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Coordinating the schedules of twenty-one pro heroes was no small feat. Of course, (the former) class A had found a way.
Every year they organized a reunion - like last year, when they all met for dinner, shared drinks, celebrated Todoroki’s meteoric rise up the charts, caught up with the happenings and gossip of the hero world - the usual.
This year they’d decided on a beach party of sorts. A meet-up perfect for the height of summer.
They’d shown up to Takoba beach on suggestion from Midoriya. Apparently, it had been revamped over the years, but was still unknown enough where it wouldn’t be the first beach the press would look— inevitably when information about a bunch of well-known pros throwing a beach party leaked. It had volleyball nets up, a few food vendors in stalls and trucks along the pier, a gorgeous view of the ocean…
It was their ninth reunion now — unbelievable, Hitoshi thought, that they were almost a decade out of school. Time felt like it was moving faster and faster with every passing year.
Even with most pro heroes not being “needed” as often, the class had busied themselves with a litany of outside work and outreach.
Hitoshi had decided to take the underground hero route and go international, so his world very much continued to revolve around hero work, perhaps in the more “old fashioned” way that his peers didn’t. But Hitoshi had always been the type to keep himself busy.
Still…it was nice to relax. Catch up. See what was going on with everyone.
His eyes caught a glimpse of Jirou, still attached at the hip to Yaoyorozu.
It brought forward how he’d thought - like most everyone else - there was this ongoing will-they-won’t-they dance Jirou and Kaminari seemed to be locked in for years. When he overheard Eri talking to Aizawa about guitar lessons that Kaminari had been joining, on top of becoming Jirou’s agency neighbor— it seemed obvious they were an item.
He’d been sure that Sero’s sly question had been leading into their relationship revelation, but—
“It’s nothing like that!” Her voice had risen uncharacteristically loud with mirth, body leaning into Yaoyorozu’s.
The ambiguity was intriguing - a little irritating, too - but Hitoshi tended to find a lot of things irritating.
It wasn’t like it was any of his business.
Hitoshi cracked his neck, settling back on his towel. The beach wouldn’t have necessarily been his first choice, but…
His eyes roamed over to Kaminari.
…he wasn’t complaining.
Watching, he caught something on his person glinting in the sun.
He squinted. It looked like—
When had Kaminari gotten new piercings?
Hitoshi felt himself lean forward, magnetized. Had he already had those at last year’s reunion…?
The new hardware was a set that drew attention to his chest, and one dangling cheekily on the lower part of his stomach. Nipple and belly button piercings, then— did he have any others?
Hitoshi’s mouth felt dry, the thought bouncing around his head like an old DVD logo. Thankfully, he had a cold drink concoction that reminded itself of its presence, seeping through and chilling his palm. He took a languid sip, practiced in the art of feigned nonchalance.
Despite what he was sure people assumed of him, Hitoshi had never gotten pierced. People tended to imagine he veered more ‘bad boy delinquent’ than he really did— but nowadays, it was for more practical reasons. Working the underground circuit meant he disguised himself often, and the less identifiable features, the better. Even having evidence of previous piercings could be enough to tip someone off — so he avoided getting them.
He could definitely see the appeal though. Now, especially.
Tokoyami’s rings made a dull clink against the hard plastic of his own drink concoction, jolting him out of his thoughts.
They’d tucked themselves under a rather extravagant umbrella Tokoyami had brought, lounging and people watching the more “bacchanal” (as Tokoyami put it) members of their class.
Hitoshi glanced sidelong at him, unsurprised to see him looking back.
“What?”
“Something has you spellbound,” Tokoyami answered, unsmiling but with a no less kind expression.
Hitoshi made a noncommittal sound, easily retrieving an excuse. “I must’ve missed the memo on everyone getting new piercings.”
It was a decent enough save. Ashido had gotten a nose piercing — a cutesy star-shaped one that fit her out-of-this-world style. Aoyama had a pair of glitzy prisms that kept catching the sunlight, kaleidoscoping into little rainbows. Jirou returned to every reunion, it seemed, with a new piercing of some sort — snake bites, this time.
“Ah,” Tokoyami said diplomatically, inclining his head to sip from his drink.
Before Hitoshi could snipe back, there was commotion around one of the volleyball nets set up along the beach. It was close enough that the voices carried — it certainly helped that Bakugou was one of them, who had a tendency to yell.
