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inkofbakugou · 2 years

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Under the blue sky | Prelude

🏵️ Wordcount: 17k whoops! 🏵️ Genre: Fluff/angst | Enemies to lovers!AU • Fantasy!AU • Non-canon!AU 🏵️ Characters: Bakugou x OC (+ the majority of MHA characters + some OCs) 🏵️ Description: Just when Bakugou thought his childhood dreams were too broken to be put back together, he finds himself embarking in a journey to save the world, stuck with too many "extras", struggling to understand which is the real meaning behind the word "hero". Aka: this is the story of Katsuki Bakugou and how he passed from being a promising Pro Hero with a bright future ahead of him, to a bounty hunter, to an alleged villain with a bounty on his head… before finally realizing the biggest dream of his life: to become one of the greatest Heroes of all time. 🏵️Warnings: mention of blood; mention of drug use; mention of child abuse; minor character death; 🏵️ A/N: I drafted this story a long time ago before putting aside MHA due to lack of time. But the recent chapters made me want to go back to this fanfiction because I was having so much fun writing about Bakugou being absolutely awkward with his feelings and people! It's a Fantasy!AU (FF VII and One Piece inspired me to the core), so the setting is completely altered, and doesn't follow the canon -mainly 'cause when I first started it many things were still unrevealed in the manga (Dabi, I'm looking at you). I don’t know if someone will ever give it a chance (due to the thematics and the length) but if you do, thank you from the bottom of my heart! I'm aware it's quite slow but I promise it gets better, so if you decide to delve into it, I hope to repay you with something nice that could brighten up your day a lil bit! P.S. English isn't my first languange, so feel free to point out if anything sounds off!

Aeri once told him that all of them are just shells.

He doesn't know why her words run through his head all of a sudden, at this very moment, but Katsuki can't stop thinking about it.

He shifts on his spot, sitting more comfortably on the bench facing the town square, gazing at the people walking back and forth on the street. Quietly. Without a care in the world. Enjoying the once-long-gone peace that finally is seeping through their reality, day by day, little by little.

Laughters and chatters plague the atmosphere in every corner of the visible portion of the area he can catch from his position -but his utmost attention gets drawn by a small group of children standing close to the fountain, almost making him forget the real reason why he decided to drop all his almost-Pro-Hero plans to reach this faraway place: they're splitting into two groups, arguing on who's going to play the role of the bad or good guys. When they seem to have made the final decision, one of them jumps on the edge of the fountain and raises his right fist up in the air while declaring that he’ll save the world from the villains that still wander freely and undisturbed, because he is the great… Deku.

Deku… him.

A vein pops on Bakugou's left temple, while a small pout tugs at his lips now hidden behind the scarf. Incredible! Absurd! Among all the myryad of amazing Heroes who appear in every news, newspaper or magazine, that little brat picked Midoriya!

(The same Midoriya who, as soon as he found out why Katsuki suddenly couldn’t make it to their meeting, probably because of Kaminari's largemouth, sent him a text full of horrendous emoji that still sits unanswered into his phone -something so atrocious that made him want to run back to NeoTokyo only to punch him (“Take all the time you need and don’t worry! Good luck, Kacchan :) Oh! And tell Aeri we miss her a lot, too! ^^”)).

Letting out a sigh, Katsuki observes the kids now busy mapping out a plan to capture the little villains, who are now running in various halleys to find a refuge and prepare themselves for their fight.

But, if the old Bakugo would’ve exploded like a stick for Izuku to be once again in the spotlight -to be considered once again the best who consequently shoved him on the sidelines, now, there’s only a piping hot warmth that spreads through his chest and washes away the resentment and rage and whatever was holding him back from accepting all his own weaknesses. Because one of them wears an Ingenium mask made of cardboard; because a little girl is sitting on the edge of the fountain in a weird-froggy-style just like Asui would do; because another one wears a t-shirt with Shoto’s face printed on it; because the boss of the little villains just declared war throwing a hand grenade made of paper on top of little-Deku’s head while tightening a Dynamight doll (it serves you right, Izuku! And, for the record, that’s the coolest villain amidst the group, ah!), and the scene now unfolding before his eyes is… sheer perfection.

Because this is a type of peacefulness he's always fought for, and he doesn't give a damn about who's the best anymore.

This is a gush of the world Bakugou's always wanted to create since he started understanding what’s the real meaning behind the word “Hero”. It makes him look back at the past with nothing but pride: all the months spent on the brink of death -all the blood, sweat and tears they all shed throughout their long and weird journey, all the scars scattered through their bodies, all the pain they’ve endured, all the people they've left behind and met, and all the important things they’ve lost only to reach something bigger and better… it was all worth it.

And now that he’s gone back training to get his hero-license and he’s got much more time to dedicate to himself, Katsuki realizes that something is missing in his own brand-new world. Someone, precisely. Someone who sat sail with him and accompanied him even though he was scraping the bottom of the barrel, always accepting him for the scared and proud and arrogant and curt and stubborn human-mess he was.

Someone he misses dearly…

Feeling his heart doing an annoying fluttering thing in his ribcage, Katsuki trails his stare to his right, laying it on the figure wrapped in a coat busy talking to a couple -some friends, probably, judging from the casual posture of her body and the playfulness in her voice.

Aeri is standing there, in flesh and bones, and his body reacts just like it used to do when they were stuck in a mission to save the world. As if every fiber of his being was made to quieten down in her presence -as if the affection that bloomed for her never withered, despite all that happened. It's still there, burning, scorching, impatiently waiting to grow. The fact is... no matter how much distance he put between them, no matter how thick is the plain rage that desperately tried to peel off the underripe emotions he was nourishing deep inside of him: Aeri's memory always came back to knock at the doors of his conscience, feebly, but persistent.

To remind him that, at a certain point of their pretty odd lives, they were--no, he believed they could be… something more than just friends.

Aeri rests her gloved hand on her mouth to squelch a chuckle and his stomach twirls in a painful knot. Ten months might have passed, but she is as pretty as the last day he saw her -maybe even more than the memories he used to replay in his head when he couldn’t stop wondering if life was treating her well and kindly. Her bright red hair cascades in gentle waves along her shoulders, the fringe pulled back to reveal the series of scars that cut through the left side of her face (one of those views she’d have let admire only to him, once, too embarrassed to accept it). Breath sticking in his lungs, he lets his stare meander on her body, suddenly feeling the ghost of her embrace cocooning him in a tight hug, softening the tension in his muscles.

Aeri is still the same; and yet, she isn't. The surface casts his mind back to all the things they've been through before the last battle -the way she and all the others slowly became an indispensable part of a deep-rooted plan he was mapping out since he decided to quit U.A.; however, the type of carefreeness she’s exuding right now has him realizing that she grew into a woman he little knows about and… shit, maybe there's no place for him in her new life.

What. A. Fucking. Giant. Idiot.

Katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, turning his head so fast that a muscle twitches in his clenched jaw. What was he expecting? That she would throw her new life and dreams away for him? After all the shit he did and said? That she would’ve thrown her arms around his neck just because they shared a (pretty fair good) dose of kisses and important words?

He opens his palm, lets a couple of fingertips crawl on the wool-like fabric of his glove -picturing her fingers holding his hand tight while racking her brains to design a good tool that could accentuate his power.

What if she doesn't care about him anymore?

No, because he wants her to care. He really wants it. Because Bakugou is… free. He let go (almost) all of his ghosts and now there's plenty of room for her and-and, actually, there's always been; but he had other priorities and he sucked at expressing his feelings and he was so fucking terrorized of everything he preferred pushing her away and all that unsolved between them -all the ocean of things they didn't say, of gestures they didn't do out of fear, of mistakes they made due to their inexperience… maybe they can cross it. He knows they can, together. And this time, he won't drown in it, he fucking won't.

This time, Katsuki won't push her aside, nor will he let her run away again—!

"Sorry for taking so long," Aeri's voice, buttered with an apologetic wobble, scatters his thoughts and doubts away. She nears him, but makes sure to keep a few steps of distance. "I don't have much time. The place is packed with people on the weekends, and my colleagues need a hand. You know, I'm trying to be useful." A grin etches itself on her face -the same curve of good-tempered provocation she used to deliver him during their journey. Sinking in his silence, though, her confidence crumbles in a worried expression, cobalt blue eyes now fixed on the tip of her shoes. "So, ahm… why did you come here, Kac--Bakugou?"

A spark of rage crackles in his head. What's with this bullshit, now?! She should call him by his name, for fuck's sake! Why is she treating him like a fucking stranger?!

He pokes the tip of his tongue on his cheek, shrugging. "I had to see you, what else?"

Aeri arches her brow and gives him a hint of a smile, folding her own arms around her waist. "You're here to arrest me, aren't you?" She stiffens when his somber eyes meet her own. "Oh, so you really--" she swallows, letting out a stuttered breath, arms falling limply along her sides. "Listen… it's ok. I mean, I knew it was just a matter of time before one of you would find me someday, I was prepared. But… Can you at least let me bid farewell to my colleagues? They've been all so kind to me, I can't disappear like this. You can come with me if you don't trust me! I won't oppose, I--"

"I'm not here to arrest you," his statement escapes a bit annoyed -mostly because, apparently, Aeri thinks he'd only paid her a visit to fulfill his duties (this fool). He goes back to staring at the children, now throwing snowballs at each other while exclaiming the names of their moves. "I had--needed to see you…" he repeats, trying to better express the words whirling in his head, hoping she'll understand him. And when he turns to her again, sinking in her wide, liquid eyes, it's crystal clear that Aeri grasped what he was trying to say. "Ten months is a lot of time."

Aeri hides her mouth behind the scarf, jamming her hands inside her coat pockets. "It really is…" She moves up and down on her toes, nervously. "Well… you saw me. We can call it a night, then--"

"Don't play dumb! You know what I mean!" He turns in a rush, grinding his teeth, a vein pulsing on his temple. Bakugou is now in full shark-mode -it wasn't happening in a while, actually. "Fuck off! I didn't come all this way for you to take the piss out of me you little--the fuck are you laughing for?!" Breath escapes in little clouds from his mouth as he inhales and exhales air quickly, darting her a caustic glance.

"Nothing, nothing… but now I recognize you!" She taps her pointer on the little frown between his knitted brows, giggling. "That serious expression doesn't suit you." She drags her finger away before he could bite it, and gently taps the tip of her shoe on his calf, silently asking him to give her some space.

Letting out a grunt, he moves aside. The right portion of his body blazes up when she plops down beside him, her arm gently brushing against his own. He rests his elbows on his spread legs and hunches over, observing the town center packed with people. They stay like this for a few minutes, enjoying the coziness of their own silence -which has never been embarrassing or thick or smothering, no; it’s always been… tranquil. It’s that type of silence that doesn’t need to be filled with words, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, it doesn’t push you to run away (Bakugou has always cherished their silence).

Aeri shifts on her spot. "Why did you need to see me?" Her quietness is betrayed by her fingers curling tight around the scarf. "Hey, Pretty-Eyes… whatever it is, just spit it out." She leans forward, so now her eyes can engulf into his own the moment he turns to her. "You know, you still look like the emotionally-constipated kid who didn't want to talk. I mean, it's a trait of yours that accentuates your sexy aura… but we're a little too grown up for that." Her comment is amused, but notched with a shred of fear that has him straightening.

Katsuki swallows thickly, a vibrant flush now spreading along his cheeks as Aeri stares at him with expectation.

C'mon, it's easy: "Drop everything and come with me", nothing to be embarrassed of. Just like the good, halcyon days. Drop everything… and come back with him, so the pair of them can see how far they can go, being heroes together, cutting some time for themselves where they can be two normal people.

He should be cautious, though. He should think about it another million times and say it with every ounce of love pouring from his heart…

“Leave this fucking place and come back with me.”

… and words don’t come out as sweet as they should, but his affection is there. It’s akin to love, if you take a closer look. Between the silences and the pauses and the imperceptible crack in his voice.

Carefreeness slowly glides down her face. She looks at him with her pretty wide eyes, with her pretty lips parted. Genuine astonishment dawns on her, the same that was sprinkled on every inch of her face when she saw the blue sky for the first time, or when he first kissed her (when he was a guy with broken dreams who wanted to seek revenge and save the world in his own, coarse way; and she was a girl who followed him because she wanted to see the world and had to find a boy she once used to love).

"I--" her voice trembles and fades into a whisper. She averts his stare, cheeks now tinged with a ruby shade that triggers a million alarm bells in his head.

And in the smothering silence settled upon them, Katsuki Bakugou doesn't know what to expect.

Many months ago, Aeri would have said yes without thinking about the consequences.

Many months ago, Aeri would have flashed him her bright smile and would have told him that she'd follow him all around the world, playfully calling him: "Pretty-Eyes".

Many, many, many months ago…

When the first sparks started crackling from the palms of his hands, before the looks of disbelief of his little classmates, it was crystal clear that Bakugou was born to be a Hero.

Well, in his still-green mind of a four-year-old, it wasn't really his plan to undertake this career, of course. It was his mother who planted the first seed of curiosity between the folds of his brain, with her proud: "You know? If you work hard, you can become a wonderful hero, Katsuki!" (with her hand ruffling his spiky sandy hair; with her grin so similar to his own blessing her face). And then his teachers, and his friends, and whoever had the opportunity to admire him using his Quirk -everyone instilled in him the awareness that a majestic power was running through his veins.

It was meant to be that Katsuki Bakugou would become a legend, adored and admired and feared by everyone.

His dream was simple and clean: he’d attend U.A., he’d graduate with flying colors and the most prestigious agencies would sell their mothers to have him; he’d climb the hero-charts at the speed of light, reaching the top at a very young age, leaving the other extras eating the dust he'd left behind. His name would have echoed amidst common people like a scream of hope, and would have spread amidst his enemies like a cold chill. He'd be the number one -more powerful than All Might; more powerful than Endeavor; more powerful than that bastard of Half-’n-half; damn, even more powerful than that good for nothing of Deku!

He'd be the magnificent, envied, dreaded: "Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight"!

This, when he was four, ten, fifteen years old.

Then, "The 2nd Tokyo War" happened, the symbol of peace became a mere statue standing tall in Ground Zero, Earth turned upside-down… and now that Katsuki is nineteen years old, well, all the perspectives and dreams that accompanied him throughout his whole life have swerved…

"Look, the key is to not hurry." Kirishima's voice is a faint hiss that echoes in the elevator shaft, as he slowly climbs down the stairs along the wall, paying attention to not miss a rung. The piece of red rag hanging around his waist gently falls along his trousers and swings at every step he takes. “You must catch the enemy off guard. Facing them head-on might be self-defeating. You risk, how can I say… getting your ass stomped!" One hand loses the grip around the rod and he pulls himself away to fluctuate mid-air, flashing a sharp-toothy smile down below to Kaminari, who's just landed on the elevator rooftop.

