Chapter Text
Bakugo’s first day back at school started normal enough… but it quickly devolved into concern when the members of class-A began to pick up on his strange behavior.
“Good morning, class,” the substitute for Aizawa’s class said. “Today I’m subbing for your teacher. He’s currently recovering from injuries and won’t be retuning for a while.”
A collective, disappointed sigh filled the room.
“Please fill out these sheets in the meantime. We would like to gather your answers so we can account for your mental and emotional wellbeing as we ease back into school,” the teacher said as he began to pass questionnaire packets around.
“Thank you,” Mina whispered, the only person who dared to speak in the solemn quiet.
A lot of their class was still missing.
Deku was sitting behind Bakugo as always, his newly stitched head injury leaving him a little dazed. The concussion had been severe, and currently left him with blurry vision and a slightly slower reaction time compared to usual.
He stared down at the packet in front of him, frowning at the first question.
“How often do you feel down or distraught?
1. Sometimes
2. Often
3. Almost always
4. Other”
Deku glanced up at Bakugo’s back, waiting for him to say something snarky about the quiz... but nothing came.
He frowned slightly, but quickly pushed it back down.
“Psst, hey Bakugo, look at this one,” Kaminari whispered across the room. “‘How often do you feel angry?’ Haha! You need a whole different category for yourself!”
Bakugo glanced up, slower than usual. His crimson eyes glittered with confusion as he looked at Kaminari.
Kaminari hesitated, looking uncertain of himself now. “Uh, this question here about anger. I was saying how you need your own answer box.”
Bakugo glanced down, seeming to find the part his friend was talking about. “Oh, yeah, guess you’re right,” he said.
Deku dropped his pencil, narrowly catching it before it slid off the table. He blinked to clear his unsteady vision, feeling like he might just fall of his chair.
THAT wasn’t a normal reaction from Bakugo.
He was dreaming right?
Kaminari himself looked rather distressed at the response. He threw a concerned look in Deku’s direction who returned it with equal severity.
Deku cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus on the assignment.
“What is your current physical condition? Please provide a description of your injuries and what pain they cause you.”
He fiddled with his pencil for a few moments, forcing his mind through the fog that was clouding over it. He screwed up his mouth and bit his lip, trying to think of how he could possibly describe all the pains he currently felt. It seemed like an impossible task.
He glanced down at his hands, making special note of the jagged red marks on his skin. He sighed resignedly.
“Headaches, weakening quirk, painful hands and arms, blurry vision, aching legs, fatigue...” he continued to write the list, almost scared of how long it was by the time he finished. He paused, then quickly scribbled a note at the bottom: “I’ll be fine, though!”
A half an hour later, the substitute announced that time was up.
Every Class-A student wordlessly passed their papers down their respective rows, faces grim and tired.
Deku hesitantly passed his answers up to Bakugo, unable to quell the fear that he would look through the personal responses and poke fun at them. To his surprise, however, Bakugo simply took it and handed it up to the person in front of him. There was no shuffling, no muttering, and no searching.
Deku’s eyebrows lowered with worry.
As the last stack was gathered, the teacher bowed to them slightly. “Thank you for your cooperation, class. We will now get on with—“
The door rolled open, silencing any words that were about to be said. Principal Nezu walked inside, followed closely behind by a few armed staff members. “Would you mind if we stole you a moment? We forgot to fill the substitutes in on a few things...” he said politely.
“Oh, of course. I’ll be right back,” the substitute responded, quickly rushing out of the room and closing the door.
“We lost our substitute, too?” Todoroki wondered, a hand pressed up inside his frizzy hair. “I guess everyone is busy lately.”
“You can say that again...” Mina sighed as she stretched her arms out in front of her.
Ojiro spoke up softly. “That survey was kind of hard to fill out.”
There was a collective nod of agreement followed by broken muttering.
“I bet it was extra hard for you, Todoroki,” Yaoyorozu said, rising to her feet and walking over to him. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he allowed it to stay there.
“I learned he likes soba,” Todoroki told them, a tiny smile flickering on his face.
“Ohh!” Hagakure squeaked. “That’s so sweet! ‘Cause isn’t that your favorite, too?”
“It sure is. It makes me want to try harder to perfect my new recipe.”