With some resistance, Hitoshi dragged his gaze away from the object of his curiosity.
“I dunno, sounds like someone’s chickening out…!” He caught the tail end of Sero’s antagonizing.
“Hah?” Bakugou had taken the bait. Some things never change.
“Ehh? What’s Kacchan chickening out over?” Well, Hitoshi’s attempt at focusing on something else was thwarted quickly. Kaminari had been lured into the racket like a fly to honey.
“Denki! Come plays doubles with us!” Ashido beckoned him closer.
“Sounds fun!”
“See, if even Kaminari’s willing to do it…” Sero was still testing his luck.
“Yeah— oi! What’s that suppose to mean?!”
“Fine,” Bakugou snapped, though he didn’t seem particularly put out. He was already helping Ashido apply more sunscreen to the back of her shoulders, expression focused. “Let’s go, Pinky.”
“Alright!” She cheered brightly.
“One game! That’s it.”
“Only one, huh…” Leave it to Sero…
Bakugou grinned in that way that looked more like he was baring his teeth. “One’s all I need.”
Even from where Hitoshi sat, he could see Kaminari visibly shiver. “Wait, doubles—“ he started. “If Mina-chan and Bakugou are on a team, then…” True horror seemed to be dawning on Kaminari. “—Sero! My man,” he was close enough to sling an arm around. “You wanna—“
“Naaaah,” Sero ducked out of the side-hug, chuckling. “I’m good. I just wanna sit back and watch the bloodbath.”
Kaminari shrieked in response. “Now who’s the chicken!”
“Me!” Sero replied easily, completely unbothered.
“Traitor! Leaving me to fend off the wolves!”
Sero clapped Kaminari on the shoulder. “Good luck, buddy.” Before Kaminari could try and grab him again, he used his long legs to fast walk over to where Shouji and Asui were standing nearby.
“Choose a good partner, Denkiiii," Ashido called, taunting. “Choose very wisely!”
Bakugou’s tongue click was loud enough to hear from a distance — and before he turned on his heel to stalk after where Sero, Shouji and Asui were gathered near the court, Hitoshi swore he saw him smirk.
Very odd friend group, they were.
His attention drifted back to Kaminari, who was scanning the perimeter. When his gaze landed on him, Hitoshi tilted his head, and maybe - maybe - straightened a fraction. It was apparently enough for Kaminari. His eyes lit up, making a beeline toward the serene bubble Hitoshi and Tokoyami had been enjoying.
He really, really hoped Jirou was too distracted by Yaoyorozu to notice his heart rate spiking. Inexplicably.
He took another sip of his drink as Kaminari approached, hiding whatever microexpression his mouth was trying to make behind the rim of his cup.
“Hey, you guys!” Kaminari flopped down on the sand, propping his elbows on the edge of their towels. “So, I need a partner.”
“Mm?” Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, tamping down his shock. Fighting for his life to not let his gaze linger on Kaminari’s chest, or the little sun freckles and moles he had along his shoulders. “Thought you’d go for Kirishima.”
“Hell no,” Kaminari retorted, so quickly it shocked a snort out of Hitoshi that he couldn’t quite cover in time. Kaminari’s grin grew. “No, seriously! Last time we played he activated his Quirk and broke the ball! Automatic disqualification,” he mimed a cutting motion across his neck. “That’s stuck on my track record now. Forever.”
“Wow, ‘track record.’ It’s serious, then.”
Kaminari bowed his head, expression purposefully solemn. “Deadly so.”
“In that case—“
“Woah woah woah,” Kaminari’s eyebrows shot up. “Who said I’m asking you? Very presumptuous.” He tilted his head, his lopsided grin giving away his teasing. “The question was open to Tokoyami, too! Maybe I came all this way to ask him. Yanno…” he turned his body more toward Tokoyami, leaning closer. He cupped his hand around his mouth as if sharing a secret. “We’d be a three-man team, then.” His eyes cast over to where Dark Shadow was building a sand castle with Kouda and Hagakure.
“As much as I appreciate the gracious invitation,” Tokoyami said, with his usual reverence of the mundane. “…I will have to pass.”
“On second thought— Shinsou! You were my first choice all along!”
Hitoshi hummed, a mean smile ghosting his face. “You seemed pretty sure of Tokoyami, though…”
“I was kidding, kidding!” Kaminari inched closer to Hitoshi, reaching over to jostle one of his knees.