Denki gives him back a grin, shifting his attention to the trapdoor that leads inside. "So, we stay here… and we get in on the sly?" He crouches down and stares at the panel control, fixing the black jacket.

Kirishima nods vigorously, nearing him. "In this way, you can take them by surprise--"

"What a load of bullshit!" Bakugou says, fuming. His groan rebounds in the air, followed by a loud thud as he lands down on the rooftop after taking a high jump. "We should've entered their hideout and beat the shit out of them, instead of traversing the air ducts! Who do you think I am, a fucking mouse?!"

"No way!" Eijirou turns to him, wide-eyed, stamping his boot on the ground. "We've to capture the Kusuri Brothers alive if we want to get the reward!"

"The bounty reads: dead or alive."

"It's not a bounty hunters' job to kill! We just have to capture them and take them to the police! They'll think about the rest!" Eijirou goes back to watching Kaminari, who's opening the cover of the control panel. "Don't listen to him. Bakugou thinks that the only good plan is made of rash actions that will end with our death."

"You'll be the only dead one when we finish here." Katsuki curses under his breath and darts a flaring gaze to Denki, who's busy clamping two threads between his teeth. "And you, Dunce-Face. You've been teaming up with us for two months now, why do we always have to explain things like you were a damn noob?!"

"But… you never explain anything to me…" Denki grimaces for the nickname just stumbled off his mate’s mouth, laying a hand on the panel to emit a weak electric discharge through his palm.

Kirishima observes the elevator's cables rolling up, before the cabin starts moving down with a jerk. "Don't mind him, you know how he is…” a small sigh flies out his mouth arched down in a resigned crescent, before the usual polite smile sits on his lips. “So, any question?"

Kaminari rubs a hand on his short gold hair, twiddling with the black lightning-shaped streak on the left side of his fringe. "Actually… there's a thing I wanted to ask you for a while." His stare dances from a smiley Kirishima to a menacing Bakugou. "Aizawa-san told me that you attended U.A. together, in the same class… you must be friends--"

"Friends?! Get yourself a pair of good glasses, Dunce-Face--"

"So, yeah… how could you bear him for all this time without trying to get rid of him at least once? He's intolerable." Denki pins his stare on Eijirou, finger pointing in Katsuki's direction. Shamelessly. Without fearing the catastrophic consequences of his dumb question.

(From the point of view of a genius like Katsuki, it’s crystal clear that his electrification Quirk has fucked up his tiny brain. It’s the only plausible and acceptable explanation!)

A vein pulses on Bakugo's neck, now turned into full shark-mode (pointed teeth exposed, bloodshot sharp white eyes, deep frown cutting through his knitted brows). "The fuck you babbling?! I'm the one who's bearing him! I'm the one who should get rid of him!"

Kirishima lowers his head, hiding his trembling lips behind the red bandana hanging around his neck, before letting out a sonorous chuckle that, inevitably, casts his mind back to his school days.

Bakugou grunts, contemplating his ex-classmate with the same annoyed expression that dawned on his face when he realized that, despite his many attempts to put a solid shield around himself and keep as much distance as possible from his classmates, Kirishima was one of the very few who could always read between his silences and glances and rude gestures, accepting him.

It’s no stretch to believe that their paths could only intertwine again, as if it was already traced into the weird (and pretty fucked up) destiny's game.

(When Katsuki decided to drop U.A. almost half a year ago, leaving behind the old life he meticulously crafted since he was a child, he didn't give a damn about the gloom looming over his future, or the people he'd inevitably leave behind: throwing away his dreams and plans was a favor toward that part of himself devoured by the sense of guilt for being the main cause of All Might's end; the only way to disentangle himself from all those ties that were impending him to learn how to make the best of his Quirk -and seek revenge, and change for the better a world that was (and still is) falling in ruin at the speed of light.

It wasn't a painful decision -especially when he understood that no one was willing to extirpate the evil and corruption that was spreading like a cancer, contaminating that little bit of good that was left.

It was just a matter of time before he'd reach his limit, and when he finally made up his mind, abandoning his studies and all the people he knew without explanations or goodbyes or tears, Katsuki realized that he had to do everything by himself.

Alone, because he is the only one who can bring some light back… alone, because no one else seemed affected by all these changes that were painfully eating him alive.

The only surprise element in all of this was Kirishima, who probably grasped his intentions way before Katsuki could dig in the depth of his own heart and understand what to do with his own life: Eijirou was standing in his way, unexpectedly, with a bag full of belongings collected during their school days and the tired expression of someone who couldn't take it anymore.

"You know?" He suddenly said, scraping the silence settled upon them. "I get what you're feeling. Staying here won't make any difference." There was a small smile hanging on his trembling lips, it clanched with the tears floating in his eyes. "Guess I need to do things my way, too. So, yeah… count me in."

The building of their Hero Academia was standing tall and gray and disappointing in the distance -a mere ghost of the enchanting place they all used to consider a second home; and, painfully (a bit frustratingly, also), Bakugou was obliged to accept that his solitary plan to restore the peace had to include an extra he didn't foresee.

So, all things considered, Bakugou is the true martyr of the situation, not damn Shittyhair!)

Thankfully, Kirishima is smart enough to not reply to Kiminari's question, nipping in the bud a useless discussion that would lead the noob to certain death (reminder: mutilate Dunce-Face when they'll be back to the headquarters and sell all his organs to the black market).

He changes topic, instead, flashing a curious glance to their new partner. "About U.A… you attended it too, didn't you? Prof--ahm, Aizawa-san didn't say much…" he giggles (probably remembering the fuming, endless complaints Bakugou made when their ex-teacher introduced Kaminari with a somber: "He's Kaminari and he'll work with you from now on. It's not negotiable. Now, get along." before disappearing into his sleeping bag).

Denki's eyes grow bigger and almost get teary, a vibrant flush spreading from the collar of his white shirt to the tip of his ears. "Well, ahm… no. I didn't pass the entrance exam, unfortunately."

Bakugou grins. "Loser."

Denki crumples on the rooftop, dejected. "I know it myself, there's no need to remind me!"

"Ah, don't say so! Don't tell him so!" Kirishima's stare flickers from him to Dunce-Face, encouraging. "The entrance exam is hella hard, it wasn't easy for me either! Tell him, Bakugou."

"The fuck are you babbling? It was a piece of cake for me. I arrived first." Bakugou observes Eijirou trying to reassure the other boy, patting his back. He grunts, fixing the jagged black mask running around his eyes before trailing his stare away from that absurdity.

Pathetic! Outrageous! Being stuck in a mission with two too-grown-up-adolescents exchanging confidences is just another reason that makes him want to set the entire world on fire!

Annoyed by their useless chattering (honestly, who gives a fuck about Dunce-Face being rejected at the selections and the promise he made to his pretty best friend he left in his hometown and whatever the fuck he did before joining their group), Bakugou goes back to focusing on the trapdoor that leads inside the elevator, counting the very few seconds that separate them to their destination. Taking advantage of their distraction, he silently opens the door and gets into the elevator, ready to get in action. He wants to put an end to this damn mission in a heartbeat and let the curtains fall on another tedious day since he started his bounty hunter career. He just has to break through one of the many Kusuri Brother’s hideouts, capture their gang of good-for-nothing, and cash in his well deserved money.

A smooth and clean job (obviously, in Katsuki Bakugou style, which includes: a few injured people, a dead or two, and lots of explosions).

Kirishima takes a look around, excited. "It's starting!" He pulls up his bandana and wraps it around his mouth, hiding a smirk. "As soon as the elevator stops, we're sneaking inside, silently. According to the evidence we collected, their warehouse should be situated down here and it's probably packed. We can't attract attention." He stares at Denki, busy fixing his black jacket and trousers, before turning to Katsuki. "Bakugou, are you--Bakugou!" His voice escapes in a strangled scream, stare flickering from the spot once occupied by his friend and the open door. In a panic, he stretches himself and peers inside the elevator. "What the hell are you doing?! You're going to ruin everything!"

Bakugou grins, bright red eyes fixed in front of him. "This isn't a fucking trip, Shittyhair. Let's get this done quickly." His smirk stretches even wider when the elevator finally stops, the sliding doors now opening with a screeching noise to reveal two men standing behind it, holding a box each in their arms. His mind immediately fishes out the list of Wanted signs he learned by memory, recognising their worthless faces. He stretches his hand right in front of them, amused by their sudden stillness as they process what's actually happening.

(God, how much he loves the very moment before an explosion! It's amazing, witnessing his enemies' expression swinging between astonishment, fear, and rage!)

One of them backs off, trembling. "Who the fuck are you--"

"Bye." Sparks crackles on his palm before erupting in a thunderous blast that hits the men without giving them any time to cry for help. His smile grows wider as he observes their bodies falling down with a thud, emitting smoke.

It's a matter of seconds before shouts and yells start rising from the warehouse on the other side, signaling the beginning of their mission.

"What's all the racket?!"

"Something exploded up there!"

"Intruders!"

Eijirou peers inside the trapdoor, hanging upside-down. "You see?! Now they're going to run away!" A cold shiver travels down his spine when he notices the two corpses lying on the ground, hit by the sliding door that rhythmically opens and closes against them. "You're scuppering our plan!"

"Oh God, it's going to be all doom and gloom from here…" Denki sighs, jumping in the elevator. A grimace crosses his features as the turmoil coming from the other room gets louder. He swallows thickly, pointing his finger to the men. "Are they, ahm… are they--"

"No…" Katsuki grinds his teeth, kicking the man’s leg, who exhales a feeble whining sound -the same just escaped from Dunce-Face's mouth, ugh. "Stop whining, you wussy! With these two, we're already at 50.000 Yen!" Without waiting for his two partners (or better: “thorns in his side”), Bakugou surpasses the obstacles in flesh and bones and aims to his left, attention caught by the loud footsteps coming from a group of enemies dashing up the stairs that lead to the lower part of the room. Grinning, he condensates the power on both hands before activating his gloves-gadgets, hitting a single blow toward them. "You take care of these extras! I'm going to get the big fishes." He snaps, jumping down the railing.

In the very few milliseconds that separate him from the ground, Bakugou quickly analyses the situation, grasping as many details as possible: one of the Kusuri Brothers' hideout is situated in one of the many forsaken basements scattered throughout the lower sectors of NeoTokyo, and it's not so different from the thousands they've combed through to dismantle the crime organizations -fishes so small that the police or heroes don't waste their time over, leaving all the dirty job to whoever is crazy enough to stick their oar in. At a closer glance, even the enemies he's about to face are identical to the myriads he caught in the past year: they live their existences hurting others, they run in a circle with fear streaming in their eyes, using their weak Quirks only to survive in a fierce environment or to harm others.

They're just scum that must be extirpated from the Earth, he doesn’t give a damn why they’ve reached this point…

"You’ll pay for intruding--" the words of a skinny man fade in a rasping breath as Katsuki hits him in the face with a kick, before landing on the ground, taking care of the enemies already surrounding him to attack him.

"Ah! Akio!" One of them screams, turning to the men who are now loading a van in a rush. "C'mon, go get them!" He yells, staring at Kaminari, who's just electrified a dude who tried to smash a punch into his stomach. "Damn! Finish loading the cargo and get your ass out of here while we take care of these brats!" He blows, fishing out a gun from his coat.

Eijirou hardens his hands, using his jagged fists to take down the members of the gang attacking him in a close quarters fight. "Sorry, but we don't have much time!" His whole body sharpens, the bullets just shot in his direction rebound against his rock-like skin and fall on the ground like dead flies. Smirking, he grabs the wrist of the Skinny-Dude and elbows him on the face, before smashing him on the ground. "We're at 125.000 Yen now!" He exclaims, flashing a bright smile to Bakugou.

"145.000, actually!" Denki shouts, electrifying a couple of enemies who tried to strike him from behind. A gulp scratches his throat when he notices Bakugou jumping close to him to avoid a kick, just when he was on the cusp of emitting some bolts to toss away the villains surrounding him. "Ah! Bakugou! G-go away! I was about to hit you!"

"Out of my way, Dunce-Face!" He groans, grabbing at a guy's face before releasing a blast. "And control your damn Quirk! You wanna kill us all?!"

"I'm w-working on it!" He yells, in a panic, desperately trying to put as much distance as possible between him and his friends. "B-but it'd be useful if you could stay away from me!"

The Kusuri Brothers' accomplices keep falling down one by one like dominos, hit by their continual bumps. Damn, they're so weak it isn't even funny to fight them.

"Let's put an end to this." Bakugou's attention gets caught by the few dudes who are finishing loading the van -it's covered with a sandy plain tarp, ideal to get unnoticed as they pass through the various sectors up to the uptowns; which makes it even harder to monitor their whereabouts. His stare trails on the leader of the group (Sankyo, the youngest of the Kusuri Brothers, judging from the scar that runs on the right portion of his shaved head. Only him is worth 1.358.925 Yen), who spent the whole time inside the vehicle, leaving the dirty job to his subordinates. "Don't think you're getting out of here!" He dodges the punch of a burly dude, placing a blow on his side.

Katsuki retracts his hand in a rush as he hardly squelches a whine. He briefly studies the damaged gloves stained with blood, before going back to paying his utmost attention to his target.

"Looks like my favorite bounty hunters are here! It's always a pleasure to meet you!" Sankyo delivers them a teasing grin, sharp eyes now fixed into Bakugou's. "Didn’t you learn anything from your last fiasco?” he says, waving a hook serving as a hand toward them.

“Oh, you won’t escape this time!” Eijirou blocks a punch, hitting the criminal’s stomach with his jagged knee.

“I don’t really like to be the one who’ll crush your dreams, you little brats, but duty calls!" Sankyo waits for the last man to jump on the back of the van, tapping his hand on the metallic wall to announce that they're ready to leave. "Don't worry, though! I'm going to leave you a nice present to entertain you!" He fishes out of the pocket a remote control, pushing a button. "See you soon! If you get out in one piece…"

"Not so fast, you fucking bastard!" Katsuki stretches his hands to aim at the vehicle, now dashing away like a flash of lightning. Sparks start crackling on his palm… and soon die out. He tries to focus on the burning sensation spreading to his fingertips, on the sweat that glides along the skin, but not a single explosion comes out. "Damn!" He shouts, watching the van disappear from his sight.

"And there goes our 1.358.925 Yen. Again…" Kaminari sighs, losing the grip around the collar of a man he just electrified. Fists now resting on his sides, he carefully studies the mess they’ve made before starting to move the corpses of the unconscious criminals and rest them along the walls.