“You have to share your practice runs with us,” Mina encouraged, licking her lips with anticipation.
Todoroki was practically glowing. He seemed in good spirits despite all the things that had happened to him.
Deku reflected on how far his friend had come, a small swell of pride rising up in his chest at the thought of it.
“Hey, you’re kind of quiet today, Bakugo,” Uraraka said from her chair. “Are you okay?”
Her voice seemed to float like her quirk.
Deku’s heart fluttered at the sound of it. He quickly leaned onto his desk, covering his face with folded arms. He’d be lying if he claimed he didn’t kind of wish she was asking about him instead.
Bakugo finally turned around.
He was... different.
And it wasn’t just the scar that had changed his appearance.
His eyes were almost gentle, half lidded, and softened at the edges. His mouth was partially upturned instead of its usual down. The most jarring of all, however, was the flush in his cheeks.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered shortly, voice coming out far too gentle.
Uraraka, Deku, Kirishima, and Kaminari blinked confusedly. Beyond them, nobody seemed to see anything too terribly unusual yet.
“That’s great to hear!” Uraraka cheered nervously, pumping a fist up in the air.
Bakugo nodded.
“Hey man, what about your arm, though?” Kirishima ventured. “I saw you’re using your left one to write now. That kinda sucks.”
Bakugo’s brows scrunched together slightly. He didn’t look mad, though, he just looked groggy— like he was still processing it. “I still can’t... move it or anything. I start rehab in a bit.”
The answer was relatively normal. It was delivered far too soft, but that was probably just due to the exhaustion of recovery.
Deku relaxed a bit into his chair. It had probably just been his jumbled brain messing with him earlier. Bakugo was normal, just recovering.
“Guys, what if we threw this big party for Mr. Aizawa when he gets back?” Hagakure was saying, obviously truing to get the morale up.
It would be a miracle if she could.
“That sounds kind of fun,” Mina agreed, then practically shot it down. “We don’t really have any resources for a party though...”
Kaminari suddenly raised his hand. “Maybe we could make him something as a surprise?”
“Oh, like leaving him notes? That’s a lovely idea,” Yaoyorozu applauded him.
“Yeah! Exactly like that!” Kaminari agreed enthusiastically. “While we’re waiting for our sub to come back, how about we work on it?”
“We don’t have any supplies,” Deku finally chimed in.
“Oh! Yaoyorozu,” Todoroki said quickly. “Maybe use your quirk to make a poster board?”
The girl’s face immediately brightened. “That’s a great idea! I’ll be right back!
---
A couple minutes later, Yaoyorozu returned with a large poster. In neat handwriting, their teacher’s name had been printed in the center of it.
“Alright, everyone! Let’s all write something nice for Mr. Aizawa,” she announced, rolling the large canvas out on the floor. “I have pens and markers for everyone!”
“I call dibs on pink!” Mina shouted.
Everyone flocked to the poster, falling to their knees and grabbing different supplies.
Bakugo was slower to join them, his arm hindering his ability to properly lean over to write. So instead, he held his marker limply in his left hand as he watched everyone else work.
“I can help if you want.” Kirishima noticed almost immediately. He reached hesitantly for the marker in Bakugo’s hand, but decided against it.
All eyes turned to Bakugo as they heard Kirishima ask the question.
Bakugo was too independent to accept help, after all.
“I-I’ll make sure to write exactly what you say,” Kirishima added hurriedly.
“Huh, sure,” he responded dizzily, handing the orange marker over to his friend. “Do what you wanna.”
Deku practically ruined his own signature— his hand jerking awkwardly when he heard Bakugo talking that way.
“Bakugo...?” Todoroki whispered, the only one daring enough to break the deafening silence.
He raised his tired eyes across the circle. “Yeah?”
Todoroki glanced at the others, quickly shutting up when he noticed Deku was holding a finger to his mouth— completely focused on Bakugo.
Something was totally wrong.
Kirishima hesitantly took the marker from Bakugo, holding it like it was a dangerous, infected weapon. He carefully uncapped it, then hesitantly looked up. “What do you want me to say?”
“Oh! I know! I know!” Kaminari shouted, pointing at the writing space. “Try: ‘your favorite natural disaster misses you’.”
