Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For the most part the dorms were great. The school cooked all his food, no commute took up time he could spend training, and he didn't have the hag bitching at him all day. But one thing unambiguously sucked absolute donkey dick.  After 15 years in the same house, waking up somewhere he didn't recognize immediately after being kidnapped was a goddamn nightmare. Even more of a nightmare when combined with the actual nightmares. Today was shaping up to be an extra special brand of hell because he'd been awake for half an hour and the post-nightmare panic still wasn't going the fuck away.

Tight buzzing in his chest screamed at him to run from absolutely nothing. At the same time, his limbs laid frozen in some mysterious paralysis that rendered him unable to look away from the door when fuck all was actually happening.

They wouldn't need to use the door, dumbass, they have a portal.

He shoved that decidedly unhelpful thought away.

He'd checked the lock, added his own deadbolt, and shoved a chair against the handle for good measure. But locks didn't stop portals. Or liquid sludge. Or his mother with the keys. Or people he just let in because he was a goddamn moron, fuck-

Stop.

Too early to spiral like this.

Get the fuck up you lazy piece of shit.

He staggered to the bathroom to sooth his desert-flavored throat and immediately choked. Choked on water like a fucking invalid.

He can't breathe, can't breathe, holy shit he's actually going to die.

In over his head and helpless, like she said he would.

The thing forces its way down his throat, invading his body while he could do absolutely nothing to stop it.

People just standing there, watching him drown, watching this monster violate him because he's pathetic and weak.

It's going to happen again because he's useless.   Held down and helpless and no one would help him because he got himself into this, he doesn't deserve to be saved.

He has no one else to blame and he hates himself so fucking much.

When his vision came back, he was on the floor, back leaned against the door to the bathroom.

Shit.

In for 5, out for 6 , he coached himself. 

One of his earliest panic attacks happened at Aunt Inko's. She hadn't asked what was wrong with him or rolled her eyes at him being 'dramatic'. She held his hand and told him to count with her until his breathing evened out.

Of course Deku had been there for that moment of weakness too.

Five things you can see, four you can hear...

His room was painfully boring. All that drew his attention were the scattered homework pages he swept off the desk in frustration the previous evening, littered around the scorched T-shirt he ripped off and tossed to the floor at late-ass-o'clock. His mother would be pissed if she knew.

Okay, hearing then.

Would help if I could fucking hear.

He'd been able to pretend he wasn't losing his hearing until UA screened them all for shit vision and shit hearing. He actually managed to fail both, but mild farsightedness was much easier to hide. Just wear contacts when reading a lot, it was fine. Plenty of heroes wore glasses anyway. The hearing aids, on the other hand, had yet to leave the box. 

Maybe you wouldn't have gotten kidnapped if you weren't such a stubborn jackass and just wore the goddamn hearing aids.

He could hear birds, all screaming "I wanna fuck!" early in the morning, as usual. If he rested his head against the far wall, he could hear Kirishima's soft snoring.

That was creepy, wasn't it? But it helped to hear another living being nearby that was not currently scared shitless.

A strange out-of-body sensation struck him as he realized he actually hoped some of his bastard classmates were early risers. Something about the familiar faces calmed the screaming in his head of run, fight, hide. So he silently crept to the common room.

He had not hoped it would be fucking Deku. He could just go back upstairs and-

"Good morning, Kachan!" 

Shit.

The nerd waved brightly from the kitchen, Todoroki seated next to him.

"The fuck you so happy about?" he griped, receiving a glare from Half-And-Half.

"Todoroki made tea if you want some," Deku pressed on unphased. "It's really good!"

Morning tea with Deku. Fuck, he'd rather die. Except… maybe he wouldn't? He had a better grasp of what that meant now and maybe the constant anxiety, accompanied by spikes of all-consuming terror, were actually worse than tea with Deku.

"Sure, fucking whatever," he grumbled, trying to ignore Deku's gasp of joy when he sat down across the counter of the kitchen island. Icy-Hot merely raised a brow before pouring a third cup.

"It's not bad," he admitted begrudgingly.

"One of the few things my father introduced me to that I like." Todoroki remained impassive. It was somewhat common knowledge that Todoroki and his father didn't get along, but Bakugou doubted either boy across the counter realized how much he knew, so he kept his tone subdued.

"He's a real dick, ain't he?"

"I didn't realize you had so strong an opinion," Todoroki observed, mismatched eyes searching with muted curiosity. 

"I have strong opinions on everything," Bakugou deflected easily. He was good at that, whatever people may think about his social skills.

And I kinda get being terrified of parents.

No, crush that train of thought. He came down here to get out of his head, not further lost in it.

"You're very interesting, Bakugou," Todoroki mused.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Bakugou snapped. God, Todoroki was so fucking weird, who just says that?

"I mean you understand more than you let on. Though I'm not certain why."

"Yeah, okay Freud." He shoved off the counter, feeling the itch to run a mile or so before class started. "You ponder that."

******

Aizawa liked to think that when given a job, he did not do things halfway. So when tasked with teaching a maladjusted batch of mutant teenagers how to be competent first responders, he did not intend to overlook that this particular class had certain… issues. The most obvious examples were his top two students, continuously sabotaging themselves over emotional issues. Like Todoroki choking during the sports festival and Bakugou during… just about everything.

But there were plenty of other, more subtle personality quirks (haha, quirks! God he needed to sleep more-) to sort through. Many of them revolving around self-image. Like any teenagers, they tended to lose sight of the big picture while caught up in their own little worlds of letter grades and unofficial blog-post rankings. So he invented a project they would all hate and complain about. First, they would analyse the reputation and public opinion of heroes, and compare that to the actual people they knew from school and internships. What were they known for? Was that intentional or an accident? Next, they would focus on their own image. What kind of hero did they want to be? How would opinions affect their career? Most importantly, with how much attention 1-A received, if they wanted to work in the background rather than the spotlight they would have to make that decision soon.

And then there was how to group them. Some arranged easily. Shoji and Hagakure together to learn the pros and cons of both being a spectacle and of being invisible. They would join Midoriya and Todoroki (he didn't even consider separating the two during a subject that would undoubtedly hit close to home for Endeavor's son). All good listeners who wouldn't drown anyone out. Kaminari's social media-laced sense of humor would balance Ida's excessive intellectualism, while Ojirou and Ochako kept them grounded in reality.

One grouping gave him particular trouble. Kirishima and Jirou would go together, he decided. They shared a sturdy, confident exterior, as well as deep insecurity in their value as a hero. But how would he get them to open up to each other about it? 

Momo. He'd add Momo. Surely, it would be mutually beneficial. Momo's self-consciousness appeared so frequently it was common knowledge to most of the class. Jirou and Kirishima were the type to avoid complaining, but willingly open up when they thought it would benefit someone else. But would the gentleness of those two be enough?

He had to put Bakugou somewhere and the boy seemed most relaxed and willing to talk with Kirishima. More importantly, he respected Kirishima enough to take his thoughts and feelings seriously. From what he could gather, Bakugou respected Momo for her intellect and the complexity of how she used her quirk. Jirou he couldn't predict, but she at the very least had thick enough skin to ignore a few outbursts.

The last issue was how to separate Midoriya and Bakugou as much as possible while keeping all his problem children within earshot and line of sight.

Why did I take this job?

*******

It was always fucking Deku

Every time life knocked Bakugou on his ass, Deku had a front row seat. Whether being nearly choked to death with sludge, dragged through a portal, or just losing his footing, Deku's stupid teary eyes were on him. So of course when his mother decided to make a scene, Deku and his nosy fucking hero complex had to get involved. 

He knew she'd be pissed. Eleven missed phone calls and increasingly livid voicemails said his mother would have his ass next she saw him. He just didn't think he would have to jump into the grave he'd dug until the weekend. Turns out, he gravely underestimated how far out of her way Bakugou Mitsuki would go to make a point.

The class bunched around awkward desk arrangements to create somewhat circle-like groups of 4. Jirou and Momo struck up a passionate debate on the pros and cons of including Midnight in their project while Bakugou leaned his chair back on 2 legs until it hit the wall, arms crossed and sulking about how much he didn't want to be involved with this topic.

"Shouldn't women reclaiming their power include the powerful influence of sexuality?" Momo suggested thoughtfully. "We should address Midnight as a respected hero, with her costume as just one element of her."

"But the costume dominates her image in the media!" Jirou argued. "Is it really 'reclaiming' if that power is just using the media's entrenched male gaze for the individual's monetary gain?"

"Male heroes use looks for media attention too, right Kirishima?"

"Uhhh…" Kirishima turned as red as his hair, mouth gaping like a stranded fish. "I don't really know- um, I don't know much about the topic…"

"Dialogue about sexism can't educate men if they refuse to be a part of the conversation." Jirou's smirk said she was fucking with him, but Shitty Hair didn't put that together. The cornered boy looked desperately to Bakugou.

"Got anything?"

"I don't give a fuck what people wear."

"Okay, that's not really joining the conversation either." Kirishima whined in distress, then slumped in defeat. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say here."

The view from their corner provided a clear line of sight to the entrance, allowing Bakugou to make it through all 5 stages of grief between the moment his mother appeared in the doorway and the final click of her shoes planting by his desk. He buried his surprise behind what he hoped to be a neutral expression (his "neutral" often turned out angry) as his breath hitched in anticipation.

"Good to see you're not dead or in jail." She smirked humorlessly. "I was starting to think you'd been dragged off by villains again."

"I've just been bus-"

Ambient classroom chatter froze, sudden silence drawing the attention of anyone who managed to miss the loud crack of her well-practiced slap.

"You may not be living at home, but I am still your mother," she warned icily. "If you want to stay in your fancy hero school, you answer your goddamn phone. "

"THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" he shrieked, putting up no genuine resistance as she yanked him from his seat with a vice grip clenched in his hair. The other hand clasped his wrist to aid her manhandling. His eyes stayed locked downward, observing the fingernails digging crescents into his skin as she escorted him roughly to the hallway. If he didn't look, he could pretend the entire class wasn't staring at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're pulling?" Mitsuki demanded the second the door shut behind them. "I still get your grades even when you don't talk to me, you know! There's no point avoiding us."

Bakugou stayed silent, hoping he could just wait out her rant with his usual blank scowl. 