Eijirou hums under his breath, eyes darting to each criminal laying on the ground. "Well, here we have… 203-no! 2.048.387,50 Yen! I'd say it isn't that bad!" A bright smile etches itself on his face, eyes now trailing to Katsuki’s back, curved as if he was sustaining an oppressive weight.

Bakugou is staring at his own palms, scanning the seriousness of the damage. The fabric of the gloves is burned in the center, revealing the abrasions cutting through the skin grooved with scars and spilling blood. "Damn…" he repeats, feeling the tension coiling all his muscles. There's this sensation inside of him, as if every inch of him was ready to blast in a thunderous explosion; and yet, no matter how sweat he sheds, he can only emit a few sparks that fade in the space of seconds. He brushes his thumb on the sweaty palm, his nose twitches in the slightest for the burning sensation.

For reasons he can’t explain,it feels like his Quirk regressed to its early stages -and, despite the years of training and experience, Bakugou doesn’t know how to properly activate it again, like his whole body was rejecting it.

"Hey, we'll catch him the next time…" Kirishima nears him cautiously, his voice buttered with a note of encouragement. He lifts his hand to pat his back but holds it mid-air, aware that his friend would only feel pitied -violently lashing out in the process. A shadow of worry cast onto his eyes, noticing the light trembling in his shoulders. "It still doesn’t work, mh?” he says in a feeble voice, being the only (unwilled) keeper of this secret. “Bakugou, you should talk with Prof--with Aizawa-san about this. Maybe he can do something about it, or you’ll risk--" words roll back down his throat in a gulp -and judging by the glint of confusion streaming in his eyes, it isn't for the murderous glance Katsuki just darted him.

Kaminari gazes around, studying the walls quivering like an earthquake was about to start. Suddenly, gunshots coming from the distance anticipate a loud blast, and the wall across from him crumbles down, obliging him to back off. He crosses his arms across his face to protect himself from the smoke wafting over them, eyes sharpening in the attempt to visualize the blurry figure behind the haze.

"It’s… a robot--ah!" A piercing yell flies out his mouth, noticing too late a sharp mechanic arm scratching through the smoke and pouncing on in his direction. In a burst of panic, he crumples on himself, using his own arms like a shield.

"Kaminari-kun, watch out!" Kirishima screams, situating himself between Denki and the robot now approaching, body fully turned into his jagged rock-like form to block the machine.

"What’s that thing?!” Denki moves away in a safer spot, studying the enemy: it's a three-meters tall robot shaped like a spider, with eight mechanical arms that simultaneously sustain its weight and attack with their pointy terminal parts. "It looks like one of those whoppers they use at U.A. entrance exam! O-one of them almost slashed me! It was awful!"

"And it'll happen again if you don't stop babbling!" Bakugou groans, pushing the bottom of his wrist to emit a blast -the threads that activate the device sting against his wrist, making goosebumps rise along his quivering arm.

The robot lifts up one of the arms, ready to attack them again. Kirishima takes a jump and punches it, tearing it off. Another arm is already mid-air, though, the pointed extremity now opened like the corolla of a flower to reveal the muzzle of a gun. Bullets suddenly dash in his direction, feebly notching the stone cover of his body. The collision is so powerful to hurl him against the floor.

"Ah! Kirishima-kun--!" Kaminari backs off to dodge a claw that jabs into the ground -the sight has him gulping in fear. The arm repeatedly attacks him, obliging him to jump in the opposite direction to not get cut to death; when it gets stuck into floor, unable to pull out, he latches onto it and releases a powerful electric charge that propagates up to the mechanical body, short-circuiting it.

"Aaaah, too strong!" Eijirou whines, backing off.

"Sorry, I still can't control it well…" Denki's voice is a slurry, incomprehensible muttering thing (and Bakugou isn't even sure that the noob said this. He's only sure that the nickname Dunce-Face suits him, considering the expression of sheer idiocy he's delivering them right now, aided by his thumbs lifted up in a silent way to reassure them that he’s doing fine).

The robot plummets on the ground with a thud that makes the wall tremble, the buzzing sound coming from the armless hole echoes in the room.

Eijirou dashes toward Denki to help him stand up. Bakugou heavily pants, swiping away a rivulet of blood running down his cheek -one of those fucking bullets grazed him when he was distracted, ugh.

"Who knows where they've taken this nice toy…" Kirishima comments, studying the robotic arm he detached earlier.

Bakugou takes a look at the fuming metallic body, attention caught by a familiar brand printed on the inner wing: it's abraded, a bad attempt to camouflage it or erase it, but he can pinpoint two cherry branches curved to enclose a "P".

"It must be a police’s present," he analyzes, giving a kick to the robot, jamming his hands inside the pockets of his indigo pants.

"But, why?!" Denki gives him a confused look.

"The fuck I know! They're probably indebted to them!" He places a hand on the opposite bicep, rotating the aching shoulder. "Well, let's consign those extras and get our money. I've already spent too much time with you, I wanna go back home."

Eijirou giggles, looking at his retracting figure. "We had fun too!"

Bakugou feels a vein popping out on his temple. He didn't have fun! His patience already evaporated when Dunce-Face greeted him this morning, there's no way he had fun being stuck in a mission with these two good-for-nothing--!

"Bakugou!" Kirishima's yell has him gazing over his shoulder in a rush, eyes growing larger as he takes notice of the robot now standing up again, stumbling a little due to the missing arms. One of them dashes toward him but before he could open his palm and let out a blast, Kaminari jumps against him to pull him away from its trajectory, before the claw could slash through his chest.

"Fuck! How do you turn this thing off?" Eijirou crouches down, the metallic arm passes above his head. He grabs it with both hands and applies a tight pressure to smash it, a grin of victory etching itself on his face.

"You ok?" Denki asks Katsuki, still with his arms curled on his head like a shield.

It takes him a few seconds to register what has just happened -the way Dunce-Face just threw him on the ground to save him; the way he's still covering him to protect him; and when the first sparks of realization start crackling in his brain, annoyance fogs his mind.

Brusquely, he shoves him away, grinding his teeth. "Get lost! There was no need to!"

"Good way to thank me! Ungrateful--ah!" Denki angles his body to dodge an arm, cold sweat dripping from his temples. "We'll continue this at home!"

"Not if you get killed!" Katsuki grins, avoiding a laser beam that cuts the wall behind him. His eyes trail on every visible inch of the robot, searching for a weak spot -something that could permit them to shut it off once for all; it's not an easy task, though, when that piece of trash keeps moving randomly. But then, he notices it, that span of three seconds it takes it to release the beam after the claw opens. If he could use this at his own advantage…

In a rush, he situates himself between Eijirou and the arm now pointed toward him. "Look how the number 1 saves the day." Smirking, he grabs one of the grenades secured along his belt. When the claw opens, he removes the safety pin with his teeth and plants the bomb in it, before jumping away to avoid the explosion. "Move away!" He shouts to Kirishima, still standing on his spot.

The shock wave generated by the bang is so intense to push them backward. The explosion spreads to the central part of the robot that underpins the arms, heavily cascading on the floor.

The euphoria that crawls into Bakugou's veins (after all, it's all thanks to his brilliant mind if they've been able to win in one piece!) fades away in a heartbeat as his glance lands upon the cracks on the floor, collapsing due to the blast and the heaviness of the robot… just where Kirishima is standing. The boy is too busy brushing his hands on his face, getting rid of the smoke that’s blocking his view.

Now, Bakugou could just shout to his mate to move aside or he’ll risk plummeting six feet under and reducing all his useless bones into pieces, but words don’t come out. His voice escapes in a breathy gulp that chokes between his grinded teeth, his stare fully focused on the ground crumbling beneath his ex-classmate’s body.

And his brain instantly shuts off.

His body moves toward Kirishima on its own, driven by a force that’s gushing out from his gut. He shoves him away with a kick, ignoring the light whining now flying out Eijirou’s mouth. “Move, idiot!”

It all happens a so fast, he doesn't have the right time to study the situation and react.

"Bakugou!" Kirishima's voice echoes back to him buttered with worry, making him turn to him. His stare lays upon his hand stretched out over him, but his brain can't clearly assimilate the view before him, as if he was completely paralyzed. He seems to regain consciousness only when his stomach snaps, his body now crushing down in the void beneath him.

Instinctively, he tries to generate some explosions to give himself enough boost to fly up -I mean, shit, it has always been a piece of cake, one of the easiest tasks he’s always been able to accomplish since he’s started training his Quirk. But the gloves don't work, and his power doesn't seem intent to activate on its own.

"Fuck--"

The last thing he hears before plummeting into oblivion is Kirishima's yell -that cracked: "Kacchan!" that echoes in the air and pierces through his ribcage, cocooning his heart, feverishly thumping.

It feels a bit weird, hearing it before turning into a messy pulp against the ground. The last time they called him so he was… bah, fifteen years old (when he was still a student, and Deku was still sitting behind his desk before becoming an empty seat and a name spreading amidst people like an old ghost who traveled through those corridors). It brings back so many painful memories. He'd like to tear his chest apart and toss away all those annoying emotions that are scampering around, piling up, screaming.

Going away like this, hearing that silly nickname as the last thing… It sucks.

This is not a heroic way to die.

●

When he was seven, maybe eight years old, Katsuki fell into the river.

Nothing serious, pff, a trifle. Just him, stumbling on his own feet and ridiculously dropping into the water underneath like a sack of potatoes. He wasn't hurt -he was just a little embarrassed for acting like a total klutz before his friends, staring at him above the long trunk they used as a bridge. All in all, though, he was doing perfectly fine, he could’ve pulled himself out of this trouble alone.

And yet, no matter the triviality of the danger, there was always someone who thought he was in need of help…

"Hey, you ok?"

Of course, he is doing ok. Imagine if a prodigy like him could suffer any damage from such a silly fall… so, why is that quirkless little fool of Deku talking to him with so much… worry?

Because he knows it's him.

This isn't the first time that Bakugou lives this moment in his head, like a perpetual infernal circle that will probably haunt him till his last breath. It's so annoying. It feels like a part of himself stopped there, in that river, waiting for the seven, maybe eight-year-old Katsuki to make a different gesture, to say a different word that will change his life drastically…

"Hello? Are you ok? I hope you didn't hurt your head…"

"Kacchan, are you ok? I hope you didn't hurt your head."

Bakugou cracks his eyes open, air escapes from his parted lips in heavy pants, pumped up by the frantic beating of his heart. He puts himself into a stretched position in a rush, feeling the ghost of his little self eclipsing behind the toned body of a nineteen-year-old with too many scars and wounds grooving over his skin (and heart). He takes quick glances around, but of the water that usually fills the abyss of his dreams there's no trace. Beneath his legs there's… nothing. It's all black. He’s caged in a dark room with no cracks for a thread of light to filter in -that same obscurity that devours him while he's asleep, swallowing him in a spiral of nightmares and memories he isn't able to bury. An unusual, fruity scent cocoons him -it reminds him of the laundry day at home (his father passing by his bedroom holding a washing basket, delivering him a soft smile that used to get on his nerves).

The only unchanged detail is Deku. He is there, stuck in his seven, maybe eight-years, at a few steps from him. With his big round eyes exuding concern and fear. With his little hand stretching out over him, waiting for him to hold it tight and accept his help…

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Kacchan, can you hear me?

He can hear him… stop calling him. Bakugou shuts his eyes, rests his hands on his ears, hoping that Deku's voice could turn into a muffled, incomprehensible buzz before fading into nothingness. Stop calling him, please. He just wants to plummet into a long sleep and never wake up again. Or, actually… he wants to wake up. He wants to wake up in a world in which All Might is still alive, and Deku is a quirkless boy who can't keep up with his strength, and he’s just a fifteen-years-old boy full of dreams who's about to walk into the most prestigious academy, ready to become the greatest hero of all time…

"Hey? Hello?"

"It's not your fault, you know, Kacchan?"

But, it is… everyone knows that it's all his fault if evil is now rooted in every corner of this fucking planet. It's all his fault if the symbol of peace it's now a ravaged statue with a sign reading: "All Might is dead". He can see it in their stares, in their smiles full of pity.

He was weak… and everything fucked up.

Bakugou grinds his teeth, shuts his eyes even harder. He'd like to ask him to close his fucking mouth, but words stick in his throat. It hurts. The trachea is painfully contracting, the area around his eyes is swelling up for the tears now pushing to roll down his cheeks.

Something delicately grazes his shoulder (there's a deep cut that spills blood. This is new. This hurts so much it feels… real) and the rage exploding in his brain has him opening his eyes in a rush, jaw clenching the moment his stare shifts to the figure still too close to him.

Deku is still there, in his fifteen-years, wearing their U.A. uniform. With his hand still stretched toward him.

Why is he using so much kindness? With him? He doesn't deserve it… not after all the shit he said and did to him -to anyone. This type of unconditional gentleness pisses him off…

"Can you hear me--ah, it's moving!"

"Kacchan, I know how you feel. But you should stop… it's not your fault." Deku smiles. That stupid little smile full of admiration and affection and kindness -he wants to punch it away from his face so badly. "Did you hear me? It's not your fault…"

"Are you hurt?”

A gentle voice seeps through the darkness surrounding him. It's muffled, distant. It's as delicate as Deku's, but it doesn't belong to him. It makes him want to close his bleary eyelids and fall asleep, while his muscles relax and his chaotic nightmares beat a retreat. It’s a nice type of voice, a sound he’d listen to over and over…

He takes a look around to pinpoint the source of the unfamiliar echo, but there's no one. Only Deku is still there, a bit older, with his Hero costume on, giving his back to him. Standing tall. A million steps ahead of him, just like at school. He resembles one of those heroes he used to look up to when he was a child, watching the television with glistening eyes and sparks crackling on his palms -while a quirkless boy with weird broccoli hair could only dream of being like him.

Deku turns his head in the slightest, but from that position he can't fully see his face…

“Can you stand up?"

"C'mon, stand up… You can't stay here. It's not the time, yet."

What…?

Bakugou's eyes grow bigger, his arms frozen along his sides. A viscous substance is engulfing him from head to toe, impeding him to move the tiniest muscle. "Hey, wait! Where the fuck you think you’re going?! You can't leave again!"

… Or his little, odious, gentle smile. "You should wake up now, Kacchan."

"Hello?"

Katsuki cracks his eyes open, and the flash of pictures in his head crush. A thin veil of tears is condensed at the corners, the breath punched out of his own body as if he hardly remembered how to do such a simple action. Cold sweat drips from his temples as he stares, wide-eyed, to the ceiling. Or, well, what's left of it: there's a hole on the roof, probably caused by the collision of his body during the fall.