Everyone froze, their eyes locking fearfully on Bakugo.
Kaminari looked like he was waiting with actual anticipation to be blown into a pile of cinders.
The explosion never came.
Bakugo blinked once, then twice. “Okay.”
The room stopped breathing.
Kirishima’s marker slipped from his fingers.
“WHAAAA—?!” Kaminari shrieked, stumbling backward onto his feet like he’d been burned. “Guys! What’s wrong with him!?”
“I don’t like the substitute,” Bakugo said far too rationally. “So yeah, you could put that.”
Kaminari let out a small, strangled sound. Little sparks of electricity fizzled around his head as he lowered himself back to the ground in a daze. He stared straight ahead like he was trying to make sense of a completely altered life.
“Is this permanent?” Hagakure whispered nervously to the others.
Deku shook his head before anyone else could respond. He was gazing fixedly as Bakugo and Kirishima as they planned what to write. “No... I think he’s sick or something.”
“Sick? I guess that would explain his red face,” Yaoyorozu reasoned, then added: “I think it’s good Iida isn’t here.”
“Yeah, he would’ve called the nurse by now,” Uraraka said gravely.
“Do you think we should?” Hagakure muttered. “This is sort of freaking me ou—“
Just then, a strange sound broke through the room.
Everyone froze.
It started as a quiet exhale—uneven and breathy before it slowly dissolved into soft laughter.
Bakugo was laughing.
His eyes were closed, fist pressed against his mouth, shoulders shaking with mirth. His rosy cheeks only added to the strange, uncanny sight.
“That was pretty good,” he said in his familiar voice— but somehow it didn’t sound like it really belonged to him anymore.
His head was leaning against one shoulder, eyes half lidded as he looked at all his friends.
“Oh, no,” Hagakure whimpered awkwardly. “I can’t do this anymore!”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Yaoyorozu hushed back, sounding just as distressed.
“Just look at him!” the invisible girl whisper screeched. “He’s so— so—“
Mina grabbed Hagakure’s wrist tightly. “I swear, if you say ‘cute’, I don’t know if we can be friends anymore! This is *Bakugo* we’re talking about!”
“I know but—“
“This is just a weird day, alright? I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Yaoyorozu muttered frantically.
“Kacchan,” Deku spoke up.
Bakugo looked at him... that uncanny little smile still tracing his lips.
“Your cheeks are so red,” he muttered analytically. “I guess it could be a fever...”
Deku reached up and pressed the back of his head against Bakugo’s cheek. It was shockingly hot to the touch, uncomfortably war—
All thoughts of a diagnoses dropped out of his mind like a trap door activation.
Bakugo leaned into his hand, his eyes slipping blissfully closed.
Nobody handled it well.
Deku’s eyes shrank to pinpricks, and one by one, the rest of the class followed.
Kirishima stopped breathing, Mina gasped, and Kaminari’s soul practically left his body.
Deku turned his head like a rusty robot, his mouth locked open like a spooked victim of a horrible haunted house.
“K-K-K-Kacchan...?” he stuttered hysterically.
Bakugo squinted his eyes open, then blinked them like a baby who had just woken from a nap. “Hm?”
“This is really... uh, abnormal for you,” Todoroki tried awkwardly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Deku snatched his hand back once Bakugo was distracted. He shook it out, trying to shake the memory from his mind.
“Midoriya, do you know what the heck is happening?” Kaminari whispered frantically.
“If I knew that was happening, I wouldn’t have checked him for a fever,” Deku muttered through his teeth.
He shook his hand harder— it was still warm.
“Bro, it’s totally weird,” Kirishima added, side-eyeing Bakugo as he talked to Todoroki. “It’s like someone blew out his fuse.”
Kaminari jumped on the analogy. “He’s like he’s a deactivated bomb or something! Or like he got factory reset!”
“People don’t work like that...” Kirishima pointed out ruefully.
Deku fingered his chin absently, half listening to the conversations around him. He’d never seen Bakugo like this before.
His phone began to jingle in his pocket.
“Who’s that?” Kaminari asked expectantly.
Deku quickly pulled out his phone, nearly dropping it on the ground when he read the name on the screen. “O-oh, it’s Kacchan’s mom. I’ll be right back.”
