Archive of Our Own

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to!” the green-haired boy cried. “I swear, I—”

His words dissolved into a choking sob, broken by desperate hiccups.

The other boy stared at him, brows knitted together. He took a cautious step forward, only to freeze when—

“I’m sorry!” the boy shouted again, recoiling so violently that he slammed into the cupboard behind him.

“Look, nerd,” the blond started, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t care about that stupid mug.”

He cared. A lot.

It had been his favorite mug, and everyone knew it. Bright orange with little black explosions splashed across it—loud, obnoxious, and perfectly fitting his personality. He’d gotten it at the beginning of the hero course, and he’d been using it ever since.

But judging by the way Deku was reacting to accidentally breaking it, Bakugou decided, fuck it.

The boy wasn’t listening anyway, trapped too deep inside his own panic to hear a single word.

“S-sorry… I’m sorry… I…” he kept mumbling between sobs, tears streaming down his face.

“Bakugou?”

A third voice cut through the room.

“What’s going on…?”

The question died on his lips the moment his eyes landed on the trembling wreck that was Midoriya Izuku.

“I don’t fucking know!” the blond snapped back.

The outburst made the cornered boy flinch so violently that Bakugou immediately lowered his voice.

“I don’t know, okay? One second we’re making breakfast, the next he drops my mug, and suddenly he’s…” He gestured vaguely toward Midoriya, who seemed determined to disappear into himself. “It’s not a big deal. I can buy another one. I don’t care. Just…”

His shoulders sagged as he turned to the crying boy once again.

“Let’s just calm down, okay, Deku?”

Todoroki studied the trembling boy for a moment before deciding to take matters into his own hands.

He knew breakdowns.

This one looked painfully familiar—as though Midoriya genuinely believed someone was about to hurt him over accidentally breaking an ordinary mug. Todoroki knew that kind of fear all too well.

“Midoriya?”

The green-haired boy’s eyes flickered toward him.

“You know nothing bad has happened, right?” Todoroki said gently. “No one’s going to hurt you here.”

Concern settled heavily in his chest at his own words. This must have been far deeper than either of them had first assumed.

“I know—I know!” Midoriya answered quickly, his voice cracking. “I don’t know why I’m like this…”

He doubled over slightly as another sob escaped him.

Don't you? Todoroki wondered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on the thought before Bakugou lost his patience again.

“What do you mean you don't know why the fuck are you acting like this?!”

Midoriya jerked at the shout as if he’d been struck.

“Bakugou,” Todoroki warned.

The blond clicked his tongue but fell silent.

“Let me handle this.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Can you clean up the broken mug in the meantime?”

“No!” Midoriya blurted out through hiccups. “I-I’ll do it. It’s my fault.”

“I got it, nerd,” Bakugou muttered, already grabbing a dustpan.

“It’s okay, Midoriya,” Todoroki said softly. “He’ll take care of it.”
The boy slowly sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself as another wave of sobs overtook him.

Concerned, Todoroki crouched beside him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”

There had to be more to this.

Or maybe that was just his own experience talking.

Maybe everything had piled up until the broken mug had become the final straw. Maybe it wasn’t about the mug at all.

“I don’t know…”

The quiet answer pulled Todoroki from his thoughts.

“I just feel… awful. I thought…”

Todoroki’s attention sharpened immediately.

“Yes?”

Midoriya’s eyes darted away.

“It’s… nothing.” He swallowed hard. “I think I just haven’t gotten enough sleep. I don’t feel very well.”

“Okay.”

Todoroki didn’t push.

If Midoriya wanted to tell him, he would.

“Would you like me to call Aizawa-sensei? You could stay in the dorms today.”

“No!” Midoriya answered a little too quickly. “Please don’t. I’m fine. I just… I need to wash my face, and I’ll be good to go.”

He forced a shaky smile.

“Thank you, Todoroki.”

“…As you wish.”

Todoroki stood and offered him a hand.

“Then let’s get you up.”

“U-up?”

Only then did Midoriya seem to realize he was still sitting on the floor.

His cheeks flushed crimson.

“S-sorry… I’ve been such a bother.”

He accepted Todoroki’s hand and pulled himself upright, though his legs trembled beneath him.

Todoroki stayed close, one hand hovering near Midoriya’s shoulder in case he lost his balance again.

“I don’t mind, Midoriya,” he said. “You’d do the same for me.”

After a brief pause, he added quietly,

“I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.”

Midoriya glanced anxiously around the kitchen, as if making sure no one else had witnessed what had happened.

“I ain’t telling anyone shit.”

Bakugou had finished sweeping up the shattered mug and was now standing with his hands on his hips.

“Let’s go before the extras show up.”

Midoriya gave him a small nod and carefully started toward the door, moving so quietly it was as though he was trying not to exist, breakfast long forgotten.

Todoroki narrowed his eyes.

Wanting to slip past Bakugou unnoticed wasn’t unusual.

But this…

This wasn’t caution.

It was fear.

When Midoriya disappeared up the stairs, Todoroki turned to the blond.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow.

“The fuck are you staring at?”

“Do you really have no idea how to approach someone who’s in distress?” Todoroki asked evenly. “Your attitude never seems to change.”

Bakugou scoffed.

“Of course I ain’t changing for anybody.”

“Sometimes,” Todoroki replied as he turned toward the stairs, “the situation calls for it.”

Without another word, he followed after Midoriya.

“Oh my God…”

Midoriya Izuku paced back and forth across his room, his thoughts racing faster than his feet.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Blowing up over something so small was completely irrational.

Don’t get him wrong—he knew the mug had meant a lot to Kacchan. It had been his favorite.

But…

He hadn’t expected to be terrified.

Not anymore.

Those days were long behind them. Bakugou wasn’t that person anymore. They’d grown, both of them. So why had his mind reacted as though he was about to be hurt?

Even now, his heart hammered painfully against his ribs. His breathing still hadn’t steadied, each inhale catching halfway through his lungs.

He pressed a hand against his temple, trying to ward off the headache that was steadily creeping in.

Please don’t let it show during class.

He didn’t think he could handle everyone asking questions.

Fucking Icy-Hot.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Like he couldn’t handle the situation himself.

He’d almost had it under control.

Almost.

His attitude wasn’t changing. That much was certain.

Sure, he’d matured. Hell, he’d changed more than anyone would’ve expected over the last three years at U.A.

But Deku…

Why the hell had the nerd looked so scared?

Over a damn mug?

Bakugou frowned.

No.

Not over the mug.

Of him.

That was the part he couldn’t wrap his head around.

He’d kept himself under control. He hadn’t yelled until the end, and even then he’d backed off the second he saw Deku flinch.

It had been years since he’d laid a hand on him.

Years.

And he’d sworn to himself he’d never touch another hair on Deku’s head again.

Their relationship had changed since entering U.A.

So had he.

He’d apologized.

He’d admitted what he’d done.

He’d done everything he could think of to make things right.

…So why had Deku looked at him like he was still that frightened little kid from middle school?

The class gathered on the training grounds.

Today’s exercise was simple: sparring in pairs.
Midoriya’s first opponent was Todoroki. His second… Bakugou.

He swallowed so hard it felt loud enough for the entire class to hear.

Maybe we’ll run out of time. Maybe the lesson will end before our match. Maybe Aizawa-sensei will switch the pairs. Maybe I’ll only have to spar with Todoroki…

What am I even thinking?

Midoriya frowned, giving his head a small shake. He loved training with Kacchan. Bakugou never held back. He was always pushing himself, always striving to be faster, stronger, better. Sparring against him meant learning something new every single time.

So why… Why did the thought of facing him make his stomach twist into knots?

Maybe it’s because of this morning. Maybe he’s still angry about the mug.
A quieter, more rational part of his mind reminded him that Bakugou had repeatedly said he didn’t care about the mug. The thought vanished almost as quickly as it came.

Maybe he’s just saying that. Maybe training is the perfect excuse. The perfect chance to get revenge. The perfect chance to finally beat me up…

Midoriya froze. …Okay. That’s enough. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment. What is wrong with me? None of those thoughts made sense. Bakugou had changed. He knew that. So why couldn’t he convince himself to believe it?
He pushed the thoughts aside just as someone stopped in front of him.

“You ready?”

Todoroki’s voice was calm as always, his expression unreadable.
Midoriya forced himself to straighten his posture.

“Y-Yeah.”

His voice still trembled. But the determination in his eyes didn’t.

The spar with Todoroki went smoothly. Midoriya slipped past every kick with practiced ease. Walls of ice rose beneath his feet only for him to vault over them. Bursts of fire rushed toward him, forcing him to twist and weave through the flames. Sometimes Todoroki attacked with fire and ice at the same time, his kicks seamlessly woven into the assault.

None of it caught him.

The moment he activated One For All, his body seemed to remember what his mind didn’t have to. Years of training guided him almost on instinct. He moved as though he were dancing. Each step flowed effortlessly into the next, his feet gliding across the training grounds with the grace of a figure skater carving patterns into fresh ice. Every dodge was smooth, every counter deliberate, every movement perfectly timed.
One For All wasn’t something he had to think about anymore. It simply… happened.

Todoroki was one of the strongest students in the class, and sparring against him demanded Midoriya’s complete attention. There was no room for wandering thoughts, no room for fear.

For a little while, he forgot. Forgot the broken mug. Forgot the panic attack. Forgot Bakugou.

The world narrowed until it was just him and Todoroki, trading blows across the training field.

By the time Aizawa called for them to stop, both boys were breathing hard. Sweat clung to their foreheads as they took a few steps back from one another, chests rising and falling from the relentless exchange.

“Good match,” Todoroki said between breaths.

Midoriya smiled despite his exhaustion.

“You too.”

For one brief moment… Everything felt normal.

Then he heard the familiar snarl of his childhood friend.

“Oi, oi, oi.” Bakugou smirked, rolling one shoulder. “That looked easy. You ready for a real match, Deku?”

He practically spat out the nickname. There was no malice behind it.

Anyone watching could tell he was simply excited. Sparring with Midoriya was one of the few fights that genuinely challenged him, and he’d been looking forward to it all day.

But that wasn’t what Midoriya heard.

Useless.

Worthless Deku.

The words echoed in his head despite never leaving Bakugou’s mouth.

His entire body tensed.

Don’t flinch. Don’t let him see.

With visible effort, Midoriya forced a smile onto his face.

“Ready as always, Kacchan.”

His voice sounded strangely distant to his own ears.

“There we go,” Aizawa called, stepping back to give them room. “Begin.”