Still caught up in the shreds of that nauseating memory, his brain can’t fully assimilate the reality that’s slowly unfolding before him -but, apparently, he’s still alive. The liquid sparks floating into his ruby eyes dangerously tremble, he rubs a hand on them before they could morph into tears. He shifts his stare to his left, trying to understand where the hell he is, but he can't pinpoint any detail that could help him to locate this place. Judging from the various sacks of cements, scaffoldings, and construction tools scattered all over the room, this must be an abandoned building -one of the many that infest the lower sectors of Neo Tokyo, all exactly the same.

Katsuki patiently waits for his heart to quieten down, but that damn muscle keeps tossing and turning in his chest. Short of breath, he rubs his hands on his face -there's a squared patch on his right cheek, and a plaster on his left eyebrow (he didn't have them before the fall. Who took care of him?)

Slowly, he goes back to scrutinize the hole on the ceiling. Did he really fall from there? How many meters are there? All he can see is a pond of pitch-black that stretches up to infinite…

“You're awake, finally!”

… and a pair of cobalt eyes, now obstructing his visual field. They're long, brimmed with relief. That shade of bright blue reminds him of the sky that used to cover the old city of Tokyo while he was standing on the roof of his house to play “Heroes vs Villains”, using their Quirks -a beautiful view that he cherishes in his childhood memories, for it’s impossible to admire it now that the slums have become his home (Deku was there, too, watching them with admiration and a sad smile, aware that he couldn't participate in their game. In all honesty, Katsuki didn't want him there. What was the point of his presence? But his mother used to invite him against his will and he wasn't so suicidal to argue against her, considering that her slaps were so powerful to make him reach the stars and galaxies).

"How are you? Can you move?"

The delicate voice that seeped through his dream earlier is now clearer, closer. It takes him quite a few seconds to process that the shadow now leaning over him is… a girl. Curiosity is crossing her face, as she patiently waits for him to do or say something.

But Bakugou is paralyzed, in every possible sense. Physically, his whole body is laying on the ground; but his mind is still locked into that fucking room in his head, waiting for someone to open the door and drag him out into the light.

"Can you hear me?" Her fingertips suddenly graze his cheek, the thumb gently brushing on the area beneath his eye.

It's just at that gentle touch that he snaps back down to reality. Liquid stare growing wider, Bakugou shoos away her hand, jaw clenching and red eyes darting at her with annoyance. He puts himself into a stretched position in a rush, which isn’t exactly a brilliant move, because a stabbing pain on his back obliges him to lay down again.

He grinds his teeth, his hand running to tighten the opposite shoulder. "What the fuck--"

"Hey, not so fast… you just woke up from a huge fall." The girl doesn't seem bothered by his curt gesture. Her mouth is shaped in a soft crescent, it matches the delicacy of her stare pinned to his face. "You fell from up there." She points her finger up, gazing at the ceiling. "You crashed down out of the blue, you almost made me piss in my pants." A little giggle seeps through her lips as she spares him one last glance, before putting back in the bag on her lap some bandages. "I thought you were one of those scary monsters, but you're way cuter."

Katsuki arches his brow but doesn't tackle her comment, too focused to scrutinize the black glove she's wearing: it's similar to those gadgets you can find at the black market -mostly visited by villains with a weak Quirk who want to survive in the slums, or vigilantes who are tired to use the usual patented tools fabricated to not hurt people or enemies. Some protuberances cross the palm beneath a thin layer of fabric tulle that connects to the wristband. He wonders what kind of power it provides -fire? Electricity? Venom?

He raises his hands to stare at his own gloves, some gauzes are wrapped around his fingers. One of his tools is missing, while the other is practically worn out… he doesn't understand much about gadgets and their functioning, but the ones she's wearing gives the impression of good workmanship -like those devices put on the market by the Support Agencies.

"So? How are you feeling?" She fishes out a white tissue from her bag.

"Ngh, all good, stop asking." He grunts, slowly sitting down. He trails his stare to his aching shoulder, blood spills from a deep cut but before he could lay his hand on it, the girl places the tissue to tampon the wound. He shoos her away again, darting her a caustic glance with the hope that his anger will make her back off. "I'd be doing much better if you'd move away. Never heard of: personal space?"

She doesn't move, though. The expression of patience dancing across her features starts crumbling, but her small smile is still hanging.

It annoys him, that curve of familiar, useless gentleness upon her lips…

With a little frown between his brows, he stares at her -because he is a bounty hunter, and a bounty hunter's professional bias is to imprint faces in his head (you never know if the cute lady on the other side of the counter who's passing you her number on a napkin is actually a serial killer threaving for your blood): at a quick look, she must be around his age. Her bright red hair is tied in a messy bun that swings on the side, the bits that don't fit cascade along her features in soft waves that gently rest down her cleavage. The locks on the left are angled so that they partially obscure a series of scars cutting deep through the area -they must be pretty old, considering the condition of the scarring.

Except for the wounds and some stains of dust or oil, it's... A very plain face, nothing he’s already seen on the Wanted posters.

Cautiously, as if she was dealing with a stray animal, she leans forward again to tampon the wound with the garment but before she could touch him, he steals it from her hand, grunting.

"It was easier to take care of you when you were asleep…" she mumbles, scrutinizing the various patches and bandages she must have put on him when he was unconscious.

"I can take care of myself," he mutters, using his teeth to tighten the improvised bandaging around the shoulder. Feeling her stare boring through his skin, he turns to her. "What?" He snaps, without ripping his eyes off her own.

For a very brief moment, she tilts her head to the side, the hair softly following her movement and uncovering her left eye in the slightest -and he now notices that the blue shade of the iris isn't as bright as the opposite one. It's a bit… paler, cloudy. It reminds him of the eyes of the old blind dude who sits every single day at the entrance of sector 6, going bagging (he doesn't even remember his name. But he knows the exact tonality of his voice brimmed with gratefulness whenever he thanks Shittyhair for giving him some money).

It's just when the sparks in her eyes quiver that Katsuki realizes he's staring a little too long at her -although she doesn't seem bothered by it.

She lets out a nervous giggle, grabbing a lock of hair with boths hands, curling it.

"The fuck are you laughing for?"

"Nothing... I'm surprised, that's all. Strangers usually don't look at my face for more than three seconds." A little wobble of uneasiness in her voice scrapes her quietness. She spares him one last glance before standing up, brushing her hands on the khaki shorts track that reveal the long stretch of her legs covered with little scars and plasters. A pair of metallic coverages run around her calves and connect to her boots -really, she seems just popped out from one of those fucking nerd-magazines that Four-Eyes used to read during lunch break, at school. "Do you need a hand?" She asks, stretching her hand over him.

Bagukou frowns, lips twitching in a grimace. "I don't." He ignores her, slowly standing up. His jaw clenches for the stabbing pain that from his back spreads to his stomach, making him crumple on himself for a few seconds, feeling weak into his knees. Once the ache soothes, he straightens himself, giving a quick glance to his outfit to spot any other visible wound: his sleeveless turtleneck top and indigo pants are covered in dirt and cuts, but he's overall doing fine. His belt is still there and undamaged (thank God the grenades didn't explode during the impact, or he'd turn into a Bakumlette, like Dunce-Face would say). He takes a look around, spotting his mask laying at his feet, completely worn-out. "Where the fuck am I?" He kicks it away, irritated.

"Sector Seven." The girl clasps her hands behind her back, sizing him up from head to toe. "What were you doing on the roof, by the way? This place is falling down, not even kids play up there anymore."

His muscles tense all at once. "How old do you think I am?! I'm not a fucking brat!" A vein starts pulsing on his crimson neck. "I was in sector Five!"

More precisely, he was in sector Five to accomplish a very dangerous mission that only a great genius like him could face, but it's not the case to waste breath or time with a weirdo he'll never see again.

She lets out a whistle, gazing at the ceiling. "It's been a long way down, then. You know? You should get your head checked to avoid some brain damage." She scrutinizes the ruby shade tinging his face, and his exposed sharp teeth. "I think the area that controls the mood is gone--"

"I'm doing fine!" He flips her off, receiving back an eye-roll. "Brain damage my ass…" he mumbles under his breath, moving toward the entrance.

Before he could take a step, though, her voice wafts over him, again. So annoying! Ugh, he knows her for barely five minutes and he already hopes for the ceiling to fall on top of her head…

"Hey, you forgot this!" She approaches him with a little (ridiculous) run, handing out the glove he couldn't find -a cloud of fruity scent cocoons him. "You lost it during the fall. Well, actually, I borrowed it from you while you were unconscious," she confesses, shamelessly, ignoring the furrow between his brows.

He studies the gadget. Thankfully, it doesn't seem damaged, but he highly doubts it'll fully function. "Great… I survive a mortal fall, and the first person I meet is a thief."

A pout tugs at her lips. "Thief… I gave it back." There's a little twitch of disgust in her mouth when her eyes lay again on the tool. "And, anyway, I'd never take that thing. It's shoddy, and ugly."

"It's just a damn glove…"

"It's an abomination! I hope you killed the asshole who sold it." She fixes her satchel, for the slightest second the long strap sits between her breast, accentuating the soft curve pressing against the fabric of the shirt (Bakugou shifts his stare away before he could actually notice such useless detail). "If you look carefully at the black market, there are some cheaper and more equipped gadgets. Sure, you gotta know where to search. I mean, you see here?" She grabs his wrist, catching him off guard. Her pointer taps on the button that connects to the detonator, which should trigger the explosions. "The button is placed in the wrong position, you can press it how much you want but it won't do anything." She pushes it just to prove her theory, uncaring that a blast could've hit her face. "And the threads? God, such a mess. They're too thin, you risk losing a hand and--"

"Don't touch me!" He pulls his arm back with a jerk, groaning. "What are you? Are you one of those nutcases of the Support Class?" He puts on the glove, ignoring her moan of disappointment.

"Never been there. Do I look like someone who could ever afford a prestigious school?" She stares at his back, watching him proceeding toward the exit. "I just love fixing up and building things! It's cool, you know? Putting all the pieces together, seeing your ideas work." Her footsteps echo behind him, getting closer. "What about you? Are you a vigilante? A Hero? I've never seen you down here, I'd remember a cute face like yours." She tweets.

There's a note of amusement in her voice that sits uncomfortably in his ribcage, for reasons he can’t pinpoint nor he cares to analyze.

Bakugou curses under his breath. Why is she following him?! Actually, why is she pestering him with so many questions?! People in the slums tend to ignore strangers, aware that they could run up in criminals. Instead, this weirdo seems… interested in him. Holy shit, she reminds him of his old annoying classmates who tried at all costs to make him join boring group activities (definitely, he doesn't miss this part of U.A.)

"Do I look like one of them?"

"Well, the scowl on your face is the same. The rudeness, too--"

"What?!"

"You remind me of Endeavor. You know? Once, he came here to take care of a villain who escaped from prison. Kids were so excited, it's a rarity to see Heros wandering here in the slums. He treated them so badly they cried for days, poor things--"

Bakugo stiffens. Is she insulting him?! He isn't like Endeavor! Hell no! There's no way he resembles the (at least for him) eternal number two Hero! Point 1), he is now the number one only because All Might isn't here anymore, which isn't exactly an honor; Point 2), he's IcyCold's father, it makes him want to throw up the idea of being mixed up with that fool! And point 3), Endeavor isn’t exactly a good man. I mean, Katsuki personally doesn’t give a fuck about Half-’n-half awful situation at home, but being perfectly aware of the main reason behind Shoto’s birth and the emotional luggage he is carrying on his shoulders, well, it isn’t a privileged to be compared to that crappy dude -no matter how strong he is.

"Or--ah! Maybe you're a villain!" She exclaims, not in the least terrorized by this chance. "You look like someone who'd like to slice me right now."

"Believe me, nobody needs to be a villain to desire this--"

"Here you are, you little rat!"

Bakugo halts his own walk, attention instantly drawn to three men who block the only way out -the girl beside him gulps, hands clutching at the lace of the bag in a tight grip. “What’s now?” he mutters, words bubbling up with rage.

As usual, his mind starts leafing through the various Wanted posters he memorized during his sleepless nights, pinpointing them: they belong to Novo's gang, notorious for being one of the long-running organizations dedicated to drug dealings (their trades are so deep-rooted they practically receive the support from some Hero agencies, helping them to operate in the shadow in exchange for some drugs). That being said, the bounty of these three is so meager it isn't worth wasting energies over them: following Aizawa's research, they don't belong to the circle of privileged close to their boss; even if he'd like to use them as hostages to get the ball rolling, Novo would never come out in the light to dirt his hands for them. But even more important: they seem interested only in the weirdo next to him -and who is he to stop the elimination of another oxygen-waster on this planet?

All things considered, he should leave, go back to the base, get a refreshing shower and put the word end to this horrible day.

But just when he's about to actually follow his plan, the girl backs off, accidentally bumping into his arm -and for a very brief moment, a weak voice he hasn't heard in such a long time inside of him cripples him up from head to toe, begging him to stay and do something nice, so he can start washing away all the dirty staining his consciousness.

"C'mon, you know my name. It's Aeri. It's short and cute, use it!" The girl's voice is playful (with the corner of his eye, Bakugou catches her thumb pressing on the bracelet connected to the gloves. A series of numbers twinkle in red on a small screen, but from that distance he can’t read them clearly). "What do I owe the displeasure?"

The man in the center, burly and shorter than his mates, takes a step forward. "Did you forget you still owe us 679.462,50 Yen?"

She rests a hand on her heart, sighing. "Aw, just that? And I thought you came here only to offer me dinner."

"I'd never ask you out! I don't have such a poor taste in women!" He yells, stamping a foot on the ground. "You're three days past the deadline, and Novo-sama isn't very happy." He smirks, eyes filled with a murderous glint of excitement. "And you know what happens when he isn't happy."

Bakugou's stare widens in the slightest, eyes now drifting to the girl. Now… if you live in the slums long enough to survive, it's the norm to get involved with the wrong companies; but, well… Scarface here doesn't look like the type of person who'd mix up with one of the most dangerous criminals out there -especially when they've tight bonds with law-enforcement. It's interesting, he has to admit to himself. He wonders what type of role she has (or had) in his organization, since that piece of shit is famous for using women only to satiate his sexual urges and then getting rid of them when he's bored (usually, abandoned in some halleys. Lifeless). His curiosity withers in a heartbeat, though -just the time to remind himself he doesn't give a damn about an annoying stranger (who compared him to Endeavor, moreover! He's pissed! He'll ever forgive her for this affront!)

The problem is that when you're an excellent bounty hunter, it gets hard to pass unnoticed. So, Bakugou isn't very much surprised when the three of them point their wide gazes at him -he is slightly frustrated, actually, because it means he's about to get involved into some shit he doesn't care about.

"But, you are--" the tallest one on the right indicates him. "You are Bakugou the bounty hunter! The fuck are you doing here?!"

