo Katsuki have you see—”
Silence.
Sero’s soul leaves his body.
Because there’s Monoma Neito very clearly in Katsuki’s lap, only 20% clothed, and looking smug as satan when he sees him.
And Katsuki slowly turned his head with absolute murder in his eyes.
Sero doesn’t even apologize.
This man just started moonwalking backwards.
Closes the door softly.
Then, from the other side of the door Sero calls out “…I didn’t see shit.”
Afterward Sero ended up becoming absolutely insufferable about it. Nothing explicit, just awful in tiny ways.
“Hey Katsuki is Neito coming over tonight or should I knock first?”
“Do you need the room orrrr?”
“Katsuki why are you blushing?”
Until Katsuki threatened homicide.
Which only encouraged Sero further.
There was also the fact that Denki had a giant framed solo portrait of Kirishima in his house. It was probably supposed to be ironic at first, but when it came in the mail, it was way bigger than he thought it would be, so now it was just there.
Like a presidential photo.
Like a religious tribute.
Denki even put candles around because he didn’t know how to be normal.
Now every time his relatives would visit they would ask why he had a seven foot framed photo of a strange man smiling in his hallway.
Denki would look at them dead in the eye and go “…why don’t you?”
All his hookups think he’s in a cult.
He makes it worse when he stops to stand in front of the portrait doing gang signs and mumbling latin.
It gets people he doesn’t like out the door pretty quick.
The general public also wasn’t exempt from their bullshit.
It was during those rare times when everyone’s schedules synced and they had time to go and and grab lunch.
It started with Sero laughing at something stupid Mina said while drinking beer.
Then suddenly—
SNORT.
Beer out his nose.
Dead silence.
Everyone stares at him in horror.
“HELP—” Sero tears up, choking on his tongue and snorting “HELP IT BURNS.”
Denki looses it first, and Mina starts sliding off her seat in silent laughter.
She’s crying.
Then Kirishima starts laughing so hard he’s slapping the table.
And Katsuki, unfortunately, made the fatal mistake of trying to continue eating katsudon, so now THIS idiot inhales rice directly into his airway.
Immediately starts choking.
While Sero was still moaning beside him.
Kirishima PANICS.
Launches out of his seat, wraps both arms around Katsuki, and starts aggressively Heimlich maneuvering him.
“—HRK—”
“BREATHE BRO.”
Denki was wheezing so hard he was turning red.
People from other tables were looking.
The waiters were concerned.
The kitchen staff was peaking through the doors.
Someone was dialing emergency services.
Mina’s literally on the floor unable to inhale.
Then the rice finally shoots out.
“WHAT THE FUCK I ALMOST DIED.”
Sero was coughing, wiping tears from his eyes. “Dynamite versus katsudon.”
All their accomplishments as pro-heroes don’t mean shit to them either. That's what happens when you’ve known a person longer than the outcome they manage to achieve.
So these people have absolutely zero shame in making fun of each other.
It starts with the world’s vaguest text message in the squad GC after he returns from a six month undercover mission.
Hitoshi: home.
Hitoshi: cant go out for a bit.
Hitoshi: come here if needed.
The squad immediately thinks its sus.
Mina: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CANT GO OUT
Denki: are you injured???
Kiri: DID YOU GET SHOT
Sero: bro are you contagious
Kats: If your ass got quarantined again im not bringing soup this time
No response for twenty minutes.
Hitoshi: not quarantined.
Hitoshi: just not going outside.
And all this did was make everything worse because now everyone thinks something genuinely catastrophic happened.
Did he lose a limb?
Facial scarring?
Psychological breakdown?
Witness protection??
Did the government finally snap and put him under house arrest???
By hour two, Denki is convinced he’s dying.
By hour three, Mina is crying.
By hour four, Katsuki is threatening to break into his apartment.
So naturally they all show up anyway.
When Hizashi opens the door, he’s wheezing.
Not greeting them.
Not explaining.
Just physically bent over holding onto the wall laughing so hard tears are STREAMING down his face. Which is terrifying because Present Mic is usually the optimistic one.
Kirishima immediately panics. “Oh my god.”
Denki starts tearing up “IS HE ALIVE—”
Hizashi points inside with shaking hands. “G-go—go look at your friend—”
They rush into the living room prepared for tragedy.
And there, sitting completely still on the couch under a blanket like a bitter elderly cat—
Is Shinsou Hitoshi.
Bald.
Not buzzed.
BALD bald.
Like shiny-headed government recruit bald.
Complete fucking egg.
The room goes silent.
Nobody breathes.
Sero folds first, a strangled noise leaves his body.