The rest of the class quickly returned to their own sparring matches. No one noticed. No one saw Midoriya’s hesitant first step. No one caught the way his eyes darted around the training grounds, searching for an escape that didn’t exist. No one noticed how pale his face had become despite the exertion from his match with Todoroki.

No one… Except Bakugou.

Something wasn’t right.

The fight began. At first, neither of them moved. They simply watched each other.

Circling.

Bakugou stood with his usual scowl, shoulders tense and ready, his entire body practically radiating impatience.
Midoriya… Midoriya looked nothing like the confident fighter who had faced Todoroki moments before. His expression was guarded.

Fearful.

After several long seconds of silence, the match finally started.

But this time, it wasn’t smooth. Not like before. Every step Bakugou took forward was answered by one step backward from Midoriya. There was no graceful footwork. No effortless dancing. No figure skating across the battlefield.

Instead, he looked like a cornered deer, watching the predator in front of him with wide, frightened eyes, his hands raised defensively. Except those hands weren’t ready to fight. They were trembling. A slight shake ran through his fingers constantly, almost invisible. Almost.

Bakugou didn’t notice. Not yet. He only saw hesitation. Weakness. Deku holding back.

His irritation started to rise. Was the damn nerd acting up now?

Then finally… Bakugou moved.

A punch was hurtling straight toward his face.

Move.

His body refused. He couldn’t let anyone see how terrified he was.

Move.

Blackwhip didn’t answer. One For All felt… gone.

Where was the familiar surge of green lightning? The comforting crackle of energy that always answered his call?

What the hell is happening?
At the very last millisecond, his body finally obeyed. He jerked sideways just enough for Bakugou’s fist to graze past his cheek instead of colliding with it head-on. Only a few inches had separated his face from Bakugou’s punch.

His desperate dodge threw him completely off balance. His feet tangled beneath him, and he crashed hard onto the training floor, the air rushing from his lungs in a shaky gasp.
Better this than getting hit, he thought, trying to steady his breathing.

“Midoriya.”

Aizawa’s voice echoed across the training grounds.

“Up. Again.”

The green-haired boy forced himself onto unsteady legs.

“You need to work on your balance,” Aizawa continued. “A slip like that could’ve cost you your life in a real fight against a villain.”

“I-I know, Sensei.”The words caught in Midoriya’s throat. A strange look crossed Bakugou’s face. Confusion. Suspicion.

He’d noticed.

Midoriya had mastered One For All’s basic movements long ago. Losing his footing like that was unlike him. More importantly…

Why hadn’t he used his Quirk?

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “What the hell are you doing?”

Midoriya didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His eyes never left Bakugou’s hands, watching every twitch of his fingers, every shift of his stance, waiting for the next explosion. The blond frowned. Normally, Deku would’ve rushed him by now. He would’ve analyzed his movements, predicted his attacks, looked for an opening. Instead… He was backing away. Another step. And another. As though putting more distance between them would somehow keep him safe.

“Deku.”Bakugou lunged. It wasn’t even one of his faster attacks. He wanted Midoriya to block it. Counter it. Do something. Instead, Midoriya stumbled backward so abruptly that his heel caught on the uneven ground. His balance broke. Again. Bakugou’s eyes widened. Shit. He killed the momentum of his punch at the last possible second, his fist stopping mere inches from Midoriya’s face.

Midoriya flinched anyway. His eyes squeezed shut. Both arms shot up to shield his head.

He was waiting to be hit.

Silence settled over the training field. Bakugou stared. He… hadn’t touched him. Not even close. Slowly, Midoriya cracked one eye open. The fist was still hovering in front of him. Motionless. Bakugou lowered his arm.

“…I ain’t gonna hit you.”

The words came out quieter than anyone had ever heard from him during training.

Midoriya’s breathing remained uneven. “I…” He couldn’t seem to force anything else out. Around them, the sounds of the other sparring matches gradually faded. One by one, their classmates had begun to notice. No one spoke. Something was very, very wrong.

“Midoriya.” Aizawa’s voice cut cleanly through the silence. “Are you alright?”

Of course he’d noticed. He’d noticed within the first few seconds of the spar. He’d noticed Midoriya’s hesitant footwork. The weak punches. The first stumble. The second. He’d been watching, waiting to see if Midoriya would recover on his own. He hadn’t.

“Something isn’t right.” Todoroki had already abandoned his own match, his eyes fixed on Midoriya. He stepped closer to Aizawa and quietly murmured something only the teacher could hear. Aizawa’s brows knitted together. Concern settled across his tired features.

“He’s not fighting.” Bakugou’s voice was low, stripped of its usual competitiveness. He stared at Midoriya for a long moment before speaking again. “…He’s fucking terrified.”

Midoriya’s eyes snapped to his. The words hit harder than any explosion could have. Because they were true. And now everyone had heard them. The training grounds had fallen completely silent. Every pair had stopped sparring. Every classmate was watching.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening,” Midoriya stammered, panic creeping into his voice. “It’s like I can’t…” He clutched at his own training uniform. “I can’t move.” His breathing hitched. “I can’t think.” Another shaky inhale. “I can’t… be myself.” His eyes darted helplessly between his teacher and classmates. “It’s like I’ve been…”

“…Quirked?”

Three voices spoke at once. Aizawa. Bakugou. Todoroki.

The three of them exchanged brief, uneasy glances. No one needed to say it aloud. They were all thinking the same thing.

Midoriya’s eyes widened at hearing his assumption voiced out loud. So did everyone else’s.

Quirked. How had he not realized it? The answer seemed so obvious now. How had he overlooked the one explanation that made sense?

Because you’re useless. The thought struck like a knife. He froze.

No… Not because you’re Quirked. Because you have every reason to be afraid. His pulse thundered in his ears.

You’ve forgotten who he really is.

You’ve forgotten what he did to you.

You’re trusting the very person who spent years tearing you down.

Midoriya’s breath caught in his throat. There it was. That voice. The same voice that had been poisoning every thought since this morning. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It whispered. It twisted. It made every fear sound like undeniable truth.

“I…” His lips trembled. “I…” Then, all at once, the realization crashed over him. “I have been Quirked, Sensei”

The words rang across the training grounds. Silence followed. Aizawa’s expression hardened immediately. Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. Todoroki looked almost relieved. It wasn’t an unexplained breakdown. It wasn’t Midoriya losing control. It was something they could investigate. And, hopefully… Something they could fix.

“Everyone else, resume your matches.” Aizawa’s voice was calm but left no room for argument. The training grounds remained frozen for another second before the class reluctantly obeyed. “Iida,” Aizawa called. “Y-Yes, sir!” “Take over supervision.” Iida straightened immediately. “Understood!” “Bakugou. Todoroki. Midoriya. With me.”

Midoriya’s stomach dropped. He could feel Bakugou fall into step behind him. Too close. Every footstep made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Don’t look behind you. If you look, he’ll be angry. He’ll know. He’ll hurt you. Midoriya squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second. Stop. That’s not Kacchan. The thought barely surfaced before the other voice drowned it out. You really believe that? His breathing hitched.

Todoroki quietly moved to Midoriya’s other side. Not touching him. Just… there. A silent barrier between him and Bakugou. Bakugou noticed. His jaw tightened. “…Tch.” He didn’t complain. Didn’t tell Todoroki to move. Didn’t shove past him. He simply shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.

The silence lasted until they reached Aizawa’s office. The teacher closed the door behind them. “Sit.” Midoriya obeyed immediately. Todoroki sat on the chair beside him. Bakugou remained standing.

“So,” Aizawa began, folding his arms. “Start from the beginning.” Midoriya swallowed.

“It started this morning.”

“The mug?” Bakugou asked before he could stop himself.

Midoriya nodded weakly. “I broke it by accident.”

“And then?”

“I…” His fingers tightened around the edge of his chair. “I thought…” The words refused to come out. Bakugou frowned. “What did you think?” Midoriya stared at the floor. “I thought…” His voice became barely audible. “…that you were going to hurt me.”

The room fell silent. Bakugou didn’t move. For the first time in years… He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Midoriya shook his head miserably. “I knew Kacchan wasn’t actually angry.” Bakugou looked up. “I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.” Todoroki’s eyes narrowed. “But?” Midoriya’s breathing became uneven again. “But…” His fingers dug into the fabric of his uniform pants. “It felt like…” The words caught in his throat. “…like my body didn’t believe me.”

Silence. Aizawa studied him for several long seconds. Then he stood. “Stay here.” The three students looked up. “I’m going to review the security footage from this morning.” Midoriya frowned. “…Security footage?” “If this is a Quirk,” Aizawa said, reaching for the doorknob, “someone used it.”

The office remained silent after he left. Midoriya stared at his hands. They were still shaking. He clenched them into fists. They kept shaking anyway. Bakugou pushed himself off the wall. “You thought I was gonna beat the shit out of you over a mug. And now, during the sparring, you freaked out again” The words sounded ridiculous when spoken aloud. Midoriya flinched.

“I know,” he whispered. “It doesn’t make any sense. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me”

“I wouldn’t” Bakugou frowned.

“But it was like…” He pressed a hand against his chest. “Like my body refused to listen.”

Todoroki had been silently observing the exchange. “It wasn’t just your thoughts that changed,” he said at last. Midoriya looked at him. “It was your instincts.” Neither of them spoke. The words hung heavily in the room.

A sharp knock interrupted the silence. Aizawa stepped back inside. He wasn’t alone. Behind him stood someone in the Support Course uniform.

Yikko was a petite girl with a youthful face that made her look younger than the rest of them. There was nothing about her appearance that suggested she possessed a Quirk capable of turning someone’s mind into a living nightmare. Right now, she looked as though she’d rather disappear into the floor.

Midoriya frowned. “I…” Recognition slowly dawned on his face. “I’ve seen you before.” The girl nodded weakly. “I know.” She clasped her trembling hands together. “Sensei explained everything to me on the way here. I think…” Her voice nearly failed her. “I think this is my fault.” She took a deep breath.

“My Quirk…” Her eyes dropped to the floor. “…is Fear.”

“A fucking Fear Quirk?!” Bakugou shouted, glaring at the girl. “…Yes,” she answered quietly, refusing to break eye contact. “It was an accident.”

“How the fuck do you Quirk someone by accident?!” Bakugou growled.

“Language, Bakugou.” Aizawa sounded more tired than annoyed. He turned to the girl instead. “Would you care to explain, Yikko?” She swallowed nervously before nodding. “I think it happened during lunch break.” She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. “I… I was arguing with a friend, and I accidentally released my Quirk.” She lowered her gaze. “I still can’t control it very well.”
"Tch." Bakugou bit back the No shit that immediately sprang to mind.