The girl turns to him, eyelids fluttering quickly. A victorious grin blooms on her lips, index finger immediately stretching in his direction. "Pretty-Eyes here is my bodyguard!"

Pretty-Eyes?!

"What the hell?!" The three criminals shout, after a second of astonishment.

Bodyguard?! PRETTY-EYES?!

“Stop being surprised, I'm the only one who can be surprised!” Katsuki turns to her, shark-mode fully activated. "What the hell is this bull?! And don't call me Pretty-Eyes, it's disgusting!" He grunts, giving his back to them to search for another escape. Enough of all this joke. "She's all yours, guys. Play with her how much you want--"

With a rapid jerk, Aeri situates herself in front of him, close. Too close. Her fruity scent is even more intense at this distance -it's like a slap into his stomach for the memories it digs out from the tombs he crafted in the past year. He instinctively backs off, chin rising up in an intimidatory gesture that, alas, doesn't affect her in the slightest.

"Wait, help me escape from them," she says above a whisper, throwing a quick-worried glance over his shoulder. "I'll pay you well!"

A little frown appears between his knitted brows, his red eyes now sinking into the cobalt blue of her own.

This… stinks.

Katsuki knows that this won't lead to anything good. He should mind his own business and not get involved in other people's problems. I mean, fuck! He stopped a long time ago helping others -it's not his damn job! Protecting the weakest is a Hero task and he isn't one -he doesn't want to be one anymore! He goes after villains only for a reward, not for fame!

But when she delivers him a small smile, and the only visible eye trembles with expectation, something inside of him shudders. Like a chord, vibrating in the abyss of his chest -the same vibration he could feel reverberating to every inch of him during a training, an exam, or the internship.

The feeble voice inside of him tells him that this is his chance to shine -to prove that he is still the number one (furthermore, Scarface here wants to pay him to punch three extras, and money is always a good cause to fight for…)

So, he lets out a barely whispered curse under his breath, giving in.

"What a bore…" he mumbles, scratching his nape. He shoves her aside brusquely, staring at the criminals. "Go hiding somewhere, don't stand in my way or I'll personally kill you." He hisses, without sparing her a glance.

Bakugou clenches his left hand into a fist and presses it against the opposite palm, watching the enemies get ready to fight back.

Ok, the situation is pretty messed up: he's at a disadvantage, he doesn't know the Quirk of his opponents -although the only threatening one among them is the dude to the left, tall and beefy (his bicep is as big as his head, just saying…), and he's equipped with gadgets that no longer work. To make matters worse, he's to keep a check on a dead weight with cobalt eyes who can't comprehend the meaning of: "Go hiding somewhere, don't stand in my way or I'll personally kill you" since she's still there beside him holy fucking shit what the hell is she doing there?!

Bakugou would like to yell at her to grab this chance and hightail it, but the abovementioned Muscles-Man suddenly moves, catching his utmost attention. Despite the ache that engraves down to his bones, his body instantly turns into fight-mode, fists lifted up to parry an eventual attack and legs angled to be quick in his movements.

The adversary doesn't start a frontal attack, though. Under the satisfied grins of his mates, he proceeds to his left to approach the iron beams resting on the wall… and he lifts them up as if he was grabbing a feather -his muscles increase in volume in the process.

Bakugou's eyes grow bigger. Great. Just great! An enemy whose Quirk is super-strength is really the cherry on top of this horrendous day! He slightly shakes his head, staying focused. He has to think of a good strategy, a direct attack is excluded -he isn't so suicidal to flying into his arms and ending up in pulverized bones.

Think, Katsuki. Think, think, thinkthinkthink--!

"Move away!" He turns toward the girl the instant he notices Muscles-Man pulling back the improvised weapons, ready to toss them in their direction. He instinctively jerks to the side, just before one the iron beam could smash into his stomach -the air generated by the throw swipes away the dust and soil laying on the ground, cocooning him in a fog that makes it hard to distinguish the surroundings.

When the cloud dissipates, he vaguely pinpoints Scarface sitting on the ground, observing the iron beams sticking into the wall with a feared look. Bakugou notices the extremity of the objects resting on the ground, secured enough to be climbed -the same thoughts must have crossed the girl's head, because she's now gazing up, contemplating the scaffolding running along the upper part of the room.

If this was one of the many training lessons he attended during his years at school, the professors would have told him to focus on the victims -to rescue them taking into consideration the environment, their conditions, securing the perimeter first. But this is real life, not a game set up specifically to verify their improvements -and in real life, Bakugou can't waste time over her. He has to take care of the enemies.

"Go hiding somewhere! You're in the way!" He yells, catching Tall-Dude dashing toward her with his hands now morphed into two hatchets.

Bakugou takes his foot forward, ready to run toward her, but a sudden grip around his thigh impedes him to move, dragging him down to the ground. He squelches a moan into his mouth for the pain spreading down his leg, pulled tightly and bleeding: a barbed chord wraps him down to his knee, plunged deep into his flesh--and, actually, it isn't a chord; the fingers of Shorty have morphed into a barbed-wire-like limbs and are now tugging at him, plunging into the flesh.

A jerk pulls his leg forward, his body is dragged now toward the villain, his side rubs against the ground. He sticks his fingers on the ground, applying pressure to stop his action, but the enemy is now using the fingers of his opposite hands, making it hard to stay still.

Bakugou's stare shifts in all directions searching for a handhold, and finally lands on the suspension scaffolding just above their heads (he catches Aeri in the act of crouching down to dodge the atchet, before running away from the criminal exhaling a shout), An idea rushes through his mind. It's only a palliative, nothing that would really damage the criminals -but it'd give him enough time to run away.

Grinding his teeth, he grabs one of his grenades and pulls out the trigger, tossing it to scaffolding. An explosion follows a few seconds after, distracting Muscles-Man and Shorty, busy avoiding the various things falling on top of their heads.

Bakugou grabs the barbed-limbs into his fists and activates the gadgets, shearing them off with a blast that burns his palms, too. Shorty's cries of pain scratch the air, he uses their momentary distraction to disentangle himself from the chords (Shorty is holding his own hands, the fingers chopped off due to the explosion bleed copiously).

He hardly stands up, ignoring the pain into his leg, searching for Scarface.

Tall-Dude is now close to Aeri, ready to beat his hatchet-like-hand on her head.

Why the fuck is she staying in the battlefield?! She's just an obstacle, she risks getting both of them killed, she--!

A piercing shout echoes in the room, right where Scarface is standing. Bakugou turns to her in a rush and with much of his surprise, she hasn't been the one to exhale this agonizing noise. Actually, she's been able to counterattack the criminal, hurting him: her hands, welded against his head, emits jolts of electricity, while her leg is bent mid-air as if she just gave a kick into his stomach. When she pulls away, applying a light pressure, he notices that the mechanism wrapped around her calf extracted some spikes from her boots. A trail of blood stains the floor when she pulls the leg back with a jerk, the man now falling on his knees, arms wrapped around his stomach.

Bakugou's stare grows wider, his jaw almost drops on the ground.

What. The. Fuck!

Bodyguard my ass! This psychopath can take care of her own, she doesn't need a fucking bodyguard! These three useless pieces of shit need a bodyguard, at a closer look!

Still puzzled over her move, he stands still on his spot. It's only when she approaches him in a rush, grabbing his hand, that he comes back to his senses.

"C'mon, Pretty-Eyes, it's our chance!" She exclaims, yanking him a little.

Annoyance tinges the tip of his ears of a bright ruby shade (and yes, it's annoyance! It must be it! If Bakugou says that annoyance is making him blush, then it must be so!) shark-like teeth now exposed.

"Don't touch me! And stop ordering me around, and stop calling me Pretty-Eyes!"

"Anything else?" She teases him.

He wiggles out of her grip, quickly limping toward the iron beams due to the fresh wound on his thigh. "Follow me and keep up with me!" Without exposing his plan, he starts climbing them up smoothly -Scarface is immediately behind him, climbing up difficulty, hands clutching to the sides of the improvised bridge to keep herself in balance.

With a jump, Bakugou latches onto the edge of the scaffolding to his right, applying pressure into his arms to lift himself up. Once up, he starts running toward some broken windows, the only possible way out. He gazes over his shoulder to search for the criminals -they're still down below, too busy taking care of their own wounds to waste time over them.

He presses the palm against the window and releases a blast, getting rid of the obstacle. He peers out, noticing a crossbeam running down below. He turns, throwing a glance toward the girl… who's still climbing.

"You're still there?!"

"W-wait!" Aeri crouches down, studying the distance between her and the scaffolding -she resembles a cat wiggling on the spot before taking a jump (he wonders if she'll do it or if she'll miserably crush down).

"Move your ass, Scarface, or I'm leaving you behind!" He shouts, watching her jump and almost slipping on the edge while trying to lift herself up.

She rests a hand on the scaffolding, finally pulling herself up. "It's-it's not as easy as it seems!" She exclaims between pants, the face bright red for the effort.

Ascertained that she's out of danger, Bakugou escapes from the window. He travels along the scaffolding running along the warehouse, which connects to the next building. Despite the pain, he starts running and climbing down, finally reaching the ground. Bakugou rubs his forearm on his forehead to swipe away the sweat mixed with dust. He casts a glance down to his leg, observing the blood staining the trousers.

What a fucking, horrible day!

First, a Big Bounty dashes away for the umptenth time; then, he plummets in a damn hole, crossing two sectors at the speed of light, risking to smash into pieces; least but not last, he becomes the bodyguard (against his will) of a fucking weirdo that spreads electricity from her hands and pulls out spikes from her boots.

"What a bore…" he straightens himself, giving a look around. "Ok… how the fuck do I go back up?" He scrutinizes the various pillars sustaining the upper sectors, noticing a step-ladder usually used by maintenance technicians. From up there, he should be able to reach the base and--!

"Hey! You're too fast!" Scarface's voice seeps through his thoughts, tensing up all his muscles. The girl is slowly descending the scaffolding, jumping down only when a few steps separate her from the ground. She exhales a long sigh. "Pretty-Eyes, let me tell you: you suck as a bodyguard," she says between pants. "Leaving a gentle, fragile flower like me behind all alone--"

"You're nothing like a gentle, fragile flower, Scarface!"

"How rude… The name's Aeri, anyway. Scarface isn't nice." A small pout tugs at her lips, hands running to grab at the locks of hair escaping from the bun (well, what's left of it).

"It suits you." He grins, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Also, from when gentle flowers have spikes coming out their boots?"

At those words, she delivers him a beaming smile, forgetful of his rude manners. "Did you like it?! I built it myself! And these gloves, too!" She joins her fingertips, jolts of electricity run over her covered fingers. "You can set the electrical power you prefer!" Her smile doesn't flip off her face despite the bored expression that's morphing his face in a grimace. "It was so fun! We should do it again, we've been pretty cool down there. A great duo!"

Bakugou's eyes grow wider, a stabbing pain clutches around his frantic heart…

"You two are a great duo, young Bakugou…"

Her cheer words sit between the folds of his brain, make their way in the cracks and dig up things he thought dead and gone.

Bakugou rests a hand on his head, shaking it. "This is the first and last time I'll have to put up with you! Instead… where is my money?" A vein pops out on his neck before her confused look. "You said you'd pay me well."

"Oh, that…" she ruffles her hair, swiping away some cement dust. "I don't have money right now, but--"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He opens his palm, a few sparks start crackling.

"No, I wasn't--and I've never talked about money! I can offer you something better! Ahm, what about… a date?" Aeri flashes him a smile. She's serious. Too damn serious.

His ruby eyes widen once again, his jaw almost drops on the ground.

This… must be a fucking nightmare! Aside from the fact that he doesn't have any time for such a crappy bull -but even if he had, he'd never go out with a psychopath like her! He… Bakugou isn't cut for such shit! He's doing perfectly fine all alone! In his situation, love and affection and all that shit is just a waste of time, an obstacle! He's never cared about them and he highly doubts he'll ever want to deal with his crap till he’ll exhale his last breath!

Bakugou grinds his teeth. "... Are you fucking kidding me?" He repeats, hissing. He studies her peaceful expression, refraining himself from punching her. "And, even if I'd accept this horrendous invitation… how would you have paid?"

She shrugs. "My plan was to grab a bite and run away before getting the check."

"Fuck off…" he curses under his breath, jamming his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. "Don't you dare to follow me!"

How could he fall in such a stupid trap?! He's usually smarter than this! Ugh, he must have hit his head pretty badly…

"Aw, you don't even walk a damsel in distress home?" She claps her hands behind her back, watching his retracting figure. "See you soon, Pretty-Eyes!"

"Forget it! I hope we won't meet again, Scarface!" Bakugou flips her off, her airy chuckle wafts over him, all his muscles tensing up for the annoyance and the carefreeness of that sound.

Ugh, like hell their path will cross again! He doesn't want to see her face anymore--well, actually, he'd like to see it again.

Preferably on the news. On the obituary section.

●

When Bakugou finally reaches their hideout, the neon lights of the district's nightclubs situated into Sector Four already twinkle intermittently, emitting buzzing sounds.

Hands jammed inside his pockets, he kicks the door that leads to their common room. The television is on, jerky news passes on the screen.

"The discovery of another body with odd mutations causes alarm into Sector Three. Police are investigating, but discontent sets in amidst the slums population, who start wondering where the Heroes are."

"Heroes only care about the Capital! They don't have time to take care of the slums issues--"

"This is the sixth case in a month. And it was closer to the uptowns, this time…" Kaminari comments, changing channel.

Kirishima nods, slowly munching his rice. His attention shifts from the screen to Katsuki, standing still on the doorframe. "Bakugou!" He exclaims, slamming his hands on the table. Drops of water fall from the tips of his pitch-dark hair cascading straight along his features, the towel around his shoulders almost falls on his lap. "Welcome back!" He flashes him a bright smile, uncaring of the grains of rice sticking to the corner of his mouth. "Ah, your leg--" concern dances across his face as soon as he notices the blood staining his thigh.

"I'm fine…" he mumbles, heading toward the counter running behind the kitchen stoves, trying to hide the pain behind a deep frown. "Did you consign those extras?"

Denki takes a sip of beer, nodding. "Aha, we’ll survive for this week, too." He rests his hands on the ground, crossing his legs. "We arrived up to the sixth sector to find you, but the place was full of vigilantes. I think that the mess we made drew their attention."

"Or the Kusuri Brothers alerted them." Kirishima barges in, pouty. "Didn't you notice? Their warehouse was full of smuggled weapons and still they didn't bat an eye." His mouth opens in a sharp-toothy smile. "We're glad you're all in one piece, though! And thanks for saving me, back then. If it wasn't for you, I--"

"I had to, I was the only one who could survive from such a fall!" Bakugou interrupts, resting his chin upon his palm. "Otherwise, we'd be here preparing your funeral! I could never stand Dunce-Face crying, he'd made me want to kill him too!" Following his rude statement, Kirishima giggles -ignoring Kaminari's complaints.

