Archive of Our Own

1. Yaoyorozu Momo has a piano recital

Momo is tired, to say the least. She’d been in the same room since morning broke, yet evening approaches rapidly and she can’t yet make herself leave. She has to finish this. 

The programme itself is almost finished, thank the Gods. She’d even found a common theme in between the pieces, but there’s still something that bothered her about it. It’s not ready, not yet. At least she’s already able to play some of them (mostly) by heart.

She sighs deeply, leaning over the piano that had been her table for the day. Looking down at the keys now, they watch her tauntingly, lying unnaturally still under her fingers, yet she has nothing to play. She can’t be wasting more time.

Going back to her notes beside her, she passes through them once more, looking again if she perhaps has missed something worthy of an epiphany, but alas, her scribbles deliver no relief. 

Sighing once more, she quietly goes through the programme she arranged. Brahms - dark and nervous, hesitant perhaps but lightly romantic still. Debussy - brightly lucid, vivid in even her darkest corners. Chopin - magical and ethereal, her favourite. 

There’s something missing. 

She falls back, breaking composure with a loud groan of pure exhaustion. The drumming from her left stops abruptly, and Jirou at the table looks over in concern. “You alright, Yaomomo?” she asks. The worry is there, but is largely overshadowed by the laughing waver her voice carries as she looks at the once-so-well-composed lady.

“No,” Momo says, turning her head to look at her girlfriend. She gets back up and dusts off her summer dress, only to collapse back into a chair next to Jirou. “It’s missing something. A bridge.”

“Bridge?” Jirou asks, interested. 

Momo just nods. “I’m so close, but the recital is so close as well. I can’t just scrap the pieces I have set up now; it’s too specific for my theme, and if I start over, I’ll have wasted the whole day!” 

“How come you can’t change them?” 

“My repertoire isn’t as big as you’d think,” Momo grieves. “And I don’t have long to practice at all - I have to go with at least two that I already know. I know Chopin by heart by now, of course, but Brahms? And the Debussy has been a while, I’ll need to relearn them… And nothing I know fits between them either, I can’t find anything in my notes at all.”

The music room is quiet from there. Momo knows Jirou isn’t very well-versed in the classical literature of music, however much she’d like to help. 

Jirou smiles apologetically as she pats Momo’s hair, pulling loose the ponytail. “You’ll find it. For now, maybe distract yourself, maybe you’ll have a flash of inspiration later.”

Momo nods, dropping her head in the other girl’s lap very much unflatteringly, not like she cares much. Kaminari and Kirishima have both fallen asleep at the window sill a while back, tired from the week of relentless training. They were really only here to bother Bakugou anyway.

Speaking of, the drums haven’t picked back up since she’s moved from her spot at the piano. With a questioning hum, she looks up, only to find Bakugou watching her absent-mindedly from behind the large drum kit. 

“Bakugou?” She asks, snapping him out of his reverie. “Are you ok?”

He huffs and looks away as soon as she says it. “I’m fine.” Crossly he stands, packing up his drumsticks and belongings scattered across the floor by the two other boys. 

She raises a curious brow. 

“The fuck are you staring at me for, Ponytail?!” He hisses with a glare. “Dinner’s in a few, we should head back.”

“Of course,” she politely replies. Jirou above her rolls her eyes with a knowing grin.

They clean up the room in record time - Kirishima and Kaminari, who are rudely awakened by Bakugou pulling them to the floor and shouting something about them either helping or flaunting their uselessness, make quick work of the litter, while Jirou, Bakugou, and Momo take care of the organisation of the room. Jirou’s notes are spread across all the tables, so Momo leaves her, doing the chairs and desks alongside Bakugou. When all the mess is finally stuffed in the correct cupboards, the group heads out. It’s a pleasant evening to walk back to the dorms; the golden hour is shining in the distance, yet the heat of the afternoon has cooled to a welcome warmth. Momo trails behind her classmates, watching them enjoy themselves with a smile. Jirou and Kaminari are in a discussion about something or other, though she heard something about a leather jacket, so maybe fashion? Kirishima quips a pun out of nowhere, and they all groan in unison. 

Bakugou is walking beside her, quietly. Pensively.

“Are you sure you’re doing ok, Bakugou?” she asks one more time. “You look, well. Worried about something, perhaps?”

“I ain’t worried,” he scoffs. “The two numbskulls over there just tired me out. They’re loud as fuck.”

So are you, thinks Momo, but she keeps the thought to herself. “Then that’s good. Your drumming was fun as always - you have a very good feel for rhythm.”

“That’s what drums do, Infinity,” he says. “Though.”

She waits, listens to the trio in front unabashedly laughing at something in the evening sun. 

“...Putting Debussy and Brahms together, huh? Which pieces have you chosen?”

Momo halts. That wasn’t what she was expecting - although she doesn’t know what else she had been expecting, it wasn’t this. “Ah, Brahms’ Ballade Op.10 No.4, to begin with,” she indulges him. He asked, of course, it’s only polite to assume he understands some of it. “And Debussy’s Images I and II - just the second of both pieces. ...And I thought I’d end with Chopin’s  Nocturne Op.55 No.1.” 

As she lists her programme, Bakugou nods along. When she finishes, his signature grin makes its way across his face, though Momo has long figured out it’s not actually a degrading sneer like she originally thought. “From dark to vivid, heh. Not bad.”

Momo lights up. “Yes! I tried to go by the art of nuance, slowly travelling towards the ethereal of Chopin, though I’m still doubting the Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut, there’s many lingering staccato chords, which might clash with Chopin’s liveliness travelling over the notes-”

She composes herself. “Ah, I apologise,” she blushes. “I didn’t mean to meander in such a way...”

Bakugou, to his credit, just huffs a (subtly incredulous) laugh. “Fuckin’ sound like Deku, rambling like that.” But he nods. “I get it, it’s a bit of an abrupt change. You got anything to foreshadow it with?”

“Ah, not really,” Momo laments. “I was thinking, maybe Bach’s orchestral suite No. 3, but that didn’t fit at all.”

Jirou looks back from her place at the front, watching over Momo as she always is. Momo smiles, and shakes her head. No need. 

Bakugou thinks it over. “Damn right it doesn’t. Wagner something you wanna try?”

“I shouldn't- not yet. Those are a bit intimidating, still.”

“Fuckin’ right,” she hears Bakugou mutter. “...How about Pärt? He’s good with silence.”

“...Pärt?” she asks. “I don’t believe I’ve heard his pieces before.”

“I’m sure you have,” says Bakugou, probably just to be contradictory. “He was pretty well known in the early twenty-first century. Might be a bit strange to have a twentieth century composer next to all the eighteen-hundred guys, but fuck it.”

It wouldn’t hinder to give it a try, she muses. “I’ll listen to it tonight, then. Do you have a suggestion?”

“Piano only? Für Alina comes to mind, or you could take an arrangement of Pari Intervallo for the piano. I know there’s some out there.”

Burning those titles to the back of her mind, Momo considers leaving it at that. However, nodding once, she decides to go for it. “Say, Bakugou, I hadn’t realised you listen to classical compositions.”

“...Some of the German ones mainly. Learnt to read it from wanting to know the titles.”

“You know German? How interesting! I prefer French, but Aoyama is much better at it than I am.”

“I can read it. My old man has long given up on my pronunciation. And French can go to hell, what the fuck is up with their vowels, hah?!”

“It certainly is a struggle,” says Momo, “though I’ll confess my grammar isn’t very good either. European languages are fascinating. But German composers, then. Do you like any specific one?”

The boy just scoffs. “Not really. The old hag wanted me to be cultured or whatever, her words not mine.” 

“Old hag?” Momo falters, when Kirishima shouts, 

“That’s what he calls his mom!”

Bakugou’s hands pop in warning, and the two start a shouting match that all five of them had seen coming since leaving the music classroom. Kaminari is left in the (seeing Bakugou’s quirk, literal) dust as he tries to catch up with the other two running off.

Watching the boys leave, Jirou slows to Momo’s speed and holds out her hand. “Interesting conversation you had there.”

“Truly! I never expected Bakugou to be so knowledgeable about this. I can only hope his suggestion is fitting to my programme,” she smiles. “And if not, it was nice of him to offer.”

“Bakugou and nice in the same sentence… Wasn’t something I’d think I would ever hear from you,” Jirou raises a brow in good sport. “Though, I do think he likes listening to it. Did you see how he closed himself off when you asked that? Kiri and Kami were listening in.”

“He’s ashamed?” Momo exclaims. “He shouldn’t be, it only shows him in a positive light! It might prove to balance out his antagonistic tendencies.”

“And I don’t think he really wants it to,” Jirou says. At seeing her girlfriend blush in embarrassment of the realisation, she bumps her shoulder to Momo’s. “He gave you advice, without any threats of violence. Take from that what you will.”

Yes, thinks Momo. Perhaps she’ll do her best to see Bakugou in a different light from here. 

-

In bed, after a fulfilling meal with the rest of the class, she looks up the suggestions Bakugou left her. The streaming service doesn’t have any piano arrangements for the second one, but Für Alina is well known enough to have several variations listed. 

The bridge she needs has to leave an impression to build up to Chopin eventually, but needs to be succinct enough to not linger for too long, or else her timestamp would be overridden. 

But, as the first chord strikes her ears, she knows she’s found it.

-

“Bakugou! Please, wait!” 

It’s after class on monday, and the students of 1-A are watching baffled as the vice class representative calls out for the local delinquent as if they’re best friends. 

“Hah?” the latter just says. “The fuck do you want?”

Yaoyorozu hands him a piece of paper. “My parents won’t be able to go to my recital, so I have two tickets left. Kyoka is already going, but I wanted to ask you to come, too. After all, your help was crucial, both with the programme and the interpreting of the pieces. I’d love to have you.”

With slow movements, as if sensing the class holding their breath, Bakugou takes hold of the ticket, looks at it, and shrugs once. “Fine, whatever. You better not fuck up.”

Yaoyorozu’s eyes light up. “I won’t!”

Then the two of them part ways, Bakugou shouting at Midoriya and Yaoyorozu discussing classes with Iida in the front. 

Ochaco watches wide eyed as normalcy returns. Mina practically bounces next to her, squealing in her ear as she pulls her back and forth , “BakuMomo! BakuMomo! When did that happen?!”

Jirou watches her girlfriend with a grin, Ochaco notes. “Ji-ii-ro-ooo-uu?” she attempts, still being manhandled by a screaming Mina - who’s close to becoming Bakugou’s new victim of temper relief. “Wha-at-t waaa-s t-that-t abo-out?”