"A 'C' in English? Are you serious? You've been acing English since grade school!"

Bakugou remembered that test. Well, sort of. He remembered the small gleam of panic that leaked through the fog encasing his brain. He recognized the words, but he couldn't put together any coherent meaning in the distant, dream-like haze he'd been periodically slipping into for the past two weeks.

Mitsuki sighed.

"If this is your new way of acting out, I guess it's an improvement over trying to kill your classmates." She ran a hand through her hair. Her identical wild blond, fuck they looked alike-

Bakugou let his eyes slide from her face to the floor in discomfort. A mistake.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She smacked the side of his head impatiently. They locked eyes for a moment as she searched his carefully neutral face for clues.

"Well?" she demanded. "Care to explain yourself?"

"It was one fucking test," he mumbled. "It won't happened again."

"It better not," she said pointedly. "This school is fucking expensive. And you certainly can't rely on your winning personality to make up for any mistakes. Between the sports festival and the villains trying to recruit you, I'm amazed you haven't been expelled already."

"Okay, I get it!" Bakugou whispered harshly, praying his class couldn't hear this lecture.

"Do you, Katsuki? Do you 'get' anything I say? Because you sure seem to keep doing whatever the hell you want. Even Eraser is going to have a limit on how much of your bullshit he can put up with before he stops defending you."

Okay. That last part stung a bit.

"And you wonder why I don't answer your calls." He quietly signed his own death warrant, hunching his shoulders, arms drawn up before she even moved.

The blows were open hand and relatively harmless, but she was still bigger than him and always aimed for the head. He knew how to block, how to dodge, stances to keep balanced, but that practice never manifested here. This wasn't combat, he couldn't let himself start reacting like it was or his instincts may do something he would really regret. Instead he stumbled a few feet, a rattled feeling in his head slight ring in his ears.

"Can I help you, Izuku?" Her suddenly sweet tone struck as jarring as the name. Fucking Deku-

"I was- uhh, I was just coming to…" Deku stammered, "to check on- well, and see if you needed notes or-"

"We're fucking fine ," Bakugou snarled. "Go the fuck back to class!"

"Um, yeah, okay." Deku shrank away awkwardly.

"Say 'hi' to your mother for me!" Mitsuki called brightly as the door closed.

"Fucking nosy little shit," Bakugou grumbled, earning him another, less aggressive smack.

"Izuku is working hard and making friends because he doesn't constantly cuss out his classmates."

"I have friends." The assertion slipped out, surprising him as much as her. He couldn't tell if she believed him.

"This is a good school, Katsuki." She suddenly sounded tired, almost looking her age for once. "They're the only place I've ever even let myself hope might turn you into a decent member of society. Don't fuck it up."

Finally, finally she left, but not before shouting down the hall behind her. "And answer your fucking phone!"

The empty hall had a slight echo, dragging his mother's nagging to its maximum duration. It quickly faded, giving way to the soft hum of air conditioning and florescents. The longer he stalled, the more awkward returning to class would be. A quiet entrance would be so out of character it would probably draw more attention than just sticking to his usual violent burst through the door. It flung into the stopper with a bang under a rough kick. He eyes stayed glued to the floor, but he could feel the stares. Obviously they would have heard at least some of that. Fucking Deku opened the door mid-fight, the nosy bastard. Worse, had anyone seen? Getting dragged out of class by the hair was embarrassing enough, but if his entire class saw him smacked around by his mommy ... he didn't think his ego could handle it.

He threw his chair back with an aggressive skid and collapsed into it. Eventually he ran out of pencils to arrange in his backpack and had to look at the group. 

"God, Bakugou, how are you so angry all the time?" She leans against the desk as a mischievous glint dances across her face. "Parents didn't hug you enough?"

"Fuck off."

"Ooo, hit a nerve?" She smirks. "That why you're so mean all the time? Mommy and Daddy never taught you to love?"

"You don't know shit about my parents!"

The sparks don't scare her. She leans in closer, voice barely above a whisper. "I bet your dad hits you."

"He does not!" He's not lying, but part of jab lands and he hates her for it.

"Yeah, that's what you would say," she teases.

"What about Bakugou's parents?" An audience crowds around, clamoring to watch this new girl dare to mess with the established top dog.

"He's angry all the time because his parents don't love him," she informs them casually, like she's telling them it's supposed to rain this afternoon. "He beats up the kids at school to feel powerful."

"Keep talking bullshit, see where it gets you!" C rackling sparks grew to small booms.

"I'm very scared," she quipped, "but you're one fight away from suspension, aren't you? And that would make mommy and daddy very mad. Probably send you to bed without supper."

"This why you had to leave your last school?" He finally found his voice, digging up the mean his mother taught him. "They get tired of you being a colossal bitch?"

Good, she's thrown off. Didn't expect him to be able to fight with words as well as fists. He could turn this around.

"Or maybe they just got tired of looking at your weird bird-nose."

"Resorting to swears and playground insults. Very clever." She kept her voice steady, but the hurt showed through. They were reaching a stalemate as the bell rang.

They all had her face now. Her knowing gaze that pierced through him, misguided pity his aggression only enforced. He hated it. Like always, Deku was the worst.

"If you don't find a new place to direct your eyes, I'll tear them out of your fucking head," he snapped, satisfied by the boy's startled scramble to look away.

"We've come to an agreement on the Midnight section." Kirishima mercifully broke the awkward silence. "It can stay, so long as Jirou and Momo write it and present it and tell everyone that I wasn't involved because it's not my place to tell women what to wear."

"You don't have to cover your ass so hard, Shitty Hair. Everyone knows you drink your respect women juice." Bakugou would encourage any conversation that got people to move on from what they just saw.

"Baku-bro..." Kirishima beamed. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

It probably really is, you piece of shit. He's your best friend and the nicest thing you've ever said to him is 'you're not a misogynist.'

"You also going to demand your non-involvement?" Jirou asked.

"I don't give a fuck." Bakugou cringed internally at how tired he sounded. 

"I guess public perception doesn't sound like something you would be interested in," Momo mused allowed. "You don't seem to care much what others think of you."

"You're damn right," he grumbled, and dammit he needed to get his shit together. He could hear the lump in his throat, a strained tone that cut off with an almost choked sound he attempted to disguise as a cough.

You are not going to fucking cry, you pathetic piece of shit, man the fuck up.

"You good, bro?" Kirishima asked cautiously.

"Fucking fine!" Bakugou willed the clock to move faster as it ticked down the final few seconds of the class period. 

"Dude, I thought my parents were scary! But that was unreal." Kaminari abandoned his group to leap behind Kirishima. "Your mom might be even scarier than you."

"Eat shit and die, moron."

"The resemblance is uncanny," Kaminari replied in mock-awe.

"Let's meet up in the common room after class," Momo suggested before the rising antagonism could get out of hand. "We can catch you up on what you missed and get organized."

"Sure, whatever." He shoved his notebook away and managed to storm halfway to the door before-

"Bakugou."

He honestly couldn't think of a single time he wanted to talk to Aizawa less. 

"Stay. I need to talk to you."

Fuck!

As the class cleared out, he imagined a dozen places he would rather be.

"That was an aggressive chat," Aizawa deadpanned, face as unreadable as ever.

"And?" Bakugou dared him to push. Eraser remained obnoxiously unintimidated.

"What happened out there?" he asked bluntly.

"Nothing you haven't seen before." Bakugou shoved his clenched hands deeper in his pockets and forced himself to meet the teacher's eyes.

"During the home visit," Aizawa inferred, "I elected not to intervene since you were moving to the dorms shortly anyway. Relationships between parents and children often improve on their own when the child moves out. It seems that was not the case."

"It's fine," Bakugou insisted stubbornly.

"It's not."

He… didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet for once. 

"In the two times I've seen your mother, she's hit you and dragged you out of class by your hair," Aizawa stated plainly. "That is not indicative of a safe household."

"Fuck off," Bakugou snarled, anger finally catching up with the shock.

"Care to elaborate on that?" The veteran hero arced a brow in unimpressed skepticism.

"You just said I don't even fucking live there anymore, so who gives a shit if my mom is mean?" 

"I  give a shit if my student is being abused."

All the air left his lungs like he'd been punched.

"We just fight a lot, it's not a big deal." It sounded uncertain even to himself.

"Do you ever 'fight' back?"

The silence stretched far too long before he managed, "None of your goddamn business what I do!"

He stomped away too fast to constitute anything but a retreat.

Class was thankfully over for the day. Most students would be heading to dinner soon, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip into his room and 'forget' about Momo's study session.

Chapter Text

"Has anyone seen Bakugou?" Kirishima asked the half-dozen students scattered around the common room.

"If you don't know where he's at, no one does," Sero answered.

"Yeah, you're like the Bakugou whisperer," Kaminari added.

"I didn't see him at all during dinner," Mina pondered aloud. "Did he skip?"

"Guess so." Kirishima frowned in thought. Bakugou usually kept to a strict diet with the same near-obsessive commitment as the rest of his training.

"He does that a lot when they fight." Midoriya spoke softly, barely audible from his seat at the far corner of the kitchen island.

"'They'?" Mina questioned. "You mean with his mom?"

Midoriya nodded, shrinking as though he regretted the attention he just brought to himself.

"Is he… okay?" Kirishima asked hesitantly.

Midoriya tensed even further at the direct question, chewing his lip nervously. 

"It's not really my place…" He trailed off.

"Okay, but- I mean-" Kirishima paused to collect himself. "She doesn't, like… really hurt him, does she?"

Midoriya looked to Todoroki with an unspoken question Kirishima didn't understand. Todoroki shook his head, then waved him over. Kirishima leaned curiously across the counter, leaving only a foot or so between the three of them. 

"I'm generally against disclosing others' business, but Bakugou is stubborn to a fault and I believe you really care about him." Todoroki glanced over to the other three 'Bakusquad' members. "And you have the emotional intelligence to respond tactfully."

The hush feels heavy and is makes him uneasy. "No offense, but how do you know anything about Bakugou?"

"I needed to vent somewhere," Midoriya confessed, shoulders slumped with guilt. "Todoroki would never tell. And I knew he wouldn't judge over something like this."