“Right…” Playing up out how wounded his ego was, he still didn’t budge.
“C’mon, Shinsou,” from his vantage point, Kaminari was framed by his legs. He’d gotten so close he’d narrowed himself to Hitoshi’s entire world.
Interesting angle.
His eyes were wide and beseeching. Kaminari’s hand on his knee — his nails were polished. Chipped but an even coat of black.
He averted his gaze, face simmering.
“Pleeease, please, please—” each chant Kaminari shook his leg, and even without looking at him Hitoshi could hear the pout in his voice. “Please, please—“
“Quit that.” Hitoshi cut him off. “Fine. Give me a second.”
“Aye aye!” Kaminari gave a mock salute, leaping to his feet and scurrying away — freezing midway to wipe the sand he’d accumulated all over himself off.
“So you’re joining,” Tokoyami murmured, clearly amused.
Hitoshi scoffed. “I couldn’t watch him beg like that. It was getting pathetic,” He dug a claw headband from his bag, pushing and securing his long fringe out of his face. “Watch my stuff for me, please.”
Before Tokoyami could tease him more, he was up and caught up to where Kaminari was— still trying to dust the sand off.
He perked up when he noticed Hitoshi in his peripherals, and Hitoshi made a truly valiant effort to not think too hard about that. It wasn't a big deal, he was probably relieved he'd convinced someone.
“You’re a lifesaver!”
“Let’s see how good I am at this, first…” He remembered playing volleyball in junior high gym class— that was about the extent of his experience. He had fast reflexes from his job, but with them facing fellow pro heroes, it mitigated the advantage. He recalled Kaminari having exceptionally fast reflexes — having been on the receiving end of them in mock fights — even compared to other pros. ‘Lightning fast’ as he liked to say. Here’s hoping.
“You’ll do great,” without missing a beat, Kaminari was assuring him.
“You can’t know that.” He’d forgotten how…overwhelming Kaminari’s belief was.
“Do we ever truly know anything…?” Kaminari lilted his voice into forcible gravitas, but his expression gave away quickly that he was only teasing. “Anyway, you’re just as competitive as Bakugou, we’ll be fine.” He waved a hand, as if physically dispelling the worries.
As competitive as Bakugou? Was he? Maybe over something serious like hero training, sure. But a volleyball game? Ridiculous.
“…I wouldn’t go that far—“
“Shinsou!’ Ashido’s voice cut in. They’d arrived to the net. “You’re gonna be Denki’s partner?”
“No, I just wanted to escort him to his execution.”
“Shinsou!”
“Heh,” the overly affronted expressions Kaminari pulled never got old. “Guess so, yeah.”
“Don’t sound too excited…” Kaminari pouted in Hitoshi’s direction. “Let’s get morale up, partner.”
“Interesting...” Sero rubbed his chin, squinting. “How’d Kaminari convince you?”
“Aht aht! No ‘convincing’ needed…!” Kaminari curled his arm around the juncture of Hitoshi’s elbow, pressing in close. “Some people just have a sense of honor and…and camaraderie!”
He could feel the pinprick of metal from one of Kaminari’s piercings pressing into his bicep. Yeah, camaraderie…
“That’s real rich coming from you, Denki,” Sero made a face.
“Hmm, it didn’t look like it took much convincing, though.” Ashido zeroed in on Hitoshi, the net between them not providing much coverage from her laser-eyed focus.
“It could be considered community service.” He said cooly.
“Fine by me!” Kaminari shrugged, taking that comment in stride. Hitoshi mourned the loss of him unlatching their arms — it his deepest, deepest subconscious. “I’m the community and I love to be serviced.” He struck a pose.
“Uh, what—“
“Oh that’s—“
Hitoshi and Ashido blurted at the same time.
“We playin’ or not?” Bakugou stomped back over, effectively saving all three of them from whatever awkward direction that conversation was headed. He cocked his head in the direction of Shouji, Asui and Sero, who were now sitting on the edge of the court, right where the net divided halfway through. “Arms and Frog are gonna ref.”
“What about Sero?” Kaminari motioned in the ‘refs’ directions.
“He’s there to be irritating.”
“So nothing new,” Hitoshi murmured. Kaminari tittered next to him, and even Bakugou cracked a grin.
“Sero’s there to be eye candy! Right?” Ashido winked over her shoulder, in the trio’s direction.
Sero started to pose like a pin-up, but Bakugou’s patience was wearing thin.