“Exactly as it looked, really,” says Jirou, putting a hand on Mina’s shoulder to quiet her a bit. “Blasty’s surprising, let’s keep it at that.”

2. Aizawa Shouta has a Day™

It’s four o’clock in the morning, and Shouta’s cat is on his face.

Zashi is fast asleep to his left, and the window they’d forgotten to add curtains to when the dorms were being built shows the moon shining brightly into the room. Merlin slides off when he sits up with a tiny mewl, though unbothered by the movement the cat just curls up beside Zashi under the duvet. 

Shouta isn’t going to go back to sleep. 

It’s a routine, by now. Perhaps a result of years of underground Hero work having unconventional work hours, perhaps depression induced insomnia, but whatever it is, Shouta is wide awake. 

The last year has been a trainwreck for everyone involved. Maybe the USJ a year ago had been a warning sign - that class 1-A was cursed with bad luck. Why they had become a seemingly permanent fixation of the League of Villains was still a mystery, but the trouble magnets Bakugou and Midoriya certainly didn’t hold back either. 

Midoriya - the hero student who has broken all records of getting in trouble so far. All Might probably has something to do with that, Shouta has his suspicions but other than All Might favouring the green bean, he has no evidence to prove it. He wouldn’t be surprised if the kid digs himself into an  early grave, if he isn’t digging Shouta’s personally.

Shouta sighs. He knows better than to blame teenagers for the mistakes of adults - teachers, for that matter. However, he can lament about his reckless kids all he wants in the safety of- well. Not quite his own home, not anymore, but the teachers’ dorms are certainly not bad off. Plus, he has Eri to care for now. That’s a bonus. Or a minus. Depends. The girl deserves so much more than she’s been given in the world, all Shouta can do is change her future for the better. 

His eyes itch with exhaustion, but his mind is chattering a mile a minute. Petting Merlin helps slightly, so does checking in on Eri, but soon he’s back in bed without improvements. 

So he takes a book in hand, takes a seat at the window sill, and starts reading. 

It’s a full moon night, and the dorm yard is beautifully lit by the silver light streaking through the cloudless sky, lighting up the pages enough for Shouta to read with ease. Sometimes, he turns to look outside - just to take in the calmth (before the next storm arrives). There aren’t any stars as a result of the light pollution of the city in the distance, and not for the first time Shouta longs for leaving. 

Then, a shadow passes the dorm grounds, and as if lightning bolts through him he knows he cannot leave the life he has now. There’s people counting on him. His kids, for one. Opening the window as quietly as possible, he attaches his prosthetic, grabs his capture weapon, and jumps out. 

The shadow hasn’t yet noticed the figure creeping up on him, largely because Shouta is barefooted in his hurry - it’s staying still at the treeline, kneeling and speaking in a soft voice. Shouta turns to the heavens in a silent but exasperated plea for deliverance.

“You were hungry, weren’t you? Why didn’t you eat the shit I left out tonight, huh? Why only eat now?” There’s a hiss from somewhere close, but the figure doesn’t react. Its voice is full with malcontent, but no hostility. “Idiot. You dumbass- can’t you see I’m trying to help?”

“I can see that clearly,” quips Shouta monotonously. 

Bakugou doesn’t squeak exactly, but it’s a near thing, and if Shouta wasn’t so annoyed he’d have grinned. “Sensei?” the kid says, hesitance colouring the gruff voice. “Why’re you here at,” a quick peek at the phone in his hand, “half past four in the morning?”

“I could ask you the same, problem child,” mutters Shouta. “Why’re you out long after curfew?”

Bakugou sneers at the ground, but pauses before he replies. “...She hadn’t eaten what I’d left her when I went to bed.” Then, he finally steps out of the way to reveal - 

A cat. A mother cat, seeing how swollen her belly is, pristine white fur dirtied by dust and mud, eating at an almost emptied plate of wet food thinned out with water. 

The poor thing has seen better days. 

And fuck, if Shouta isn’t weak for his kids. They can never know.

“How long have you been taking care of her?” he asks Bakugou as he kneels down to check the mother for any injury. It’s clear she’s a stray by her scruffy looks - when he takes out a few treat nibbles he carries for Merlin, she’s careful to sniff them thoroughly before stealing one out of his hand.

“Yeah, she loves that shit. I read it’s not good to give her too much, though,” the kid says behind him. “Also, why the fuck do you have that? Are you clairvoyant or some shit?”

“I have a cat,” he just says. The next treat he shows her, he puts on the ground, then grabs her tightly when she takes it. With the struggling mother in his arms, he turns back to Bakugou, who’s scowling at the dirt beneath them. “Now, I’ll prep a room for her at the 1-A dorms, we’ll take her to the vet this afternoon. And don’t think you’re off the hook, Bakugou,” he adds, when the kid starts to head off. “This was a violation of the curfew, and a hefty one at that. We’ll talk tomorrow. For now, go back to bed. I’ll take care of this.”

“The fuck?” the kid cries out. “I ain’t leaving her til she’s ok!”

“As you can see,” Shouta deadpans as much as he can with a pregnant cat in his arms, “she is ok. Hizashi and I have a litterbox and food bowls to spare anyway.”

Bakugou’s protests subside at that, but he carries his signature pout with a strong glare at his teacher. 

“Bed,” Shouta orders. “Now.”

“Fuckin- fine,” the problem child shouts. Grabbing the plate - licked right clean by the mutt in Shouta’s arms - he stomps away, back to 1-A Heights Alliance. Shouta watches until the doors shut, when his shoulders drop.

“Damn problem child,” he mutters. “Today will be one of those days, huh.”

The mutt in his arms just lets out a long whine, bites his finger.

“...Merlin’s going to hate me today.”

-

True to his promise, Shouta prepares the empty room on the fourth floor of the 1-A building (and if this is coincidentally the room next to Bakugou’s dorm, then that is a coincidence) to house the mother cat for today. From his own stash he brings some blankets; with ease he creates a quick and easy feeding station with a tablemat to protect the floor under it; to top it all off he throws down some empty moving boxes in random spots for her to hide if she feels the need to. The whole thing takes maybe thirty minutes, but as he finishes, the dorms slowly come to life. The first up and downstairs is Midoriya, waiting for Iida as he prepares to go for a run. Shouta opens the tap to fill the bowl with clean drinking water, and Midoriya, who only spots him now, jumps.

“Se- Sensei! Good morning!”

“Stay out of trouble,” Shouta just says, and heads back upstairs. He hears a small squeak, and a “yessir!”, so he’s not too worried. 

The mother has found herself a crawl space inside one of the boxes with a blanket in it, and has nestled herself tightly against the corner. She watches wide eyed as he lays down the bowl next to her food. Now to hope she’s housetrained, and the blankets will only need a short wash after all this. Closing the door behind him, he slides the spare keycard underneath the door beside the room. From the slit under the door, he sees the lights flicker on, and the sound of footsteps appear not long before said door swings open. Bakugou, wearing the same clothes as earlier in the night and with eyes dragged down by dark bags, stands before him with the keycard in his hand.

“The fuck does this mean,” he hisses. 

Shouta watches him contemplatively. “I’ll be bringing her to the vet today, you’re allowed to come with. From then on, she’ll be your responsibility.”

Bakugou frowns, teeth grinding, but stays quiet.

They’re stuck in a staredown, but Shouta’s too tired to care. He waits for Bakugou to react, first.

“...Why the fuck are you allowing this?” the kid finally bites out. 

“Because you all need some stress relief. See it as a side project,” he says. “Merlin’s saved me from some serious anxiety attacks multiple times in my career, so why not.” He shrugs, and turns to leave. “I will inform Nedzu about it, but I’m quite sure he won’t mind.” Pause. “As long as he doesn’t need to come within a hundred metres of her.”

Bakugou’s eyes drop to the keycard in his hand. Shouta leaves him there, but as he walks onto the staircase, he hears a door click shut.

-

Classes are slower today than Shouta wants them to be. He’s slightly worried about Bakugou, but as the last class of the day, 1-A homeroom, begins, the concern ebbs away. The kid is wholly impatient during the whole class - bouncing his foot up and down and clenching his fist anxiously. Shouta takes pity three-quarters through the hour, and frees the class into their weekend fifteen minutes early. The moment they start packing, Bakugou is on his feet at his desk.

“Bakugou,” Shouta sighs, “stay behind.” 

Midoriya shoots up with a slight frown, but when Bakugou doesn’t protest, he relaxes. Trouble children, Shouta repeats in his head, both of them. 

The last person leaves the room, and Bakugou looks up at him. “So?” he asks.

“I put a carrier in her room, we’ll get her from the dorms now.” Grabbing all he needs from his desk, he opens the door for the kid, who follows behind closely with a scowl. 

“Who’s driving?”

“I will be. Present Mic knows where we are, in case of emergency.” The two of them briskly walk through the halls of UA, neither in the mood to dawdle. “And Bakugou,” he adds.

“What?!”

“I meant it, she’ll be your responsibility. It’ll be your call.”

“Che,” the kid pouts. “Don’t think I can handle it? I’ve been handling it for a month now.”

A month, huh? “Was she pregnant when she first showed up?”

“...She started showing a bit after, so yeah.”

Meaning they have three to five weeks before labour, Shouta counts. As they make their way through the dorms, he silently makes a list of what still needs to happen with the mother before labour, then after.

“...I’ve got enough spare change to feed both her and her kits, teach,” Bakugou says, most likely taking his silence as apprehension. “And I ain’t afraid of some litterbox, the fuck. I already cook for all these dumbasses every week, one more chore won’t change shit.”

Shouta holds out his hand, wordlessly asking for the keycard, though Bakugou scoffs, and instead pushes past him to unlock the door himself. Shouta grinds his teeth.

Problem child #2 is quickly rising to #1. Why does everything have to end up in a competition.

The mother cat is where he’d left her that morning, hidden in the box with the blanket - though she’s much cleaner, as if she’s had a bath. Bakugou stalks up to her slowly, beckoning her with a treat in between his finger and thumb. “Wassup dipshit,” he whispers. “You coming?”

The mother creeps out of her corner, sniffing the finger gently. Bakugou pulls back a little bit, and she follows. “Sensei, you got the carrier ready?”

Shouta takes off the carrier lid, and nods. With quick movements, they trap the mother inside, making sure she’s as comfortable as she can be. 

-

The vet clears her with a clean bill of health, and gives them solid advice for when labour will happen. Bakugou is quiet during the examination, but Shouta sees his shoulders drop in relief when the doc has nothing of relevance to note. In the car they establish some basic rules for the newly adopted dorm cat (including getting her spayed as soon as she could handle it), and Bakugou uncharacteristically does not protest against any one of them - even his punishment for violating curfew.