"Something like what?" Apprehension fluttered in his chest.

"We hung out a lot when we were kids. Usually at my place or the forest, but I ended up at his house sometimes. Their fights would get… bad. Really bad." Midoriya shuttered at the memory, eyes distant. "One time school called about Bakugou getting into a fight while I was over and she- she really freaked out. Yelling and pushing him around. Something about beating up other kids to feel strong, and- god, it really escalated. I don't know if it was on purpose, but she pushed him into the coffee table. I just hid for most of it but he was really bruised up by the end."

True to character, tears rolled down Midoriya's face while Todoroki remained unreadable. Midoriya glanced around like he just remembered they were in a public space before leaning in again.

"He told me- well, yelled at me- not to tell anyone because his house was 'none of my fucking business.'" Midoriya shook his head as his words picked up pace, approaching a rambling mutter. "I should have told someone, but he was already getting more distant and I didn't want him to stop being my friend."

"You were kids," Todoroki reminded him gently.

We still are kids , Kirishima thought as the weight of the situation set in.

"At the beginning of middle school he told me it was better." Midoriya sniffled. "But I doubt he would tell me otherwise."

On the third ring, Bakugou prayed he might get lucky and no one would answer, but then-

"Bakugou residence."

"Hey dad." He grimaced. "You alone?"

"I am," his father answered, suspicion obvious in his voice."Why do you ask?"

Might as well get straight to the point.

"There's this stupid fucking 'parent's day' thing coming up." He could do this, he could. "And I don't want Mom to come."

Silence.

Then-

"I heard she made a bit of a scene at school today."

Katsuki snorted in mock amusement. "You could sure as hell say that."

Masaru hummed in acknowledgement. "She won't be happy if she finds out."

"So don't tell her," Katsuki replied. "The letter shouldn't show up for another day or so and I know you always get the mail."

"Okay."

Okay?

He had not expected that.

"So no Mom..." Masaru continued. "Did you want me to come?"

"That… would be okay," Katsuki confessed.

"Okay."

Okay.

His father rarely went against Mitsuki's wishes, but then again, he'd never had so much free reign to avoid her before. It was smuggled sweets and skipped study sessions they didn't tell mom about on a larger scale than he ever imagined.

"I'll be there," Masaru assured at Katsuki's silence.

"Okay."

"I'll see you then, Katsuki."

"Yeah." He hung up, anxiety simmering in his stomach.

What if he gets caught? What if she finds out and I'm not there for her to scream at? Will he be okay?

He shook himself angrily. Masaru was an adult, he could deal with Mitsuki's antics on his own for once. He'd be fine.

He'd be fine.

Okay.

"Baku-brooooo!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the relentless pounding on his door. 

"What?!" he shouted back with as much rage as he could work up, but it skewed sharp in his startled state.

"Jirou and Momo are waiting for us," he announced brightly. "We were gonna head out to a cafe to start working on Aizawa's project!"

"Fucking fantastic. Have a blast."

"That's not like you."

Bakugou made noise between a scoff and a snort.

"Well, the avoiding social spaces is like you. But not ignoring school work! You want to be the best, right? You really want to leave your grade up to the rest of us?"

That was exactly what he planned to do. Momo's inclusion guaranteed an at least satisfactory grade and she was too nice to rat him out for not contributing. 

"Ponytail can handle it," he shrugged.

"That's not very manly," Kirishina scolded, then added with a sigh, "Look man, I know you don't like this project. You don't even have to talk, just come along and eat something."

I don't deserve him.

Bakugou begrudgingly opened the door and scowled at Kirishima's victorious grin.

"We gonna go or what?" he lightly shoulder-checked his friend just to drive home that he was still not happy about this.

Ponytail and Aux Chord were tragically not alone in the common room.

"The Bakugou whisperer demonstrates his power level," Kaminari joked. "It's over 9000!"

"Eat shit and die."

"I could call a ride if you all would like," Momo offered the study group.

"I'd rather take the train like a normal fucking person," Bakugou refused.

"She's just offering to be nice, dude," Kirishima scolded. "But yeah, I'm good with walking to the train station, it's not far."

It took about 2 minutes for Bakugou to regret this decision. Stares and whispers followed him to the station in passing, but the true hell began while standing on the platform. 

"Is that the Kamino kid?" 

"It totally is, I remember the red eyes from that sports festival video."

"Didn't he get held hostage twice?"

"I kinda wanna talk to him, but I might catch his rabies."

If he could hear it, then everyone could. He told himself to turn his hearing aids down… then turned them up instead.

"You think he's a spy?"

"He probably plays it up for attention. No one can really be that angry all the time, their heart would stop."

He wished it would stop, then he could die and escape this situation. A pair of girls a few years older than himself giggled in his direction. He should just stop listening but he couldn't.

"Bet he'll apprentice under Midnight with how often he's in handcuffs."

"I think she's the one who chained him up at the festival."

"Kinky."

He could feel Kirishima's uncomfortable glance and steadfastly pretended he didn't hear.

"He is pretty attractive if you can get past the crazy. I'd like to chain him up any day."

Despite the hot sparks in his hands, a chill ran through him. He wanted to yell, but seemed to choke on his voice.

"What is wrong with you?!" Kirishima spun around to face the girls with a fury Bakugou had never seen before.

"It's just a joke!" the taller, and apparently braver, girl defended. "Chill out."

"Joke or not, that's a fucked up thing to say!" Kirishima raged on.

"Oh please, practically everything out of that kid's mouth is a fucked up thing to say," she scoffed. "Don't dish it out if you can't take it."

"You don't even know him!" Kirishima stormed closer. "This isn't some school event, he was fucking kidnapped! He was dragged away by villains and no one knew if we would ever see him again! He could have died !"

Kirishima's heavy breathing became the only sound on the platform. Silence roared in Bakugou's ears, keeping him frozen. The roaring grew louder until he realized it was the oncoming train.

"We should go," Momo said, gently placing a hand on Kirishima's slightly hardened shoulder. He ignored the gesture.

"Just get on the fucking train, Shitty Hair." He just wants this moment to end.

Kirishima searched his face and came up uncertain. "You sure?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" Bakugou shouted as he stepped onto the train, ready to leave the others behind if it meant escaping.

An awkward silence fell over the four until Kirishima shifted around the railing to face his sulking classmate.

"You good, dude?"

"Goddamn peachy," Bakugou growled.

"Not the word I would have used." He smiled sadly. "You look pretty pale, actually."

"Fuck off!"

"I'm serious, dude." He slowly placed a hand over Bakugou's white knuckles, clenched around the bus pole between them. "Does that kind of thing happen a lot to you?"

"What's it to you?" 

"You're my friend." Kirishima did that sad smile thing again and his stomach fluttered. "Anyone fucks with you, they fuck with me."

"Clearly," Jirou affirmed from the seat she'd snagged at the last stop. "I think I've heard you swear more in the last 5 minutes than the rest of the time I've known you."

"Well, people messed with my friend." Kirishima shrugged, then leaned closer, speaking deliberately away from Jirou. "We don't have to do this tonight if you wanna head back."

"I said I'm fine."

"It's okay if you're not." Kirishima met his eyes, painfully sincere. "You're allowed to not be okay. Like, that was straight up sexual harassment."

"Shut up," Bakugou rasped, failing to conceal his dismayed grimace at the term.

"Okay," Kirishima relented, concern creasing deeper in his brow. "Okay, but- just say the word, and we'll go."

"Dumbass," he muttered, then even more quietly, "...Thanks."

The cafe Momo chose turned out to be 50% lounge, catered by a coffee bar, while the other half sported proper tables and an actual bar.

"So this is a cafe to you?" Bakugou raised a skeptical brow at Momo. The whole place, with it's aesthetically rustic finishings over a new and expensive foundation, reminded him of his parent's work friends. Hours poured into looking effortless, with tastes as expensive as they were ridiculous.

"This is so cool!" Kirishima exclaimed, eyes shining in awe.

"My dad did a couple gigs here," Jirou commented. "It's small, but it's actually one of his favorite places to play."

Of course, it was just Katsuki who hated it. Just him. The negative, angry killjoy who could only have fun through competition and violence.

"Would you all like to order drinks before we get started?" Momo directed them politely to the counter, like he couldn't find his way to the fucking register on his own.

"Uhh… I'm gonna be honest, I don't know what most of those words mean," Kirishima confessed as he looked over impressively artistic cursive on the chalkboard menu. "I'll just have what you're having."

Kirishima and Jirou practically glued themselves to Momo while she explained her recommendations with the inflated language of a connoisseur. Words like full-bodied and earthy notes, and other shit he didn't care to follow.

"You do cash back?" Bakugou asked when it came to his turn.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," the clearly tired employee at the register answered.

"Black coffee and 2,000 yen." Bakugou fished a card from his wallet.

"You got plans?" Kirishima asked as they waited by the drink station.

"No, why?"

"I only get cash for the food carts that don't take my card." He shrugged, poking at a 'vintage' tin container of straws.

"Oh." Bakugou busied himself with rearranging the bills in his wallet. "No, my dad and I always get cash back in small amounts when we buy other shit. So my Mom doesn't notice."

"Is she really strict about spending?" Kirishima asked cautiously. 

"God no." Bakugou scoffed. "She spends plenty, she's just a control freak. We put stuff in an account in my dad's name that she doesn't know about so if we need to pay for something she doesn't approve of, she won't see the bank records."

"Oh." Kirishima shifted awkwardly. "What kind of things?"

Bakugou stiffened. He didn't know why he kept answering. Maybe he just wasn't prepared to lie because no one had ever bothered to ask before. 

"One time way back, my old man packed up and took off for a couple days after a bad fight. Said he needed space and checked into a hotel." Bakugou recalled the story mostly in plot points he was told and only a few flashes of his own sensory memory. "My mom told their bank his identity was stolen. Froze all their accounts, his ID got flagged. He was fucked. No choice but to go back and sort it out."

"That's messed up." Kirishima winced.

"He got smart after that." Bakugou shrugged, uncomfortable with Kirishima's expression of something between concern and confusion. "It's fine."

Kirishima opened his mouth to continue, then stopped abruptly.

"What?" Bakugou snapped defensively. "You got something you wanna fucking say?!"