“Ask her what’s wrong with her son!” Kaminari begged as Deku left the circle.
He wandered away, hovering by his desk as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello? ...yes, this is Izuku Midoriya. Is everything alright?”
“Ahhh, mostly. I can’t seem to get in touch with your teacher, is he off work?”
“Yes, he is, ma’am.”
“Then I was right to call you. Would you mind being in charge of Katsuki’s medication for today, Izuku? He needs to take it.”
Deku gripped the chair in front of him. “O-oh. Yes, of course. I can do that for you.”
“They’re in his backpack, the pocket where he keeps his All Might keychains. You probably know where that is.”
“Haha, I do, actually.”
Bakugo’s mom briefly gave him dosages and times, which he hurriedly scribbled onto a notepad.
“That should be all,” she said after she’d finished debriefing. “Thank you.”
Deku adjusted the phone against his ear. “Before you go... Kacchan’s been acting off all day. Is that a symptom?”
“Ahhh, yes. He gets like that when he takes those meds.” She sounded deeply amused. “He becomes a real big softie, right, hon?”
Bakugo’s dad’s voice carried miserably over the phone. “I wish he was always like this...”
His mom let out a small snort of disapproval.
“Oh, c’mon! Where’s your spirit?”
They had a brief conversation before Deku finally hung up.
“Thanks, Izuku.”
“You’re welcome!”
He put the phone down, glancing at the sticky note packed with times and dosages.
Behind him, he felt Kaminari move.
“WHAT DID SHE SAY?!” he whisper screamed
“Did you find out he’s dying?!” Hagakure added anxiously.
Deku flinched backward, nearly stumbling into his desk. “Have you two been here the whole time!?”
“Yeah,” Kaminari said instantly. “BUT IS HE DYING?!”
“No,” Deku said flatly. “He’s just… on medication.”
“Medication?” Kaminari echoed.
Deku nodded in confirmation. He held up the sticky note and showed them the times. “I guess he’s gonna be on it for a while.”
“Are you in charge of giving them to him?” Hagakure wondered aloud.
Deku scratched his cheek ruefully. “Because Mr. Aizawa is gone, the responsibility fell to me.”
By now, Kirishima had joined the small party— having overheard the recent developments. “Woah, Bakumom must really trust you, huh?”
“I-I mean, it’s not really that...” Deku admitted tiredly. “I think I was just the only one she could reach.”
“Ohh, that makes sense.”
“So you’re the beast tamer now?” Kirishima mused, his face lighting up. “That is so manly!”
Deku flushed, stuffing his notes inside his pocket. “I’m just making sure he gets his painkillers,” he explained nervously, wandering over to Bakugo’s backpack. “Kacchan’s not a monster or anything...”
He unzipped the secret compartment, unable to keep the surprise off his face when he saw a specific All Might card had been tucked inside. It was the same one from years ago— the matching pair he and Bakugo had unwrapped when they were younger.
He smiled fondly as he picked it out, noticing the signature that had been scrawled onto it.
“He finally got the signature...” he said as he turned the sparkling card in the light.
Deku smiled before he could stop himself.
He paused, then quickly shuffled it away before the others could see. He grabbed a couple of red prescription bottles, squinting at the names of them to ensure he had everything.
It was all accounted for, including the meds that sedated him.
“Alright, everything’s here,” Deku said as he stashed the bottles inside his own backpack.
Kaminari slumped his shoulders. “Good! I don’t wanna know what would happen if they wore off here at school.”
“I think he would probably just be in a lot of pain,” Hagakure said thoughtfully. “Those must be some really high powered drugs to make him act the way he is.”
“Mhm,” Deku agreed. “Which is why we can’t forget.”
“Right!” The others chorused.
A few minutes later, the remainder of their small class had been filled in on Bakugo’s condition. Everyone had taken it well, visibly relaxing when they understood the situation.
“Even though he can be a little much, I’m glad his personality didn’t actually change forever,” Yaoyorozu said gently. “It just wouldn’t be right without the real him.”
Todoroki added to the discussion, voice hushed so Bakugo wouldn’t hear. “I was starting to worry about his quirk, actually. Won’t he struggle to use it if he’s like this?”