“It happens sometimes,” Yikko continued. “Usually the burst isn’t strong enough to affect anyone nearby. I remember someone with curly green hair running past me, but… I thought he’d already gotten out of range.” Her voice grew quieter. “I didn’t think to warn him.” She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry, Aizawa-sensei. I didn’t realize I’d hit him.”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “And now?” he asked. “How do we fix this?” Yikko hesitated.

“My Quirk amplifies a person’s deepest fear until it overwhelms everything else.” Neither of them interrupted. “The only way for the effect to end…” she said carefully, “…is for the fear itself to be confronted.”

She looked between the two of them before finishing, “If Midoriya is terrified of a specific person… then that person has to prove there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Silence settled over the room. Bakugou’s jaw clenched. “…You’re saying,” he said slowly, “that if I’m the one he’s scared of…”

“…Then you’re the only one who can break the Quirk.”

 The hallway outside the teachers’ offices was unusually quiet. Aizawa had gone to discuss the situation with Recovery Girl, leaving the students to wait. Todoroki stood a respectful distance away, pretending to scroll through his phone. Bakugou leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Midoriya sat on the bench opposite them, trying very hard to keep his breathing even. It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just Kacchan. His pulse refused to listen.
Bakugou pushed himself off the wall. He couldn’t stand doing nothing. He had to try breaking off the stupid Quirk and be done with it.

“Oi.”

Midoriya’s head snapped up. The blond only took a single step toward him. One. Midoriya instinctively shrank back until his shoulders hit the wall behind the bench. Bakugou froze.

“…”

“…Deku.” Another involuntary flinch. “Tch.” Bakugou dragged a hand through his hair, visibly irritated—not with Midoriya, but with the situation. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Liar. The voice came immediately.

He’s getting closer.

Run.

Midoriya squeezed the edge of the bench so tightly his knuckles turned white. No. That’s not true. Kacchan isn’t going to hurt me. Then why can’t you breathe? His chest tightened. Bakugou noticed. “Damn it…” He deliberately took a step back instead. “There.” Another. “Better?”

Midoriya stared. Bakugou had… Moved away. Not closer. “I’m staying right here,” Bakugou said, gesturing to the floor beneath his feet. “See?” He planted both boots firmly on the tiles. “I’m not coming any closer.”
Don’t believe him. He’ll lunge the second you let your guard down. Midoriya shut his eyes. Stop. That’s enough. He’s changed. No, he hasn’t. He apologized. Words are cheap. Kacchan has never hurt me at U.A. Not yet.

His breathing hitched. His nails dug painfully into his palms.

Across the hallway, Todoroki watched in silence. Bakugou watched too. For the first time, he could almost see the battle playing out behind Midoriya’s eyes.

“Deku.” His voice was quieter than usual. “Look at me.” Slowly… Painfully… Midoriya opened his eyes. Bakugou hadn’t moved. He was exactly where he’d promised he’d stay. “I’m not gonna touch you.” The words were simple. No shouting. No bravado. No sarcasm. Just a promise.

The Fear Quirk screamed inside Midoriya’s head. He’s lying. He’s waiting. Don’t trust him. Midoriya swallowed. His heart still pounded. His legs still wanted to run. Every instinct he had begged him to put more distance between them. But… Bakugou hadn’t taken another step. Not one. He’d said he would stay where he was. And he had.

Midoriya drew in one shaky breath. Then another. The voice didn’t disappear. It still whispered. Still clawed at the back of his mind. But for the first time… It wasn’t the only voice he could hear. “I know…” Midoriya whispered, more to himself than anyone else. His fingers slowly unclenched. “I know you won’t.”

Bakugou didn’t smile. Didn’t make a joke. Didn’t point out the victory. He simply gave a short nod. “Damn right.” Midoriya forced his shoulders to relax. The panic was still there. Still raging beneath the surface. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run. Instead, he met Bakugou’s eyes. “…I’m trying.”

“I know.” It wasn’t enough to break the Quirk. Not yet. But for the first time since that morning… Midoriya had won a silent little battle against it.

Eventually, Aizawa returned. After a brief discussion with the Support Course student and a few final instructions from Recovery Girl, he looked between the three of them.

“That’s enough for today.” Midoriya blinked. “The Quirk won’t disappear immediately,” Aizawa continued. “Recovery will take time. Until then, we manage the symptoms.” His eyes shifted toward Bakugou.

“And Bakugou.” The blond looked up. “Keep your distance unless necessary.” Bakugou’s expression immediately soured.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I thought I was supposed to help him.”

“You are.” Aizawa’s tired gaze sharpened. “That doesn’t mean overwhelming him.” Bakugou clicked his tongue. He hated that the teacher was right. “…Fine.” It was the closest thing to agreement anyone was going to get.

The rest of the day continued. Strangely enough… Almost normally. Classes went on. Assignments were completed. Training continued. No one made a big deal out of what happened. At least, no one openly did. But there was one thing that everyone noticed. Midoriya was quiet. Not unusually quiet. Not upset. Just… Quiet.

At first, nobody said anything. Maybe he was tired. Maybe the morning had simply exhausted him. But then came hero analysis. Usually, by this point in class, Midoriya would already be halfway through a notebook page. “His fighting style relies heavily on his left side, but if he adjusts his stance—no, wait, his center of gravity shifts when—” Everyone knew the sound. The rapid muttering. The endless analysis. The occasional rambling that made Iida panic and Uraraka laugh. But today? Nothing. Midoriya sat at his desk, writing silently. No whispered theories. No quiet observations. No barely audible calculations. Nothing.
Kaminari leaned toward Kirishima. “Is it just me, or is that kinda creepy?” Kirishima looked over. “…Yeah.”

Todoroki noticed first. His eyes remained on Midoriya for several seconds longer than necessary. Bakugou noticed too. Of course he did. He’d spent years being annoyed by the muttering. Years telling him to shut up. Years pretending it didn’t matter. But now… The silence bothered him. Because Midoriya wasn’t quiet because he had nothing to say. He was quiet because he was holding himself back. Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. And for some reason… That bothered him more than the noise ever had.

 The next morning, Midoriya arrived at U.A. earlier than usual. Too early. The classroom was empty when he stepped inside. Usually, that would have been a comfort. Today, it wasn’t. The silence gave his thoughts too much room to breathe. He placed his bag down carefully and sat at his desk. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yesterday proved it. Kacchan hadn’t hurt him. Kacchan had stopped. Kacchan had listened. He repeated those facts like a list he needed to memorize. Because his mind knew. His body was still learning.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Bakugou walked in. Midoriya froze. It was barely noticeable. A pause. A slight tension in his shoulders. A tiny change in his breathing. But Bakugou noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes narrowed.

“…Morning.” The word sounded almost forced coming from him. Midoriya blinked. “Oh.” A second too late. “Good morning, Kacchan.” There was no panic. No flinch. But there was hesitation. Bakugou hated that he could recognize it now. He hated even more that he was looking for it. He walked past and sat down.

By the time the rest of the class arrived, things seemed almost normal. Almost.

Uraraka was the first to approach. “Midoriya, are you feeling better?” He smiled quickly. “Yeah! I’m okay.” Too quickly. Iida adjusted his glasses. “Are you certain? Yesterday’s incident was quite concerning.” “I’m okay, I promise.” The words came automatically. Too practiced. Todoroki, standing nearby, watched him carefully. He recognized that tone. The same one people used when they were trying to convince themselves more than anyone else.

During morning lessons, Midoriya forced himself to participate. He answered questions. He took notes. He trained. He smiled when people spoke to him. But something was missing. The energy. The spark. The endless curiosity. The muttering. By lunch, the entire class had noticed.

“Okay, I’m saying it,” Kaminari announced, pointing his chopsticks at Midoriya. “You’re freaking me out.” Midoriya looked up. “What?” “You haven’t mumbled all day.” The table went quiet. Midoriya froze. “I…” He looked down. “I didn’t realize.”

“So…” Kaminari started carefully, looking between Midoriya and the others. “Can we ask what exactly the Quirk does?” Midoriya looked up from his food. The table grew quieter. Everyone was curious, but nobody wanted to pressure him. “It’s okay,” Midoriya said quickly. “You can ask.” Iida adjusted his glasses. “What are the exact effects?”

Midoriya thought for a moment. “It amplifies fear.” The class listened closely. “Not creates it,” he continued. “At least, that’s what I understood. It takes something that’s already there and makes it stronger. Like… it changes how you perceive things.”

Todoroki nodded slightly. “That explains your reactions.” “Yeah.” Midoriya lowered his gaze. “It made me feel like I couldn’t trust my own judgment.” A few people exchanged concerned looks. “That’s terrifying,” Uraraka whispered. Midoriya gave a small smile. “Yeah.”

A silence settled. Then Ashido tilted her head. “So, does it work on everyone?” The question was innocent. But the air shifted.

Bakugou, sitting across from them, immediately looked up. He didn’t know why he cared about the answer. Actually… He did. Because he already knew. Midoriya hesitated. Only for a second. “No.” Everyone blinked. “No?” Midoriya shook his head. “It doesn’t affect everyone the same way.” He carefully chose his words. “It depends on what the person’s biggest fear is.” Yikko explanation from yesterday echoed in his mind. The deepest fear. The strongest attachment. The strongest memory.

He didn’t say the rest. He didn’t say that every time Bakugou raised his voice, his body reacted differently. He didn’t say that the Quirk had chosen the person standing across from him. He didn’t say that the only person who could break it was the same person who had caused those fears in the first place. And Bakugou noticed. Of course he did. His eyes narrowed slightly. He understood what Midoriya had done. He had protected him. Not because he was afraid of what the class would think. Not because he wanted to avoid embarrassment. Because he knew. He knew exactly why the Quirk had latched onto him. And he knew Bakugou already carried enough guilt without everyone else looking at him differently.

For once, Bakugou didn’t have a sharp response. Didn’t have an insult. Didn’t have anything. He just looked away. The conversation eventually moved on. Someone changed the subject. Someone made a joke. Someone complained about homework. Life continued. But Bakugou stayed quiet. Which, by itself, was enough to make everyone suspicious. He sat there, staring at his food, replaying the conversation over and over.