"By the way, who treated you?" Denki asks, scrutinizing the bendages and patches soaked with clotted blood.

Bakugou gives him back a loud grunt, silently telling him that this is a no-topic. His question triggers his mind into wandering through those infernal moments in the company of Scarface (ugh, he wonders how long will it take to his mind to erase that pain in the ass with red hair).

Dunce-Face waits for a follow-up that doesn't come, sighing. "First aid kit coming… you look like shit."

Bakugou's nerves tense up. "What did you say? Repeat it, if you dare!" He turns to him, watching his figure disappear behind a door. "Hey, Dunce-Face--"

"Bakugou, you almost ruined everything, as usual," Aizawa announces himself with a bored tone, darting him a somber stare that has him muttering under his breath. "Am I wrong or did I tell you to fly under the radar?" He ruffles his hair tied up in a tail, heading toward the kitchen. He grabs a mug from the cupboard.

Eijirou eats the last shreds of rice. "Bakugou doesn't like following plans."

"And he isn't cut out for teamwork," Kaminari says, reappearing with the first aid kit under his arm.

"Not when the team is made of losers and when the plans are boring." Bakugou grins, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"Who's the loser who fell into a hole?"

"You piece of--"

Aizawa's surly stare flickers from him to Denki, quashing their quarrel. "Talking about more serious things… Kirishima told me about your Quirk. The problem is getting worse…" he starts, pouring some coffee into the mug. "Don't you think we should talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, it's all good!" Bakugou replies, aggressively -mostly because Shittyhair revealed a personal issue that he's able to handle all by himself. "You're worrying over nothing."

Aizawa scans the white tissue around his shoulder, the expression on his face darkens. "If your Quirk doesn't work soon and properly, you'll risk getting yourself killed." He ignores his barely mumbled curses, adding, "That's why you're out until we'll solve this issue."

Bakugou's eyes grow wider, an uncomfortable weight sits into his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Is he… shoving him on the sidelines?! Him?

Aizawa seems to read past the rage now filling his eyes and stiffening his features. "Don't stress yourself, I've already found a solution. But until it'll be done, consider yourself on holiday."

Kirishima pats his shoulder, delivering him an encouraging smile. "Professor Aizawa thought you could use some gadgets--ahm, sorry," he bows a little, feeling Aizawa's somber stare boring holes through his skin.

"I'm already using them. And guess what? They don't work!"

"That's because you keep stealing them from petty thieves, or from scraps of the black market," Dunce-Face comments, handing him the first aid kit. "It's a miracle you haven't lost a hand yet."

"About that, I already asked for help from a person who could momentarily help you."

"A brainiac! Ganzo Kogu!" Silence lingers in the air, following Eijirou’s announcement -like this name should trigger some kind of anxiety or astonishment amidst them.

Kaminari leans forward, resting his chin upon his crossed arms. “Ganzo Kogu... oh, I know who he is! He invented the first prototypes of robots used for military drills! The same that Academies use for training Heroes!” He gives Aizawa a surprised look. “How did you convince such a bigwig to help this one?”

“What’s with that condescending tone?!”

“He stopped working for the government a long time ago. Now, he takes care of the maintenance of the lower sectors, or helps whoever is in need,” their chief explains, “Anyway, he couldn’t make it. His daughter will come, instead. She’s good. You know the water pump in Sector Six? She fixed it.”

At that piece of news, Eijirou’s eyes shimmer. “Wah! It was a disaster, she must be good then! Bakugou, you’re going to get a wonderful gadget!”

Even Denki’s eyes shimmer -but, well, for different reasons. “Wah! A girl is coming here! I hope she’s cute. Is she cute, Aizawa-san?"

Kirishima chuckles. "Since Ganzo-san is very old, she’s probably around your mother’s age. Unless she's into toyboys, don't think you'll have any chance…"

"She’s around your age…”

"Perfect!" Kaminari lifts his thumbs up, smirking.

Kirishima scratches his hair, thoughtful. "But, didn't you say that you've a girlfriend waiting for you, back at home?"

Denki sinks his head into his arms crossed on the table, exhaling a whining sound. "She isn't my girlfriend. And if I'd come back now, she'd use her Quirk to smash my brain." He sighs, resting his hands on his cheeks. "She's so beautiful, and strong. She already forgot about me, for sure."

"Disgusting…" Bakugou comments above a whisper, without even trying to hide the grimace now grooving over his lips. He ignores the two mates busy talking about this "cool girl" he doesn't give a damn about, meeting Aizawa's eyes. "Do we really have to do this?"

"It's not negotiable. And it's for your good…" he averts his stare, hiding a glint of worry he rarely saw on his face, trailing it to the red light twinkling above the door. "She must be here… listen, treat her well. Her father is a good friend."

He grunts, displaying his scarce enthusiasm. Who knows who's this brainiac's daughter. He hopes she isn't one of those crazy belonging to the Support Group -he already had to deal with a crazy lover of constructions today, he'd never stand another one!

"Aaah, I hope she's cute!" Kaminari repeats, excited, shoving his hair back, fixing the pins that pull his fringe back. "It's been a lot since I've seen a cute girl here. And when you do, they just want to cut off your balls and steal your wallet."

"Maybe you're just annoying."

"I don't accept criticism from someone who never gave his first kiss."

Katsuki stiffens. "How do you know--" he turns toward Kirishima, throwing him a murderous glance. "Shittyhair!"

"I-it slipped by mistake! We were a bit drunk and-and there's nothing wrong with being a virgin at nineteen years old!"

"You. Are. Dead!" Bakugou stands up in a jolt, ready to pounce on Eijirou (and then, he'll punch Dunce-Face too because he's having too much fun, considering he's now cackling in the background)...

"Did it take you much to find the place?"

"No, Oldie gave me good instructions. Ah, he apologizes for not being able to come here, but constructions in Sector Eight are taking longer than expected."

Bakugou tightens the grip around Eijirou's shirt, his muscles tensing up all at once. Oh, shit, this voice…

"Don't worry. How are the works going?"

"Good! He's making a system to sustain the weight of the upper levels. The pillars are made of shoddy material, he asked for support from the Capital but they haven't replied yet… oh well, don't think they'll ever do."

No. No. NoNoNoNoNo it can't be! This is a nightmare! This--!

A cold chill travels down his spine as soon as the squeak of the door wafts over him, followed by that familiar (and, oh, so annoying) airy chuckle. Turning to the door goggle-eyed, a muscle twitches in his jaw, spotting the figure of the girl standing beside Aizawa, glancing back at him with the same astonishment.

"Aeri-kun, that's Bakugou, the boy I told you about." His chief introduces him, scraping the silence now settled upon them.

The surprise dancing across her features eclipses behind a bright smile. "Pretty-Eyes, hi!" That silly nickname tumbles off her tongue with amusement. "It's destiny that we meet again!"

Bakugou stays still, crippled up for all that teasing brilliance that's squashing him. It's just when his mates squelch a chuckle, hissing a feeble: "Pretty-Eyes" that the rage finally melts away the tension settled in his body.

"Scarface?!" Katsuki points his fingers at her, his face now turned into shark-mode. "What the hell are you doing here?!" Still with his pointer pinned at her figure, he turns toward Aizawa. "What the hell is she doing here?! I don't want to deal with her anymore!"

"Oh, so you already know each other?" Kirishima's stare flickers from him to her. "Ahm, I'm Kirishima Eijirou, by the way! Thanks for helping Bakugou out!" He politely greets her, averting her stare and trailing it on a spot on the wall (less than two seconds, Bakugou notices).

Dunce-Face seems to have lost his excitement, probably because Aeri isn't as pretty as the girl he was expecting. But it doesn't take him much to pull himself out of his own disappointment, flashing her a small smile.

“And I’m Kaminari Denki!" He indicates the chair situated against the counter. "Please have a seat, and don't mind the mess. We usually don't have many cute visitors--”

"She isn't cute, put some fucking glasses on Dunce-Face!" Katsuki darts a caustic glance to his ex-teacher, who's shuffling behind the counter, ignoring their show. "And she isn’t going to help me! I refuse! Use your damn force and send her on the Moon, Shittyhair!"

She stands on the doorframe, unbothered by his behavior or his vitriolic comments. "I'm Aeri, nice to meet you all. Ah, Aizawa-san, I think you should keep an eye on him. He hit his head pretty badly and his mood--"

"My mood is fine!"

"Don't worry, he's done like this..."

"Bakugo is explosive!" Kirishima giggles, sharp-teeth exposed. "So? How do you know each other?"

"Fate is a piece of shit."

"He fell from the sky like an angel."

Bakugou darts her a caustic glance, hands curling into fists as if he had to hit her with his explosions. "You little--" his words fade into a squelched moan when Aizawa immobilizes him with his binding cloth, dragging him toward the counter.

"Forgive him. I'd love to say he's usually polite and it's a bad day…"

Scarface giggles. "Don't worry, it's ok. He isn't the worst person I have met." She sits on a chair, resting her bag on her lap. "So… you lost your Quirk. I should've known it, going around with that disgusting stuff so shamelessly…"

"I didn't lose it!" Now free from his chief weapon, Bakugo sits down across from her. "And I don't need your help!"

"Ok, give me your hand," she says, ignoring his comment. "Let me check what I can do for you…"

"Forget it--hey, stop, don't touch me!" A loud curse flies out his mouth for Aeri's fingers now gently wrapping around his wrist, dragging it now toward her. He tries to set himself free from her grip, but Aizawa uses once again his binding cloth, impeding him to move a single muscle.

The silence that now falls upon them is thick. It's crystal clear that his ex-teacher, Kirishima and Dunce-Face are waiting with bated breath for her verdict; while Bakugou… ugh, he's so fucking annoyed that his life is now entertwined once again with Scarface's. Like, he doesn't need anyone's help! The matter with his Quirk is just a momentary issue, why is everyone treating him like this?! Moreover, why is she now sniffing his palm?! Oh God, she's creepy as fuck! She--!

Kirishima leans forward, expectation streams in his wide eyes. "So, Aeri-san… can you help him?"

Scarface studies the drop of his sweat now staining her fingers, head tilted to the side. Then, she inches away from him, her stare now engulfing into his own, ruby and filled with rage. There’s a weird glint streaming in her cobalt blue eyes, a spark he can’t label but that sets a thousand shivers free to run down his spine.

Then, she grins. "Yeah… but it'll cost you a lot, Pretty-Eyes."

Katsuki clenches his fists so hard that his knuckles turn white. He'd like to stand up and slap her and make her pay for using that fucking nickname before his "friends", but Aizawa's binding cloth are still secured all over him, covering his mouth too.

"He accepts and thanks you for your help," Aizawa answers for him, ignoring his muffled grunts.

Kaminari is choking on his laughter, resting his hand on Eijirou’s shoulder -who’s badly trying to squelch a chuckle. "Pretty-Eyes… I’m so glad I’m alive to witness this memorable moment."

And… Well, this is how it all begins.

This is the story of Katsuki Bakugou and how he passed from being a promising Pro Hero with a bright future ahead of him, to a bounty hunter, to an alleged villain with a bounty on his head… before finally realizing the biggest dream of his life: becoming one of the greatest Heroes of all time.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x oc #boku no hero academia #bakugou scenarios #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #my hero academia #wow my first mha fanfiction!#I'm so scared and excited

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spactcle · 3 years

Text

you say it first

Archive of Our Own Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou Language: English

Summary: “I can’t tell him.” “Why not?” “Because then he’d know.” Kirishima and Bakugou seek advice from their friends about UA's worst-kept secret (except, apparently, from them).

“I think I’m in love with Bakugou.”

Kaminari is bent over his homework, cheek resting on his fist. His shoulders freeze, he doesn’t look up from his workbook, but his pen stops scrawling across the page. After a few beats, he lifts his chin and plops it on his fist instead.

“I mean… obviously.”

“What?”

“Dude, c’mon. I know I’m me and this will sound weird but let’s get serious and study, please? My grades don’t have time for you to state the obvious.”

“The obvious?” Kirishima pops up from where he's sprawled out on the ground, looking at Kaminari in disbelief. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows, slick,” Kaminari retorts, sarcasm dripping from the nickname. “Now we have finals next week, can we please focus?”

“Everyone?”

“Okay.” Kaminari’s hands clap together and he snaps his workbook closed. “Clearly we are focusing on the wrong thing. Why are you bringing this up,” the tip of his finger jabs as his closed workbook, tapping at it for effect, “now?”

“Why have you not brought it up?” Kirishima accuses, arms gesturing widely.

“Because I thought you knew!”

“How would I know?”

Kaminari jabs his finger accusingly at Kirishima instead now. “They’re your feelings, Kiri!” His finger curls back into a fist and he brings it to his lips, brow drawing in with concern as he thinks. “Your weird, weird feelings. But still.”

Kirishima blows a raspberry at him, leaving his lips out in a pout with the gall to look offended. “How are my feelings weird?”

“Bakugou is an emotionally constipated trash can,” Kaminari deadpans. “And you’re… I don’t know? Whatever the opposite of that would be.”

“Diarrhea recycling bin.”

A beat. Kaminari’s face pulls back into a disgusted grimace. “Really could have done without that mental image.”

Kirishima shrugs and starts to nervously pull at his hair. It’s a Saturday and he didn’t style it today, just has his bangs pulled into a half ponytail behind his head. Kaminari has told him to just chop it off but Kirishima insists that it’s part of my brand, and besides how is Blasty going to call me shitty-hair if I don’t have any?

His confusion is what’s most baffling to Kaminari. They’re in their third year and it feels like Bakugou and Kirishima should have figured each other out by now – they know one another better than anyone else could, so how are they so bad at this? Kaminari figured out his feelings for Jirou the previous year, Midoriya and Uraraka got together just a few months later, and even Kendou and Tetsu finally stopped beating around the bush. Now that he thinks about it, a lot of people more emotionally dense than Kirishima have confessed to their respective partners, like Todoroki and Tokoyami.

One of Kirishima’s sharp teeth hangs over his bottom lip as he chews at the skin. It makes Kaminari feel a little bit bad. But only a little. He really should have joined Jirou and Momo for studying instead.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” he repeats his previous question but without the edge to his voice, trying to exercise patience for his friend.

Kirishima collapses on the table, voice muffled by his arm. “Because I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell him.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Kirishima lifts turns his head up slightly to glare at him from over his arm. “I can’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

“Because then he’d know.” He hides his face again.