“Oi! Dunce, eyebags,” he tossed the volleyball over the net, which Kaminari caught. Maybe there’s some hope for us yet— “You can serve first.” —Or not. He seemed awful confident.
“…how considerate.” Hitoshi said, sharing a look with Kaminari.
“He really thinks this is gonna be a cakewalk for him,” Kaminari’s little eyebrows pinched, his expression souring. “Hey, Shinsou?”
“Wh—“
Kaminari lobbed him the ball. “Let’s give ‘em hell.”
Looking at Kaminari’s expectant gaze, smile sure and sharp, he almost believed it.
Unfortunately, Bakugou’s confidence wasn’t unearned, as the first sets made clear. It seemed like they were trying to play constant catch-up — Bakugou and Ashido worked exceptionally well together; Bakugou’s sheer firepower combined with Ashido’s physicality and dexterity were a force to reckoned with.
“Damnit,” he heard Kaminari huff under his breath at another missed return.
Hitoshi really did hate losing. Apparently, even for a dumb game of beach volleyball.
You’re just as competitive as Bakugou, we’ll be fine!
…Maybe Kaminari had him there. At least about the competitive part, they’d yet to see if they’d make it out ‘fine.’
Having to claw victory back was nothing new to him, though— if anything, that only made him dig deeper.
Dig deeper…
At another pointed, patented Bakugou spike, his conscious said screw this and he made a dive — a literal dive — for the ball.
He’d rescued it, and Kaminari stepped in to get it over the net— it managed to stray far enough out of arm span of Bakugou or Ashido, but close enough to not go out of bounds.
“Point for team kamishin!” Sero called.
“Hell yeah!” Kaminari turned, started an aborted jog to help Hitoshi up. But he was already halfway standing, breathing heavily. He attempted to dust the sand clinging to his sweaty torso off.
He stretched and shook his limbs out. He might get overheated, pushing himself like this…
He heard the ball get served again, looking like one of those overhand serves by Bakugou the way it moved with deadly precision. It was hurdling towards Kaminari’s side, and he trusted Kaminari to—
SMACK.
“Ow!”
The ball thumped to the ground, effectively stopped by… Kaminari’s face.
“Kaminari, what the hell!” Sero was guffawing.
“Denki! Don’t get distracted!” Ashido called over, laughter in her own voice.
Kaminari’s head had been turned to the side, facing Hitoshi rather than the net. What was he doing!?
“Point for team ashibaku!”
“Quit callin’ us that!”
“…are you alright?” Hitoshi glanced at Kaminari, who had since turned his head back to the net. What had he been looking at?
“Yeah,” Kaminari was clearly playing it off. “Yeah, yup, all good. Great.”
“At least you hit the ball this time.”
Kaminari looked over his shoulder, blowing a raspberry in Hitoshi’s direction. “Man, shut up!” He laughed.
The pressure felt less stifling. Hitoshi found they truly found their rhythm then. Their feints and fake-outs came easier, as if they were playing in lockstep.
Bakugou was getting ruffled. His shoulders had started to hunch up and tense, and he kept accidentally using his Quirk. Just a hint of a spark, but it was enough of a tell.
Bakugou had notoriously amazing Quirk control, but maybe…
His sweat was making his Quirk more volatile; was that it…?
The sun didn't play favorites. The more sweat that Bakugou accumulated, the more he had to focus on not setting off his Quirk. In a battle scenario? Him and Kaminari would've been toast - but playing a game of volleyball, well...
Bakugou's hold on the ball slipped - literally.
"Point for kamishin! What an upset!!"
The adrenaline rush of winning only heightened when Kaminari launched himself into his arms, hooting and hollering. His smile wide and carefree. It had always been infectious.
“Shinsou!! That was awesome!” He was still cheering. “I’ve never beaten Mina-chan at volleyball!” He blinked, eyes bugging impossibly wider. “I’ve never beaten Bakugou at anything! You’re a certified volleyball god!”
“Stop, stop,” Hitoshi demured, ducking his head — which made him realize how close Kaminari had gotten, wrapped around him, buzzing at every point of contact. His familiar sharp chlorine smell was mixed with the warm smell of ocean and sunscreen.
Kaminari untangled himself from the embrace before Hitoshi could ruminate himself into a crisis. Though, he still hovered close — Kaminari always lacked a sense of personal space. It was nothing to overthink.