It depends on what the person’s biggest fear is. Midoriya could have said it. He could have told them. He could have looked at everyone and said: It’s him. It’s Bakugou. He could have let the class know. Nobody would have blamed him. Nobody would have been surprised. But he didn’t. Why? That was the part Bakugou couldn’t understand. After everything… After all the things he’d done. After every word, every first he’d thrown at him when they were kids. Midoriya still protected him. Not because he was scared. Not because he was trying to make things easier for him. Because he knew. Because he understood. And somehow that made it worse.

 The next few days passed carefully. Not normally. Carefully. Aizawa’s instructions were clear. Bakugou was not to avoid Midoriya completely, but he was not to push himself into his space either. No sudden movements. No unnecessary shouting. No forcing interactions. And surprisingly… Bakugou followed the rules. Mostly.

He sat farther away during lunch. He didn’t approach Midoriya unless necessary. He even lowered his voice when speaking around him. It was strange enough that Kaminari nearly asked if he had been replaced.

Then, during hero studies, it happened. A book fell from one of the shelves. A loud crash echoed through the classroom. Bakugou reacted without thinking. “Watch what the hell you’re—” He stopped.

Because Midoriya at the desk in front of him had flinched so hard he hit his knees on the table. Not because of the book. Because of him. The rest of the sentence died in Bakugou’s throat. Everyone went quiet. Bakugou stared. This wasn’t a fight. This wasn’t training. Midoriya hadn’t even been involved. And still… His body had reacted. The blond clenched his jaw. Then, slowly, deliberately, he lowered his voice. “Forget it.” Midoriya looked at him. Bakugou looked away. “I wasn’t talking to you.” A pause. Then, quieter: “You’re fine.” The words sounded awkward. Forced. But they were honest. Midoriya swallowed. “I know.”

And that was the problem. He knew. His mind knew. His body was still learning. Bakugou understood that now. For once, he didn’t try to force the lesson. He didn’t tell Midoriya to stop being scared. He didn’t get angry that his efforts weren’t working fast enough. He simply stayed where he was. And waited.

 Another few days passed. A few days of distance. Not avoidance. At least, not exactly. Bakugou followed Aizawa’s instructions. He didn’t approach Midoriya unless necessary. He didn’t try to force conversations. He didn’t try to prove anything. And somehow… That made it harder. Because Midoriya noticed. He noticed every time Bakugou stopped himself from raising his voice. Every time he chose to walk away instead of pushing. Every time he gave him space. The Fear Quirk was still there. But it was quieter. Not gone. Just quieter. When the class gathered on the training grounds again, Aizawa looked over the students.

“Today’s exercise will be partner combat.” A few people immediately perked up. “Pairs will be assigned.” He glanced at his notes. “Kirishima and Bakugou.” Kirishima grinned. “Awesome.” Bakugou simply nodded. “Midoriya and Iida.” “Understood!” Iida replied immediately.

Midoriya stood still. Something inside him tightened. Not fear. Not exactly. A decision. “Sensei.” Aizawa looked up. “Yes, Midoriya?” The entire class went quiet. “I think…” Midoriya swallowed. “I think I should spar with Kacc-, I mean, Bakugou.” A pause. Even Bakugou looked surprised.

“What?” Midoriya turned toward him. His hands trembled slightly. But he didn’t look away. “If I keep avoiding him, then the Quirk wins.” Aizawa’s expression became more serious. “Midoriya.”

“I know it’s not gone yet.” His voice was quiet, but steady. “I know I’m still scared.” A few classmates shifted uncomfortably. Most of them have realized by now that his biggest fear was the explosive blonde. It didn't surprise them. They figured he could easily be the fear of anyone who got to know him. They did not know of the underlying issues the Wonder Duo had. “But if I ever want to get over it…” Midoriya took a breath. “I have to try.”

Silence. Aizawa studied him. Long enough that everyone wondered if he would refuse. Finally, he sighed. “Bakugou.” The blond looked over. “You understand what this means?” Bakugou shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.” No irritation. No arrogance. Just understanding. “Fine.” Aizawa looked between them. “One mistake.” Both boys listened. “If either of you push beyond what is necessary, I stop the match.” They nodded.

The class moved to their assigned areas. Interestingly… Nobody stayed to watch. Not because they didn’t care. Because they did. They knew this wasn’t a normal spar. This wasn’t about winning. It wasn’t about proving who was stronger. It was something more personal. Something that belonged to the two of them.

Todoroki, however, didn’t leave. He sat on one of the benches near the edge of the field, arms crossed. Aizawa noticed. He said nothing. He was too tired to argue. And, honestly… He understood. Todoroki wasn’t staying because he didn’t trust Bakugou. He was staying because Midoriya was his friend. Because facing a fear was easier when you knew someone was there if things went wrong.

Aizawa looked back toward the training area. Midoriya and Bakugou stood across from each other. For the first time in days… No distance. No walls. Just the two of them.

“Begin.”

And at first, neither of them moved.

Then the spar began. And for a moment… It felt exactly like before.

Midoriya couldn’t move. Not because he didn’t know what to do. Not because he lacked experience. Because every instinct inside him screamed one thing.

Run.

Bakugou stood across from him. Waiting. Not attacking. Not rushing. And somehow that was worse. Because Midoriya knew. He knew this was different. He knew Bakugou wasn’t moving like he usually did. The sharpness was gone. The impatience. The overwhelming pressure. His movements were slower. More controlled. Almost deliberate. Giving him time. Giving him a chance. But his body didn’t understand. His muscles were frozen. His lungs refused to cooperate. His hands trembled at his sides.

Move. Nothing.

Move. His feet stayed planted.

The Fear Quirk wrapped around him like invisible chains, tightening every time Bakugou took a step closer. Then— Midoriya forced himself forward. A tiny movement. Barely anything. But it was his. He wasn’t letting it control him. Not today.

Bakugou moved. Midoriya dodged. Not smoothly. Not beautifully. Not like his fight with Todoroki. But he moved. Again. And again. Each step was a battle. Each breath was something he had to fight for. Every instinct told him to freeze. Every memory told him he was in danger. But he kept going. Until finally— Something answered. A familiar sensation. A spark. A warmth beneath his skin. Midoriya’s eyes widened.

One For All.

Green lightning erupted around him. Not violently. Not explosively. Like it had always been there, waiting. The electricity wrapped around his body, flowing through him, guiding him. For a moment, it felt like he wasn’t moving alone. Like One For All itself was reminding him: You can do this. His body moved. His feet carried him. His muscles followed. The fear was still there. But it was no longer in control.

Bakugou noticed. His eyes sharpened. There he was. Deku. The real one. Not the frightened version of him. Not someone trapped by fear. His rival. The one he wanted to fight. A small, familiar spark of competitiveness returned.

“Finally,” Bakugou muttered. And this time… He stopped holding back. The difference was immediate. The next attack came faster. Sharper. More like Bakugou. Midoriya reacted. Barely. The green lightning carried him forward, helping him move before fear could stop him. For several seconds, they were fighting. Really fighting. And then— Bakugou launched himself forward. Midoriya saw him coming.

But he didn’t see Bakugou. Not anymore. His mind twisted the image.

The explosion.

The speed.

The force.

Suddenly, it wasn’t his childhood friend rushing toward him.

It was something enormous.

A charging bull. Unstoppable. Dangerous. Coming straight for him.

Midoriya froze. The green lightning flickered. “No…” His voice barely escaped. The chains returned. The Fear Quirk tightened its grip. One For All vanished. The electricity slipped away from him like it had never been there.

At that exact moment, Aizawa was looking elsewhere. Another pair of students had just entered a dangerous exchange, and his attention was focused entirely on correcting their movements. He trusted Bakugou and Midoriya to handle their match.

He didn’t see the hesitation. Didn’t see the fear. Didn’t see the exact moment Midoriya froze. Not yet.

“Midoriya!”

Bakugou’s eyes widened. Too late. The blast connected. Not a direct hit. Not enough to seriously injure him. But enough. Enough to send him crashing backward.

Midoriya hit the ground hard, the air leaving his lungs. For a second, everything was silent. Bakugou stood frozen. His eyes wide. He hadn’t meant— He hadn’t— Then he moved. Immediately. “Deku.” He rushed forward.

At the exact same time, Todoroki moved from the bench. He had been watching the entire match. Every hesitation. Every small victory. Every time Midoriya fought against the Quirk. And the moment he saw him fall, he was already moving. Not because he didn’t trust Bakugou. Because Midoriya was his friend. And something was wrong.

Neither of them noticed the other moving.

Bakugou because all he could see was Midoriya on the ground.

Todoroki because all he could think about was reaching him. And that was the mistake.

Because Midoriya didn’t see someone coming to help. He didn’t see the boy who had stopped himself. He didn’t see the person who had spent days trying. He saw only the past. The person who hurt him. The person coming closer. To finish it.

A scream tore through the training grounds. Not from pain. From fear. “NO!” Everyone stopped. Even the students who had been fighting across the field froze. Aizawa’s head snapped toward them. He turned too late. The entire class stared. Bakugou froze. Todoroki froze beside him. Midoriya scrambled backward, one hand clutching his stomach. The other shot forward. A barrier. A plea. A warning.

“Don’t!” His voice broke. “Don’t come closer!” Bakugou stared. The words hit harder than any attack. “Deku…” “Don’t!” Midoriya’s eyes were filled with tears. He couldn’t tell anymore. Couldn’t tell what was real. The pain in his stomach. The fear in his chest. The memories. The present. Everything mixed together.

“Please…” His hand trembled violently. “I know what you’re going to do.”

Bakugou’s expression changed. Because he understood. Midoriya wasn’t talking to him. Not completely. He was talking to someone else. Someone from years ago. For a few seconds, nobody moved. The entire training ground had gone silent. Bakugou stood frozen. His hand was still slightly raised from where he had reached out. Not to attack. To help. But Midoriya didn’t know that. Not anymore. His breathing came in short, broken gasps. “Please…” The word was barely audible. “Don’t…”

Bakugou’s chest tightened. Because he had heard Midoriya scream before. In battles. Against villains. Against impossible odds. But never like this. Never because of him. “Bakugou.” Aizawa’s voice was low. Not angry. A warning. The blond’s eyes shifted toward him. And for once… He understood without arguing.

He took a step back. Slowly. Carefully. Midoriya noticed. But the fear didn’t disappear. Not yet.

“Midoriya.” Todoroki’s voice was quiet. Steady. The green-haired boy’s eyes snapped toward him. For a second— His body reacted before his mind could. A figure approaching. Someone moving closer.

Danger.

His shoulders tensed. His hands rose protectively. But then he saw him. Not Bakugou.

