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Contrary to what others think, Toru doesn’t eavesdrop as much as people think she does.
Due to her quirk, you’d think she uses it to her advantage and eavesdrops on others’ conversations, but she really doesn’t. Not really since she was a kid.
But on occasion, she’d accidentally eavesdrop without realizing, especially when she was younger. Surprisingly going against her loud and cheerful nature, sneaking up on people has become something has just always come natural to her. Her middle school friends would make jokes about sneaking into their teachers’ office and changing their grades, but she never was that type of person. She wanted to become a hero.
And almost a full year of training at the most prestigious high school in Japan, she grew to learn that Invisibility only concealed the body; it didn’t teach restraint and complete silence. She realized that her self-taught habits from sitting silently at the top of the stairwell while her parents discussed things she probably shouldn’t be hearing were in fact, not on tier with a top-hero’s skills. She learned that the hard way when her classmates with advanced senses could catch her with ease.
But being at U.A., she was able to gradually learn the art of stealth. Countless hours spent on stealth exercises and infiltration drills with Jiro had taught her how to distribute her weight so that floorboards never creaked beneath her feet, how to slip through crowded hallways without ever brushing a shoulder, or even the proper technique of breathing to truly stay silent. Now, she was confident in crossing an entire building without anyone even glancing her way.
She guessed that she’d accidentally applied those skills now, because she didn’t even mean to overhear people talking. She hadn’t even expected anyone to be awake at this hour.
She couldn’t sleep. She had spent the past few hours tossing and turning, her nerves at their worst. Aizawa-sensei had ordered for all of them to get a good amount of sleep, saying that it was absolutely crucial that they’d be well-rested for the events that were about to transpire tomorrow. or technically, today. She checked the time on her phone to be greeted with a bright 2:27 AM.
This would be the biggest fight of her life— of all of their lives. She knew her teacher was right, but no matter what, she couldn’t get herself to fall asleep. Toru wondered if her classmates were doing the same, lying awake and trying to sleep. They probably were. Everyone tried pretending the tension wasn’t there. Kaminari had cracked too many jokes, she began to hear Midoriya’s anxious mumbling more and more, she could tell something was clawing at Uraraka, Ashido’s endless optimism had frayed around the edges and everything felt off without their whole class complete.
So, she found herself in the unfamiliar common room of their makeshift fortress, approximately twelve hours before she and the rest of her class go to war. She had meant to refill her water bottle in the kitchen, but apparently, the place was already occupied. And smelling like food, she might add.
”Kacchan,” she heard a voice and a nickname anyone from 1-A would recognize speak. Midoriya’s voice was hushed, like he was trying to keep quiet. He sounded almost exasperated. “Seriously, you didn’t have to make this for me.“
”I know,” another voice replied, one she recognized to be Bakugo’s. Huh. Out of everyone, she wasn’t expecting the two of them to be awake. “I wanted to.”
Toru froze halfway through the left wing’s corridor, one hand holding her water jug and the other still hovering near the stair rail. She frowned as she heard the soft scrape of chopsticks. Were they eating?
A savory aroma drifted down to her a beat later, making her realize they were indeed eating. She smelled soy sauce, mirin and something sweet. Maybe pork.
She pushed the thoughts away that it could possibly their last meal. She couldn’t be thinking like that.
”Thanks,” Midoriya said, and she could practically hear the smile through his voice. “It was really good.”
Bakugo only scoffed in response. His cooking was the best out of their whole class. Toru had learned that at their training camp along with almost everyone else. No matter how much begging Kirishima or the rest of them did, he refused to make food for them. She thought he never would, but apparently Midoriya was the exception. She silently calculated whether or not this was her chance to get water, and maybe some of that food Bakugo made if they had leftovers.
She slowly peeked her head out of the corner disrupting her line of sight, being sure that her pajamas weren’t visible. Bakugo stood, his chair scraping backward, grabbing the two empty plates and making his way to the sink.
“Let me wash,” Midoriya said, standing up not long after him. “You cooked.”
Bakugo didn’t look away from the running water rushing from the faucet. “So?”
”So, let me clean.”
He rolled his eyes. “Save it, nerd. I’m already here.”
Being his classmate, Toru had spent nearly an entire year around Bakugo. Living with him, traveling with him, working with him. She knew what his anger sounded like. What his annoyance sounded like. She knew how to decipher when he was actually upset or just screwing around. She understood him to an extent, and sometimes recognized the reluctant concern he occasionally disguised beneath insults. All of it had become familiar enough that anyone from Class 1-A could recognize it.
But she couldn’t help but notice that this was something quieter. Softer around the edges, in a way. She never really saw this side of Bakugo— granted, she wasn’t very close to him, but it was still off-putting to see him so calm.
Midoriya grabbed something from a shelf that she couldn’t see. He began cleaning the table with it, which made Bakugo look back in slight annoyance. He grabbed the pan off the stove, bringing it to the sink.
Toru’s grip tightened around her water bottle. She really should leave now, but she was still thirsty. They were cleaning up, they both would probably leave in less than five minutes. She could wait.
She retreated back into the shadows, her neck beginning to grow sore from sticking it out as she made a mental note to invest in a bigger water bottle once this was all over. Only the sounds of a faucet running and dishes clattering remained.
“Kacchan?”
She didn’t hear a response from Bakugo, so she assumed he had turned his head.
”Do you…” Midoriya hesitated. “Never mind.”
”What?”
”It’s nothing.”
“What is it?”
Midoriya stayed silent, and for a second, Toru wondered if they had realized she was there.
”Are you scared?” He finally asked, the words spilling out quickly. “About tomorrow.”