“This calls for a celebration!” Kaminari’s eyes scanned the nearby pier, lighting up when they landed on something. “You like kaikigori?”
It was hot out, a cold treat would be perfectly logical… The drink he’d been nursing was probably melted and lukewarm now anyway, even under the protective shade of an umbrella.
He needed to cool down. In multiple senses of the word.
He swallowed. “I could go for some.”
“Yes!!” Kaminari was back to cheering, looping their arms. “Celebratory shaved ice!”
-
Shinsou, surprisingly, let Denki drag him to the stalls along the pier. The portable fans they passed along the way were a welcome reprieve, cooling their skin and blowing their hair around. He still allowed Denki to keep their arms linked all through ordering, then as they tucked themselves in between the stalls. The shade from the makeshift buildings was even more of a relief.
“…interesting tan line.” Shinsou had curled a finger around Denki’s necklace, lifting it up and fidgeting with the pendant at the end. Denki gulped a spoonful of shaved ice a little too quickly, the cold chunk sliding down his throat. He attempted to not look like he desperately needed to cough.
“Don’t bully me,” he eventually got out. “I bet you get just as crazy looking tan lines from your mask.”
“…”
“You have! You totally have!”
“I didn’t confirm or deny.”
“Which is basically confirmatioooon,” Denki sing-songed. “Why are you paying so much attention to my tan lines, anyway?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Can’t take your eyes off me?”
Denki meant it jokingly — maybe half jokingly, if Shinsou had so much as ever entertained the thought. But the silence that followed made Denki both exhilarated and horrified.
“…Hard not to,” Shinsou finally chose to say. Denki’s heart was doing a Bakugou-level drum solo in his chest. “You’re so loud.” He attempted to douse, but his face was suspiciously red. And Denki’s ego was easy to flatter.
He sensed he may actually have a chance. What was the saying? You miss every shot you don’t take? Denki had been mooning over Shinsou for years, and he wasn’t a particularly patient person.
“Lotta’ our class is loud, though?” Denki squinted up at Shinsou, placing his half eaten shaved ice on a nearby storage box of some sort. “So I don’t think my loudness has anything to do with ogling my tan lines.”
Shinsou’s eyes drifted down.
“No, but those do,” he was eyeing Denki’s piercings. Specifically, the ones of the nipple variety. Hell yeah! Thank you, Jirou, for not letting me wimp out of getting these! She was his most trusted wingwoman without even trying to be — seriously, the hints Ashido and Sero had been trying to drop earlier were awful. At least one of his friends had his back — even if it wasn’t intentional.
“Ooh? Whatcha’ think?” Denki preened, totally not tensing his stomach and flexing his chest out. “You like?”
“They’re nice,” Shinsou was as composed as ever, but his eyes were transfixed. Still holding Denki’s necklace, he tapped his thumb against the pendant at the end, then motioned further down with his gaze, to his belly button piercing. “You really stick to a theme, huh?”
“Well, y’know how us spotlight heroes are,” Denki lured him closer with the playful derision Shinsou liked leaning into. He flicked his belly button piercing — shaped like a lightning bolt. “Anything for the brand.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Shinsou’s eyes drifted back up. He cracked a smile, making his under-eye bags scrunch up.
“You still have a mark, huh…”
“I know, my precious face, I—“ Shinsou’s other hand cupped his cheek, where the volleyball’s imprint still felt angry and red. And— that— for whatever reason— was what finally broke Kaminari’s bluster. Flirting back-and forth? He could do. Easy. Half the time it was all a joke— but this? Tenderness? Worry? Being looked at like he was something worth fussing over? “Uh…”
“You…?” Shinsou looked like he was second-guessing, his smile slipping a fraction— and started to pull away— being recaptured by his reserved nature.
Maybe it was the drawn-out exhilaration of victory, maybe it was Denki just not wanting him to pull away, wanting him always closer, maybe it was the fact he’d nursed a crush on the guy since graduation — before that, even —
he took the leap.
…Maybe too literally, because he knocked Shinsou’s shaved ice out of his hand, the frozen treat dropping with a wet splat.
“—Shit! Sorry!” Denki rushed out, suddenly feeling like the dumbest person in the world. What was he thinking, seriously? Shinsou blinked back at him, eyes wider than Denki had sworn he’d ever seen them.
“It’s—“
“I’ll buy you a new one, I’m sorry, just forget I—“
Shinsou cut off his spiraling, using his hold on his necklace to drag him back up into another kiss.