Todoroki.

Shoto.

His friend.

The person who had stood beside him.

The person who had never once made him feel small.

The person who had helped him without asking for anything in return.

Midoriya’s breathing caught. “…Todoroki?” “Yeah.” The half-and-half haired boy slowly lowered himself to his knees. Not too close. Giving him space. “I’m here.” Midoriya stared. Waiting. For something bad. For something to happen. Nothing did. Todoroki stayed exactly where he was.

“You’re safe.” The words were simple. But they reached him. “I promise.” Midoriya’s lips trembled. “You don’t have to fight right now.” His eyes filled.

“I…” His voice broke. “I don’t know what’s real.” Todoroki’s expression softened. “I know.” A pause. “But I do.” He placed a hand against his own chest. “I’m here.” Another pause. “And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Midoriya swallowed. The words didn’t magically erase the fear. They couldn’t. But they gave him something to hold onto. A piece of reality. A reason to breathe. Slowly… Very slowly… His shoulders lowered.

“Enough.” Aizawa’s voice cut through the moment. The class looked toward him. “Back to training.” Everyone stared. “But Aizawa-sensei—” Uraraka started. “I know.” His expression remained tired. “I know exactly what happened.” His eyes moved briefly toward Midoriya. “But stopping everything and letting everyone panic will not help him.” No one argued. “Continue your matches.” The students hesitated. Then, reluctantly, they moved. But nobody looked away completely. Aizawa turned back toward Todoroki.

“Todoroki.” “Yes.” “Take Midoriya to Recovery Girl.” Todoroki nodded immediately. “Understood.” Midoriya looked up. “I’m okay.” “No.” Todoroki’s answer was gentle but firm. “You don’t have to be.” Something about that made Midoriya go quiet. Because he always tried to be okay. Always tried to prove he was fine. And maybe… Maybe today he didn’t have to.

As Todoroki helped him stand, Bakugou remained where he was. Silent. Watching. His eyes followed every shaky step the green-haired boy took away from him. He wanted to say something. Anything. That he hadn’t meant to. That he stopped. That he was trying. That he wasn’t the same person anymore. But none of it mattered right now. Because Deku’s fear didn’t care about his intentions. It only remembered. And Bakugou… For the first time… Had to face the full weight of that. He had spent years convincing himself that because he changed, the damage was gone. That apologies mattered. That becoming better fixed what happened. But watching Midoriya cling to Todoroki’s presence because he was afraid of him… Made something painfully clear. Changing didn’t erase the past. It only meant he had to live with knowing it existed.

Bakugou followed after them. Not close. Not enough to frighten him. Just enough to make sure. Aizawa noticed. He said nothing. Because for once… Bakugou wasn’t chasing after Midoriya to prove something. He was following because he was worried. And because he knew he didn’t deserve to be forgiven just because he wanted it. Bakugou followed them. Not close. Not enough for Midoriya to notice. Not enough for anyone to accuse him of ignoring Aizawa’s instructions. Just enough. Just enough that he could see them disappear into the hallway leading toward Recovery Girl’s office. Just enough that he could make sure. That was all. That was the only reason. At least, that was what he told himself. Because logically… Logically, he knew he was the last person Midoriya needed right now. He was the trigger. The source. The person his brain had decided represented danger. If something happened, it would come from him. But logic wasn’t winning this time. Something far stronger had taken its place. A heavy, uncomfortable feeling twisted deep in his stomach. A kind of worry he hated. A kind he didn’t know how to handle. So he stayed. Because leaving felt impossible.

He stopped outside the infirmary door. He didn’t enter. Couldn’t. The last thing he wanted was for Deku to open his eyes and see him standing there. So he waited. Through the small window in the door, he could see them. Todoroki sat beside the bed. Calm. Steady. Exactly what the green-haired boy needed. The sight should have relieved him. It did. Mostly. But there was something else there too. Something irritating. Something he couldn’t put a name to. Midoriya was holding onto Todoroki’s sleeve. Not tightly. Not desperately. Just enough. Like he was afraid that if he let go, the last piece of safety would disappear. Bakugou’s jaw tightened. Of course he trusted Todoroki. Why wouldn’t he? Todoroki had never given him a reason not to. He had always been calm. Always patient. Always there when Midoriya needed him. Bakugou looked away. Why did that bother him? It shouldn’t. He wanted Midoriya to feel safe. Even if that safety wasn’t with him. Especially if it wasn’t with him. So why did something inside him twist unpleasantly at the sight?

He shoved his hands into his pockets. Ridiculous.

Inside the infirmary, Todoroki spoke quietly. “You’re safe.” Midoriya nodded. But his eyes remained glassy. “I know.” His voice shook. “I know you’re here.” Todoroki didn’t push. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t tell him to calm down. He simply stayed. And eventually… The tears came. Quietly at first. Then harder. The kind of crying Midoriya hated. The kind he tried to hide.

Through the closed door, Bakugou heard it. The muffled sobs. The uneven breathing. The small sounds of someone trying desperately not to fall apart. His chest tightened. He hated it. Not the crying. Not Midoriya. The fact that he was the reason. His hands curled into fists. He had heard Midoriya cry before. Years ago. When they were kids. Back then, he never cared. Or convinced himself he didn’t. Now every broken sound felt like it was cutting straight through him.

Eventually, the door opened. Recovery Girl stepped out. “Bakugou.” He straightened. The old woman gave him a knowing look. “You’ve been standing there the entire time?” He looked away. “No.” A pause. “…Yes.”

She sighed. “Come in.” Bakugou froze. Then shook his head. “No.” Recovery Girl raised an eyebrow. “No?” “He doesn’t need me there.” For once, there was no pride in his voice. Only acceptance. She studied him. Then stepped aside. “Fine.”

She turned back into the room. Inside, Midoriya sat on the infirmary bed. His injuries had already been treated. Recovery Girl had pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, and the warmth of her Quirk had spread through him almost immediately. The pain in his stomach faded. The exhaustion lifted. But the fear… That was different. That wasn’t an injury. That was something his body still had to learn.

“Thank you, Recovery Girl,” Midoriya whispered. The elderly healer smiled. “Rest, young man.” He nodded. Todoroki remained beside him. Still calm. Still present. And outside the door, Bakugou stood silently. Waiting. Not because he thought he could fix it. Just because, for some reason… Walking away felt impossible.

Recovery Girl left the room after giving Midoriya one last look. “Rest,” she instructed. “Your body may be healed, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t exhausted.” Midoriya nodded quietly. The door closed behind her. For a while, neither boy spoke. Todoroki stayed beside the bed. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough. Midoriya stared down at his hands.

“I’m sorry.” Todoroki looked at him. “For what?” The question caught him off guard. “I…” Midoriya opened his mouth, but no words came out. Because he didn’t know. Was he apologizing for being afraid? For needing help? For making everyone worry? For making Bakugou look like the villain again?

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. Todoroki’s expression softened. “You don’t have to apologize for being scared.” Midoriya’s fingers tightened slightly. “But I know he’s changed.” The words came out almost like a confession. “I know.” His voice cracked. “I know Kacchan isn’t the same person anymore.” A pause. “But my body doesn’t…” He swallowed. “It doesn’t believe me.” Todoroki nodded. “I understand.” Midoriya looked up. “You do?” “Yes.”

Todoroki looked toward the closed door. “Sometimes your mind understands something before the rest of you does.”

The words settled heavily. Because that was exactly it. He knew. He knew Bakugou wasn’t going to hurt him. He knew Bakugou had changed. He knew Bakugou had spent days trying to give him space. And yet… One movement. One sound. One memory. And everything collapsed.

Outside the infirmary, Bakugou stood silently. He wasn’t listening. He told himself that. He wasn’t trying to hear what they were saying. But the walls were thin. And some words slipped through anyway. “My body doesn’t believe me.” His stomach twisted. Because that made sense. More sense than he wanted it to. He had spent so long thinking that changing himself was the end of it. That becoming better meant the past was fixed. But it wasn’t.

Midoriya wasn’t holding onto anger. He wasn’t punishing him. He wasn’t refusing to forgive him. He was just… Afraid. And Bakugou was the reason.

The door opened. Bakugou immediately stepped back. Todoroki walked out. For a moment, the two of them simply looked at each other. “You shouldn’t go inside.” Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t going to.” Todoroki studied him.

Usually, Bakugou would have snapped. Would have gotten angry. Would have demanded to know why everyone thought he was some kind of threat. But he didn’t. Because they both knew. “He’s not afraid because he hates you.” Bakugou looked away. “I know.” “He knows you changed.” Silence. “But fear doesn’t work like that.” Bakugou’s jaw tightened. No. It didn’t. That was the worst part. If Midoriya hated him, maybe it would be easier. Anger made sense. Anger could be fought. Fear was different. Fear was something that lived inside someone. Something that didn’t disappear just because you wanted it to. Todoroki glanced at him. “You care about him.” Bakugou immediately looked back. “What the hell does that mean?” “It means you stayed outside this door the entire time.” Bakugou went quiet. Then clicked his tongue. “Don’t make it weird.”

Todoroki said nothing. Because he didn’t need to. Eventually, Bakugou left. Not because he stopped caring. Because he finally understood something. Sometimes helping someone meant staying. And sometimes… It meant walking away.

The next day, Midoriya returned to class. Everyone tried to act normal. They really did. But everyone was a little too careful. Too quiet. Too aware.

“You guys don’t have to look at me like I’m made of glass,” Midoriya said with an awkward smile.

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, man. You just kinda scared us.” Midoriya laughed softly. “I scared myself too.” The class relaxed slightly. Conversation returned. The day continued. But Midoriya noticed one thing. Bakugou didn’t approach him. Didn’t make a comment. Didn’t try to force anything. He simply stayed where he was. Giving him space. And somehow… That meant more than any apology. Because for the first time since the Quirk appeared… Midoriya wasn’t thinking about what Bakugou might do. He was thinking about what Bakugou was choosing not to do. And that was different.

The days after the incident settled into a strange rhythm. Not normal. Not yet. But better. The Fear Quirk was still there. Midoriya could feel it sometimes. A sudden tightening in his chest when Bakugou’s voice rose. A brief hesitation when they ended up standing too close. The instinct to step away before he even thought about it. But something had changed. Because now there was another thought. A quieter one.

Wait.

Look again.

And every time he did… Bakugou was different.