Then Denki drops to his knees and starts SHAKING.
Kirishima literally just walks backwards out of the room, ‘cus nope. He can’t do it.
And Katsuki—
Katsuki stares at him for three full seconds before violently turning around and pressing his forehead into the wall because he’s trying SO HARD not to laugh directly into his best friend’s face. He’s sweating.
Hitoshi sits there absolutely expressionless. “I hate all of you.”
“BRO YOUR HEAD IS SO ROUND—”
“Get out.”
Mina is sobbing “HITOSHI YOU LOOK LIKE A THUMB—”
“Leave.”
“You know those thumb henchmen in spy kids—”
“Dad, why the fuck did you let them in.”
“WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT TO YOU.”
Hitoshi, deeply offended “Because unlike SOME PEOPLE my specialization requires long-term identity reconstruction.”
Aizawa, from the kitchen drinking coffee “Even I wouldn’t shave my head.”
Hitoshi immediately turns. “That’s because your undercover work was short-term surveillance and tactical infiltration, DAD.”
Aizawa squints over his mug. “I infiltrated villain groups.”
“For six days max!”
“Still counts.”
“No it doesn’t.”
Hizashi was still laughing. He’s been laughing at his son for an hour already.
Eri peaks from the hallway, looks absolutely devastated, bursts into genuine tears. “NOW MY BROTHER IS UGLY.”
“Jesus fucking christ.”
Nobody had ever let him live this down.
Ruined his whole fucking image.
Ruined his vibe.
Especially once the stubble starts growing in weird.
Denki keeps rubbing his head for luck.
Mina starts calling him “baldwin.”
Sero changes his contact name to “Sensei Wu.”
Kirishima tries SO HARD to be supportive but keeps accidentally laughing mid-sentence.
And Katsuki— traitorous bastard that he is— walks into the apartment one day, takes one look at him, and says “…your skull’s kinda lopsided.”
Hitoshi hates them so much.
Or the other times they accidentally use each other’s things.
Even things they most definitely should not be sharing.
Kirishima and Denki reacted like they contracted medieval plague, which was reasonable because neither of them realized it until AFTER brushing.
“…why does this taste mintier than usual.”
Kirishima’s brows furrowed “…hold on.”
Long pause.
Both slowly turn toward the sink.
Two toothbrushes.
Wrong colors.
Horrified silence.
Then simultaneously “EEEEEWWWWWWWW”
Katsuki hears about it the next day and just snorts, “you two literally share straws.”
“ITS NOT THE SAME.”
Mina shivers “Kiri’s cavities are now in Denki’s teeth crevices.”
Screeches.
And the times they realized that they probably shouldn’t be each other’s emergency contact because it was either they:
- Were in the same emergency,
- Would laugh at them first.
Neither was very helpful.
And Mina was unfortunate enough to experience the latter when she once stumbled into Sero’s dorm room in second-year, sobbing “MY EYE—”
Sero panics for exactly 3 seconds until he hears mina says “I THOUGHT IT WAS EYEDROPS—”
Then this bastard cackles.
Full on face to the lord, cackling so hard people probably heard him three rooms down.
“HANTA I’M GOING BLIND.”
“WHY WOULD SUPERGLUE BE NEXT TO YOUR EYEDROPS.”
“FUCK YOU HELP ME FIRST.”
And Sero does help her.
Eventually.
After collapsing against a wall wheezing for two minutes, and taking photos.
He still cracks up at random whenever he remembers it during patrol.
And then there was the time Shinsou accidentally touched Denki's jerking off sock. Which first of all, should not exist for both societal and hygienic reasons.
This man retracted his hand so fast, he bluescreened during the millisecond he does it.
Denki had left it lying around somewhere in the room.
Which was absolutely insane, given the object in question.
Shinsou picks it up absentmindedly.
Feels the texture.
Pauses.
Looks at Denki.
Denki goes pale.
Shinsou, who has survived criminal syndicates and torture and undercover operations, looks genuinely spiritually shaken. “…what is this.”
“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT.”
“No I’m worrying about it immediately.”
Mina sees Shinsou later that day walk into the kitchen, “Yo where are you going?”
“To boil my skin off.”
For the next three business days Shinsou kept glaring at Denki like he committed war crimes, while Denki’s crying “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.”
And obviously, they know that they went to UA to be heroes. That was the goal and UA was the best school in the country. They went in there fully intending to walk out with all the training, resources, connection, and lessons UA could possibly give them.
But damn, the best thing they got out of that was still the squad.
And over the years, they would find that their friendship was built from nothing but a million moments stacked on top of each other until it became confetti.
Their own forever celebration.