Deku nodded like a knowledgable doctor. “He needs sweat to use his power. Stress contributes to his efficiency, so according to my notes I’m pretty sure he could only create small firecracker-level threats at this point.”
“Do you think he’ll get mad about that when we start quirk training again later this week?” Uraraka whispered, cupping a hand around her mouth.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Deku said seriously.
Kirishima looked over at Bakugo and Ojiro, who had started chatting while the others clustered together nearby.
“This sounds crazy, guys,” he muttered carefully, “but I don’t think he’s capable of getting mad right now.”
---
LATER IN STUDY HALL:
Even though the class had discovered what was wrong with Bakugo, that didn’t stop the situation from becoming any less of a novelty.
Deku was hunched over his papers, scratching his head while scribbling notes on his paper. His foot tapped rhythmically on the tile, acting like a metronome to keep his thoughts structured. His head injury wasn’t making anything easy.
Nearby, Mina was having an experience of her own.
Bakugo wandered over to her, his strides slightly clunky and uneven. He paused next to the girl, his hand tracing the surface of the desk ponderously. He pivoted, peering over her shoulder like he’d caught sight of a novelty.
Mina glanced up at him, curious but not uncomfortable. “Oh, hey, Bakugo. What’s up?”
He leaned in far too close, his bleach-blond hair actually brushing against her face. “Your handwriting kind of sucks,” he muttered huskily. “Thought it would be better than that.”
If Mina’s skin wasn’t already pink, her cheeks would’ve certainly turned that color.
She scooted away from him, a nervous laugh escaping her. “Wh-why are you looking at it then?”
“‘Cause it’s better than mine right now,” he said bluntly, his crimson eyes landing on his limp arm. “I think I want to get better than you with my left hand.”
Mina carefully dragged her paper out of his line of sight. “Awww, that’s... kind of inspiring, actually?” she laughed weakly.
“Try to fix the way you write your a’s. They look like q’s,” he added gruffly, leaning up against her slightly.
Again, his hair tickled her skin, causing a shiver to run up her spine. Once he’d finally left, she glanced over her shoulder, making note of the quiet way he walked— a strong contrast to his usual march.
She tore her eyes away from him, then buried her face in her hands.
The urge to scream was physically painful.
“Mina,” Hagakure whispered screamed across the table. Her body flickered in and out of sight enough for Mina to see her delighted expression. “He is so…! That was so cu—“
“Do NOT finish that!” she shrieked, slamming her head down on the desk.
A few seconds later, she lifted her head a fraction—just enough to register that Deku had heard everything.
“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.
“She’s fine!” Hagakure answered instead, sounding far too mischievous to be considered normal.
Mina groaned, the paper crinkling underneath her face. She was humiliated.
“It’s okay,” the invisible girl reassured, placing a hand on her friend’s wrist. “I’m sorry about your handwriting.”
“It’s not even that bad,” Mina sighed resignedly, sitting up to survey her essay draft. She hesitated, then slumped back in her chair. “Alright, well... maybe it is. And yeah... maybe my a’s do look like q’s.”
“I guess he gives good advice when he’s mellow, huh?”
After a few brief exchanges with the others, Bakugo sat down behind Kaminari. He pulled out his homework, sliding a few notebooks onto the desk and opening them up. Now that the class was paying closer attention to him, they noticed the top of his pencil looked to have bite marks on it.
“Do you chew on your pencil when you’re working?” Uraraka asked from nearby.
Bakugo nodded as he looked over his work. “Yeah.”
Deku already knew that, but it was still jarring to hear him admit something personal so easily. Usually, he would gatekeep something so childish, but today it was like the floodgates were opened.
“I used to have that problem, too,” Kirishima agreed.
The room fell quiet again. Nobody was used to talking to Bakugo yet.
A few minutes later, Bakugo did the unexpected… again.
He reached over his workspace and pulled at the back of Kaminari’s collar.
Immediately, the other boy stiffened like a board. He sat up straight, tense in every muscle. “What’re you doing?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Fixing your shirt,” Bakugo said concentratedly. “Turn around.”
Kaminari hesitantly turned in his chair. He watched like a hawk as Bakugo stood up and moved over to him.