"They just called your name, dude." Kirishima raised his hands placatingly. Bakugou snatched his drink from the counter and stomped away before Kirishima could jab him with another question.

He'd left out what that long ago fight had been about. Mitsuki swore she would never hit her son again (in front of his father, anyway) and broke that promise one too many times. 

We're leaving.

That moment Katsuki remembered vividly. The day his father finally put his foot down, said enough was enough. Then broke into sobs on the curb outside the hotel when that escape fell apart.

"I'm sorry Katsuki. I don't know what to do."

Bakugou shoved his wallet into his pocket, slouching his shoulders as much as he could without spilling his coffee, and followed the group to a collection of cushions around a low table.

"Dude, is that just plain black coffee at 4 pm?!" Kirishima cried, "Buddy, please, love yourself."

"Fuck off."

"I didn't think coffee would fit into your fitness routine," Jirou added. She was right, it didn't. He hadn't exactly been sleeping well lately, but that was none of the extra's goddamn business.

"Eat shit and die."

"See, this is why you have image problems." Jirou smirked.

"Speaking of image problems," Momo ventured desperately, "I think we should start outlining points we want to make before diving further into the research."

"That sounds like a good plan!" Kirishima encouraged. "Where do we start?"

"I was thinking…" Momo paused nervously. "We could look at the success rates of top heroes and compare them with their approval rating. We could use it to investigate any correlation between that relationship and heroes being considered more controversial."

"That's brilliant, Momo!" Jirou squeezed the other girl's hand encouragingly.

"Why did you have to bring math into it?" Kirishima groaned dramatically.

With her timid and quiet demeanor, it was easy to forget how smart Ponytail was. He could never understand her if he couldn't see her lips, but whatever she said was usually worth the effort to listen.

"I'm glad." Momo pulled an expensive looking tablet from her backpack. "I may have already done some work on it…"

Ponytail had already arranged a data table with several columns of mission and approval statistics for the top 20 heroes.

"I expected there to be a correlation between collateral damage and approval rating, but it didn't turn out to be that significant." Momo finally relaxed now that she was in her nerdy element. "Approval ratings seem to have a lot more to do with positive media articles and broadcasts."

"So you proved people are shallow, stupid assholes with math." Bakugou smirked hollowly. "Good job, Ponytail."

"Thanks, I think," Momo replied uncertainly. "It's different with heroes' opinions of each other, though. The mission statistics and approval ratings align better within the field."

"So basically, if you get the job done, other heroes don't care so much if you're a bit of a dick," Jirou concluded. "That's good news for you, Bakugou."

"Do you wanna go?!" Bakugou yelled, launching forward until the back legs of his chair lifted. "Let's take this outside, I'll show you just how nasty I can be!"

"I'll pass," Jirou replied calmly. "I wouldn't want to-"

She was cut off by something Momo said. As usual, Bakugou couldn't fucking hear her.

"You wanna say that again?!"

"Those people at the train station…" she ventured anxiously, "they said some pretty awful things about-."

"Don't." Bakugou gave her his best stony glare.

"I just-"

"Drop it, Ponytail!"

"Okay," she relented, then changed her mind and blurted out: "I just wanted to say it wasn't right and I'm sorry you had to deal with it!"

Bakugou faltered briefly before recovering with a weak, "Whatever."

He sulked through Momo's presentation of data on different demographics. Young people were more likely to favor Hawks, in spite of his arrogant attitude. Men were more likely to approve of Endeavor's harsh demeanor and methods. The small percentage that once disapproved of All Might apparently changed their minds after his retirement, as it plummeted almost to 0.

"Why the fuck did people come around to liking All Might after they found out his weakness?" Bakugou interrupted.

"It was a pretty awesome final battle, dude," Kirishima answered. "If I wasn't a fan already, that would win me over."

"Perhaps they thought his sacrifice was noble," Momo pondered.

"That's stupid." Bakugou fell back into his chair, arms crossed to resume his sulking position. "What kind of person disrespects him for his entire hero career, but then decides they like him out of pity? That's bullshit!"

"It's not pity," Momo argued with surprising vigor. "It's admiration. He didn't just win when it was easy, he risked his life and fought against the odds to the very end. That's heroic, if you ask me."

The whole table stared, surprised by her sudden outburst.

"I-I mean that's just what I think." She back-peddled frantically. "That's just my-"

"You're awesome, Momo!" Kirishima interjected.

"Yeah, you were pretty cool just now," Jirou agreed with a slight blush.

"Yeah, whatever," Bakugou grumbled. He swept his neglected notes into a pile and started shoving them into his backpack.

"You leaving?" Kirishima questioned.

"What's it fucking look like?"

"We've made good progress," Momo assessed. "We should head back together, since we aren't supposed to go outside school grounds alone."

"Fucking girl scout," Bakugou muttered, but made no move to leave without them. 

She's right and you know it. She usually is.

Chapter Text

It wasn't a long train ride, but still provided enough idle time for his mind to wander back to All Might. Did people just get bored if winning was too easy? Did they want heroes to suffer for their victories? What kind of fucked up logic was that? 

Maybe they would like me better if they knew how many times I got the shit kicked out of me.

No. It wouldn't work that way. People liked All Might. When he got knocked down, everyone routed for him to get back up. When Bakugou fell, everyone was satisfied to see him get what he deserved. They saw it as an opportunity to teach him humility. To fix him.

Fuck that. Those bastards didn't know shit about him.

He jolted out of his angry musing as something grabbed his wrist. In an instant, he had whoever decided to fuck with him slammed into the glass and steel door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" the person shouted. A male person, somewhat taller than himself but not as solid, in a suit.

"With me?!" Bakugou flinched at his own high and panicked voice. That was a sound he never meant to make again. He twisted the man's arm further behind his back. "You're the one grabbing at random strangers!"

"I'm a fucking journalist, you crazy half-pint!"

Bakugou released him with a rough shove, the man's face squishing into the window a final time.

"Jesus." He rubbed at his elbow. "I was just going to ask you for a statement."

"Then ask," Bakugou growled. "You ain't gotta fucking touch me for that."

"I did!" The journalist sputtered in exasperation. "I was full on yelling and I still couldn't get your attention!"

Fuck, he needed to make an appointment to adjust his hearing aids. This shit would get him killed.

"Ever consider I just don't wanna fucking talk to you? You think about that, asshole?!"

"Oh, I see." The reporter rolled his eyes. "You won't even acknowledge someone you don't think is good enough to talk to you. Won't even give them the courtesy of a 'no'."

"You dickheads would never respect that anyway!" Bakugou heaved with strained breath. "No one ever lets me just say no!" 

The reporter actually looked intrigued at that.

"Would you care to elaborate?" He leaned closer, anger suddenly vanishing.

"No, I fucking wouldn't." Bakugou glanced at the upcoming stop and decided close enough . He marched off the train the second the doors opened, despite the protests of his classmates. As the doors closed behind him, he heard the nosy bastard ask, "Do you think he was talking about the Sports Festival?"

"Bakugou, wait up!"

Shitty Hair.

He kept walking, forcing the other boy to jog to catch up.

"That guy sure was pushy," Kirishima observed.

"No shit," he grunted.

"You gonna show me the scenic route?" 

"Not much to see," Bakugou muttered bitterly. "City's only fancy around the school and downtown."

"You grew up around here, right?" This dumbass sounded so genuinely interested in boring shit like where he grew up. It was disarming.

"Yeah. Parents got a house outside the city. The suburbs are okay, but around my middle school it's trash."

"My hometown was small and boring, so just about anything is interesting to me." Kirishima shrugged. The dense crowd thinned once they gained some distance from the train station, wide plazas narrowing into a network of residential side streets.  

"Don't wave at people, dumbass, that's weird." Bakugou almost laughed as some random stranger shuffled away uncomfortably from Kirishima's blindingly friendly greeting.

"Why?"

"City people don't do that. Don't look at anyone. Just keep walking and mind your own damn business."

Level sidewalk turned cracked and jagged, in some places crumbled entirely. Graffiti decorated faded cement in slogans and symbols only locals understood. Years ago, he'd sprayed his own tag into the mix, too young to understand that some weren't just artistic. He could have taken the long way around, but some discontented part of him longed for the familiar roughness. 

Should keep idiot sunshine boy close .

The dumbass was a solid 10 meters behind him, stopped in front of a narrow alley.

"The fuck you doing?" 

"Just a sec." Kirishima blew him off while fiddling with his pockets and stepped into the alley. Bakugou backtracked until he could see what the hell this shithead was up to. Tucked in a shallow stairwell slept a bundled form, face obscured by a thick hood, one arm threaded through the strap of a worn backpack, and tennis shoes wrapped in duct tape. Kirishima quietly crept closer, kneeling down just long enough to place a few bills under the person's water bottle. He remembered Deku doing something similar once and scowled.

"Come on Shitty Hair, there'll be plenty more bums for you to pity on your own time."

As Kirishima jogged to catch up, he frowned.

"If I can make someone's day better, why shouldn't I?"

Bakugou shook his head in silent exasperation and kept walking. 

Kirishima shouldn't exist in a world like this one.

He'd slept in that stairwell once. More than one fight with his mother ended with him storming out of the house. Sometimes by choice, sometimes ordered out until his mother could again stand the sight of him. In the early days he curled up in the playground, using the maze of plastic tubes as shelter. That sanctuary ended when another street regular took notice. Whether the stranger with the striped beanie and Marlboro Blacks was actually dangerous or just kept trying to talk to him out of boredom, he would never know. He was careful to avoid spending too long in the same place after that.

They were nearly back at school when Kirishima broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"You didn't raise your hand," Bakugou deadpanned. Kirishima ignored the snark, watching with a concerned question on his face that Bakugou wanted to blast into oblivion.

"When you said no one lets you say no, did you mean the villains or the heroes?"

His brain had barely processed the question before he was pushing the whole subject into the 'do not think about' box. Cuffs and chains rattled through his senses, drawing up older, deeper hurts before he could stop them. All at once, the dizziness stopped. Like a tight lid slapped over a blender, still churning but contained. He didn't look at Kirishima the entire way to their side-by-side bedrooms. Bakugou paused in his doorway, finally pulling an answer out of the chaos.