Toru instinctively braced herself for a barked What kind of stupid question is that? Or maybe an explosion, or a scoff with a sassy eye-roll.
”Obviously,” came a voice that she knew to be Bakugo’s, but an answer so unexpected she doubted it was even him. He answered so quickly it startled her more than it should have. “I’m scared shitless.”
Toru stared blankly into the darkness, letting the confession settle. It felt wrong, in a way. It wasn’t that she doubted Bakugo or doubted the fact that he wasn’t scared. She knew he was scared because they all were. They were in their first year fighting in a war that could change the trajectory of the world, and those two were on the front lines and the most crucial part of it all. But it felt wrong because she had never heard him say something so unguarded before. Around the class, Bakugo always seemed larger than life. Loud enough to drown out uncertainty before it ever even surfaced in the first place. That’s what she admired most about him— that he was always so sure of himself.
But she couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t like that with Midoriya. It wasn’t the first time she had noticed it, either. Midoriya pulled out honesty and vulnerability from Bakugo as effortlessly as breathing. It seemed like it went the same way the other way around, too.
“But Japan’s relying on us,” he added. She wondered if by us, he meant him and the class, or him and Midoriya. “If not us, then who’s it gonna be?”
”Yeah,” Midoriya whispered. “Me too. I just keep thinking about everyone.”
”Don’t.”
”I can’t help it.”
”I know,” he said, his voice unusually gentle it made her slightly more uncomfortable in this already awkward situation. He paused before he spoke up again. “They’ll be fine. We’re gonna win.”
There’s the Bakugo she knew.
Toru’s thirst for water and curiosity of the conversation happening between the two had long been overpowered by a guilty feeling. She should probably leave. Midoriya must have nodded or smiled, because she didn’t hear a response from him.
As she was about to retreat back into her room, a cabinet door clicked shut.
”I’m finishing up.”
“Kacchan—“
”Go to bed,” Bakugo ordered. “You need sleep.”
”So do you,” Midoriya quipped back.
“I’ll be fine.”
“So will I.”
”That’s not the point, and you know it.”
Midoriya laughed quietly. “Okay, okay.”
Toru smiled to herself. There was something comforting about hearing them bicker about something so stupid. They were about to go to war, and they were arguing over who deserved more sleep. They had always been like this, and in a way, it was her anchor. It showed her that things would indeed go back to normal, that Midoriya can defeat All for One and they’re going to go back to bickering like always.
She frowned at the sudden silence. Had they left? The faucet had stopped, along with other sounds, but she didn’t hear a door.
She leaned around the corner again, as carefully as she could. During the time they were cleaning, the kitchen lights had been dimmed, but that wasn’t what caught her main focus.
Bakugo stood with one hand resting on the edge of the counter, and Midoriya was standing much closer to him than he had been a moment ago. A lot closer.
For a heartbeat, she couldn’t make sense of what she was looking at until Bakugo basically spelled it out for her by shifting forward towards Midoriya. Maybe she didn’t realize it sooner it was because it was two in the morning, or maybe because her brain just couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.
They were kissing.
She jerked her had back around the corner so quickly she was surprised none of them heard her. She wasn’t meant to see that. She definitely hadn’t wanted to. She silently prayed no one noticed, not even one of the ghosts of One for All living inside Midoriya even though she didn’t really know how that whole ordeal worked.
Even though Ashido would totally have a field day with this, she knew that if Bakugo found out she saw this she’d be dead before the battle even started. If she told their classmates, she can’t fathom what would happen.
She squeezed her eyes shut like that would make her forget what she just witnessed. But it actually explained a lot. Like Bakugo being the final push to Midoriya coming home, the weird tension everyone felt whenever they briefly interacted or the constant arguing like they were a married couple. Either way, maybe she should have been more surprised, but she wasn’t really. Not at all. It kind of felt like another puzzle piece clicking into place.
”We can’t.” Midoriya’s voice was quiet and sounded like he was conflicted. Toru wouldn’t describe it as regretful, but it wasn’t exactly a happy tone either.
“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” he exhaled shakily. “I’m just—“
”I’m confused.” Midoriya paused again, and Toru didn’t dare try to turn the corner. She doesn’t think she’d want to or have the heart to see the expression on Bakugo’s face, anyway. “A lot’s happened.”
She stared down at the floor as Midoriya spoke. “I think I should go to bed.”
Bakugo’s silence made her heart ache more than anything he could have said in that moment.
Toru exhaled quietly as she heard soft, slow footsteps crossing the common room. Maybe now she could get that water. After everything she’d accidentally overheard tonight, she felt she’d earned at least that much. Plus, they were about to leave. She was just about to stick her head out again when—
“Izuku.”
The footsteps walking towards the right wing stopped.
“I love you.” Bakugo’s voice sounded sad, barely even above a whisper. It was the quietest she’d ever heard him.
She wondered if his expression was the same as when Midoriya had left. She remembers seeing him in the common room with everyone else, and even though she was more focused on the fact Midoriya had inherited his quirk from All Might and just left them, she noticed Bakugo’s uncharacteristically sad expression. His brows were furrowed and even though he exploded the letter in his hands seemingly filled with anger, his eyes said otherwise.
”Let’s defeat All for One first,” Midoriya whispered. “Then we’ll figure this out.”
A long silence followed before she heard footsteps fading away. A door slid open and closed, and the room fell still once more until she heard the familiar sound of dishes being put away with one final open and close of a cupboard. She chose not to think about the muffled sniff or shaky breath she heard.
A few minutes later, the same door slid shut quietly.
Only then did she leave the kitchen, the bottle cool against her palm, wishing more than anything that tomorrow would let all of them come home.