It’s almost 7 pm when they finally arrive back at Heights Alliance, and Shouta remembers a question that’s been lingering in his mind the entire day. “Problem child,” he starts, “you have a name for her?”

Bakugou jumps at the address, then scowls. “Didn’t wanna name her ‘til I got to keep her. ‘Ve just been calling her names.”

“If you name her pussy I will expel you.”

“Fuck no! That’s what Dunce face would do - I ain’t gonna give her a lame name like that.”

Dunce face - Kaminari, remembers Shouta. “Then what? You gonna wait until the rest of the class has had a look?”

Bakugou pouts as he swings the car door open. “I’ll think of something.”

“Also, you do realise we have a student who can talk to animals, right?”

“Stop making me interact with the extras on my time off!”

-

“Alright, shitheads,” Bakugou’s voice echoes through the living room as he kicks open the door. “I have an announcement. From today onward, we have a new resident in 1-A.”

Shouta watches from the doorway, curious as to how this will pass.

There’s curious murmurs going round the room, underneath the excited shouts here and there. With a bang, Bakugou drops the carrier, still hidden under a blanket, onto the table, and for good measure, echoes two tiny but loud explosions in either fist. “Shut up,” he hisses. Some students glance toward Shouta in thinly concealed concern, but he just shrugs. This is Bakugou’s moment.

Then, the kid pulls away the blanket, and looks them dead in the eye. “This is Duchess. She’s about six weeks pregnant, so expect some kittens to care for.”

The room explodes. 

Ashido and Hagakure squeal a high-pitched noise of what is hopefully excitement; Kouda, Hitoshi, Uraraka and Asui immediately run closer to the carrier; Midoriya, Kaminari, and Kirishima start firing off rapid-fire questions to Bakugou, who is looking more tightly wound by the second; some others try their hardest to stay in their chairs but fail, others like Iida, Todoroki, and Yaoyorozu are able to (thankfully) contain their enthusiasm in their seats. 

Overall, it’s chaos. 

Shouta makes a quick decision, and joins Bakugou at the table. It quickly quiets down, but no one makes a move to return to their seats. Shouta really couldn’t care less.

“She’s been cleared by the vet, but we’ll have to take good care of her, nonetheless. No more than two people in her room at the same time, no need to overwhelm her. Any other questions go to Bakugou.” With that, he takes the carrier from Bakugou’s loose hand, and heads upstairs. Behind him, the room explodes again, this time literally. 

-

“Kacchan, I had no idea you had a cat!”

“Yeah, Kacchan, why’d you hide that pussy from us?”

“Shut the fuck up, Pikachu!”

-

(Bonus:

Shouta is really starting to doubt Bakugou’s quirk. “How in the name of the Gods, did you manage this.”

Three tiny kittens, all different coloured fur, lie nursing at their mother’s belly. Bakugou sits next to him, equally speechless. “Fuckin’ hell. We at least have fitting names for them?”

Kouda, who is petting Duchess - looking exhausted but content from a successful delivery - listens between Shouta and Bakugou curiously.

“And you chide me for clairvoyance,” Shouta mutters, but leaves it at that. 

And thus, from that day on, the Heights Alliance 1-A was home to Duchess and her three kits: Marie, Berlioz and Toulouse.)

3. Eri has a nightmare

Eri doesn’t enjoy the therapy she goes to. Mister Aizawa tells her it will help her feel better in the future, so she still goes, and he always stays with her in the room while she’s there. At the end of the two hours she either feels so heavy she can’t walk, or so light she’s almost floating. Both on heavy and light days she can’t help but fall asleep, though. 

Today is a heavy day. The doctors didn’t even ask very much, but she’s still falling asleep as she walks with mister Aizawa to the UA dorms. He promised her they’d be seeing Lemillion tomorrow, and she understands now that sleeping well helps tomorrow be today quicker. 

When they usually take a left, mister Aizawa leads her towards the right hallway. She looks at him questioningly. “Are we seeing Deku today?”

“I have some errands to run, unfortunately, so Shinsou will be taking care of you until dinner.”

“Ok,” she murmurs. Her brother is nice. A bit quiet, but kind. 

They arrive at the common area quickly, and with a short hug from mister Aizawa, she is left with her brother. 

“Well, squirt,” her brother says. “I need to finish my homework. Wanna watch some TV? I’ll be right there.” He points to the dining table, next to the TV corner. 

Eri nods. TV was interesting. Taking a seat on the couch, she let her brother prepare some programmes for her to watch. 

The heaviness in her chest spreads as she watches, and she feels her eyes start to droop. She remembers mister Aizawa telling her that that meant she needs the sleep, and to just let herself sleep. So she does.

-

The last thing she remembers is her brother asking if she was ok. Now, her eyes fly open to see the common room dark and the TV turned off. There’s a blanket weighing her down, so she throws it off in a hurry to stand up. The windows are dark, much darker than they had been when mister Aizawa was there. Looking around more, she finds the lamps above the dining table lit, but the table itself is empty. 

“H- hello?” she whispers. Alongside the memory of her bad dream her skin itches, as if someone had put sand in her blood. Where is everyone? Why wasn’t anyone here? Did he take them? Did he kill them?

She hiccups, then quickly smacks her hands over her mouth, but it doesn’t stop her sobs. “Deku?” she cries, “Shinsou-nii? Mister Aizawa? Where are you?”

A flash of red from her dream shakes her into moving, and she runs to the kitchen - big, blotchy tears and her nasty snot-nose are making her face all ugly; she needs to wipe it away. She needs to clean it. Before anyone sees-

She bumps into something. “O-oh,” she sniffs. That wasn’t here before. She looks up. 

“Brat?” the red eyed boy says. “You wake up? The hell’re you crying for?”

She squeaks in fear, and takes a few steps back. Then Deku’s voice echoes through her mind. “If you ever see a scary spiky blond boy, that’s Kacchan. He’ll help you find me, ok?” She goes over the list as quick as she can, while he’s busy muttering about finding some tissues in this godforsaken dorm - She doesn’t know what godforsaken means, but seeing the boy glare more and more as he pulls open cabinets and drawers, it must not be anything good.

Scary - yes. The boy is scary with his glare. It makes her feel like she’s done something wrong. Or maybe he’s angry because he can’t find the tissues. It’s still scary. Spiky - also yes. His hair looks like it would hurt to touch. Blond - Eri doesn’t know. The boy’s hair is very light, almost gold. Deku never told her what colour blond is supposed to be. But the boy is definitely a boy. 

And he has red eyes, too.

“Are you Kacchan?”

Maybe-Kacchan drops the package of tissues he was able to find, and looks up in surprise - the glare is milder now. “That’s what shitty Deku calls me.”

“So you know Deku?”

“Yeah, I know the nerd. He’s at the training field with some of his nerd friends. Might take a bit for him to come back.”

“O-oh.”  So Deku is safe. That’s good to know.

“Come here,” he orders, but he doesn’t look upset. “I wanna clean your face. Or do you want to do it yourself?”

Oh, thinks Eri. “I dunno,” she says. Chisaki would always just do it. 

Kacchan doesn’t move, just stares at her. Then he hands her the tissue. “You look like you know how to. The bin is over there.” Then he stands up and heads to the dinner table, dropping into a seat.

Eri watches him go, then looks down at the tissue in her hand, and starts into moving. She quickly wipes her face and bins the paper like she was asked. It’s not as clean as Chisaki would’ve done it, but Kacchan doesn’t say anything about it when she comes back into his field of sight, so it must not be bad. 

“Brain- Shinsou wanted me to tell you he’ll be there soon. Sensei was here an hour ago, but you were sleeping, so they didn’t want to move you,” says Kacchan instead. 

“Did you talk to them on the phone?” Eri asks. “You weren’t talking.”

“It’s called texting. You can type the message on the phone and the other will be able to read it.”

“Oh. Can I see?” 

Kacchan isn’t happy about the request, but he shows her his mobile nonetheless. She can’t read very well yet, and some of the words are very long while some are too short to be real words to her, but the page shows text bubbles coming from either side of the screen. At the very top, it says something she doesn’t understand, but she recognises a small part from her brother’s name. “Which one are you?” she asks. 

Kacchan points at the right side. “That one. All the boxes at that side,” he says as he points to the left, “are from Mindf- your brother.”

She understands, so she nods. “Can I write something?”

“Go nuts,” Kacchan says. He watches over her as she searches through the Hiragana on the keyboard, tapping the ones she wants. She messes up a couple of times, but Kacchan erases the wrong characters with ease. 

‘Hello Shinsou, it is Eri. I am with’

She hands over the phone to Kacchan, who reads her message with a raised brow. “That’s it?”

“I don’t know how to write Kacchan. Can you do it?”

It takes a second for Kacchan to give back the phone. “It says Bakugou. That’s my name.”

Oh. “Like how Deku’s name is, uh,” she hesitates. He’d told her at the hospital, but she can’t remember now. 

“Midoriya Izuku,” says Kacchan. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki, hence why stupid Deku calls me Kacchan.”

Eri nods. That’s fine, she thinks. Kacchan is easier to remember, though. And in the dark room, being with him is less scary than being alone. She takes a seat to finish her message, and hands the phone back to Kacchan.

‘Hello Shinsou, it is Eri. I am with Bakugou. See you soon.’

“Yeesh, brat, you write like an old man. If an old man wrote in Hiragana only.” She sees him send it nonetheless. “It’ll take a bit, like I said. You like curry?”

Eri nods. When Kacchan walks back to the kitchen, she follows. “What’s that in your ear?” She asks, spotting something shiny in his ear. “Are you listening to music?”

“These ain’t earplugs, brat,” Kacchan says as he opens the refrigerator. “Pass me a bowl.”

Quickly, Eri opens the dishwasher, where Deku always takes out his clean bowls, but only finds dirty dishes. Kacchan chokes on something as he watches her sulk.

“Deku taught you that?” 

“I don’t know where the clean bowls are,” she admits, but Kacchan isn’t angry. With a slightly scary grin he points to the drawer closest to the ground and when she opens it, it’s indeed full of the clean bowls and plates she knows. She happily takes her favourite bowl out of the drawer to hand it to Kacchan.

“Now it needs some time in the microwave,” she says. Kacchan snorts. 

“It sure does, brat.”

“What’s a brat?” 

“‘S a kid like you. My old hag always called me that when I was your age.”

“What’s your old hag?”

Kacchan sighs and throws his head back as he leans on the countertop, as if that’s the most awful question he’s received today. “She’s my mother.” With his head like that, the earplugs are clearly visible through his hair.