"Both." He still couldn't look at Kirishima. He just had to trust the other boy understood. "Both and more."

He shut the door too quickly behind him, sliding down it to the floor. Hiding like a coward from whatever fallout succeeded his moment of weakness. Unwelcome sensations flickered at the edge of his awareness. That shapeshifter girl had no understanding of personal space and even when the bastard wasn't around, Deku still managed to torture him.

"You're friends with that Midoriya boy, aren't you?" she asks, arm holding her phone draped over the chair she straddled, the other idly spinning a knife.

"We're not friends."

"But it says here you grew up together." She scrolls through some article about the sports festival. "Went to primary school together and all that. So you must know him."

"Not the same thing."

"What's he like?" Her curious red eyes refocuse on him.

"Fucking annoying. Why do you care?"

"I like him," she answers earnestly, rising and closing the distance between them."He looked so cute all bruised up and broken. You could probably look cute too, if treated right."

"You're fucking batshit."

"Yeah, take away that scowl, add some cuts," she reaches out, drawing a line across his cheek, "here. And here, and…"

She keeps going, fingers tracing all the places she longs to mark him. She can't reach his arms through the restraints, but she makes it clear enough she wants long vertical cuts down his forearms. His neck seems of particular interest, delicate lines tracing slowly under his jaw. Her hands trail down his back until she slips a hand under his shirt and claws four scratches above his waistband.

"The fuck are you doing?!" He panics.

"Whatever I want," she teases. "Shigaraki said not to injure you. That's the only rule. Everything else is up to me."

She slides around him so her fingertips rest on his stomach.

"I was right." She grins. "You're much cuter when you're afraid."

"I'm not afraid!" he hissed, fist striking his door with a sharp smack. Her giggling bled from the past into the present, and suddenly, overwhelming nausea sent him sprinting to crumple over the toilet. Painful spasms emptied his stomach that barely held anything to begin with. He bit into the back of his hand as he collapsed against the shower door.

Fuck this! He just wanted to fucking sleep, but his shitty brain wouldn't even let him do that. He'd spend hours shifting around the mattress only to be woken up by unwelcome dreams.

His gaze wandered to the medicine cabinet when an idea struck. He still had a few painkillers left from the last time his quirk landed him a major injury. At the time, he decided the drugs would inhibit his school work and he wasn't weak enough to need them, so he toughed it out. But now… this was a form of pain, right? It's not like he could focus on school work like this anyway. Might as well bliss out and get a good night's sleep. So he grabbed the long-forgotten vial and shook out 2 percocet.

An hour later, he drifted off, feeling the most relaxed he had in weeks. 

"Whacha doin', Kiri?" Mina lounged bonelessly over his shoulders as Kirishima quickly minimized the tab on his laptop.

"Nothing."

"Looking at porn in the common room?" she teased. "How daring of you."

"I wasn't-"

"It's okay, there's no shame in an exhibitionism kink." She raised her hands passively. "Unless that's part of the thrill for you. Then just say the word, I can shame you all you want."

"I'm not-" He gave up and reopened the window for Mina to read, shoving the screen at her with an exasperated sigh.

Signs of abuse in adolescents

"Oh."  She slid off his shoulders into the seat beside him before responding softly. "I'm worried about him too."

"You guys starting a meme party without us?!" Kaminari lamented dramatically.

"The least fun party you can imagine," Mina answered. 

"Budget clowns in a Chuck-e-Cheese," Kaminari replied immediately. "There's a syringe in the ballpit."

"That's very specific, Kami." Sero smirked. "You need to talk about it?"

"I fear I cannot, my friend." Kaminari feigned graveness. "The wound is too deep to heal."

"Speaking of wounds too deep to heal." The jovial tone evaporated as Sero turned back to Mina. "Judging by Kiri's face, I'm gonna guess this is about Bakugou."

Was it that obvious?

"I know he wouldn't want us to make a big deal out of it," Kirishima finally spoke up, "but yeah, I'm kinda worried."

"He's Bakugou." Kaminari shrugged. "He got kidnapped by the actual League of Villains and it didn't phase him. I doubt a scolding from his mom will be the thing that brings him down."

A night spent pressed against their shared wall said otherwise. Sputtering pops like firecrackers and choked screams, followed by muffled sobbing. If stubborn, blow-things-up-talk-later Bakugou didn't have a good support system at home, who did he talk to? No one?

"I don't think he's doing as well as he pretends to," Kirishima admitted quietly.

"What's this page you found say?" Mina redirected the group to safer, more constructive waters.

"It's a long article," he deflected.

"Come on, Kiri," she insisted. "We're his friends too."

"There's plenty of stuff that doesn't apply to Bakugou, like doing bad in school." he sighed. "But then some other things…"

"What things?" Sero pushed.

"There's a lot of stuff about violent behavior, bad anger management, and social withdrawal."

"That does sound like Bakugou." Mina nodded thoughtfully. "Is it just what happened today that makes you think that's why, or is there more to it?"

He couldn't tell them about Midoriya's confession. Todoroki probably underestimated Mina's emotional intelligence, but it wasn't his to tell.

"Well, this part about attachment disorders is… pretty spot on." He adjusted the screen for his friends to read.

• Aversion to touch and physical affection: rather than producing positive feelings, touch and affection are perceived as threats; they may have difficulty expressing genuine care or affection.

• Anger problems: unable to cope with frustration; may act out directly or in socially acceptable ways like a high-five that hurts.

• Control issues: they may go to great lengths to prevent feeling helpless and remain in control; such children are often disobedient, defiant, and argumentative.

"Oh…" Sero hissed through grit teeth. "That does make a lot of sense."

"What do you think his parents do to him?" Kaminari asked.

"Well…" Kirishima shifted uncomfortably, imagining the rage Bakugou would fly into at this conversation. "His mom says some pretty messed up stuff to him. Like he's weak and not good enough."

"I guess." Kaminari's expression closed off. "But that's not really anything to call social services about."

"She smacked him in the head in the parking lot once." Stop talking , Kirishima's conscious fought with itself. 

"Families are different though," Kaminari defended. "My mom smacks me when I do something stupid, but it doesn't really hurt. She cares about me. She even sticks up for me when my dad gets on me about grades or whatever."

"It doesn't all look the same," Mina cut in. "Not every parent that does an abusive thing needs to have their kids taken away. But that doesn't mean the abusive thing isn't a problem."

Kaminari fell silent.

"What does your dad say about your grades?" Mina asked gently.

"That I'm stupid and won't make it through the hero course," he muttered.

"Yeah, Kami, that's not okay," she asserted.

"Why is everything so complicated?" Sero flopped on the couch, eyes scrunched shut in distress.

"I don't know what to do," Kirishima shut the laptop that had given him more questions than answers.

"Maybe we should try… asking a grown up?" Sero proposed. "Like Aizawa or Recovery Girl?"

"They won't do anything without proof," Kaminari countered.

"Bakugou is Aizawa's favorite," Mina added hopefully.

"Someone should at least try to talk to him before we sick the teachers on him," Kaminari insisted firmly. 

All eyes turned to Kirishima. "What do I even say though?"

"You're the Bakugou whisperer," Mina replied confidently. "Whatever you decide to do, we're with you."

"I'll try my best." That was all he could promise. And there had been plenty of times his best turned out to be not enough.

Chapter Text

Get up.

He needed to work out, make breakfast, and review his notes for English before class. 

I don't want to.

He needed to deal with Aizawa's new project and stop being dead fucking weight

Get up.

It was just so hard to care.

Get the fuck up!

He had exactly one quality his mother had ever been proud of him for and it was that he worked his ass off. He kept at it until he reached the top.

Was it always this exhausting?

He remembered waking up excited to try out some new way to blow shit up.

Get out of bed you useless piece of shit.

Other days, fear of falling behind propelled him. After the sludge villain, he woke in a panic for weeks. The anxiety lessened over time, but the early morning training became a routine.

Do you want to get fucking caught again?

He shot out of bed, finally accessing the fear anger he needed to push himself through another day.

Fucking damsel in distress.

He'll become the best there is so no one can take him down.

Pathetic.

He would show them all. He didn't need to be nice if he could win.

But you keep losing.

Fuck that denim bastard, he would be his own kind of hero.

Never again.

He would take the bone-deep exhaustion as a challenge. 

Just a few steps to the closet, even you can manage that.

A strange detachment fell over his awareness.

Focus, moron, tying shoes isn't rocket science.

His attention tunneled to whatever individual movement he had to perform next.

Open the fucking door. There's not even anyone out there, you pussy.

So long as he didn't think about everything that would come after, he could push himself through his next step. Except… where was he going again?

What did you put on fucking joggers for?

Right. Morning run. He let muscle memory take over and did his best to ignore how miserable he felt. It helped to think of the exhaustion and accompanying headache as simple observations. Facts rather than feelings, like they were experienced by someone else. They wouldn't take him down. They were nothing. The misery blurred until he couldn't tell if he had been running for a few minutes or a few hours except that he knew a rough estimate of how long the route would take. Eventually, he made it back to the dorm and got ready for class. He didn't necessarily remember showering, but his hair was damp so he must have done it. The classroom door appeared before he realized how unprepared he felt to deal with this day.

Too late now, asshole.

"Baku-bro!" Kirishima greeted. "You oversleep or something? I never get here before you."

"Maybe I just wanted to put off having to see your sorry fucking faces," he grumbled.

"Holy shit, was Bakugou just last to class?" Kaminari grinned.

"You can torment Bakugou on your own time." Aizawa emerged from the lair under his desk. "Now, I need you to act like you're all supportive, loving friends."

"That's a tall order, Sensei." Kaminari continued to run his mouth.

"It's only for a day. Surely you can manage that." Aizawa fixed him with a tired glare, then sighed. "Since this isn't my strong suit either, we've invited a guest speaker."

Aizawa waved in a young woman dressed in all black biker gear with the exception of thin rainbow stripes along the seams of her jacket. 

"Class, this is Six." He gestured lazily. "Six, this is class."

"Hello." She waved. "As you can see, your teacher is not happy about this activity. But due to the unusual amount of exposure your class has received, he agreed this exercise would be a good idea."

Aizawa grumbled something unintelligible.