Denki immediately eased into the kiss, his body slumping with relief. The hand that had cupped Denki’s face curled around his head. In turn, he threw his arms around Shinsou’s shoulders, hands pressing into the hard muscle.
It grew more insistent, like they had no time and all the time in the world. Denki could live forever crystallized in this moment, tasting the artificial cherry on Shinsou’s lips, the rhythmic feeling of Shinou’s thumb rubbing the nape of his neck.
Like a closed circuit, their bodies nearly sealed together. He felt Shinsou shudder against him. Maybe they were more like magnets, pulling a breath away from each other only to chase the other back into another kiss. Then another, another. Until his lips were tingling and the only sound he could hear was the wet, satisfying pop every time they parted.
Denki stared when they pulled away for the nth time, mesmerized by how disheveled Shinsou looked. His lips were red and a little swollen, his bright pupils eclipsing his entire iris. His hair, still pushed mostly out of his flushed face, was starting to curl and float up at the ends. Mr Composed pulled the look off well.
He exhaled out a chuckle. “Really glad Tokoyami didn't wanna partner up.”
Shinso snorted, pressing their foreheads — slick with sweat and sunscreen — together. “Me t—“
“Guuuuys!” They both jolted, Hagakure’s voice carrying across the beach. She probably hadn’t spotted them, but she was close. She did not lie about being a great stealth hero! “We’re gonna play suikawari! C’mon!”
“Allez-allez! ☆” And Aoyama was with her.
They froze — as if playing statues would make them invisible to any prying eyes. Eventually, they leaned away from each other — still hovered close enough to each feel their sighs of relief when the voices drifted into the distance.
Shinsou flinched, and as he turned his head to peer around the corner, it didn’t take long for Kaminari to figure out why.
“Oh my god— Shinsou!”
“Shh!”
“No, what the hell,” but he lowered his shriek into a stressed stage-whisper. He turned Shinsou’s back more toward him, seeing the familiar sign of electrocution branching down his back. Lichtenberg figures. “Why didn’t you say something?!”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Uh, yes it is!” It wasn’t uncommon for his Quirk to act up when he was feeling high emotions, but every partner he’d had before had made it clear when he started sparking. They’d cry out or tell him to keep it in check. He supposed Shinsou might have a higher pain tolerance or something, but…
“It’s— it’s fine, alright.“ Shinsou turned his head more away from Denki, pretending he was still focused on peering around the corner. “I liked it— it’s fine.”
The backs of his ears were bright red.
“Ooooh, okay.” Denki said, his previous irritation not entirely gone but shifting into a more curious direction. He retrieved his own snow cone, still safely perched where he’d left it. “You’re kind of a freak, then. Got it.”
Shinsou glowered at him over his shoulder. Looking like he was gearing up to say something, Denki held a hand up.
“Seriously though, next time…if I lose control, tell me, okay?”
“Kamin—“
“Class A, hey!” Hagakure was making another round. Apparently Aoyama wasn’t. “Everyone join us on the beach!”
“Denki! Call me Denki,” he called, rushing passed him. Giddy and all out-of-whack. “We can’t keep the ladies waiting!”
-
Hitoshi waited several beats before emerging from their hiding spot. Taking advantage the rest of the class being distracted by Todoroki attempting to hit the watermelon blindfolded, he kept his gait even but a little faster than usual, wanting to get back to his umbrella spot as fast as possible without attracting any attention.
Especially with the insane marks down his back. More damning than scratch marks.
Next time, next time, next time echoed around in his head.
“So you’ve returned,” Tokoyami greeted as Hitoshi ducked back under the umbrella. “And bearing gifts, I see.” He had a full view of his back.
“Shut up,” Hitoshi huffed, tossing an extra towel stashed in his bag over his shoulders. He didn’t think it would cover the entirety of Kamina—Denki’s—handiwork, but it would have to do.
“The victory was well-received, then.”
“Fumikage.” He buried his face in his hands, hoping his seemingly permanent, furious blush could be mistaken for a sunburn.
-
The first person Denki sought out wasn’t surprising.
“Where’d Jirou go?”
“She, ah…” Yaoyorozu peered up through the large brim of her sun hat, dark eyes sparkling like she knew something he didn’t. To be fair, Yaoyorozu usually knew stuff Denki didn’t. “Went for a swim.”