Kaminari rolls his eyes so far back he’s surprised he doesn’t see the inside of his skull. “That’s usually the idea.” Kirishima’s answer is a wordless scoff, tongue sputtering around words he can’t form. “Just tell him. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the same.” The sputtering worsens and Kirishima snaps his head up from the table, gawking at Kaminari as his face turns as red as his hair.

“I said I was serious!”

“Yeah, seriously blind.”

“What?”

This time Kaminari is almost positive he sees his skull, but that could just be his vision whiting as he strains his eyes. “Kirishima Eijirou,” the full name absolutely required to get his full and undivided attention. “The fact that you and Bakugou have got it bad for each other is the worst kept secret in the entire school – except, apparently, from the both of you. I’m almost positive that there’s some kind of bet going around about when you two will stop being complete boneheads and make it official.”

Kirishima’s eyes wandered around the room as if searching for a cosmic answer to all his problems. “We… bet? Bakugou… I’m…”

“Yes. Now can we please study? And you can deal with your love life later?”

Kirishima’s cheeks grow big as he puffs them up with air and stares blankly at their workbooks. Kaminari gives him a full minute then clicks his tongue and starts to pack up. “Alright. I’m going to leave you here to process. Good luck, bro.” He sets a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder as he wraps his other arm around his schoolwork. “I know I said it was weird and all – and in my defense, it is – but I think we’re all rooting for you two.”

Lips formed around words that didn’t seem to want to come out of Kirishima’s mouth and Kaminari just sighed, patting him on the back before making his exit. He really should have just studied with Jirou and Momo.

- - -

“I think Kirishima is in love with me.”

Uraraka looks up from her place at the desk. She spins in her chair to find Bakugou collapsing on her bed, then she looks to find the hidden camera that someone must have hidden in her room. No one pops out of her closet laughing, and Bakugou is laying on his back staring at the ceiling, arms lying limp at his sides. He’s frowning in the way that he only does when he’s encountered an obstacle that he can’t quite figure out. So, this isn’t a prank.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He snaps up, rage normalizing his expression again, and argues, “Who the fuck else am I supposed to tell?”

Uraraka frowns at him pointedly and his lips fall out of the snarl and into a resigned grimace, a sign that she has come to recognize as his apology. “Kirishima, for starters.”

“Fuck that.” Bakugou flops back onto her bed. “Why should I have to do anything when he’s the one in love with me?” He gestures wildly at the ceiling like it’s the one that he came to for advice on his love life.

“Are you in love with him too?”

Instantly, his expression closes off. He turns his face away from her and lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“Bakugou?”

“Shut up. The hell are you asking for anyway?”

Uraraka’s cheeks blow up with air before she huffs at him. “It’s the obvious question.”

“The fuck it is.”

“If Kirishima burst in here, just as rudely as you did, and declared his love for you – what would you do about it?”

Bakugou’s head turns away from her, but she can see the back of his neck redden and she isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied by that. He’s treating his and Kirishima’s feelings as if it’s some huge secret and revelation – but she, Deku, Todoroki, and Tsu have a bet about how long it will go before one of them does something about it. Iida disapproves.

If it happens in the next week, the pot goes to Todoroki.

Her bet starts the week after.

He’s lucky that Uraraka is at least a big enough person to help him now instead of waiting.

“Probably something along the lines of,” she clears her throat, bringing her hands together and resting them against her cheek, then continues in a high pitch, “oh, Kirishima, I love you too! Sweep me off my feet!”

Bakugou sits back up before she’s even finished, hands poised to attack, and face screwed into a scowl, but the effect is decidedly lessened considering the deep blush coloring his cheeks. “Shut the fuck up if you want to graduate, round face!”

She leans back in her chair, lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.”

“It doesn’t fucking bother me.”

“It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.”

“It—” His mouth snaps shut and his eyes dart away from her. His ears also start to turn pink and then he zeroes in on her with a sharp glare. “You bother me.”

Uraraka rolls her eyes and waves him off. “Everything but Kirishima bothers you.”

“He bothers me too.”

“Because he hasn’t told you that he loves you.”

“Fuck off.” He throws himself backward on the bed, again, arms crossed over his chest as he glares are the ceiling instead of her.

She observes him. Over the years, she’s learned to read Bakugou – being one of the few to earn his respect early on had those perks, if it could be called that. But she knows when he’s thinking too much – which is what he’s doing right now.

“Bakugou, why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you need me to tell you that you need to tell him?”

“I don’t need you at all,” he snaps, but there’s no heat behind it.

She ignores him. “You should tell him.”

Bakugou makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “He’s the one that always goes on about manliness. What the fuck is manly about keeping shit to yourself?” His arms uncurl from his chest and his fingers make a fist. “Fucking own up to it.”

“Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want,” she points out, tilting her head to the side. “So… if you want Kirishima, then shouldn’t you say something?”

He doesn’t reply, and his arms fall back onto the bed. Uraraka shrugs and turns back to her desk. Their finals are coming up after all and he interrupted her studies.

“I’m fucking going to sleep,” he says finally, pushing himself off the bed.

“Or you could help me study,” she offers without turning around, voice airy. She knows the answer to that.

“Fuck no.”

“Oh, that’s right. You only ever help Kirishima.”

There’s a small explosion as the door slams behind him, but Uraraka smirks and isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied.

- - -

What the fuck does Uraraka know anyway? She’d shacked up with Deku a year ago, so Bakugou clearly overestimated her judgment and overall sense.

Truthfully, not that he would ever say this out loud, Bakugou doesn’t know why he went to her room. He doesn’t know why he was so tracked on this when his main objective should be elbowing his way to the top of his class. Finals were soon for fuck’s sake. What the fuck was he worrying about Kirishima or feelings for, anyway? He is Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he is going to be the undeniable number one.

Hands clenched into fists, the right one still steaming from his outburst at Uraraka’s last words, he takes the girl’s elevator down to the common area. Water first, then he’ll take another practice exam before sleeping. He shoves his clenched hands into his pockets and stalks across the common area.

It’s dark outside and the rooms here are empty, everyone already separated into studying groups or gone to bed. If this was two years ago, Bakugou would already likely have been asleep. He didn’t normally stay or socialize in the common room, and if he did it was only for a few minutes or maybe an hour. But Kirishima persisted and it was annoying. He wouldn’t fucking leave Bakugou alone or stop nagging him about hanging out with his peers more (Your friends, Kirishima would correct him, but Bakugou only started calling them peers in their second year). How was he ever going to connect more with their classmates if he just holed himself up in his room to study?

Fuck you. I fucking help you, don’t I?

Exactly! And now we’re best bros!

When the hell had Bakugou asked for more friends? He hadn’t even asked for the one!

But, honestly, he’s quietly glad he’d been forced out of his room, even if he won't admit it out loud or say it in so many words. Some – and only some – of his classmates were actually pretty cool. His friends from before hadn’t really been friends. Lackeys, maybe… Kids that were taken with the boy with a great quirk and a domineering personality. Other bullies, he reminds himself. And he’d been fine with that at the time. He hadn’t needed anyone else, and he hadn’t wanted them. He would think that other people would hold him back, ask for things, for compromises – or worse, look down on him.

Then Kirishima decided they were friends and Bakugou hadn’t really done anything to stop that from happening. It changed him… for the better.

Fuck. He needs to stop thinking about it. He’s got more control than this.

Bakugou gnaws at his lower lip, glaring at the bouquet of flowers sitting on the coffee table. Blue bell-shaped flowers that he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. What he does remember is everyone’s look of surprise when it had been Todoroki carrying those flowers, and with the confidence that he always seemed to possess, walked right up to Iida and asked him on a date. Four-Eyes turned redder than Todoroki’s left side and started sweating so badly that his glasses wouldn’t stay on his face. But the takeaway from the story for Bakugou was seeing Kirishima’s soft, almost sad smile and the awkward way he laughed it off when Bakugou asked him what was wrong.

Well, more specifically Bakugou asked, What the fuck is wrong with your face?

The petals were starting to wither at the edges, but Class 1A had really come together to keep them alive for this long, though he’s pretty sure it was the girl with the vines in 1B that was doing most of the work. The two classes met and hung out a lot more than they used to. It was always so damn loud now.

Scowling, Bakugou keeps moving toward the kitchen. Yeah, maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Maybe. Like he doesn’t already know it was the wrong thing to say.

Are you in love with him too?

“Fuck,” he swears, throwing open the fridge. The water bottles were running low, and he frowns, taking one of the last four after a moment of consideration.

When he rights himself, he starts to close the door when Kirishima comes around the corner. Because of course he does, and of course he has his shitty hair down and not styled since Bakugou always thinks he looks so goddamn pretty like that. He looks just as caught off guard to see Bakugou. “Oh, hey man, what’s up?” He asks, his hand going to the back of his head and that fucking adorably shy, little smile on his lips – the one where Bakugou can only see his top teeth and his eyes crinkle a little.

You should tell him.

Bakugou grits his teeth at the thought and wills away the blush that threatens to dust his cheeks as he remembers what Uraraka said. “Water,” he grunts, the fridge door standing awkwardly open as a physical barrier between them. “What are you doing down here?”

“Snack,” Kirishima replies, with a small shrug as he moves closer and further into the kitchen. “Kaminari abandoned me to go study with Jirou and Momo, I think.”

“You think?”

And dammit the huffy little laugh Kirishima lets out, the one that Bakugou recognizes as him being embarrassed makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Yeah. I was distracted…” He starts absentmindedly looking through the cabinets as he speaks. “Thought some food might help, though.”

Bakugou shakes his head at Kirishima. “You’re always getting distracted. You need me there to keep you on track.”

Kirishima glances at him with that smile. “You study by yourself on Thursdays,” he replies with good nature as he moves to the next cabinet, the one full of nothing but dishes. When his eyes return to see the contents, he still stares into it like he’s looking for something, clearly feigning interest and clearly still distracted.

“You could’ve asked if you were having trouble,” Bakugou grumbles, his brow wrinkling as he watches.

Kirishima lets out another awkward laugh. “Yeah, I guess I could,” he agrees. He doesn’t move from the dish cabinet.

Is he pointedly avoiding looking at Bakugou now? A frown lowers on Bakugou’s lips and he stares at Kirishima’s profile for a long moment, waiting for him to say something else. Kirishima fills silences, not Bakugou. Kirishima doesn’t avoid eye contact, Bakugou does. Kirishima doesn’t stare into dish cabinets when he’s hungry and looking for a snack, Bakugou—well, no, he doesn’t. He shakes his head, annoyed with where this thought process is leading.

Bakugou doesn’t shy away from conflict. And neither does Kirishima. So…

“What the fuck are you doing, shitty hair?”

That seems to startle him, and his eyes tear away from the dishes. “Oh! There’s no food in here.” His sheepish laugh returns, but this time it’s annoying because that's the one he uses when he's trying to brush something off. “Guess I’m still distracted.”

“No. You’ve been acting weird all day.” Ever since the Todoroki-Flowers incident, but Bakugou doesn’t say that.

“Have I?” Kirishima asks, closing the cabinet as his eyes dart around the room and look anywhere but Bakugou.

That makes him grind his teeth. He knows Bakugou hates being answered with questions. He was going to wring this shitty-haired, perfect piece of shit’s neck. His gaze zeroes in on Kirishima and he narrows his eyes. “Kirishima.”

At the sound of his name, ruby-red eyes find Bakugou’s own, and he blinks rapidly. “Uh…” He stutters as sharp teeth worry at this bottom lip and Bakugou hates the way he can’t help but follow that movement. Pink dusts Kirishima’s cheeks and Bakugou’s hand clenches into a fist as he tries to avoid moving over there to touch and see if his cheeks are warming with the color. The bottle crackles in his hand as he squeezes it. “Sorry, Bakugou. I’m really just a little distracted, honest.”

Bakugou looks at him, his expression gradually easing out of irritation. He feels like there’s something in his throat and he still hates it. “Tch. Just come get your damn food,” he says, stepping away from the fridge like an offering. And he hates that he knows that Kirishima will recognize that as Bakugou looking out for him in his own way – that it’s his way of saying eat something and maybe that will help.

He hates it even more that it works.

A knowing smile flits across Kirishima’s lips and he nods. He says something that Bakugou doesn’t register because all he can think about is that Kirishima is moving closer and stepping around him to take a look in the fridge. He stands back, watching the back of Kirishima’s head as he looks through what he could eat, and the proximity makes Bakugou’s chest feel full, and his hands sweat, and he hates it.

No. Fuck. He doesn’t hate it.

Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.

Uraraka really got in his head. Because she was right. It did bother him. Kirishima was good with feelings. He was the one that was always encouraging Bakugou to embrace his emotions – shit, all the nights they’d spent staying up talking after Bakugou woke from nightmares to a panic attack and Kirishima could hear him through the walls. Kirishima vocalized his worries and his anxieties, he used them to talk and relate to their classmates and lower classmen, hell, even villains. Because Kirishima was good.

It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.

Of course, it bothers him! Why should Bakugou have to take the initiative here? He was never the one who had to take the initiative before. Kirishima brought him into a friendship kicking and screaming, but that didn’t deter him. Even on Bakugou’s worst day, he knew Kirishima would still be there.

Are you in love with him too?

Fuck.

“Kirishima.”

Kirishima rights himself and looks back at Bakugou like he’s surprised to hear his name again. He turns around and he’s backlit by the light from the fridge like a goddamn angel and fuck if he isn’t the prettiest thing Bakugou’s ever seen. Bakugou’s brain feels like mush for the first time in his life and all he can do is glare at Kirishima’s confused face while he tries to decipher what exactly possessed him to say this stupid, wonderful, infuriating, amazing boy’s name.

Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want.

Before he manages to catch up with himself, Bakugou finds himself stepping into Kirishima’s space and reaching up to hold the sides of his neck. He's never done this before because no one has ever caught his attention like this, no one has ever felt so close to him as Kirishima, but fuck if it isn’t perfect when he presses his lips to Kirishima’s, swallowing the small gasp that passes his lips.

Kirishima is still for a few beats, but he moves just before Bakugou begins to worry that he made a mistake. His hands find Bakugou’s hips, and he presses back, tilting his head into the kiss.

Bakugou might not know what he’s doing, but even to him, it’s clear that Kirishima does. The hands at his hips don’t stay there for long as they wind behind him to lie flat against his back, just under his shoulder blades as Kirishima bends and pulls Bakugou up into him – when did he get so damn tall? And he will never admit to the noise that he makes into Kirishima’s mouth when his tongue pushes gently into his mouth, or to the way his arms secure around solid shoulders as his fingers twist gently into red hair. He’ll die before he ever says he feels lighter and over the moon and like he’s having a moment straight out of those stupid American movies that Ashido likes so much.