"Leaving all this news and social media attention as an out-of-class experience creates an opportune environment for bullying and self-esteem issues." She met a few gazes, of anyone who didn't look away. "We can't make the world out there nicer. All we can do is walk you through learning to cope with it. Everyone with me?"

A few nods seemed enough to satisfy her.

"A little more introduction: My hero name is Shade Six and my quirk allows me to sense and manifest thoughts and emotions as light," she said over a low murmur of curious students. "Most of the time, this means something like an aura. I can amplify and suppress the manifestations, but I have little control over their appearance. Questions so far?"

Deku's hand shot up

"Yes, Midoriya?"

"How many people can you affect at once? And what's your maximum range?"

"It's not a set measurement, so much as the projection weakens the further away someone is from me," she explained, "I'll get more into the details later."

Deku seemed temporarily satisfied with that.

"While the light's strength is affected by the individual's distance from me, it can be seen by others at any distance. The psychic effects, on the other hand, only reach those within around three to five meters, depending on the strength of the emotion." She saw some confused faces and simplified. "Basically, all of you will be able to see a projection, but only your group members and a few a people in the front row will know for sure what those projections mean."

"Now, onto what today's activity actually entails." She continued in a chipper tone to soften the blow. "We're going to be web searching your names."

Whispers ranged from excitement to discomfort. The buzz of noise in the room blended with the static taking over Bakugou's mind. 

Absolutely the fuck not.

"We'll be bringing you up in groups, starting with Iida, Ochako, Ojirou and Kaminari. If we take what I think would be an appropriate amount of time, we'll only be able to get through one student a day. Would any of you four like to volunteer to be my first model?"

After a moment of no takers, Iida raised his hand.

"As class president, it is my duty to face difficult situations."

"Very responsible." Six smiled warmly. "You take a seat there while I get set up."

"Understood." Iida obeyed with his usual excessive formality.

"We're going to be searching your names on HeroScape." She connected a laptop to the projected display at the front of the classroom. "Most of you are probably already aware of what the results will be for you. The purpose isn't to dwell on what the community is saying about you, but to process it in a controlled setting."

Iida nodded stiffly. As Six stepped closer to plug in her laptop, a bright yellow-green field of light appeared around him. It seemed to vibrate in tiny waves that Bakugou noticed were in perfect sync with Iida's subtly bouncing knee. More jarring, he could feel those tiny waves of anxious anticipation mixed with something else he couldn't quite name. Pride, but also dread? He had enough trouble sorting through his own emotions.

"I can focus my quirk on projecting one person's emotions, but those projections only travel a short distance at their full potency," she informed them. "The other three members of your group are up here to go through the experience with you. I expect you to support each other. Keep in mind that you will all be in Iida's position at some point."

Fuck, I should have sat in the back.

"You can ask to stop whenever you want," Six told Iida reassuringly, navigating to the homepage of the hero network's most popular online media outlet. She typed 'Iida Tenya' into the search bar and Bakugou felt a faint, uncomfortable jolt as the lime-colored hum flashed a darker, more muted blue-green. Every article on the first page featured a photo of Ingenium. Six clicked on the first one and read the title aloud.

"Ingenium retires after devastating injury." Iida Tenya was only mentioned as 'the hero's younger brother, currently attending UA.'

The next post came from a list of 'rising heroes we'll be watching this season' that again only listed Iida Tenya as the younger brother of Iida Tensei. Six let Iida take the reins, searching through much of the same. The buzzing neon green faded to a slowly pulsing blue-violet. While the bright aura had felt anxious in a way almost like being bombarded with radio static, this felt more like a too-heavy blanket in warm weather.

"It seems most of these articles revolve around your family's legacy. Particularly your brother's injury and subsequent retirement," she said matter-of-factly. "That's a difficult thing to have looming over your career."

Suddenly, an image imposed itself over Bakugou's mind. 

Tubes and machines tangled around a ghostly figure, all in hospital blue and white . 

Grief, Bakugou finally managed to label the emotion radiating from Iida. A sense of loss he hadn't experienced anything like since Tsubasa disappeared. But also different somehow. Less fear and confusion, more guilt, regret, and a sense of responsibility

"I guess-" Iida hummed in thought, "I guess I'm conflicted."

A ribbon of blood, Stain's bandaged face, shaded red by rage, then overcome by terror for the friends he'd dragged into danger.

"How so?" she prompted.

"I feel as though… if I fail to live up to my brother's abilities, I've let him down." Iida sighed, something uncharacteristically severe settling over him. "But if I somehow surpass him, then he'll be… replaced. I feel like I'm both not worthy of succeeding him, and afraid people will think I am and forget about everything he sacrificed."

"You're in a complicated position," she said gently. "You had close attention and high expectations placed on your career before it even begins."

A flash of something warmer, then a plunge into sluggish, sickly green.

"I fear that I have clung too tightly to rules," Iida went on, "and now I struggle to make good decisions when I don't have a clear right answer."

"That's a very mature observation," Six told him encouragingly. "Do you think this is something you could talk to your brother about?"

"I wouldn't want to burden him with any more than he already must handle."

"Perhaps being more involved in your career as an advisor would help him adjust to his new role off the front lines," she suggested.

"I… never thought of it that way." The thick cloud of green lightened to a gently rippling blue. Something hopeful.

"It may not work out. I'm an empath not a psychic," she clarified. "But I think it's worth a shot."

"Thank you, Ma'am." His usual, low bow while sitting down looked something like he'd folded himself in half.

"Do you have anything you would like to say to Iida?" she asked the other three students at the front. Iida faced his group, standing at attention like he was waiting for his Japan's Got Talent ruling. After a moment of uncertain quiet, Ochako launched herself at him. He staggered back a step before returning the embrace.

"I had no idea you were feeling like this," she cried into his shirt. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm okay, Uraraka, really." The flustered aura becoming a glowing fuchsia. "I promise."

Bakugou groaned internally. This was the absolute worst project he'd ever heard of.

"Yes, Todoroki?"

All eyes swung to Icy-Hot.

"Is this a required activity?"

Looks like I'm not the only one who would rather swallow glass.

"It is." Six confirmed the worst. "Uncomfortable as it may be, this is something you will need to be able to deal with in this career path. Your only alternative option is to schedule a session after class with just Aizawa and I for a 20% grade reduction."

Todoroki accepted this answer with a silent nod, but the tension draining out of him implied he would be taking the 20% deal. Would people question it if Bakugou did the same? 

Who was he kidding, of course they fucking would. Everyone knew why Todoroki wanted out, no one was going to push him about his daddy issues. But if Bakugou chickened out, that would mean admitting how much the whole Kamino incident bothered him. And that would mean people being fucking annoying. But if he slipped up and lost his head during class, that would be even worse.

Fuck this project.

His head spun, trying to strategize his way out of bonding with his shitty classmates all the way to the next thing he had to endure. Physics, thank Christ. Ponytail topped him in English, Four-eyes held onto first place in history, and Icy-Hot reigned supreme in calculus. It pissed him off to no end to be fighting for second place in half his classes, but at least in physics he was undefeated. He'd done the same in chemistry the semester before, ahead of the rest from the sheer amount of research he had to put into managing his quirk. Vlad posted the results and…

Sparks scorched the desk as his pencil exploded in his hand. He barely felt the sharp splinters embedded in his palm over the rising heat of disbelief, dread, and rage.

Fifth.

Fucking fifth! Behind the usual suspects in the top 3 spots. Behind 4th place, held by fucking Deku.

He had to get out of there, fuck the consequences. He left his bag, his phone, everything. He didn't care. He stormed out of the school, stomped to the training grounds. He needed to blow shit up right the fuck now. The second he hit the field, he let loose, blasting apart cars and buildings until his arms ached. 

It wasn't enough.

A deep breath, a moment to aim, he focused a shot straight through a high-rise. He would cut the thing clean in half, like a nitroglycerin laser. It was dangerous and stupid and his forearms burned with the effort. Finally, he succeeded in removing an entire floor from the middle of a building, and everything above it crashing down.

The satisfaction was short lived. He was losing control of his life and no amount of forcing himself through the day could bring it back. He collapsed and let out a long scream.

"Oh, it's just the crazy guy from 1A," observed a distant voice.

"Jesus Christ, I thought someone was dying!" said another.

Someone will be if y'all don't fuck off!

"Looks like everything is fine though. Let's get back to class."

Smart choice.

He fell onto his back, chest heaving. The back of a scorched hand shielded his eyes from the midday sun, now that he'd blow away everything tall enough to provide shade.

Too covered in ash and dirt to go back to class, right? 

Curious stares followed him to the dorms where he secluded himself for the rest of the school day.

Chapter Text

Don't do it, fuckwit.

He clicked on the article, against his better judgement, and four sentences in, he thought he might throw up in his mouth.

Bakugou Katsuki: A Test That UA is Failing

The first year victor of the sports festival is a prodigy in many ways. Top marks in the entrance exam, good grades, and an impressive quirk. His social skills however, are severely lacking.  I experienced this first hand upon meeting the boy on the train. The first thing he did was throw me into a door. The next was curse at me and tell me to leave. All roughly what I expected from him. But then he said something that caught my attention:

"No one ever lets me say no."

He then jumped off the train at the wrong stop without his classmates just to avoid me. But what did he mean? I was immediately reminded of an image from the sports festival, of the boy chained up and muzzled. After being chained up by both the heroes and the villains, can he tell the difference between friend and enemy?  If UA is really the best of the best, they should be able to guide all their students, even ones as difficult as Bakugou Katsuki.

"That fucking asshole." This random stranger didn't know jackshit about him. The article went on to do some more nitpicking at UA that he didn't care to read. The most infuriating part, though, was that he had desperately wanted someone to acknowledge that what happened at the sports festival wasn't fair. This guy didn't think it was wrong, he just thought a fuck up like Bakugou needed the kid gloves to tell the difference between teachers being assholes and actual fucking villains. 

He threw his phone at the wall and rolled back into bed. He tugged the blanket tighter around him when he heard footsteps approaching his room.

"Baku-broooo!"

He'd been dreading this moment. Earlobes and Ponytail wouldn't dare try to drag him down from his room, but Shitty Hair and his sunshine face had no fear. 

No, I don't want to talk about my fucking image.

"I know you're in there."