“If you’re not listening to music, why are you wearing earplugs? Are they to talk to people?” she asks. Mister Aizawa sometimes wears one of those - he told her there’s a microphone in the long end, but she can’t see any long end in Kacchan’s ear.

“It’s a hearing aid. If I don’t wear this, I can’t hear well. I guess they’re to talk to people, in a way,” says Kacchan. “I got normal earplugs, though, to listen to music.” He points to the dining room, where a white cord with familiar looking earplugs lie innocently at the table.

“Oh,” says Eri thoughtfully. Most of the time people ask her things, she hears them well. “How come you can’t hear well?”

“My quirk’s loud.”

His quirk? Ah, like her curse. She drops her shoulders. Kacchan’s power doesn’t sound very nice. But Mister Mic is also very loud. “Does mister Mic also have them?”

Kacchan looks at her with a brow raised, though this time he looks impressed. “Yeah. His quirk is also loud, ain’t it.”

“So you can also yell very loud?”

“I can, but that’s not what my quirk does.”

She cocks her head, curious. “So what does it do? Can you do it now?”

“My hands make explosions,” he says. He doesn’t seem very upset by his loud power. “Look.”

Eri gasps. Is he going to make the building explode? She knows what explosions are. They’re scary, and dangerous. And loud. She braces herself, waiting for the pain.

But what comes out of Kacchan’s hand isn’t painful at all. It’s not loud either. No - it’s beautiful! “There’s stars in your hands!” she shouts in awe. “Are these really explosions?”

But Kacchan isn’t smiling. “Did I scare you?”

“A little bit. I didn’t know explosions could be so pretty. I thought that you’d make the whole house go boom!” She spreads her arms wide up, showing him what she’d thought would happen.

“Yeah,” he says, closing his palm. “That’s the power I use for my hero work.”

Ah, so Kacchan is also a hero, like Deku, and Lemillion, and mister Aizawa, and her brother. Though her brother keeps saying he’s not one yet.

“So you can make both stars and big explosions?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever made a big explosion when you wanted stars?”

“Plenty. Taking control of my quirk was the hardest part. Now it comes easy.”

Eri nods adamantly. That’s what mister Aizawa says as well. She hopes she can control her curse - her quirk - soon, too.

Prying his fingers back open, she sneaks a peek but the stars are gone. Instead, there’s a smell she recognises. She sniffs.

“Oi, oi, what’re you doing?!”

“It smells sweet?” she says. “Like… Candied apples?”

He looks away, snapping his hand back to his chest. “That’s the nitroglycerin. The stuff that explodes. It’s dangerous.” 

“Oh,” Eri gasps, surprised. “But it smells so nice!”

“Not everything that smells nice is nice, brat.” 

The microwave stops her from asking further questions, as Kacchan gets up to get her curry. The two of them return to the dining hall, and Eri sits down at the head of the table. It’s not a very big table, but it’s the biggest one in the room. Deku told her there are twenty students like him that need to eat here. She wonders if it’s not a too small room for that. Twenty people is a lot of people.

“We didn’t expect you to wake up this early in the night,” says Kacchan as passing conversation, dropping a hot bowl of curry in front of her. He hands her her favourite spoon, and looks her up and down. “You had a nightmare?”

She nods as she blows on her first spoonful. “It was scary. And then I woke up without anyone here. I thought…” She trails off, and takes a bite of the curry. It’s very good, but not as good as the candied apples she had with Deku. 

“You thought you were back there?”

“No,” she says, but mister Aizawa told her not to speak with her mouth full, so she quickly chews down the rice. “No,” she repeats. “I thought… I thought everyone- um.” She feels tears well up, and so she takes another bite. 

Kacchan hums. “Don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like. I know how people can nag your a- I mean, a lot. Dumb hair and Dunce face don’t know when to stop nagging, ever.”

In the middle of her second bite, she stops. Not talk? But he asked her, right? That means she should tell him. With questioning eyes, she turns to him. 

Even without speaking, he seems to understand. “Tch. Some people want you to talk about sh- stuff you don’t want to talk about. No matter how much they bother you about it, if you don’t wanna say it, don’t say it. Clear as that.”

“But they ask!” she frowns. “Won’t they get mad if you don’t answer?”

“Then you say ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’.” Kacchan huffs, and turns to her fully. “I’m going through this the wrong way. Listen, brat. You’ve been through a lot of sh- stuff. That stuff is gonna keep eating at you- you’re gonna keep thinking about it, I mean, if you don’t talk with people. But sometimes, when you talk about it, it hurts, yeah? And hurting sucks. So to get better, you need to talk to people you trust will not hurt you. Like Deku. Or Sensei- uh, mister Aizawa?” Out of earshot, he mutters something under his breath, then turns back to her. “Sometimes I have nightmares too. There was a time someone took me somewhere I didn’t want to be, but they still took me. Brains need to process that sh- stuff. So they make dreams. And now I’m talking to someone about the dreams, someone I trust not to laugh at me, or hurt me because of it. And it helps. But there was a time I didn’t want to tell anyone about it, because it made me feel bad. Only when I found someone who I knew wouldn’t judge me for it, did I start talking. You have a right not to tell someone. You don’t even know me.”

Eri listens wide eyed. “Oh,” she says. “Ok. Then, I don’t think I want to tell you. I’ll tell someone I want to tell, later?”

“Attagirl,” says Kacchan. 

She’s curious, though. Someone took him somewhere he didn’t want to be. She wonders if he’s like her, in that way. But she doesn’t want him to say it if he doesn’t want to.

Luckily, Kacchan seems to have caught her dilemma. “Ask away, I’ll just tell you to shut up if I don’t wanna say sh- something.”

Eri nods. That seems fair. “Are you afraid of the person? The someone that took you?”

“I never was. It was a scary as- I mean. It was scary, being taken. But I don’t think I was truly ever scared of him in specific those two days. The day of the war, maybe…” He trails off, then picks back up. “No. I ain’t afraid of him because of that.”

“Oh,” Eri muses. “But it’s ok if you are?”

“F- Yeah, of course. But I’m not, not anymore. I’m mostly angry.” He chuckles darkly. “Like always.”

“Angry?” Eri asks. “You’re angry at him?”

“Yeah. He had no right to take me like that.” 

“And when you’re angry, you’re not scared anymore?”

Kacchan swears something illegible under his breath, again. “That… That ain’t how it works, brat. You can be both, you can be neither. Emotions are weird. Best thing to figure them out is to talk to someone.”

“But not if you don’t want to?”

Kacchan seems conflicted. Eri keeps eating, but her attention is elsewhere. “Gods, how did I get here. No, not if you don’t want to. Right, ok. Sometimes, brat, the emotions are still too tightly locked up in here,” he taps her chest, where mister Aizawa taught her her heart beats, “and it’s hard to talk about. Means you’re not ready to talk about it. And that’s fine. Just remember to talk about it sometime later. Don’t lock it up tighter, because that’s gonna hurt.”

Eri blinks at her curry. That sounds reasonable. But she still doesn’t really understand. 

“I don’t get it either, brat,” Kacchan says, turning on his phone. “Emotions are hard. Sometimes they’re under lock and key, sometimes they just explode outward.”

“Like when I smiled when the song was playing?”

“Like- what?”

“There was a girl singing, and Deku was dancing, but then he left, and everyone went Wow! And I went Wow too,” she smiles, recalling the day of the festival. 

“Yeah, sure. That sounds like emotions, all right.”

Eri hums. Kacchan has given her a lot to think about today. She’ll tell mister Aizawa about it later. But not her brother, because she doesn’t want to! 

Kacchan has already moved on from their talk, it seems. He’s busy scrolling on his phone screen, dimly lit up. But one of his hearing aids is lying on the table next to her curry, and she can see a small cable travelling up to the ear hidden from her. 

“Are you listening to music, now?” she asks.

“Yeah,” is the reply. He hands her both earplugs, the ones that are for music and not for talking. When she’s pushed them into her ear well enough, he taps the triangle, and soft piano starts playing. 

It’s different from the music her brother showed her, or Deku. Mister Yagi showed her something like it once, but it had been super fast and more instruments. She likes this better. There’s no singing, which is disappointing, but the melody sounds like it could be sung too.

“What’s it called?” she asks him. 

“Some french name. The girl with the flaxen hair. A guy called Debussy made it.”

“He plays slow,” she says. “There’s a lot of pauses.”

“He didn’t play it. He- Tch. He wrote the song, but someone else played the piano. You can sing a song you didn’t write, can’t you.”

“Oh,” Eri gasps. “So the pauses aren’t his fault?”

“The pauses belong in the song. Like how you sometimes sing a word longer than needed.”

Hmn. This music was so different than she knows. It’s very calming. She could fall asleep to it. “Why do you like it?”

“What? Fuckin- I mean, I dunno. It tells a story, or something.”

“A story?”

“You know how movies have music playing behind all the talking?”

Eri listened a bit longer. She doesn’t really understand the story, not without the movie, but it’s still very pretty and she likes listening to it. The nightmare is long gone from her mind, and her eyes start drooping again.

They go through two more soft songs with pauses, curry finished, when her brother arrives with mister Aizawa and Deku in tow. Hastily, they say goodbye to Kacchan, who goes upstairs without much fuss. 

Eri smiles. She hopes to see Kacchan again, someday.

-

Eri shrieks awake from the sofa, and Izuku shoots up. “Eri? Are you ok?”

The moment she hears his voice, she calms back down. “Deku?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” says Izuku, relieved. “Was that a nightmare?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it,” she says abruptly. Izuku falters. 

“Are you sure? You might feel better if you do.”

“I wanna talk to mister Aizawa about it, I think,” she says, and Izuku really can’t do much against that. 

“Ok, but be sure to do so, yeah? Otherwise it will linger, and that can feel bad.”

“I promise!”

“It’s late, though, Eri,” he notes. “Are you able to go back to sleep?”

The girl hesitates, which is all the answer Izuku needs. 

“How about I read you a story? Or we sing a song?”

“Oh, can you play the girl with the hair?”

The what? Izuku halts. “The- the girl with the hair? I don’t think I know that one.”

“Kacchan showed it to me, um,” Eri thinks back hard, eyes scrunched up adorably. “Mister Aizawa said it was a classical music piece?”

With all the information he has now, Izuku tries a Moogle search (asking for ‘the girl with the hair classical music???’), which, surprisingly, leads somewhere useful. “Do you mean the girl with the flaxen hair?”

“Yes! That one! It made my eyes droopy.”

“...And Kacchan showed you this? Are you sure?”