“A swim?” Denki parroted. Sure enough, when he squinted into the horizon he could make out Jirou floating in the distance.
Curious, he rushed into the water himself, taking wide awkward steps until he was deep enough to wade the rest of the way over.
“Hey, ‘jack!” He called over the splashing and churning of the ocean. “What’re you doing? Swimming’s not usually your style.”
“Hey, well,” instead of looking incandescent by his presence — as everyone should — she looked irked. Okay, she was often irked with him — but at the moment she looked irked and embarrassed and usually Denki could piece together what he’d done that set her off, but this time he was truly lost.
“I needed the sound of the ocean.”
“Okay…” Denki was hesitant, unsure what was going on, and very off-kilter getting the tonal whiplash of basking in the afterglow of Shinsou’s kisses to Jirou’s…whatever this was.
“Denki,” she sighed. “Do you remember what my Quirk is?”
“What the hell—how dumb do you think I am?”
“I have super hearing.”
“Right? Okay?”
“I can hear everything.”
“I got that.”
“Everything.” She cast a pointed look in the direction of Shinsou, who was back to his spot next to Tokoyami, swaddled in a towel.
“Ri—“ it hit him like a bag of bricks. A looney tunes anvil. “Oh. Oh no.”
“Yeah,” she groused, though her earlier irritation was evolving into amusement at Denki’s mounting horror. “It’s not— it’s not bad. Just. Wow. Not something I wanted to overhear.”
“I got it, okay? I got it.” He pursed his lips and squinted at her.
“Don’t break your brain thinking too hard over there.”
“It’s just…why were you listening in, anyway? Couldn’t you just move your, eh, lobes? Or plug them into your phone?”
Jirou’s shoulders hunched up, caught. She waved a hand in front of her face. “I saw you sneaking behind the food stalls. I wanted to make sure you weren’t dragging Shinsou into something stupid.”
“Aww Jirouuuu,” Denki cooed. “You care about ussss.”
“Die.”
Someone’s hanging around Bakugou too much.
There was a lull in the conversation. Jirou must’ve been waiting for her blush to die down.
“So are you guys…” She made a motion with her ear-jacks, poking the tips of them together.
Denki made a sound halfway between a laugh and shriek. “What’s that motion suppose to mean!?”
“Nothing you’re thinking of, pervert,” she swatted one of her ear-jacks in his direction. “Are you guys, like, a thing now, or what.”
“Uh,” Denki was…not sure. And he said as much. “I don’t really know? It just sorta happened. Then Hagakure wanted everyone on the beach, and…”
Jirou smacked a palm to her forehead.
“What?”
“Nothing, you’re just—“
There was commotion up on the beach — someone had succeeded in smashing the watermelon open.
“Wooooo!”
“Hell yeah, Ojiro!”
“Come get a slice, everyone!!”
The conversation slipped away as they trudged back up the beach together, not wanting to miss out on the spoils.
-
The sun was setting by the time the class gathered. Hitoshi stood on the edge of the commotion with Tokoyami, who sent Dark Shadow to get them slides.
Hitoshi could feel the energy of the reunion winding down. Some had already left early, having to make longer treks back home.
“I’m probably going to head out soon,” Hitoshi said between bites.
“Me, as well. Would you like Dark Shadow to escort you back?”
“Nah. I’m fine taking the bus.” The bus stop was fairly close and he didn’t have too far to travel anyway— he felt bad taking advantage of Tokoyami’s kindness. It was also a bigger risk of getting unwanted attention, what with Tokoyami’s perfume ad still strung up everywhere.
He wanted to say…something to Denki, but he looked locked in a conversation with one of the food stall vendors, using his Quirk to power their AC.
He didn’t want to interrupt.
As he turned to leave, something cut in front of him — one of Jirou’s ear-jacks.
“Hey,” she started.
“Hey?”
“Text him. Later.”
She didn’t need to specify who ‘him’ was.
“Trust me. He…” she trailed off, but nodded.
He scratched his cheek, trying to play off his fluster. Of course Denki would talk to her, they’d always been close. If she was saying Denki was— open. To something. The only option was to believe her.
He nodded.
He wanted to take the leap, too.
-
While being jostled on the bus, he stepped off the edge.
You
Hey
You owe me a shaved ice.
The reply dots appeared the moment the messages sent. Hitoshi smiled down at his phone, something warm settling in his chest that he couldn't blame on the summer heat.