"Fucking what , Shitty Hair?!"

"There he is!" Kirishima laughed. "Do you want to go grocery shopping?"

"What?" he repeated, genuinely confused this time.

"I'll buy," Kirishima insisted. "I'll pay for all of it if it means I get some of that good Bakugou cooking."

"I'm fucking fine," Bakugou growled. "You don't have to babysit me every time I skip dinner."

"Okay, you caught me," Kirishima admitted. "But you gotta admit that when you're in a shitty mood, cooking usually helps."

It did, but why did Kirishima know that?

"Come on man, it can't be worse than sulking in your room the whole night."

"What if I like sulking in my room?" He sounded dangerously close to pouting.

"Pleeeaase!"

The door cracked open. "You're buying?"

"Of course." Kirishima beamed.

Bakugou pulled a plain black beanie over his too-recognizable blond spikes. 

"Holy shit, what happened to your hands?!"

"Wha-?"

Oh. Right.

"I make explosions with my fucking hands, it happens," he dismissed.

"Okay, but you should probably see Recovery Gir-"

"You should probably shut the fuck up," Bakugou interrupted. Kirishima rolled his eyes in distressed exasperation, but let it go. As they walked, Kirishima kept him busy with questions about what he wanted to make, what to buy, whether the rest of the Bakusquad would be lucky enough to join. 

"How did you learn to cook, anyway?" Kirishima asked with forced casualness.

"If I have to do something, I might as well be the fucking best at it." He shrugged. "You can learn anything in the internet age if you put the work in."

"So you're self taught." Kirishima nodded, then took a gamble. "Your parents cook too, or is it just you?"

"Careful, Katsuki, that's very sharp."

"I know dad, I'm not stupid."

"Not much," he answered tensely. "They both work a lot. But when my dad has the time, he'll make something for both of us. Show me some stuff."

"You guys get along then?"

"I guess." He shrugged. "Don't fight like me and my mom do."

He didn't mind his dad being around. Sometimes even enjoyed it. He could admit in his own head that when he tried to remember a time when he had felt something like warmth and safety, moments with his father came to mind. Old memories from before he pulled away. Angry tears soothed after a fight at school that he absolutely did not start, that teacher had it out for him and it wasn't fair. Sleeping curled together in a blanket fort while an angry Mitsuki stayed in a hotel. Sometimes he desperately wanted to let himself crumble under the weight of everything he didn't know how to deal with, to cry to his father like a child and bury his face in a warm shoulder while someone else dealt with the world for him. 

But he couldn't. Masaru couldn't fix his problems. Even if he could, his son had grown too closed-off and stubborn to ask. 

"Think I could meet him sometime?" Kirishima pulled Bakugou from his thoughts.

"He'd lose his shit if I actually brought a friend to the house." Bakugou smirked. "They joke that my friends are imaginary because I never bring anyone around."

Masaru joked, at least. Mitsuki probably genuinely thought no one liked him.

"My mom really wants to meet you," Kirishima said brightly. "She said she can't wait for Parent's Day. She wants to meet everyone, but she's most excited about you."

Bakugou snorted skeptically

"I'm serious!" Kirishima protested.

"Why would anyone be excited to meet me?"

Kirishima stopped walking, pinning him under a silent stare.

"What?" Bakugou snapped self-consciously.

"I told her a lot about you."

"Cool, that explains fuck all."

"I told her that you work harder than anyone else." Kirishima looked at him so earnestly it hurt. "I told her you help me with homework and your tutoring sessions are the reason half the squad is even passing. And about how when I'm not sure my quirk or anything about me is hero material, you tell me I am good enough to be here."

"If she's expecting me to be some helpful Deku type, she's gonna be seriously disappointed."

"She knows you're a bit rough around the edges. But she's cool. It will take more than some bad language to scare her off."

"God help whoever's mother you get taken home to, Katsuki."

"Bakugou." He stepped closer with a soft smile. "You know you're my best friend, right?"

"Your mistake, not mine." Bakugou brushed him off.

"Don't do that," Kirishima shot back. "Man, I'm serious. You're my best friend and I'm worried about you."

"I don't need you to worry about me," he retorted with less venom.

"Maybe not, but I do," he continued. "You've been through a lot of shit. Dude, you got fucking kidnapped and you still haven't talked about it to anyone!"

"What's there to talk about?" His default anger resurged. "I fucked up, spent a day tied to a chair, All Might bailed me out. The end."

"What do you mean you 'fucked up'?" Kirishima asked more softly.

"I- Fuck!" Bakugou growled in frustration. "Are you gonna make fucking me say it? I was cocky and stupid and Icy-Hot told me to be careful and instead I got myself picked off from a group literally dedicated to protecting me by falling behind! I got the whole school on international fucking news! I ended All Might's fucking career!"

He remembered All Might insisting it wasn't his responsibility, but he couldn't stop thinking it. All Might didn't blame him, but his own mother did, and how many others?

"Okay, wow, that's a lot." Kirishima blew out a slow breath.

"I swear to Christ, if you say 'there's a lot to unpack here,' I will set you on fire"

"Bakugou," he said seriously. "Things that happen to you aren't automatically your fault."

"I'm training to be a hero, I shouldn't let shit like that happen."

"That's called victim-blaming, my dude"

The angry rant died in his throat. Cicadas and passing cars filled the silence with ambient noise as he stared at his friend and tried to keep his mind from spiraling out of control.

"Your father looked everywhere for you and you couldn't even be bothered to pick up the goddamn phone!"

"Fuck," he spat, more air than voice, then louder, "Fuck!"

"What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any fucking clue what happens to kids who just run off with whoever? How stupid are you?!"

"Bakugou?" 

It was timid and soft and nothing like the voices from the past screaming at him.

"Bakugou, you're kinda freaking me out, man. Please talk to me."

-is never the victim's fault

"Shut up!" His voice cracked pathetically. "You got no idea what you're fucking talking about, so just shut the fuck up!"

"Okay."

And he did. This stupid, fashion-challenged ray of sunshine just stood there quietly waiting for his insane, screaming monster of a 'friend' to calm the hell down.

"You're so fucking stupid." Bakugou turned away, rubbing furiously at the tears prickling behind his eyes.

"Tell me what to do to help you."

Goddammit.

Bakugou took a deep breath to steady himself. He didn't trust his voice, so he just gestured for Kirishima to follow, the path burned into his memory years ago. Past the grocery store, a left on 7th, to an aging high-rise about halfway between UA and his old middle school. He punched floor 9 on the elevator, which Kirishima followed him into without question. Down the hall to the end with the laundry shoot, a broken window gave access to the emergency stairs without setting off the fire alarm. A short climb upward led to the roof. Finally, Bakugou decided he owed Shitty Hair some answers.

"An old friend used to live here," he explained. "We all used to come up here when we were kids. Some of the others still used it to stash smokes and stuff long after Tsubasa was gone."

"What happened to him?" 

"Don't know. Bunch of kids were disappearing and he was one of them. Never found him."

"That's scary," Kirishima said gravely.

"Guess it was," Bakugou half-heartedly agreed as he felt around the air duct. Finally, he found the shoe box. "Looks like some of them still come up here."

Two open boxes of Marlboros and a handle of cheap vodka. He dropped down to the cement, legs swinging recklessly over the roof's edge.

"Doesn't look like the smartest thing to go with heights," Kirishima spoke carefully.

"Yeah, they're fucking idiots," Bakugou agreed while taking a swig from the bottle, face twisting at the bite of straight liquor. A smirk tugged at his lips, as he could nearly hear the gears turning while Kirishima tried to figure out how to respond. A pair of god awful crocks peaked over the edge next to him.

"If you lose those, it will be a mercy killing." Bakugou flicked the foam shoe closest to him.

"I never imagined you as a heavy drinker," Kirishima observed neutrally.

"I'm not." He took another, less aggressive gulp and drew a knee protectively to his chest. "Was usually the one making sure none of those dumb fucks fell off the goddamn roof."

"So what's the occasion?" Kirishima nearly disguised the worry as curiosity.

"...Feel like shit." The admission lent him a strange sense of freedom, even though he was certain Shitty Hair already knew that.

"I figured." Kirishima made a grabbing motion at the bottle.

"Didn't peg you a drinker either."

"I'm not," he confessed. "But if I take a swig, then you're not drinking alone. So it's not sad anymore!"

A laugh ripped from his chest, and holy shit it felt good. It redoubled when Kirishima's face scrunched up in disgust at the taste of ¥1,000 vodka. This was probably Kirishima's first drink and he just gulped a whole mouthful of vodka so cheap it smelled like sanitizer.

The laughter faded away to something resigned. Distant and empty, but in a relieving way. His own voice sounded unreal. "What are you doing here, Kirishima?"

"Huh?" He cocked his head, puzzled. "You're the one who brought me here."

"Yeah, but why? Don't you have better things to do than sit around and watch me sulk?"

"Nope. Got nothing more important to do than make sure you're okay."

"Don't need a fucking babysitter!" Bakugou griped. "I can handle a shitty day without your help."

"Why is it so awful to let someone help you?"

"Is freezing out here really better than letting someone help you?"

"Don't like owning anybody anything." That wasn't quite it though.

Cold rain soaks his clothes, sweatshirt and jeans clinging uncomfortably. His teeth chatter as he curls under the flimsy shelter of the bus stop.

"What are you doing out here alone, kid?" 

Thick bomber jacket, far more prepared to be out in the elements. Worn low-top hiking boots. 

"None of your fucking business."

The bench creaks as the stranger sits down. 

"It's pretty cold out."

The man removes a knitted maroon glove. Or maybe it's red in the daylight? A hand touches his shoulder and he tenses.

"Don't fucking touch me!" he yelps instinctively.

The icy dampness disappears, rainwater drawn out of his clothes instantly by the stranger's quirk.

"That better?"

He nods begrudgingly.

"You have anywhere to go?"

"-kugou, are you in there?"

"What?" Reality solidified around him.

"You zoned out pretty hard there," Kirishima informed him. He simply hummed his acknowledgement and sipped at the vodka.

"What's your mom like, Shitty Hair?"