“Yes, he liked how it had a lot of pauses with a story, I think.”

Izuku tucks Eri back into her duvet, and presses play. It’s a pretty piece, very calm and positive, like twirling around a meadow. He can see why it would make someone think of Eri. 

Eri doesn’t even last the whole song- halfway through she closes her eyes, and the moment after, she’s asleep. And if Izuku still listens until the end, that’s his business and no one else’s.

4. Todoroki is Upset (rightfully so)

It takes a while to understand what normalcy looks like, but Shouto finally thinks he gets it. With some good talks with teachers, an afternoon of self-evaluation every week or so, and friends surrounding him at all times now, he’s creeping closer and closer to understanding what a fucking trainwreck is childhood really was. 

Enji has said before, he’s looking for atonement, not forgiveness. Even if he was, Shouto isn’t sure he’d be able to give him, but since he’s not, Shouto really doesn’t know what to think of his father, anymore. Fuyumi is happy to see him Make Attempts, sitting with them at dinner and trying to discuss day-to-day events in his children’s lives. Their mother is none the wiser - but overall doing better than she’d been before.

Natsuo, however, is still visibly struggling, and Shouto thinks he, too, isn’t very oriented on helping the old man walk his road of atonement. The second internship shook them both to their core, and even now, Shouto is left on a crossroad, lost both as to where he started and where he wants to go.

Then there’s Touya. Or, rather, then there was Touya. Shouto remembers his big brother vaguely - he was far too small when the incident happened to really witness the terror it brought, but he was still there. And it still lingers. He misses something so intangible, both in grasp and in memory, that sometimes it slips his mind entirely, and he forgets why he’s put down plates for every chair around the table, instead of only four.

One thing that keeps him sane is distractions. They might not be healthy, not entirely, but Shouto can’t help but feel relieved when the matter is shoved away entirely, even if only for a limited time. Midoriya has been a true blessing, in this matter - and he doesn’t mean his classmate. No, mrs Midoriya, Midoriya’s mother, has been allowing him to visit even while her son’s not there, personally. She doesn’t know any of the reasons, though perhaps Izuku has shared some of it with her. Shouto knows he doesn’t like to keep things from his mum, and he had long since allowed the boy to do so. They don’t talk about it, a silent rule for when he’s there. Its as close as sanctuary could be, Shouto finds.

He’s there again, on a weekend Izuku had decided to stay at the dorms to finish an assignment Shouto’d already done. Mrs Midoriya is working in the kitchen for some easy dinner for the two of them, and Shouto is lounging on the couch, reading the latest novel Present Mic had shown at their English course. It’s a translation of a south-american book from the time of the alternaissance - the beginning of the time of quirks - predicting hero-society as accurate as one can be, centuries beforehand, and it’s a fascinating read to Shouto. It focuses on the possibilities of disorder in the judicial system, and the impact of vigilantes within a set power structure. 

Mrs Midoriya has her own opinion about the book, so whenever Shouto speaks up about a passage, she’s quick to respond. “Volatile quirks are still an issue today,” she notes, “as many children end up kicked out, or worse, for something they cannot control. But heroes are there to save those in need, of course - this includes those who seek help for things like that, and give them someone to look up to.”

“Children with powerful quirks are praised to high heavens, though,” Shouto muses. “And there’s no way the hero system isn’t rigged to give those with power advantage over those who do not.”

“Oh, it certainly is rigged!” mrs Midoriya says, carrying a pot to the table. “Sir Jaune and Veronica are a metaphor for that, if you can recall. Sir Jaune having such an invisible emitter-type quirk makes him easy to underestimate, but he’s an inherent element to the collapse at the end.”

“He’d never be able to be a hero in today’s day and age,” Shouto says as he closes the book. “It’s a miracle Shinsou has made it this far.”

“It’s good that your classes are making you read this,” mrs Midoriya says. “I hadn’t expected them to touch upon the failures of the hero career like this.”

“The Hero Commission actually banned the book for teaching in heroics long ago,” Shouto says. “Present Mic just gave us a list of banned books, and said to read them if we ‘wanted to know what’s up’, or something.”

She laughs heartily at that. “Good on you for taking his advice, then.”

They eat in a comfortable silence, and Shouto makes himself useful by clearing the table. The dishwasher is almost filled when mrs Midoriya speaks up again.

“My Izuku was quirkless until UA, did you know?” she asks, and Shouto nods. Midoriya told him his quirk had come in at the entrance exam, which is why he had such difficulty with it in the first weeks. “He was devastated when he didn’t get one. I failed him, too, by saying he couldn’t be a hero without a quirk. I think, looking back now, he would’ve probably found a way.”

Shouto nods again, in thought. “He’s very much at home at UA, even with all the dangers it brings.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” mrs Midoriya says with a smile. “A mother cannot help but worry, of course, but she also knows where to look for happiness for her children.”

And Midoriya is happy at UA, Shouto knows. He’s seen it for himself. Everyone at 1-A had a place now; last year, they’d all been able to prove themselves more than well enough. 

The table is clear, and it’s late enough as it is, so they say their farewells. As he’s about to leave, mrs Midoriya switches to an unexpected subject. 

“I must say, I had my doubts about young Katsuki at first,” she admits. “I hadn’t understood his drive to be a hero until after your first sports festival.”

“Bakugou? Because he’s too volatile, you mean?”

“Perhaps,” she says, her eyes hazy as she’s lost to reverie. “People can fail children in more ways than one, and a child can lose themselves to expectation long before they’re able to find themselves. Ah, but that doesn’t matter! He’s growing into a fine young man, Mitsuki and I have weekly cafe dates to gossip about our boys!”

“The two of them are childhood friends, right?” he asks. “They don’t talk about their childhood much.”

“With good reason on Izuku’s part,” mrs Midoriya harrumphs. “Though I can understand why Katsuki doesn’t like to talk about it, too. Did you know they had a spat after the first day of UA? Katsuki thought Izuku’d been lying about his quirk the entire time! How preposterous!” It’s clearly a joke, but there’s something lingering in her smile that Shouto doesn’t entirely understand.

Bakugou and Midoriya’s first fight was infamous at UA. It makes more sense now, even though Bakugou’s anger seemed very in-character at the time, too. He’d never thought about it that way.

“I’m just rambling, now. Don’t forget to take this,” says mrs Midoriya, handing him his book. “Have you checked the train schedules? And please text me when you arrive safely!”

“I will,” murmurs Shouto, bowing shortly, then giving a quick hug. “Thank you for the dinner, it was very insightful to be able to discuss the novel with you.”

“Oh, pish! You’re always welcome. I’m sorry for being so sullen tonight.”

“Like I said, it was an insightful discussion.”

“I’ll see you next week, then?” mrs Midoriya asks, hopeful. “And please tell Izuku that I miss him dearly.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

-

“What is your and Bakugou’s history?” he asks bluntly one day, long after class. Midoriya and he are sitting on the tatami mats doing some coursework, so it’s expected that Midoriya is slightly thrown off by the question.

“My and Kacchan- what?” he stutters. “Todoroki, how come you ask?”

“Your mother and I spoke about heroics, and your childhood came up. I was only curious.”

“I’ll ignore that first part - it’s embarrassing how much you talk to my mother, Todoroki!” Turning into a blushing mess, he drops to the floor. “But I guess it can’t hurt. Our mums are best friends, so we were together ever since birth. I was always playing heroes with him, and all that. My mum probably has albums full of photos of the two of us.”

There’s a melancholic smile on his face, one that drops slightly after a moment. “We fell out of touch after he got his quirk, and I was diagnosed as quirkless. There was a period of time he, well, wasn’t the nicest person. I guess he still isn’t, to some people,” Midoriya grins. “But he’s much better than he was back then. We have an understanding now, I think. Back then, he was terrible.”

“Like a bully?” Shouto asks, mostly in jest, but Midoriya nods.

“Yeah, he bullied loads of people. Always had these two other kids flanking him from either side, as well. That was kinda dumb, now that I think about it. But still, he was the strongest at school - even the seniors were terrified of him.”

Somehow, Midoriya’s eyes are shining at the ceiling, as if in awe. Shouto stays quiet.

“It’s still a bit of a sore topic between us, but he didn’t exactly like how weak I was. Dekunobou, you know?”

Dekuno- “Is that where Deku comes from?” Shouto asks, shocked.

“Uhu! My nickname for him is just as embarrassing, though. When I was younger, I wasn’t able to say Katsuki without butchering it into Kachuki - Kacchan hated it!” Midoriya laughs. “The sound of a kiss in his name was too much shame for him to handle, so I just shortened it to Kacchan.”

“He called you names? Midoriya, did he really call you useless your entire life?”

“I mean, I suppose. It’s not bad- it’s my hero name now,” Midoriya argues. “And it is another way to read my name. He did way worse.”

“Worse...”

“Yeah, like using his quirk. Mostly to intimidate others! Everyone was always so jealous of it, me too. It was a quirk made for a hero, after all- so strong! Plus, I was the most annoying towards him, I think. Always trying to play the hero, even though I was quirkless,” Midoriya chuckles. “I owe him, you know? It’s because of him that I was able to make my dream a reality. Man, there was a lot going on that day. Him burning my notebook made me meet All Might, then I almost died, then he almost died, and I tried to save him even though I knew it was dumb- and then All Might saved us! And he told me I could be a hero! Weird day, but somehow it might be the best day of my life. I even got All Might’s autograph-”

Shouto stands up.

“Eh, Todoroki?” Midoriya asks from the floor. “Where are you going?”

“Toilet.”

-

He is not going to the toilet. Instead he finds his way to a certain unstable blond, taking him outside. 

Bakugou starts protesting the moment Shouto grabbed his arm, but Shouto doesn’t relent. 

“The actual fuck, Poland?” he hears from behind him. “The hell are you pulling me out here for?!”

“Shut up,” Shouto growls. He does not have the patience for this. 

Bakugou gets the hint, and shakes off his hand. “I’ll walk on my own, bastard. This better be worth the trouble.”

Oh, it will, Shouto thinks. The rest of the walk to the training field is quiet, and it’s only when they’re far out of reach from the dorms, that Shouto turns around.

Bakugou’s eyes shift around, nervous. Shouto doesn’t know what he’s thinking about, but honestly, he’s too mad to care.

“So, half ‘n half,” the boy drawls. “Why the fuck did you pull me out here when I clearly was making dinner.”

“Dekunobou,” Shouto hisses. 

Bakugou halts. “What?”

“That’s what you named him, right?”

As Shouto takes a step forward, Bakugou takes one step back. “What the fuck are you talking about-”

“Is it fun, roughening up someone defenceless? Fighting someone who can’t fight back?!”