Bakugou didn’t force anything. That was what surprised Midoriya the most. He expected frustration. He expected impatience. He expected Bakugou to eventually snap and tell him to get over it. But he didn’t. If they ended up in the same area, Bakugou kept his distance. If Midoriya looked uncomfortable, Bakugou looked away instead of staring. If he raised his voice, he caught himself. Every single time. Like he was fighting his own instincts, too. And Midoriya noticed.

It happened after class. Most of the students had already left. Midoriya was packing his things when he noticed Bakugou still sitting at his desk. Not doing anything. Just… Waiting. That was unusual.

“Kacchan?” Bakugou looked up. “What?” The sharpness was automatic. But he immediately noticed Midoriya tense.

His expression changed. Not completely. But enough. “Nothing.” Midoriya blinked. Bakugou looked away. “Just…” He stopped himself. Then tried again.

“What do you need?” It was such a simple question. But Midoriya noticed. Bakugou wasn’t demanding. Wasn’t annoyed. He was asking. Midoriya hesitated. Then slowly walked closer. Only a few steps. Enough that his body protested. Enough that the Quirk whispered. Danger. His fingers curled. But he stayed. Bakugou noticed. His eyes widened slightly. Because he understood what this was. A choice. Midoriya was choosing to stand there. Not because he wasn’t scared. Because he was. And he came anyway. “You don’t have to do that.” Bakugou’s voice was quieter. Midoriya looked confused. “Do what?” “Force yourself.” The answer surprised him. Bakugou looked away. “If you’re scared, you’re scared.” A pause. “Don’t pretend you’re not.”

Midoriya stared. Because that sounded almost impossible coming from him. The old Bakugou would have called him weak. The old Bakugou would have told him to stop acting pathetic. But this one… This one was telling him he didn’t have to lie.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Bakugou nodded once. “What?” Midoriya looked down.

“Why did you come after us?”

Silence. Bakugou froze. Because he knew exactly what he meant. The hallway. The infirmary. Standing outside the door. Watching. “You noticed?”

Midoriya gave a small smile. “Kacchan, I notice everything.”

A familiar answer. Something almost normal. Bakugou looked away. “Tch.” Then quieter: “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Midoriya’s expression softened. “You didn’t think Todoroki would take care of me?”

“I knew he would.” The answer came immediately. That surprised him.

“Then why?” Bakugou was quiet. Because he didn’t have an easy answer. Because saying because I was scared something would happen to you felt too honest. So he settled for: “Because I wanted to know.”

Midoriya understood. Maybe not completely. But enough. And for the first time… The Fear Quirk didn’t win. Because Bakugou was standing there. And Midoriya was still standing too. Midoriya adjusted the strap of his backpack. “I should get going.” He turned toward the classroom door.

“Wait.” The voice was so quiet he almost didn’t recognize it. He looked back. Bakugou was still standing by his desk, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor instead of him.

“…Yes?” Silence stretched between them. Bakugou had never been good with words. Not these kinds of words. Finally, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Midoriya blinked. The words hung in the air. Heavy. Honest. He had already apologized once. Years ago. But this one felt different. This wasn’t an apology for the boy he had been. It was for what had happened now. For watching Midoriya scream at the sight of him. For being unable to do anything except stand there. A small, timid smile found its way onto Midoriya’s face.

“It’s okay.” Bakugou’s brows drew together. “No, it isn’t.” Midoriya shook his head gently. “I mean…” He searched for the right words. “It’s not your fault.” Bakugou looked up. “The Quirk…” Midoriya continued quietly. “It’s twisting everything. I know that.”

A bitter laugh escaped Bakugou. “Doesn’t change the fact that it picked me.”

Midoriya couldn’t answer that. Because they both knew why it had. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… sad.

Bakugou broke it first. “…How do we end it?”

His voice was barely above a whisper. Not demanding. Not frustrated. Just… Lost. Midoriya looked at him for a long moment.

“I don’t know.” The answer came quietly. “The Support Course girl said I have to stop being afraid.” He let out a shaky breath. “I know you’re not going to hurt me.” Another pause. “I really do.” His fingers curled around the strap of his backpack. “But every time we’re face to face…” His smile disappeared. “My body keeps choosing before I can.”

Bakugou felt something tighten painfully in his chest. “So what…” He swallowed. “What am I supposed to do?”

Midoriya thought for a moment. Then, almost apologetically, he answered, “I think…” “…just keep being you.”

Bakugou frowned. “What kind of shitty answer is that?”

A quiet laugh escaped Midoriya. A real one. Because somehow, that response sounded exactly like Kacchan.

“I mean it.” He met Bakugou’s eyes. “Keep proving the Quirk wrong.”

Bakugou stared at him. Day after day. Moment after moment. Without forcing it. Without asking for forgiveness. Without expecting anything in return. Just… Showing him. Eventually, Midoriya smiled again.

“I think my body will catch up someday.”

For the first time since the Fear Quirk had taken hold… Bakugou found himself hoping. Not that Midoriya would forgive him. Not even that the Quirk would disappear tomorrow. Just… That one day, Midoriya would look at him— And his first instinct wouldn’t be fear.

The opportunity came three days later. Not during training. Not during class. Not during anything important.

Breakfast. The common room buzzed with the usual morning chatter. Kaminari was loudly complaining about an upcoming history test. Mina laughed so hard she nearly spilled her juice. Sero was trying—and failing—to steal a piece of Kirishima’s toast.

It was… normal. Midoriya smiled. He had missed normal. He stood from his chair, empty plate in hand. “I’ll put this away.” “Bring mine too?” Uraraka asked hopefully. “Sure.” He took her plate with a smile and headed toward the kitchen. He had almost reached the sink when someone else walked in. Bakugou. Neither of them had expected it. The room suddenly felt much smaller. Midoriya stopped. So did Bakugou. For a second… Nothing happened. The Quirk stirred. Danger. His heart skipped. His fingers tightened around the plates. But Bakugou didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even take another step. He simply waited. Giving Midoriya the choice. Midoriya noticed. He took one slow breath. Then another. Look again.

Bakugou wasn’t glaring. Wasn’t marching toward him. Wasn’t demanding anything. He was just… Standing there. Waiting. Midoriya swallowed. Then forced his legs to move. One step. The whisper in his head grew louder. Don’t. Another step. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Bakugou remained perfectly still. A third. A fourth. Until they stood only a few feet apart. Close enough that, a week ago, Midoriya would have frozen. Now… He was shaking. But he was still moving.

Bakugou quietly stepped sideways. Making room for him to reach the sink. No words. No dramatic gesture. Just space. Midoriya blinked. “…Thanks.” Bakugou gave a small shrug. Midoriya washed the plates with trembling hands. When he finished, he turned to leave. He had to pass Bakugou again. The Quirk whispered. Run. Instead… He walked. Slowly. His shoulder brushed against Bakugou’s. Barely. An accident. The contact lasted less than a second. Midoriya stopped dead. His breathing caught. He waited. For panic. For the crushing wave of terror. For the voice telling him to get away. It came. But only for a moment. Then… It faded. Bakugou hadn’t grabbed him. Hadn’t shouted. Hadn’t even flinched. He had simply… Stepped aside. Midoriya looked at him. Bakugou looked back.

“You okay?” It was the quietest Midoriya had ever heard him speak. Midoriya nodded slowly. “…Yeah.” And for the first time since the Fear Quirk had taken hold… The answer was true.

From the doorway, unnoticed by either of them, Todoroki watched the entire exchange. A small breath escaped him. Not quite relief. But something close. There had been no grand breakthrough. No dramatic declaration. No miracle. Just a boy choosing not to run. And another choosing not to chase. Sometimes… That was enough.

 The breakthrough came when neither of them wanted it to. It happened during rescue training. Aizawa had divided the class into small groups and scattered them throughout Ground Gamma, the mock city filled with collapsed buildings, narrow alleyways and simulated disaster zones.

“The objective is simple,” Aizawa had said. “Locate the civilians. Get them out. Minimal property damage.”

Midoriya exhaled quietly. Rescue work. Good. No direct combat. No sparring. No Bakug—

“Team Three.” Aizawa glanced at his clipboard. “Midoriya.” “…Yes, Sensei.” “Bakugou.” “Tch.” “Todoroki.”

Three heads turned. Midoriya felt his stomach drop. No. Not today. Please… Not today.

The Fear Quirk stirred immediately. His pulse quickened. His palms dampened.

Aizawa noticed. He always noticed. “Any objections?”

Midoriya’s mouth opened. Then closed. Slowly… He shook his head. “No, Sensei.”

Because if he objected now… Then everything he had said before had been a lie. He couldn’t keep avoiding Bakugou forever.

The exercise began.

Todoroki naturally took the lead, freezing unstable debris to secure the streets. Midoriya searched the buildings. Bakugou cleared blocked paths with controlled explosions. They hardly spoke. When they did, it was short. Professional.

“Left.”

“Got it.”

“Clear.”

“Moving.”

And somehow… That made it easier.

Until the building collapsed.

It wasn’t part of the exercise. The support beams groaned. Concrete cracked. A deafening rumble echoed overhead.

“LOOK OUT!” Todoroki shoved a falling slab of concrete away with a wall of ice.

The force of it split the corridor in half. Dust exploded into the air. When it settled… Midoriya realized he couldn’t see Todoroki anymore.

“Todoroki!” No answer. Another crash. The hallway behind him disappeared beneath rubble. His only way out gone.

“…Damn it.” A voice answered from somewhere in the dust.

“You alive, Deku?” Bakugou. Too close. Midoriya turned. The blond emerged through the haze, coughing once before looking around. He assessed the damage in seconds.

“We’re trapped.” Midoriya’s breathing hitched. The corridor wasn’t wide. Barely enough room for two people to stand comfortably. There was nowhere to move. Nowhere to create distance.

The Fear Quirk struck instantly. Too close. You’re trapped. He can reach you. His body locked. Bakugou saw it. Saw the color drain from Midoriya’s face. Saw his breathing shorten. Saw the slight tremor in his hands. He knew. Without saying a word, Bakugou did something unexpected.

He sat down. Right there on the cracked concrete floor. Leaning his back against the opposite wall. Putting as much distance between them as the narrow corridor allowed.

“I’m staying here.” Midoriya blinked. Bakugou looked anywhere except at him. “I’m not coming any closer.”

Silence. “If you need to move…” He gestured weakly toward the open stretch of floor. “…you’ve got room.”

Midoriya stared. The Quirk screamed. Liar. He’s waiting. He’s going to corner you. But reality… Reality looked different. Bakugou stayed exactly where he said he would. One minute passed. Then another. Then five. He never moved. Not once.