In a matter of seconds, Bakugo was fiddling with his uniform like an uncoordinated nurse in a doctor’s office. He pulled at the other boy’s shirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles like they were deeply bothering him.
His hand hesitated exhaustedly. “Straighten your sleeve for me? I can’t reach it.”
“Um, sure?” Kaminari quickly tugged his sleeve down. “Better?”
“Yeah, good. You should learn how to get dressed.”
Bakugo swayed slightly, and Kaminari’s hands shot out to stabilize him. “Don’t fall over now!” he hissed. “This already looks weird enough, dude!”
Bakugo blinked slowly. “It *is* weird. You dress like a two year old. Aren’t we in high school?”
Kaminari made a sound of pure despair.
Kirishima snorted quietly, obviously trying to hide the sound from them. He gasped guiltily when Kaminari shot him a betrayed look, but wasn’t able to fully stop the chuckling from escaping his defenses.
Bakugo started to pitch forward, but nobody was paying attention.
Deku leapt to his feet, rushing over before he fell down. He grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, holding him up with pure strength. “Kacchan, sit down,” he advised hurriedly.
“Don’t need to, though,” Bakugo muttered sleepily, a huge yawn practically attacking him.
Deku sighed, then gently guided him back to his chair and pushed him into the seat. “Just stay here and work, okay?” he instructed him.
Right as he was backing away, however, he was pulled back by a hearty tug at his neck. He stumbled forward, nearly crashing into Bakugo who had grabbed his tie and pulled him back.
Their faces were practically inches apart.
Deku’s breath caught, blinking rapidly when he realized what had happened.
“I ever tell you your tie looks awful?” Bakugo muttered, already adjusting it with a slow, focused hand. “It’s crooked.”
“Uh...” Deku paused, fighting back a nervous outburst. “No...?”
He glanced over, eyes glued wide open as he met the other’s alarmed expressions.
He waved embarrassedly at the rest of the class, trying and failing to reassure himself that it was all normal.
“Well, I should’ve,” Bakugo grunted, having finally gotten the knot undone. He paused, squinting at it. “You tie things almost as bad as Kaminari dresses.”
“Hey!” Kaminari screeched irritatedly.
Deku reached forward, then stopped. “You’re going to make it worse, just—ah—never mind…” he interrupted himself, giving up completely.
He was hunched over uncomfortably, hands planted firmly on his knees to remain at a height where Bakugo could reach him. He glanced at Uraraka pleadingly. “Could you pass me a chair? I think this is gonna take a while...”
Bakugo hadn’t seemed to notice his request, too focused on the task at hand.
Uraraka giggled, then stood and pulled a chair over to Deku. Once she’d gotten it in place, he nodded gratefully, settling into a more comfortable position.
He then clasped his hands in his lap, threading his fingers together impatiently. “So, uh,” he began, not really sure what he intended to say. “The weather is nice outside.”
“Sure is!” Mina agreed, sounding satisfied she hadn’t been the only one to suffer from Bakugo’s medicated state.
Deku cleared his throat, but was unable to think of anything clever to say.
He was just stuck.
“Kirishima, help me fix this,” Bakugo said, his focused eyes framed feverishly by burning cheeks.
Kirishima hesitantly joined him, looking unsure of himself. “Uh... sure... what do you need me to do?”
“Don’t know.“
Bakugo didn’t look concerned about that.
Kirishima reached out with incredible hesitancy, fixating Deku with a bashful look.
Deku himself could only respond with an equally awkward expression.
“Just grab the other end and cross it like...”
Bakugo began instructing Kirishima, and together they finally tied it properly around his neck.
For the first time since he’d come to UA, the tie was finally the correct length.
Deku blinked down at it, surprised that it actually matched everyone else’s this time.
“Oh... thanks guys,” he said, ruefully scratching the back of his head. “It looks really good.”
Bakugo’s eyes had begun drifting closed, his head bobbing as he tried to keep himself awake. “Gonna practice… the right way every day... got it?” he slurred gruffly.
“Practice? Kacchan, what do y—“
The bell rang, signaling their next class.
Everyone began to stand up, the sound of closing books and scraping chairs filling the air.
He shut his mouth, rising to his feet and momentarily abandoning the conversation.
Bakugo would probably forget soon anyway.