His opponent growls lowly. “Don’t start shit you don’t know shit about, Icyhot.”

“Midoriya told me plenty. What else did you do? Hit him? Burn him?”

Bakugou flinches, which is enough of an answer for Shouto.

“What kind of hero burns those weaker than them?!” Shouto yells, vision blurred red. “Who gave you the right-”

He throws a punch but Bakugou steps back, narrowly evading it, but recollection flashes through his eyes.

Shouto grinds his teeth. So he does understand. Swinging again, it’s even closer, but again Bakugou moves backwards. Tired of the other slipping away from him, Shouto throws a wall of ice forward.

Bakugou’s eyes widen in shock in front of him. The only way he would be able to evade it, is to explode it. And so he does.

The blast echoes through the evening air, and shards of sharpened ice rain around them. 

“Icyhot,” Bakugou mutters, “this ain’t between you and me. Don’t project your own issues onto him.” 

“He is my friend,” Shouto yells. “How dare you!” Another wall, again shattered into pieces. 

“Icy-” A sharp kick to the gut cuts him off, and he rolls over. As Shouto fires off another wall, the explosions protecting his opponent grow.

“He didn’t deserve any of that!” he shouts. He’s cold to the bone, but his core burns. Sliding towards Bakugou on a glassy patch, he propels himself forward through the momentum, throwing a punch. “Why won’t you say something!”

“Nothing I say will make you happy,” Bakugou growls from under him, and that just isn’t fair. 

Shouto yells, attacking again with all his might. Again, the wall is blasted away.

The recoil throws both of them off balance, and Shouto stumbles backwards. He feels hot, hotter than he should, using only his right. Something inside him burns instead. 

“Not using your left, again?” Bakugou taunts, though his frown shows something else. 

“I can beat you without,” Shouto hisses. 

Narrowly avoiding another icy demise, Bakugou finally makes his move. Pushing up from the ground, he blasts his way through the air to Shouto, hand outstretched. The palm starts to glow, so Shouto in quick reflex from countless exhausting sparring sessions, throws up a wall, blocking his assailant from reaching him. The two fly to opposite ends as the wall explodes, and in tandem they slide over the glacial cover of the grass. Shouto’s ankle bends as he regains his footing, but he has no time to consider it any more than a hard grunt before Bakugou has already begun shooting back at him. One of the rapid-fire AP shots misses him by perhaps a hair’s length, the closest he had come to hit Shouto yet. With practiced movements he prepares a small block of ice to shield himself, then punches it full force, breaking off chunks that go flying into the plasma bullets in range, effectively cutting them off from reaching their destination. 

The rest of the shards dart across the field towards Bakugou, and not taking a moment rest, Shouto blasts another stream of ice directly after them. It’s shot to smithereens by another explosion, and Bakugou goes airborne. 

Of course he would- Shouto grinds his teeth. Nowhere to go but up, Shouto follows. The ice under him hurls him at Bakugou, and arms outstretched, they meet in the middle. 

What follows is pain. Shouto gasps as the air in his lungs is pushed outward forcefully, and stars sparkle over his vision. Somewhere further away he hears a loud crack on the ice below. His back is aching on the cold grass under him, and something is burning inside him as he flexes against the resistance above, but he pushes up nonetheless. 

That is, until his vision clears, and Bakugou is holding his wrists tightly above his head. A knee digs into his stomach, one he could easily throw off. 

Bakugou sits back, releasing him from his hold. “You willing to listen yet, Todoroki?”

Shouto breathes. There’s a low waver in the voice, one he hadn’t realised Bakugou could make.

He’s not tired - neither of them are at all - but the fight has left him. He nods, solemnly.

“Fuckin' ace.” With that, Bakugou drops down next to him, tension rushing to leave him as he sits. “Have you talked to your dad, lately?”

Shouto hasn’t. 

“Because it feels like this is something you might wanna discuss with him. Not me. Godsdamnit.” Bakugou watches him with a scowl, though the fire behind it isn’t as bright as it used to be. “We have it handled. Deku and I. Though, I don’t think he even realises what I did fucked him up for longer than a day.”

Pause.

“...Dekunobou,” Bakugou mutters. “Useless. I made him a martyr, fighting whatever bullshit evil until he’s dead or dying. It’s the only thing that matters to him, now. He was always like that, even before I... He's always been special.”

Carefully, Shouto listens. He doesn’t understand. 

“... You saw him,” Bakugou notes. “In the battle against Shigaraki. He’d do anything to protect everyone. But even before that. When he was still weak-”

Shouto musters his strength into a glare, to which Bakugou huffs.

“Fine. Before he got a quirk, he ran into a villain attack to save me, while all the pros stood there. Watching us. At camp, both of his arms were completely shattered and yet he still tried to protect me. Even as far back as when we were five, he was looking out for me.” He clicks his tongue in disdain. “I ain’t his responsibility - if anything, I needed to protect him.”

Shouto breathes, in, out. “Does that scare you?”

“Fuck yes it does. He’s a moron with no sense of self-worth, yet he’s at a school for heroics in a class that's brought more trouble than all three other years combined. It’s going to go wrong one day, and I’m not sure how much either he is, or I am, willing to sacrifice for the greater good.”

From there, Bakugou looks down to Shouto. “Fuckin’ hell, I’ve gone way too soft. If you tell anyone the shit I said here I’m gonna kick your ass to next tuesday, you hear me?”

“I don’t know if I want to forgive my dad.”

“Haah?!”

Shouto gets up slowly, slumping against Bakugou in misery. “He said he wasn’t looking for forgiveness, but. He’s trying. And I don’t know what to do.”

“...I ain’t the person you should ask this, Icyhot.” He breathes a humourless laugh. “I’m in the unique position of already owning the forgiveness without asking for shit.”

“Did Midoriya tell you?”

“Didn't have to. His damn hero worship extends to me automatically. Always fuckin’ has. No idea to what extent, but I ain’t gonna ask.”

“What will you do about it?”

“Atone,” Bakugou says bluntly, “in the words of your mighty sperm donor. I fucked him up good, back then. Least I can do is help him find his way from here.” With slight hesitation, he adds, “don’t let it take over your life, icyhot. Your life’s never been yours to live, this ain’t the way to make it your own.”

Shouto closes his eyes, and ignites part of his left arm. The ice around them melts, and he can breathe easier. Aizawa-sensei will probably chew them out for property damage later tonight, but it was worth it.

“Don’t think I’ll let it slide that you didn’t use your left, again. Fucker. Can’t beat up your dad so I’m second choice.”

“My father is the number one hero. I can’t very well fight him.”

To that comment, Bakugou stands up, dropping Shouto on the floor - his bruised ribs flash with pain, then he’s looking up at Bakugou and the sunset behind him. “Fuck right off, Canada! We have a dinner to get to.”

-

“Why is it when something happens,” Aizawa-sensei growls, “It’s always you three.”

“There’s only two of us,” says Shouto, though it’s slightly muffled by the capture weapon wrapped tightly around him. 

Bakugou beside him grunts lowly. “Trust me sensei, I’ve asked myself that question the whole ass year round.”

“All Might can’t help you now, Bakugou. Who threw the first punch.”

“I did,” says Shouto. It’s a surprise to Aizawa, going by the pause that follows right after.

“Trespassing onto the training field without surveillance and damaging school property by use of quirks are both prohibited by the UA regulation office, so I cannot let this go unpunished - though I can appreciate you two not going all out. Detention with Mic, tomorrow and the day after. Bakugou, this is a second warning. Don’t make it your third.”

-

“It was only slightly burned.”

“You pulled me away from a heated stove, Icyhot! You’re lucky the dorms are still standing or I would’ve fucking killed you for ruining my dinner!”

“You won’t even taste it anyway, your plate is spicy.”

“I’ll stuff these peppers so deep in your ass you’ll taste shit in your mouth!”

“That’s grotesque. ...Would it be spicy?”

“FUCK YOU!”

"Kacchan, have you seen- Oh! Todoroki! There you are! You were taking a long time, but the bathrooms were empty."

"Fuck off, shitnerd."

"Why do you two look like you've been…"

"Fighting?"

"...rolling in dirt?"

"Blame the daddy issues. I'm going to bed."

"...Todoroki?"

"Midoriya, if peppers would be shoved up someone's ass until it comes back up, would the excrement taste spicy?"

"E- excuse me?"

An explosion in the distance.

"FUCK OFF, ICYHOT."

5. Uraraka has a good time at the mall (?)

It’s Deku’s birth-weekend - something Ochako thought of when his actual birthday was on the wednesday of their written finals. Instead, they wait until the weekend to party. Deku himself is woefully bashful about the whole thing, but his mother gathered all their phone numbers to plan the party without the birthday boy dampening the mood. Saturday the eighteenth, they pull Deku along with them to the park for a summer picnic with the six of them. Tsuyu and Iida brought the food and cake, Todoroki the candles, and Shinsou and she prepared a playlist to go with the bluetooth speakers mrs Midoriya had lend them. The weather is on their side, summer breeze allowing them to ditch their coats with glee, and Deku is flushed crimson when he realises what’s happening, muttering himself to an early death. Ochako quickly hands him her gift as distraction, meanwhile Todoroki makes himself busy by lighting the candles, and soon everyone’s cheerfully nibbling on the cake.

“Well, Midoriya? What did you wish for?” asks Shinsou smirking, always the blunt one. 

Deku laughs in embarrassment, fiddling with the tiny fork in his hand.  “O-oh, nothing special,” he stutters, but Ochako interjects before the birthday boy sinks through the floor.

“You can’t just ask that, Shinsou! That’ll make it not come true!”

“Does it really?” Todoroki asks Iida beside him, who immediately tries to rectify the assumption by explaining the tradition fully. 

“Ah, we really need to give Todoroki a birthday cake with candles next year,” Deku grins, watching the two oddballs from across the table. “I suppose sparklers on a cake aren’t a very universal experience, however cool they look.”

“I enjoyed it nonetheless,” Todoroki nods. “It was a good birthday.”

“You just say that because we had soba, kero. Not to mention, Midoriya, it’ll be half a year until we can celebrate Todoroki’s birthday, anyway. We should enjoy the sun for now.”

Not that the boy in question heard any of it - the gift wrap around the small notebook tears away with ease, and Deku gasps when he sees what’s inside. 

The notebook was thick and sturdy, but compact enough to put in the pocket of his hero costume. Ochako had tried to find one that fit for a long while - there just weren’t many in that size! “Hero analysis - 1-A edition?”