Not even when the ceiling groaned above them. Not even when instinct surely told him to stand. He stayed. Because he had made a promise. And Midoriya slowly realized… Bakugou was keeping it. His breathing steadied. The pounding in his chest softened. The voice in his head grew quieter. Not gone. Just… Further away.

Bakugou looked up only long enough to ask, “You doing okay?” There was no impatience. No demand. No expectation. Just concern. Real concern. Midoriya looked at him for a long moment. Then, almost to himself, he whispered,

“…You’re really not going to hurt me.”

Bakugou’s expression crumpled for just a second.

Like those words hurt more than they should have. “No.” His answer came immediately. Quietly. With absolute certainty. “Never again.”

And for the first time… Midoriya believed him. Not because his mind told him to. Because his body finally did.

The first sound they heard was distant. Metal scraping against concrete. Voices. Muffled at first. Then clearer. “…They’re in here!” Kirishima. “Stand back.” Aizawa. A section of the collapsed ceiling shifted. Daylight filtered through the cracks. “Bakugou! Midoriya!” Iida’s voice echoed from somewhere above. “Can you hear us?”

“We’re fine,” Bakugou called back before Midoriya could answer. “Just get us out.” The rubble above them groaned. Todoroki’s ice slid beneath several broken beams, holding the unstable ceiling in place while Sato and Shoji carefully lifted the heavier pieces. Within minutes, enough debris had been cleared to create a narrow opening. Aizawa peered inside. His tired eyes swept over the two boys. Midoriya sat against the wall, breathing evenly. Bakugou remained on the opposite side of the corridor exactly where he’d promised he would stay. Neither of them had moved. Neither of them looked panicked.

Aizawa’s gaze lingered on Bakugou for a fraction of a second. “Midoriya first.” Bakugou didn’t argue. He simply nodded once. Midoriya climbed toward the opening, accepting Shoji’s hand without protest. Only after both feet touched solid ground did Bakugou grab the edge of the opening. He glanced over his shoulder. Making sure Midoriya was already safely outside. Only then did he pull himself free. Aizawa noticed that too. He said nothing.

The class crowded around Midoriya almost instantly. “Dude, are you okay?” “Did anything happen?” “Were you hurt?” “That collapse looked awful!” Questions came from every direction. Midoriya smiled weakly. “I’m okay.” His voice sounded steadier than it had in days.

Recovery Girl’s Quirk had taken care of the bruises. The rest… Would take longer.

Todoroki approached more slowly than the others. He waited until everyone else had taken a step back before coming in front of Midoriya. His mismatched eyes searched the other’s face. “Midoriya.” “I’m okay,” Midoriya repeated. Todoroki shook his head slightly. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

The green-haired boy blinked. For a long moment, Todoroki simply watched him. Then, quietly enough that only the two of them could hear, he asked, “…Were you okay in there?”

The question settled between them. Midoriya knew exactly what he meant. Not… Were you injured? Not… Did the building collapse on you? But— How was it being trapped alone with Bakugou?

His chest tightened. His mind replayed the last fifteen minutes. The narrow corridor. The dust. The walls. The panic. Bakugou sitting down instead of approaching. Keeping every promise. Not moving an inch closer. Speaking softly. Waiting. Giving him every choice. His breathing slowed. Then something dawned on him. He hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes waiting to be hurt. He had spent the last fifteen minutes watching Bakugou choose— Again. And again. And again— Not to.

Midoriya looked back at Todoroki. “…Yeah.” The answer surprised even him. “…I was.” Todoroki’s shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. A small smile touched his lips. “I’m glad.”

No more questions. None were needed. A few feet away, Bakugou stood silently while Recovery Girl checked him over. “Hold still.” “I’m fine.” “You’ll hold still.” “Tch.” She looked over his scraped arms before waving him off. “No serious injuries.” He grunted. His eyes wandered almost immediately back toward Midoriya. Still surrounded by classmates. Still talking quietly with Todoroki. Still… Safe.

Good. That was enough. He turned. Time to leave. “Kacchan.” His feet stopped before his brain did. Silence fell over the training ground. Every conversation died.

Bakugou slowly turned around. Midoriya was looking directly at him. Dust still clung to his hair. His costume was torn. He looked exhausted. But he wasn’t afraid. Not now. “…What?” Midoriya hesitated. Then smiled. Small. Almost shy.

“…Thank you.” Bakugou frowned. “…For what?” Midoriya looked down at the ground. Bakugou’s throat suddenly felt strangely tight.

He understood. He searched for something sarcastic. Something sharp. Something that sounded like himself. Nothing came.

After several long seconds, he clicked his tongue. “…Idiot.”

It lacked every ounce of venom it usually carried.

Midoriya laughed. Softly. Quietly. But genuinely. The sound made several classmates exchange surprised glances. Even Aizawa looked up from his clipboard. Bakugou rolled his eyes. And somewhere deep inside Izuku Midoriya… The Fear Quirk faltered. Not enough to disappear. Not yet. But for the first time since it had taken root… It hesitated. Because reality had begun to outweigh memory. Because fifteen minutes trapped beneath concrete had taught Midoriya something no amount of reassurance ever could. Bakugou had every opportunity to hurt him. And instead… He had spent every second making sure he felt safe. Perhaps… His body was finally beginning to believe what his heart had known all along.

The incident beneath the collapsed building wasn’t mentioned again. Not during the remainder of training. Not during lunch. Not even when Class 1-A returned to the dorms that evening. Everyone had seen it. Everyone was thinking about it. But no one wanted to be the first to bring it up. It was as though speaking too loudly might undo whatever fragile progress had been made.

“Bakugou.” The blond looked up from stuffing his gauntlets into his locker. Aizawa stood a few feet away, capture weapon draped lazily around his shoulders.

“My office.” Bakugou frowned. “…Now?” “Now.”

Several heads turned. Kaminari immediately elbowed Kirishima. “What’d he do this time?” “I don’t think he did anything,” Kirishima whispered back. Bakugou ignored them. “Tch.” He followed Aizawa down the empty hallway. Neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was simply… Aizawa.

The office door clicked shut behind them. Bakugou remained standing. Aizawa dropped into his chair with a tired sigh. For a while, he said nothing. He simply looked at his student. Not with suspicion. Not with disappointment. Just… Thoughtfully. Finally, he spoke.

“How long did the two of you spend trapped down there?” Bakugou shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Approximately.”

“…Fifteen minutes.” Aizawa nodded once. “And during those fifteen minutes?” Bakugou frowned. “What about them?” “You never approached him.” It wasn’t a question.

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “He didn’t want me near him.” “No.” Aizawa folded his hands together. “He expected you to approach him.” Bakugou’s brows furrowed. “He expected you to ignore his fear.” “He expected you to lose your patience.” “He expected you to become the version of yourself his Quirk keeps showing him.” Silence.

“But you didn’t.” Bakugou looked down. “…No.”

“Why?” The question came so simply that it almost caught him off guard. Why? Because… Because walking toward him would’ve made him panic. Because he’d promised. Because he couldn’t bear hearing that scream again. Because seeing Deku look at him like he was a villain had hurt more than any punch he’d ever taken. He swallowed.

“…Because he asked me not to.” Aizawa watched him carefully. “And?” Bakugou frowned. “What do you mean, ‘and’?”

“I’ve known you for nearly three years.” His tired eyes remained fixed on the blond. “If this had happened during your first year…” A faint pause. “…would you have stayed where you were?”

Bakugou answered immediately. “…No.”

The word hung in the room. Raw. Honest. “I would’ve told him to stop being dramatic.” Another pause. “…Probably yelled.” His jaw tightened. “…Maybe gotten closer just to prove a point.” Aizawa didn’t interrupt. Bakugou let out a slow breath. “But that would’ve been about me.” The admission surprised even him. He stared at the floor. “I would’ve been trying to make myself feel better.” Not him. Me. Another silence settled over the office.

This one felt different. Lighter. Aizawa leaned back in his chair. “Do you know why I paired you with Midoriya today?” Bakugou looked up. “I thought you were trying to see whether the Quirk had weakened.” “I was.” Aizawa nodded. “But that wasn’t the only reason.” Bakugou waited. “I wanted to know whether I could trust you.”

The words landed harder than expected. Bakugou’s expression didn’t change. But his shoulders did. Ever so slightly. “I don’t mean trust your strength.” Aizawa continued calmly. “I already know you’re one of the strongest students in this class.” “I wanted to know whether I could trust your judgment.” Another pause. “Whether I could trust you with Midoriya.”

The office was completely silent. Finally… Aizawa spoke again. “I can.” Bakugou blinked. “You still have a lot to make up for.” “I know.” “This doesn’t erase the past.” “I know.” “Midoriya’s fear isn’t gone.” “…I know.” Aizawa nodded once. “But today…” For the first time since the conversation began… A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“…you acted like a hero.” Bakugou froze. The compliment hit differently coming from Aizawa. It wasn’t exaggerated. It wasn’t emotional. It was simply… True. He looked away. His voice came out quieter than usual. “I was just doing what anyone should.” Aizawa almost smiled again.

“No.” He stood, slipping his capture weapon back around his shoulders. “You were doing what you wouldn’t have done a few years ago.” He walked toward the door before stopping beside him. “That’s called growth.”

The office fell silent once more. Bakugou remained standing long after Aizawa had left. For several minutes, he simply stared at the empty room. Then he let out a quiet breath. “…Huh.”

It was strange. He had spent years trying to become stronger. Faster. More powerful. He had measured growth in explosions. In victories. In rankings. And yet… The first time someone had called him a hero… It wasn’t because he’d won a fight. It was because he’d chosen not to take a single step forward.

 The next incident happened four days later. Long enough for everyone to begin relaxing. Long enough for Midoriya to believe the worst was behind him. Long enough for Bakugou to stop watching every movement he made. Training had returned to normal. Or as normal as it could be. Today was another rescue exercise. Different location. Different objective. Same teams. Aizawa hadn’t changed them. No one questioned it. Not anymore.

“Remember,” Aizawa called as the students spread throughout the mock city, “heroes don’t only save civilians. They save each other.”

A chorus of acknowledgements answered him. Midoriya adjusted his gloves. His heart was steady. Steadier than it had been in weeks. Bakugou walked several paces ahead, scanning rooftops while tiny pops of nitroglycerin cracked harmlessly in his palms. Todoroki remained on Midoriya’s left. The arrangement had become strangely natural. Bakugou cleared the path. Midoriya searched. Todoroki watched everything. It worked surprisingly well.