The kiss is slow and sweet and everything like what he thought a kiss from Kirishima would be, because now that he’s actually kissing him, he will admit to thinking about it before. He lets Kirishima explore his mouth with his tongue, letting him lead and he’s never been so happy to follow.

As it slows to a stop, their lips press together in a lingering way and it’s Kirishima that finally pulls away. Despite the way he’d been so confidently and thoroughly kissing Bakugou, his eyes are completely full of questions and some uncertainty, wide and staring at him.

Bakugou looks back at him and realizes they’re still wrapped around each other and he’s a little out of breath. He doesn't know what he did with the water bottle he had in his hand, but it's gone too. No, right now, nothing else matters. So, he sets his jaw and tightens his hold slightly on Kirishima’s shoulders. Resolve. He’s full of resolve. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he goes after what he wants.

“I do what I want,” he says, his voice sure even if a bit winded. “And I want you.”

The way Kirishima’s eyes light up and a slow, blindingly happy smile creeps onto his lips sends Bakugou’s heart into fits and his stomach turns upside down with fucking butterflies.

“You want to do me?” Kirishima asks, a laugh tinging the back of his throat.

Moment ruined.

Bakugou’s cheeks warm faster than his quirk and he knows he’s turned the shade of Kirishima’s hair. “Fuck you,” he says, putting a hand on Kirishima’s face and shoving him away as that piece of shit laughs – and goddammit if it’s not Bakugou's favorite sound.

He pulls away, pushing off of Kirishima’s face as he goes and extracting himself from his arms. He storms away, hands balled into fists at his sides as he swears at himself because he doesn’t know how to fucking do this. The door to the fridge closes somewhere behind him and Kirishima’s laughter follows him to the elevator.

“Oh, come on, that was funny and you know it!” He says, catching Bakugou’s upper arm and letting himself get dragged onto the elevator as the doors pull open.

“No, it wasn’t,” Bakugou snaps, but all the fire there is just to mask his embarrassment. “I take it back. I hate you.” He shrugs off Kirishima’s hand and jams his finger against the button to their floor.

It doesn’t deter Kirishima in the slightest. It never does. “No, you don’t,” he laughs brightly. He takes his hand back, but steps back into Bakugou’s space as the doors close. “You like me.” His hands find Bakugou’s waist, and he turns Bakugou to face him, his lips pressing warm against flushed cheeks.

Bakugou turns his head slightly away, his hands grasping Kirishima’s forearms, but he can’t find it in him to pull away. “The worst,” he mutters, but still leans into the kisses pressed along his cheekbone.

A low chuckle rumbles through Kirishima’s chest – oh, oh that’s a new one and Bakugou doesn’t know what it means and he’s a second away from worrying about it because he’s gotten to the point where he can recognize Kirishima’s laughs or nonverbal cues and that’s new, but then Kirishima is stepping forward and pushing him back slowly. He presses against the wall of the elevator and it’s cold through his shirt but Kirishima is warm at his front and oh okay, fuck. There’s a little huff that works its way unbidden from his throat and his arms are moving without thinking as he clings to Kirishima.

“The worst, huh?” Kirishima grins, nudging his nose against Bakugou’s cheek for his attention.

And he gives it to him, turning his head back and letting Kirishima kiss him silly again. He feels hot all over, in a way that doesn’t have anything to do with his quirk. The cold at his back is exhilarating, somehow, as Kirishima presses him against the wall. He’s vaguely aware that the elevator has stopped moving and the doors are opening but he doesn’t care because Kirishima’s tongue is in his mouth again and it’s such a weird feeling but so, so right when it’s Kirishima.

Those lips trail away from Bakugou’s and he grunts at the loss, but then bites down on his bottom lip as Kirishima makes his way over his jaw and mouths at this throat. That’s when a whine – a fucking whine – forces its way past Bakugou’s tongue. His hands drop to Kirishima’s shoulders and he grits his teeth. “Fuck,” he growls, forcing his voice lower.

Then this mother fucker giggles and pulls away – and Bakugou honestly doesn’t know which one he’s more pissed off at – smiling at him. It’s blinding. “You’re so cute,” he exclaims. “I like you so much.”

“Shut up,” Bakugou groans, digging his fingers into Kirishima’s shoulder and ducking his head as he feels his cheeks redden again.

“Say you do what you want again! Say that you like me!” Kirishima pleads, laughing the whole time.

“Fucking—” Bakugou cuts himself off, not even sure what he wants to say. “You—” He growls unintelligibly again, and pushes Kirishima away from him, even if it is the gentlest push he thinks he’s ever given in his life. He slams his finger on their floor again, and the doors open immediately. He stalks around this laughing, amazing mother fucker and into the hallway, making a straight line to his room.

As always, ever since they were first-years, Kirishima follows. And he’s still laughing like an idiot, and there’s a section of Bakugou’s chest and stomach that is absolutely giddy, and he grinds his teeth instead of smiling. “Bakugou,” Kirishima calls, elongating his name and fuck it’s cute and he’s going to wake the entire floor up and if that happens Bakugou knows that he’ll die.

The door recognizes his fingerprint – a security measure that the school added in last year, but Bakugou knows it’s because some people just couldn’t ever keep track of their damn keys – and the door opens. Kirishima still follows him, stopping the door with his foot and a hand flat on the door. Damn, he is so lucky that Bakugou wasn’t slamming it because he didn’t even harden.

“I just want to talk,” Kirishima says, smiling sweetly at him. The laughter has mostly subsided, but it still shines in his eyes.

Bakugou’s heart thumps loudly in his chest, and he softens. He loves this boy and it’s so weird to think that so openly to himself now, but he likes it.

“And then, maybe you can cross a few things off your to-do list.” Kirishima waggles his eyebrows, that sweet smile turning into a knowing smirk.

Nope, nevermind, Bakugou hates him.

“You shithead,” he groans. But despite that, he walks away from his door and makes no move to close it again. A silent invitation for Kirishima to enter which is wholeheartedly taken.

It amazes Bakugou how relaxed Kirishima is in his room. He treats it like his own, acting perfectly at home and comfortable as he collapses on Bakugou’s bed. Meanwhile, Bakugou’s brain is reeling. It’s like there are red flashing lights in his head that are screaming at him, Kirishima is in your room and on your bed, as if Kirishima hadn’t ever been here before.

But it’s different now because he just had his tongue down your throat in the elevator and you’re hoping that he does that again, his brain points out.

And it’s fucking right, and Bakugou doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this unsure in his own space. At least not about something this stupid. Sure, there had been his first year where he was the reason that his childhood role model and reason he decided to become a hero had to retire because of him. And the fact that, at the same time, his childhood rival was starting to rise to his level and surpass him. Kirishima had been by his side then, though, and that made things just a little better. And it made him want to be better. But now Kirishima was in his bed and laid out like a fucking angel—

“I can hear you thinking, babe,” Kirishima said, looking up at him with that smile again. The soft one that Bakugou thinks is probably the reason he fell in love in the first place.

Wait. Babe.

Fuck, he’s on fire, he knows it.

Kirishima laughs and holds out his hand, gesturing for Bakugou to take it. “Come sit down. Don’t worry, I promise I just want to talk.”

Bakugou feels so tense. His shoulders feel like they have rocks on them, but he takes Kirishima’s hand and the sweat that’s layering his palm doesn’t seem to be a bother as he’s tugged forward and onto the bed. “I’m not worried,” he grumbles, crossing his legs under himself, sitting across from Kirishima and he knows that his lie is utterly unconvincing in his presence.

The reassuring look on Kirishima’s face is almost enough to make him actually not worry. “Yeah, okay, tough guy,” he chuckles, looking down at their hands and rubbing his thumb over the top of Bakugou’s. It feels nice. Really nice. Bakugou didn’t know he could like physical touch this much, but it feels so genuine coming from Kirishima, who’s one of the only people who’s never been afraid to touch him. And now he’s holding dangerous hands so gently and, fuck, lovingly.

Bakugou can’t decide if he wants to pull away because it’s overwhelming, or dive in headfirst and drown in it.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Kirishima tells him quietly.

Bakugou wants to say I know or That’s because you have good taste or something confident but instead, his throat feels too dry and he swallows, watching Kirishima’s hands stroke his own.

“I kinda… love you, actually.”

Bakugou dives. Kirishima’s not going to let him drown.

“Me…” He clears his throat when his voice comes out scratchy. Kirishima looks up at him and he looks hopeful, which Bakugou thinks is stupid. He doesn’t need to look hopeful, he should already know. Kirishima knows him better than anyone. For fuck’s sake, Bakugou had been the one to move first – for the first time in their friendship. Relationship? Shit.

“You?” Kirishima prompts him, and Bakugou realizes he’s just been staring at him like a dumbass.

“I love you,” he finishes because Kirishima deserves for him to actually say it, even if his voice is an embarrassed, low grumble. Not just say me too or yeah or some kind of quick exchange where Bakugou gets to leave it unsaid while Kirishima keeps carrying the burden of initiating everything. He doesn’t need Kirishima to initiate everything. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki.

Kirishima’s smile puts every other smile in his arsenal to shame. This one is Bakugou’s new favorite. This is the one he’s going to think about every waking second. The one that’s going to get him to do whatever Kirishima wants, and he’ll do it happily behind a mask of annoyance because that’s just how he is and Kirishima accepts that about him.

He’s Kirishima fucking Eijirou and Bakugou is so damn in love with him.

It is weird to say, though. Bakugou has never said those three words together before. But it’s not a bad weird, and he still feels like himself. That’s how he knows that it’s true.

“I love you, too!” Kirishima exclaims, reaching for him and cupping his face gently at the jaw.

“Yeah, you said that already,” Bakugou replies, averting his gaze for a few moments for his own sanity before inevitably being pulled back in by the magnet of Kirishima’s pure joy.

“And I’ll keep saying it,” Kirishima insists. “Can I kiss you again?”

“I’ll be fucking pissed if you don’t.”

Kirishima’s lips are already on his by the end of his sentence, because he already knew the answer would be yes. It’s just as good as the last three kisses, and Bakugou wonders when he’ll stop keeping count.

This one is different though because Kirishima is pulling Bakugou closer but they’re sitting down. But he wants to be closer, too, so he moves and it’s strange. But this is clearly not the first time for Kirishima, because his hands are on Bakugou’s waist to help him move and arrange them in a mess of limbs where Bakugou sits on Kirishima’s lap. Now his hands are on Kirishima’s neck and he’s above him for the first time. Hand spread over his back and the tension in his shoulders melts away. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he feels so helpless but safe like this.

Then laughter once again bubbles up from Kirishima but this time Bakugou ignores him. He’s just happy. That has to be all it is. But it doesn’t stop and increases a little when Bakugou experiments with his own tongue, sliding it over Kirishima’s lips.

Bakugou pulls back and glares down at him. The tips of his ears are red. It’s not like he’s ever kissed anyone before so, of course, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it confidently. “The fuck are you laughing for?” He frowns.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kirishima says. One of his hands leaves Bakugou’s back and covers his face, pressing the pad of his finger under his eye, tears leaking out of the corner. “This is just crazy. I just went to get a snack.” He pauses, wiping at his eye and looking up at Bakugou with consideration. “Well, actually. I mean, I guess I did kind of get one.” He grins and his hands go back to Bakugou’s sides, looking him over appreciatively.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou groans, dropping his head onto Kirishima’s shoulder. It takes him a moment to realize how natural that was, so he doesn’t move, turning his head into Kirishima’s neck.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

“Fuck off.” His voice is muffled on Kirishima’s skin and he fists his hands in the back of Kirishima’s shirt.

“You would miss me too much.” And fuck, if he isn’t right about that.

“Maybe,” Bakugou concedes, a little huffy.

Another bright laugh and this time Bakugou doesn’t try to stop the smile that creeps onto his face. “Alright, so now we can hold hands walking to class. I want to cuddle in the common room on movie nights too, okay?” Bakugou scoffs indignantly, but he’s ignored as Kirishima continues with his list, “You have to kiss me good luck before the big exams, too. And before we go on patrol. Oh! I wonder if Fat Gum would let you patrol with us, sometime!”

“You wanna be the one to ask Endeavor?” Bakugou retorts.

“Oh. No.” He feels Kirishima shake his head before he turns down and kisses Bakugou’s forehead. It’s so sweet and domestic and it’s a gesture that Bakugou doesn’t recall ever experiencing before. It makes him feel warm and he picks his head up to press a lingering kiss to Kirishima’s lips instead.

“I will, maybe, do some of that,” he says, knowing full well that he will do all of it if it means Kirishima will keep smiling like this at him, about him, for him, because of him.

“Can I tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend?” Kirishima asks, brushing a gentle hand through Bakugou’s spikes.

Wow. He really likes the sound of that. Kirishima’s. His. Boyfriend. Which also means, Bakugou’s, mine. It means he’s Kirishima’s and Kirishima is Bakugou’s. He doesn't mind being someone's if that someone is Kirishima.

“…yeah,” he agrees, nodding.

The smile. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to see.

“Can I call you Katsuki now?”

“You’re a menace.”

“You can call me Eijirou.”

“Get out.”

Bakugou isn’t sure how long they stay in his bed. They switch between kissing and talking for hours, and he knows it’s getting late because he’s exhausted and falling asleep on Kirishima’s shoulder. He vaguely realizes that he never studied more, which means Kirishima didn’t either. But they were distracted. He’ll make them study tomorrow and hold kissing hostage until Kirishima passes his practice exams.

To avoid Aizawa’s wrath, Kirishima eventually picks himself up to leave and Bakugou finds himself following him to the door. More lingering kisses by the door and Kirishima complains that he doesn’t want to leave and makes another joke about a to-do list. Bakugou pushes him out by his shoulders, Kirishima cackling and holding up his hands in surrender.

“Goodnight Katsuki,” he smiles, kissing him one more time as he leans back in the doorway.

“Goodnight,” Bakugou insists, mostly closing the door.

“Hm?” Kirishima hums, followed by another peck on the lips.

“Goodnight Eijirou,” he says again and receives a very triumphant look from his boyfriend. Fuck, he really likes that. Kirishima’s beaming like he’s won, but Bakugou doesn’t feel like he lost.

“I love you!”

“…yeah, yeah, you too. Go to sleep!”

It takes a few more tries, but he finally gets his door to close. He can practically see the heart emojis coming off of Kirishima as he leaves.

Finally, he collapses in bed, curling up under his blanket. He stares up at his ceiling blankly for a few minutes before he smiles, biting down on his lips to try to stop it. Then he finds himself laughing quietly, barely a breath and mostly out of his nose, but he’s laughing and he’s so happy.

No. No, he doesn’t hate this at all.

#kiribaku #bnha #bakugou katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #uraraka ochako #kaminari denki #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #p: my writing #ff: bnha

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