“Your old notebook was falling apart, Midoriya, so we hope this suffices as replacement!” Iida says. “We wrote something about ourselves and our quirks inside, too.” 

Deku opens it at Iida’s page, where it shows a small photograph of some of his family, and pen lines and scribbles in neat handwriting pointing out the differences of their quirks and inherited characteristics in great detail. The boy’s mouth drops as he reads through the page, then as he flips to a drawing of Tokoyami and a baby dark shadow, tears start welling in his eyes.

“G- guys-” he wavers, “this is amazing! And you all added your autographs?”

“We couldn’t get everyone to add something, but we did get Sensei to! And Mic-san, and Eri-chan is also in there, but she just made a cute drawing!”

“It’s all things people wanted you to know, kero,” Tsuyu adds. “It was Shinsou’s idea to add our autographs.”

Shinsou, who had been quietly watching, looks away with a mild scowl. “Yeah, well. You’d be the type of person who’d be proud to be the first to have them.”

“I am!” Deku shouts. “I’ll be able to brag about it forever! I’ll be your biggest fan!”

Todoroki nods. “We’ll be in your care.”

“We have some smaller gifts, but this was the class present,” Iida says when they start cleaning up. “I think only Bakugou didn’t write anything in it.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Deku doesn’t seem to mind. “Everything he knows about his quirk is practically in my other notebooks, anyway. I’m not sure if he has anything left to say, lest he gives away a surprise move he’s been working on. That’d be unfair.”

“You two have a strange relationship, kero,” Tsu notes, but the matter is left alone. 

“Oh, speaking of Kacchan,” Deku starts, and honestly that must be the worst way to start a sentence, Ochako thinks. “He’s coming with us to the mall in a bit.”

“Why would he come?” Shinsou rolls his eyes. “He’ll just call us the nerd squad the whole day.”

“Dunno,” Deku shrugs, but it’s clear how happy he is about it. Maybe that’s Bakugou’s birthday gift. “But he’ll be a big help if we do end up trying the spicy challenge, at that one place.”

“Because he likes spicy food?” Ochako asks. 

“Well, yes. He’s eaten so much spicy food in his life, he can withstand any level by now. Maybe this’ll be an actual challenge for him,” Deku says, murmuring. “The last time we did a spicy challenge together, I ended up crying. We were five, though.”

“Is he joining the sleepover weekend?”

“No, just the mall!”

Ignoring the ‘thank the gods’ from Shinsou, the group heads off to the mall. After Kiyashi happened, Ochako hadn’t wanted to suggest a trip to the mall for Deku’s birthday outing, though Deku assured her he had no problem with it - in fact, there was a new hero merch store in the mall across town he wanted to check out (for science). 

Just as Deku said, Bakugou is waiting for them at the entrance, watching some video on his phone. As if sensing their arrival, he pulls out his earplugs, plugs something else in, and approaches.

“Kacchan!” Deku grins. “You’re here already?”

“Course. You losers were slow.”

“The cake was too good not to savour,” Shinsou says, taunting slightly. 

“Ah, Kacchan, I wanted to save you a piece, but you said-”

“Shut up, Deku. You know I hate that shit,” Bakugou scowls. “And I did say I didn’t want any. Now where does the nerd squad want to go first?”

“Called it,” Shinsou mutters at Ochako as they start walking inside.  The both of them stray at the back, far out of earshot for Deku (and Bakugou, too, if it was indeed hearing aids she just saw him plug in). “I seriously don’t get why he’s here.”

“Deku’s happy,” Ochako says. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Does it?” 

The mall isn’t overly crowded, but there’s certainly a lot of people. Deku and Bakugou are in a loud conversation with Todoroki in the front, attracting the attention of some of the shoppers who watch them with disdain. Ochako ponders over the response as they make their way to the hero merch department store. She doesn’t not like Bakugou - he’s a good person deep inside, otherwise the hero course wouldn’t support him. She knows Aizawa has a soft spot for him, like All Might has for Deku, not to mention that he was the one to add Duchess and her kittens to the dorm life. Ashido vows for him at their girls’ nights, and she’s seen him chatting with Yaomomo in a relatively civil manner. He was the one to beat her fair and square at the sports festival, recognising her as a worthy opponent - something she’s still grateful for.

So why didn’t he write in the notebook? Why does he always zero on Deku? And perhaps most of all, why hasn’t he said sorry? Todoroki had told them all about his… altercation with Bakugou, and Ochako remembers Deku especially got upset. They never did learn why Bakugou was supposed to apologise, and Todoroki didn’t share much of the conversation after the fight either, but it was clear something still hadn’t been resolved. 

“He means something to Deku,” is what she ends up with. “Something we can’t understand. Deku’s smart, we shouldn’t judge him for something we have nothing to do with.”

“No offence to Midoriya, but he’s kind of unhealthily obsessed with his ‘Kacchan’,” Shinsou says. “We all know he’s not the greatest at emotions. Neither of them are.”

“Maybe.” She’s conflicted, now. Bakugou has never shown interest in hanging out with them before. “Do you know why he joined today?”

“Nah,” shrugs Shinsou. “Midoriya just said he was. Dunno if there’s something specific, maybe he just likes hero merch.”

“He could’ve gone with his own friends.”

“Todoroki could be considered his friend. They interned together, after all.”

“Yeah, and look how that ended up,” Ochako looks at the floor. The day of the war was rough on all of them, but the three boys who walk at their front were the ones walking the frontlines. “At least there’s faith between them. Can’t do teamwork without trusting your partners.”

The train of thought gets interrupted by a squeal from Deku. The merch store is in sight from their spot, looking like a certain broccoli’s heaven on earth. He’s muttering up a storm as they approach, but then Bakugou grins, and says something to both Todoroki and Deku, and the three of them dash away before anyone can say a thing. Even without their quirks, they form an imposing presence, as if fully and perfectly in sync with one another. Ochako raises a brow at Shinsou, who avoids her eyes with care. 

Iida also runs off, mindful of not accidentally setting his engines off in habit and shouting after the trio far away from them; Tsu just watches with amusement in her eyes.

“They really are something, aren’t they, kero?”

-

After spending far too long looking at mugs and keychains, and with significantly more luggage than they had when they first entered, they all head to the food court. Deku finds himself proven right in saying Bakugou was a valuable ally in conquering the spice challenge: the dish they were served was thoroughly enjoyed by the resident hothead, whilst the rest was struggling holding their composure sharing a single plate. In the end, they order some actual edible food, as Bakugou finishes their serving with a grin. Ochako’s actually slightly impressed - either his tastebuds were never fully developed because of the nitroglycerin, or he actually burned them off himself. 

When it was time to pay, Deku waives her bill. “Yours is paid for, actually,” he says with a knowing smile. 

She frowns. Then turns to sees Bakugou at the register. Didn’t he win-

“Let’s fuckin’ go, nerd squad! Start walking or I’ll throw you off the stairs myself!” he shouts at them before she finishes her thought, and Deku quickly pulls her along. 

“Kacchan, you know where to go?”

“Of course I fucking know where to go, you think I’m blind?!”

“Man, it’s been a while since I’ve seen auntie! How is she?”

“You’ll see her in literally a minute, shitty nerd. Be fucking patient, I’ll kick your ass.”

Shinsou mouths ‘auntie?’ at Iida, who shrugs. Tsu bumps her shoulder with Ochako’s, again wearing her grin like she knows something.

“Seems like Baku-chan has something planned after all,” she says. 

Todoroki is the only one to help poor Shinsou out his confusion. “Bakugou’s mother and Midoriya’s mother are best friends.”

“Shut the fuck up, Canada!” Bakugou yells. “She’s a hag and I don’t know why auntie Inko likes her.”

“Kacchan often stayed with us when his parents couldn’t find a babysitter-” “As if I needed a babysitter, assholes!” “-and I with them, if mum had to work late!”

Shinsou’s eyes would pop out would they wide further, and Ochako giggles. They’d known already - since the first day, really - so it’s a delightful change of pace to see someone else be astounded by the two. 

“Why do you call your mother a hag, Baku-chan?” Tsu dares to ask, and Bakugou starts yelling about his ‘shitty hag of a mum and his old man’ as he leads them around the mall. Deku is having the time of his life, listening to Bakugou with half an ear and flipping through some pages of the notebook with one hand, while Iida flinches anytime Bakugou so much as insinuates a curse word. Tsu does actually seem interested in what Bakugou has to say, and asks some follow-up questions until they come to a stop in front of a department store at the far end of the corridor.

“They should know me and Deku,” Bakugou says, “but it’s best to wait for the bitch, still.”

In the time of waiting, Ochako takes a look at the show models, and balks at the price tags as soon as she sees them. Even with the free lunch, this was way too much to be able to enjoy. 

Eventually, Bakugou’s mother arrives. They all recognise her the moment she’s in sight - she’s the mirror image of her child: spiky hair, flawless skin, and piercing red eyes. The only big difference is that somehow, the red eyes aren’t permanently scowling, which takes some time getting used to, Ochako finds.

“You must be Izuku’s friends!” she cheers. “I’m Bakugou Mitsuki, mother of this asshole,” she points at Bakugou (Katsuki? Nope, Ochako thinks, absolutely not. Definitely keep saying Bakugou), who lashes out as soon as she even lifts her finger. They go to and fro maybe twice, then Deku steps in with a bright smile. 

“Hi, auntie! Good to see you! These are Todoroki, Tsuyu, Iida, Uraraka, and Shinsou,” he lists of their names in quick succession and they bow as their name is called. “Kacchan said you wanted to see us?”

“It’s good to see you all healthy after all these final exams,” mrs Bakugou says genuinely. “And happy birthday, Izuku! Let me guide you inside!”

Suspicion creeps up Ochako’s back, and she can’t help but look at Bakugou being far too quiet. He’s scowling at Deku, but only mildly, and mostly trailing behind the group. Meanwhile, mrs Bakugou is talking. “We specialise in working against fast-fashion, by utilising our own designs and personalising them to the wearer. Katsuki’s friend has a prototype for an acid-resistant glove, for example - I think her name was Ashido? Many people with mutation quirks ask us for advice, too, which is also possible.

“But enough about the company” Mrs Bakugou stops walking when they arrive at an employee-only door - which they enter. “Since your sports festival, your popularity has risen drastically, and it’s only been growing this year. Congratulations for all your debuts and hard work, heroes!” A small cheer goes through the group, and Deku goes watery-eyed again. Mrs Bakugou gives him a quick hug, which the boy sinks into, as if coming home. Ochako still wonders where this is leading to. 