“I’ve got movement on the third floor,” Midoriya called. “A training dummy,” Todoroki answered after a quick glance. “Probably one of the civilians.” Bakugou shot upward with an explosion. “I’ll grab it.”

Midoriya watched him disappear onto the damaged fire escape. He smiled to himself. It was… easier now. Not perfect. His pulse still jumped whenever Bakugou suddenly raised his voice. Sometimes he still caught himself taking a step backward. But every day became a little easier. Every day his body listened to him a little more. Maybe… Maybe the Quirk really was fading.

A metallic groan echoed overhead. Everyone looked up. One of the damaged support beams along the upper walkway snapped. A heavy section of concrete shifted. It tipped. Then fell. Fast. Too fast.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima shouted from another street. Bakugou looked over his shoulder. He saw it. Calculated. He had enough time. One explosion. That was all he needed.

Midoriya never saw that. What he saw… Was something else. The world warped. The falling concrete blurred. For one impossible, horrifying second, it wasn’t a training exercise anymore.

He saw blood. Too much blood. Orange sparks disappearing beneath broken concrete.

An outstretched hand. Still.

Silent.

No—

No.

“Kacchan!” His scream ripped through the training ground. Everyone froze. Bakugou’s eyes widened. Midoriya was already moving. Green lightning exploded around him. One For All answered without hesitation. There was no paralysis. No invisible chains. No voice telling him to run. Only one overwhelming thought.

He’s going to die.

Midoriya launched himself forward. “Move!” He collided with Bakugou a heartbeat before the concrete slammed into the walkway. The impact threw them both several meters across the street. The slab crashed behind them with a deafening roar, shattering against the pavement. Dust swallowed everything. Silence followed.

“…-riya?” Bakugou coughed, pushing himself onto one elbow.

“Deku?” No answer. Midoriya’s hands were still fisted in the front of Bakugou’s hero costume. So tightly his knuckles had gone white. His whole body shook violently. His breathing came in short, desperate gasps.

“I…” His voice broke. “I thought…” Bakugou frowned. “Deku?” “I thought you were…” Another breath. “…going to die.”

The words barely reached above a whisper. Bakugou stared. Around them, the rest of the class had gone completely silent. No one moved. No one spoke. Because everyone had heard. Midoriya wasn’t afraid of Bakugou. He had been afraid… For him.

The panic didn’t stop. It only changed. Midoriya’s breathing grew faster. “I saw…” His eyes remained fixed somewhere beyond Bakugou. “I saw…” He couldn’t finish. He couldn’t explain what he’d seen. Because it hadn’t been real. Had it? His hands trembled harder. “No…” His heartbeat thundered in his ears. “What if I was too late?”

“You weren’t.” The voice came gently. Todoroki. He had reached them without Midoriya even noticing. He knelt beside the green-haired boy. Close enough to be reassuring. Far enough not to crowd him. “Midoriya.” No response. “Look at me.”

Slowly… Green eyes lifted. “It’s over.” Todoroki’s voice remained calm. “Take a breath.” Midoriya tried. It caught halfway. “I thought…” “I know.” Todoroki nodded.

“But look.” Very gently, he rested a hand against Midoriya’s shoulder. Not forcing. Only guiding. “Look at him.”

Midoriya resisted for only a second. Then his eyes drifted back toward Bakugou. He was sitting up. Covered in gray dust. A scrape crossed one cheek. His costume had another tear in it. He looked irritated. Alive. Very, very alive. “…See?” Todoroki asked quietly. “He’s here.”

Midoriya stared. Bakugou met his eyes. Didn’t joke. Didn’t complain. Didn’t ask what had gotten into him. Instead, he reached into one of the pouches attached to his belt. After fumbling for a moment, he pulled out a slightly dented bottle of water. He hesitated. Then carefully placed it on the ground between them. Close enough for Midoriya to reach. Not close enough to invade his space.

“I ain’t dead.” His voice was rough. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “…Not planning to be either.”

A watery laugh escaped Midoriya before he could stop it. It dissolved into another shaky breath. Bakugou looked away. “…So quit scaring me like that.”

The words hung in the air. Simple. Almost gruff. Yet they struck harder than anything else he could have said. Because he hadn’t said, “You almost got yourself hurt.” Or, “What the hell were you thinking?” He had said… You scared me. Midoriya blinked.

Something warm settled in his chest. Slowly… Almost without thinking… He reached for the bottle of water. Their fingers brushed for the briefest moment. Neither of them pulled away in panic. Neither of them flinched. The contact lasted less than a heartbeat. But it was enough.

Aizawa, standing several yards away, watched the exchange in silence. Beside him, Todoroki let out the quietest breath. Neither teacher nor friend interrupted. Because they had both seen it. The Fear Quirk hadn’t disappeared. Not yet. But somewhere along the way… Its grip had changed. Midoriya no longer feared what Bakugou might do to him. He feared a world where Bakugou wasn’t there at all.

The strange thing was… Midoriya almost forgot about the Quirk. Not completely. Not at first. But enough. Enough that days passed without him counting every interaction. Enough that he stopped measuring the distance between himself and Bakugou. Enough that he stopped wondering whether his next movement would trigger fear. Because little by little… The fear became quieter. Not gone. Just quieter. Like a voice that had spent weeks screaming at the top of its lungs, only to realize no one was listening anymore.

Bakugou was still Bakugou. He was still loud. Still aggressive. Still impossible. He still shouted across the classroom. Still insulted everyone when they annoyed him. Still called Midoriya “Deku” with that familiar roughness. But now… Now Midoriya heard the difference. He heard the irritation that wasn’t hatred. The teasing that wasn’t cruelty. The concern hidden beneath complaints. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” Bakugou had said after Midoriya pushed himself too hard during training. Midoriya had smiled. “Yeah.”

And that was it. No panic. No instinctive flinch. Just… Yeah. Everyone noticed. Of course they did. Todoroki noticed first. He noticed because he had been watching the entire time. He had seen Midoriya unable to breathe because Bakugou raised his voice. He had seen him collapse from fear. He had seen him cry because someone tried to help him. And now… Now Midoriya was sitting beside Bakugou during lunch, arguing about hero strategies like nothing had ever happened.

Todoroki didn’t say anything. He simply looked away. Because sometimes the best moments were the ones you didn’t interrupt.

Then Bakugou left. Only for two days. Aizawa had arranged a short work study opportunity. Nothing dangerous. Nothing unusual. At least… That was what everyone said.

But Midoriya noticed something strange. The first day passed. And he didn’t think about the Quirk. He thought about Bakugou. Not fearfully. Just… Naturally. Had he eaten? Knowing him, probably not enough. Had he slept? Absolutely not. Was he pushing himself too hard? Almost certainly. Midoriya caught himself halfway through writing those thoughts down. His pen stopped. He stared at the page. Because the realization came slowly. Painfully. Beautifully. He wasn’t thinking about what Bakugou might do to him. He was thinking about whether Bakugou was okay.

Bakugou returned late. The dormitory was quiet. Most of the lights were already off. Midoriya sat in the common room with a book open in front of him. He wasn’t reading. Not really. The sound of the front door opening made him look up.

His heart reacted first. A familiar jump. A rush. But not fear. Recognition.

Bakugou stepped inside. His hair was messier than usual. There was dust on his jacket. A small bandage covered part of his cheek. Nothing serious. But enough. Enough for Midoriya’s chest to tighten.

“Kacchan.” Bakugou looked over. “What?” His voice was tired. Not angry. Just tired. Midoriya stared at him.

For years, that voice had meant danger. For years, his body had prepared itself before his mind could catch up. But now… Now all he felt was relief.

“Welcome back.” Bakugou blinked. Like he hadn’t expected those words. “Tch.” He looked away. “Yeah.” A pause. Then— “You stayed up?” Midoriya shrugged. “I wasn’t waiting.” Bakugou raised an eyebrow. “You suck at lying.” Midoriya laughed softly. A real laugh. And then… Before he could think about it. Before the Quirk could whisper. Before old memories could rise. He moved. One step. Then another.

And he wrapped his arms around him. Bakugou froze. Completely. Every thought disappeared. Because Midoriya… Midoriya was hugging him. Not because he was scared. Not because he was apologizing. Not because someone told him to. Because he wanted to. For several seconds, Bakugou didn’t move. His arms remained at his sides. Then slowly… Awkwardly… He lifted one hand. And placed it against Midoriya’s back. A small pat. Then another.

“Oi.” His voice was quieter than usual. “What the hell are you doing?” Midoriya laughed into his shoulder. “I don’t know.” Bakugou frowned. “You don’t know?” “No.” A pause. Then softer: “I just wanted to.”

Something in Bakugou’s expression changed. Only slightly. Most people wouldn’t notice. But Midoriya would. He always did. And then… Something inside Midoriya went quiet. Not slowly. Not gradually. Instantly. The invisible pressure that had followed him for weeks… Was gone. He waited. For the fear. For the warning. For the voice that always came. Danger. Move. Run. Nothing. Midoriya slowly pulled away. His eyes searched Bakugou’s face. His hands. His expression. Everything. Waiting. Nothing came. No terror. No instinct. No panic.

Only… Bakugou. Just Bakugou. And then Midoriya started crying. Bakugou immediately panicked. “Oi.”

Midoriya laughed through his tears. “Sorry.” “Why are you crying?” “I don’t know.”

“You’re seriously crying and you don’t know why?” Midoriya wiped his face. And smiled. A small, exhausted, unbelievably happy smile. “Because…” He looked at him. Really looked. “I can.”

Bakugou frowned. “What?” Midoriya took a shaky breath. “I can look at you.” Silence. “I can stand next to you.” Another breath. “I can trust you.”

Bakugou didn’t move. Midoriya’s voice became quieter. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

For once… Bakugou had no response. No insult. No comeback. Nothing. Because those were the words he had wanted to hear since the day Midoriya had looked at him like he was a monster. And somehow… They hurt. Because he knew exactly how much it had taken to get there.

Finally, Bakugou looked away. “…Good.” It was barely audible. Midoriya smiled. “Good?”

Bakugou shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.” A pause. Then quieter: “Good.”

Neither of them noticed Todoroki standing at the top of the stairs. He had only come down because he heard voices. He stayed because he understood what he was seeing.

Not a miracle. Not a sudden cure. A choice.

Two people who had spent years hurting each other in different ways… Finally choosing something else.

And somewhere deep inside Midoriya… The Fear Quirk finally understood. There was nothing left for it to protect him from. Because the person it had told him to fear… Was the same person who had spent every day proving he was safe.