“Now, most heroes fresh from school don’t have much savings,” she continues, still holding Deku, “and thus don’t have many opportunities to really flesh out their merch before getting into the ranking. However, we’ve spoken to your homeroom teacher for a while, and so we have a small surprise for you all.”

As if dropping a curtain from a theatre dramatically, mrs Bakugou pulls a rack of hoodies into the room. And-

That’s her costume. That’s her hero outfit. Ochako starts trembling. 

“We organised some smaller names to design and produce you all your first hoodies! They’ll be sold in the shop downstairs for a reasonable price, and we got all the paperwork ready for you to profit from their sales. And you can of course reject the offer all you like! They’re not actually in production yet - we only have these prototypes so far. I know one of you is planning to go underground, so we didn’t prepare a marketing deal for you. We do have a certified one-of-a-kind piece here, though, for your wearing likes.”

Mrs Bakugou ends her speech with a small pat on Deku’s head, snapping him out of his stunned silence.

“You got us, You got us merch?” Deku’s voice wavers dangerously. “Auntie-”

“Oh, hush you. You know how little effort this is for us. The whole class is getting them in a few months or so, we just sped up the process for you lot. Kats got one in here, too - where did he run off to, anyway?”

Ochako whips her head around, and indeed, Bakugou isn’t in the room. Turning back to the rack of clothes, she hesitantly holds out a hand. 

“That damn brat. Oh, dearie, go ahead and put it on if you’d like!”

She snaps her hand back, and looks to mrs Bakugou with tears in her eyes. “I- I can?”

“Course! It’s yours in every way. Now, let me find my little devil.” With that, she stalks out of the room, and they’re left alone. 

“Deku,” she has to ask, “did you know any of this?”

Deku just shakes his head.

“This is certainly- a surprise,” Iida says. “And they said profit goes to our accounts?”

“The only thing I’m upset about is that it’s the middle of summer, and it’ll take until autumn before we’ll be able to wear these,” Tsu jokes, but she too is crying.

“At least try them on,” says Shinsou. Ochako looks at him, standing beside them with awe in his eyes. “They’re ours, after all.”

Theirs. Hers. She can’t believe it. 

Todoroki is the first to pluck his piece from the hanger and pull it over his polo. It’s a little big on him - Ochako watches as it sinks over his hips - but the shoulder fit is perfect.

“...It’s comfy.”

That’s all it takes for the rest to follow through. It’s unreal, Ochako thinks as she looks at herself in the mirror. Bonkers. 

Deku takes three seconds of wearing it before bursting into loud and uncontrollable tears, and most of them follow. Mrs Bakugou returns to six overemotional teenagers in hoodies, laughing as Deku attacks her (was that a green flash she saw?) into a hug as soon as he hears her coming. 

“Can’t find my brat - he’s likely getting lost somewhere in the store, avoiding the people that have known him all his life, hah!” She laughs jovially. “And the protos fit! Perfect! Since you’re all minors, we’ll need permission from your parents to start production and sales, but if you leave their phone numbers here, we’ll give them a call tomorrow!”

They all thank her profusely, Deku unintelligibly murmuring into her shoulder, until she pushes them out back into the store. 

Ochako takes one more lingering glance at the clothes rack where one lone orange hoodie is left hanging, before the door closes, and they’re done. 

-

As they’re handling some of the paperwork, Ochako manages to catch a glimpse a flash of blond hair peeking through the displays. Tapping Shinsou on the shoulder, who doesn’t have any paperwork anyway, she stalks off to where she saw Bakugou vanish to.

He’s in a quiet-ish discussion with what looks like a co-worker of his mother. They ruffle his hair affectionately, and when he tries to run his torso is caught by what looks like a lizard tail.

“Oh, Katsuki, here’s your friends,” the co-worker says. “I’ll leave you two with him, ask anyone for Mitsuki when you get lost, yeah?”

They nod politely as the man leaves, then turn to Bakugou, who’s looking at the shirts they’re wearing.

Their hoodies.

“I take it you like’em?”

Ochako tears up again. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“Fuck off, I do. They have more than enough money and reach to do this, why the fuck should I be the only one profiting?” Bakugou spits out, and yeah, it sounds so logical when he says it like that.

“Still,” Shinsou mutters. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, brainfart. I mean it,” he scowls, “mention this and I’ll kick your ass to the moon and back. That’s a promise.”

“Sure, I can live with that,” Ochako jokes, then meets Shinsou’s eyes, and her shoulders droop. “But Bakugou, you could’ve just. Not gone with us to the mall, today. You don’t even like us, not to mention that we don’t have anything in common at all. Why did you?”

There’s a pause.

“We do have something in common, you and I,” is what he eventually says. “Now get out of my sight, I have a hoodie to pick up. Wish the nerd’s mum a good day from me.”

And with that, he’s vanished back into the maze.

-

They don’t actually see Bakugou again, that day. His mum bids them farewell at the entrance of the department store, jokingly thanking them for their business, but before Ochako can allow herself to leave, she has to ask.

“Ma’am?” She approaches mrs Bakugou, watching the rest slowly trickle away. “Did Bakugou do this for us?”

Mrs Bakugou smiles. “I don’t think I’m the person you should ask. But,” her mouth pulls into a smirk, and Ochako gulps as she finally sees the family resemblance. “You deserve a little blackmail. To get this deal to really take off in summer, Katsuki agreed to model for me for a short while - something he never agrees to. Hawks is doing just fine for himself as model, last I checked, so maybe it’s a shift in focus of career. Maybe he just wanted Izuku to have a good birthday, who knows. Use the money wisely, yes?”

Ochako chokes on her tongue before she can formulate a reply (does that mean the Bakugous have met the number 2 hero??), but when she recovers, mrs Bakugou has already left. 

She has to hurry to catch up with the others, but the stroll to the Midoriya apartment is overall quiet. No one has processed what just happened.

Todoroki confesses his father will likely dismiss the merch line, as he had no hand in arranging it, but Shinsou cuts in to suggest he take it to Fuyumi instead. That cheers him up, and lifts their spirits for the rest of the walk. 

“I can’t believe Bakugou is a rich kid,” Ochako chuckles. “He vibes more like the delinquent archetype, doesn’t he?”

Todoroki shrugs. “That’s because he wears his clothes the way he does. Midoriya, do you have any idea how Bakugou can be so unfashionable with two parents in the fashion industry?”

Deku bursts out laughing. “Classic Kacchan! Does whatever his parents don’t want him to do.”

“I still don’t get why you enjoy his company, when he’s clearly always a grouch,” says Iida, “but I cannot express enough gratitude for what he did today. That was very kind of him.”

“It’s not a bad thing to like Kacchan,” Deku protests. “We're friends. He likes me too.”

And Oh, thinks Ochako.

Of course.

Mrs Midoriya receives them with hugs and katsudon, in honour of Deku’s birthday - which they all pretty much forgot about at this point - and admits she knew of Mitsuki’s plan beforehand - which commences another crying session. They sing Deku a song after dinner, and then collapse in front of the TV, where they’ve laid down some cots and pillows. They’re all still wearing their hoodies, even with how swelteringly hot it is. 

She shares a short look with Shinsou, one of acknowledgement, and turns to Deku. Just to confirm a lurking suspicion.

“...Hey Deku?”

“Hm?”

“Can you check the back of your notebook?”

“The back? Yeah, sure.”

It takes a moment for him to grab it from his bags in the front, but they all sit around him as he turns to the last page, where something is scribbled almost illegibly, just above what looks like a well-practiced signature.

Happy birthday, nerd. 

Kacchan

--

+1

dumb eyes:

> these gloves r so cool man cant stop looking at them

> also i still can’t believe we got kacchan to make us dinner HA

> this is a dream come true

> i still have dreams abt that curry from training camp

Me:

Id say there were other priorities back then but you don’t hear me whining <

manly????:

> Aw baku :^( we’re here for you!!!

Me:

What in the everloving fuck is that <

manly????:

> It has a nose!!!

only sensible one: 

> no, it has a disgrace. 

> keep it far away from me

dumb eyes:

> hey kacchan hows your mum doing

Me:

PIKACHU I SWEAR I WILL FUCKING KICK YOUR ASS TO EUROPE <

Actual Racoon:

> Hey baku!! tapes and i are at the grocery store, need anything?? 

> we can bring icecream for dessert or smth since youre cooking and all!!

Me:

What’s with the exclamation points <

And no ice cream in my house what the fuck <

dumb eyes:

> awe im just asking :(

> can she give me the tour

Actual Racoon: 

> not even the popsicles????

Me:

dunce face say one more thing about the hag and you can eat shit tonight <

Actual Racoon: 

> and im hype dude!!!! 

> !!!!!!!!!!!

manly????:

> I think i see you two! I’m out front!

> I’m wearing crocs, if you can’t see me through the dividers

Me:

Blocked <

@Actual Racoon I got those <

manly????: 

> dude :^( that’s just mean

Me:

Double blocked <

Actual Racoon:

> to be fair kiri crocs are very last year

Me:

THEY WERE NEVER ANYTHING THEYRE CROCS <

Actual Racoon:

> sero says not to fight??? Smh party pooper i live for drama

> also jirou you got an eta yet???

only sensible one:

> yeah 10 mins

Actual Racoon: 

> no but seriously dynamite you need anything bc were paying in like a minute

> got all ur spices ready???

Me:

I said i dont need shit <

Unlike some people i come prepared <

manly????:

> .....

Actual Racoon:

> ……….

dumb eyes:

> ……………..i feel like youre judging me

Me:

Why the fuck do i put up with you guys <

only sensible one:

> hey don’t look at me i just bring the aux cord

dumb eyes: 

> boo :(

manly????: 

> way to throw us under the bus :^(

Me:

What the fuck did i say about that fucking nose <

Actual Racoon:

> @Dynamite with no laserbeam because you love uuuusss <333 😘😘😘😘

Dynamite with no laserbeam is typing...

Me:

God knows why i do <

Dynamite with no laserbeam went offline <

Actual Racoon:

> DID HE FUCKING JUST

dumb eyes:

>WAIt HOLY SHIT ARE YOU SERIOUS

manly????: 

> BAKUGOU AWWWW WE LOVE YOU TOO

only sensible one:

> damn didn’t expect that.

> you’re fuckin cool man

Actual Racoon: 

> smh cant believe hes leaving us on read 

> i take it back i hate u

Soy Sauce:

> toddlers, the lot of you

> love you too buddy

dumb eyes:

> cuddle pile @ the bakugous yall say aye

manly????: 

> AYE!!!

only sensible one:

> aye

Actual Racoon: 

> AYE!!!!!!!!

Soy Sauce:

> Aye aye