"She's great," Kirishima brightened at the question. "She can't cook like you, but she's a really great painter. She loves birds for some reason, paints a lot of them. Especially tropical ones. I think she likes the colors. And she's really easy to talk to! She has to work a lot, but even when she's tired she tries to spend time with me. I'm not smart enough for a scholarship like Ochako, so she's putting a lot of money toward me being here, so I really don't want to screw it up. I just want to be worth it, you know?"

He must have been staring because as soon as Kirishima looked back, he jolted like he just remembered who he was talking to.

"That's probably more than you wanted to hear, I'll shut up now." He let out an embarrassed laugh.

"It's fine." Bakugou repressed a smile. "I asked."

"So…" Kirishima hesitated. "What's your mom like? I mean, when she's not yelling."

"She's usually yelling." Bakugou smirked hollowly. "But sometimes she's… I guess she's cool sometimes."

"Take these. There, now you can beat on something constructively."

"She made me take drum lessons for a while and…" He struggled to put the words together because he didn't do this . He remembered soft humming as his mother did the dishes on one of their last peaceful days. "Music calms her down. I guess she hoped it would do that for me too. I think she was trying to find an outlet where I could hit stuff and let things out without destroying the neighborhood."

Something shifted in his chest, tugging at bittersweet sentiments he didn't know existed. "She's funny too. She'll let anyone have it because she's fucking fearless. It's just that she's also a goddamn nightmare."

"How'd she react to all of this?" Kirishima left the magnitude of 'this' ambiguous.

"I made trouble for everyone by being weak," he quoted bitterly. A spike of rebellious energy spurred several more gulps of the god awful vodka.

"Oh." Kirishima somehow managed to saturate the word 'oh' with empathy, like Bakugou had just told him he had to shoot Old Yeller.

"Yeah."

"That's pretty fucked up, dude."

He shrugged. Not in denial, not quite a dismissal. Maybe just acceptance of how things were and had been as long as he could remember.

"While you were with the villains, did they-" Kirishima's voice fell soft and tense. "-Fuck, man, did… did they hurt you?"

"You're much cuter when you're afraid."

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"It wasn't a big deal," Bakugou said with finality. Thankfully, Kirishima took the hint and backed off. 

"You know it's not true, don't you? What your mom said, I mean." Kirishima's gaze burned into the side of his head. Bakugou ignored him and started to take another swig when Kirishima placed a hand on the bottle.

"I think you should slow down, dude. We still have a whole shopping trip ahead of us."

"You might have to do that part solo." What they were even doing out here eluded him at the moment.

"Regardless, we still have to go back to the dorms eventually and I know you don't want UA to write you up for underage drinking." Now Kirishima was speaking his language.

"We can head out," Bakugou repacked the shoe box. He hadn't planned on making a noticeable dent in the bottle. It's dumbass owners would probably all blame each other for it anyway.

"You still up to doing this?"

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are," Kirishima muttered exasperatedly.

They made it to the baking aisle before the world started to tilt a bit.

"What type of filling did you want to do?"

"Uh…" What was he doing again? Oh, right. "Pork."

"You doing alright there?"

Bakugou gave a lazy thumbs up.

"If you write down a list, you can sit outside while I grab stuff," Kirishima offered.

"Nah, I'm good." He brushed him off. "Just a couple more things anyway."

Bakugou absolutely did not stumble on the walk back, and Kirishima's hovering hand was completely unnecessary. At the gate, he offered Bakugou a mint.

"The fuck?"

"Your breath smells like booze, dude."

Bakugou begrudgingly popped the mint in his mouth and tried not to think about how the dork definitely just bought those for him.

Chapter Text

Kirishima's heart pounded in his ears the whole way up to the dorms, trying and failing to prepare a good excuse for Bakugou's behavior if they ran into a teacher. He let out a long, relieved breath when they reached the common room and prayed the others were preoccupied enough to not notice.

"Clear out, fuckwads!" Bakugou demanded the second he stepped into the kitchen.

"Ooo, is Bakugou cooking?" Mina asked excitedly.

"Damn straight," he replied. "And if the rest of you get a taste depends on whether you shitheads piss me off or not."

"This is the only thing I will sit quietly and behave for." Kaminari slapped his hands on the counter as he stood and walked out immediately.

"Oh, well, I was just-" Momo stuttered from behind.

"You were...?" Bakugou snapped expectantly.

"Let Momo finish her tea," Kirishina reasoned. "Then you can have the whole place to yourself."

"Whatever." Bakugou began setting up ingredients on the opposite side, giving Momo free reign of the kitchen to finish up. A few items clattered clumsily as he arranged them.

"Awe man," Sero whined. "I literally just ate."

"Sucks to suck, nerd," Bakugou taunted.

"Whatcha making?" Mina asked excitedly.

"Soup dumplings."

"No way," Kaminari exclaimed from all the way in the common room. "That's sorcery!"

"Thought you were gonna be fucking quiet," Bakugou barked.

"Okay, but I have to see this!" He bounded over. "I have to see how you get the soup in the dumpling!"

"Oh my god," Bakugou groaned. "Holy shit, you're so fucking stupid."

"You are not," Mina quickly cut in. "That's exactly what I'm waiting for too."

"So you're both equally fucking stupid."

"Come on man, why you gotta be like that?" Sero scolded.

"The fuck did you just say?!" Bakugou demanded. "Do you wanna fucking go, Scotch Tape?"

Sero opened his mouth to reply before Kirishima caught his eye, waving wildly to warn him 'do not push this right now.'

"Whatever man," Sero relented. "Work your magic."

'Thank you," he mouthed soundlessly. He appreciated Sero's intentions, but they could talk to Bakugou about laying off the 'stupid' comments with Kaminari later.

Kirishima lost track of what set of ingredients went in which part. Fatty pork went somewhere, and lean ground pork went somewhere else? One set became round flats of dough, another a thick minced filling, then a confusing third, apparently gelatinous, part that Bakugou threw in the freezer because he 'didn't feel like waiting' for it to solidify in the fridge. 

"After all that, I still have no idea how the soup gets in the dumplings," Kaminari whined in disappointment. Bakugou huffed.

"Alright, look, shit for brains, these are the wrappers." He pointed to the flat circles of dough, then dug out a bowl of minced pork, scallions, and some other things Kiridhima couldn't remember. "These are the soup solids-" then the gell bowl, "-and this becomes the soup broth once the dumplings are hot."

"Definitely sorcery," Kaminari deduced in awe. The real sorcery was that Bakugou managed to get through such a complicated recipe while drunk. This boy must be able to cook in his sleep.

"Actually, I'm gonna turn in." Bakugou put the gel-thing in the refrigerator instead. "Finish this up tomorrow."

"Bakugou, you still haven't eaten anything," Kirishima protested.

"Not feeling great," he claimed, which after all the vodka may very well be true.

"Okay." Kirishima sighed. "But you have to promise to eat something in the morning."

"Yes, mom." He rolled his eyes before disappearing up the stairs. 

"Is he… okay?" Mina asked.

Kirishima bit his lip in thought. He wanted to tell the others what happened, the concerning things Bakugou said, so he didn't have to figure out what to do alone. But there was something so strangely intimate about that evening on the roof, it felt wrong to share.

"Not really," Kirishima settled on. "I'll check on him before I go to bed."

After a small dinner, he turned in early. Once, twice, three times he knocked on Bakugou's door before cracking it open to find him passed out on top of the covers. Kirishima quietly brought a glass of water to leave on the dresser when he realized Bakugou hadn't even made it all the way onto the bed. And if he was already lifting the passed out boy's legs onto the bed, he might as well take off his shoes. He set the shoes neatly next to the bed before carefully removing Bakugou's hearing aids as well. He found a case for them in the bathroom, as well as a case for contacts but there wasn't much he could do about that last one. Finally, he threw a spare blanket of his own over his friend rather than try to manhandle him under the covers.

"Night, Bakugou," he whispered.

That night, Kirishima kept his music off and listened for signs of trouble until he drifted off.

Bakugou was not going to eat that morning, promises be damned. His nauseous stomach teetered on the edge of needing to vomit, but without the relief of actually doing it. The second thing he noticed was the cotton mouth. Third, he already had a glass of water next to his bed? And whose blanket was this? His shoes were by his bed instead of kicked off by the door, and his eyes burned with wearing his contacts overnight but his hearing aids were safely in their case.

Kirishima.

Conflicting emotions battled for dominance until his chest hurt. Embarrassed dread that he'd been seen that low, a useless burden that had to be dealt with. But then a warm feeling soothed the agonizing shame. Someone had cared for him. No one was watching, no social obligation or desire to look good motivated it. Not even Bakugou had any recollection of it happening. Kirishima gained nothing for his efforts, yet chose to take care of him. Bakugou couldn't even bring himself to suspect the boy of wanting something in return. Ignoring his personal tendency to think the worst of people, Kirishima was too dense to be that manipulative. 

He emptied the glass of water down his parched throat and staggered to his feet. If Kirishima made the effort to put him to bed, the least he could do was drag himself to class. If he left early enough, he could settle in and pretend to be asleep before the rest of the class arrived and tried to talk to him. 

When he made it to class with a black coffee and a scowl, he was surprised to see Aizawa up and talking. Six paused their conversation to greet him.

"Good morning, Bakugou!"

"Hmm," he grumbled before slumping into his seat. His arms wrapped around a hoodie to make a somewhat comfortable pillow.

Thin arms wrapped around his neck, an equally slim hand holding the camera facing them. Stifling hot breath on the back of his neck.

"Let's get to know each other a bit, yeah?"

He jolted awake when something touched his shoulder, explosions leaving his hands before he was conscious enough to aim. He got hold of the figure just long enough to shove them away. A crash followed, along with a surprised gasp of pain.

"Bakugou!"

Aizawa's bloodshot eyes met his, hair floating. Six straightened up from her half-collapsed position over Hagakure's desk. The desk that he had definitely just pushed her into.

Shit.

"Just sit down and try to stay with us," Aizawa said too mildly to be a true reprimand. Six returned to her place at the front of the room, pulling Aizawa away to talk privately.

About you, jackass.

He was used to whispers following him by now, but not from his classmates.

"I didn't know it was possible to sleep aggressively!"

"Aizawa must be like 'You see, Six? You see what I fucking deal with'?"

"Is he okay?"

"Listen up!" Aizawa boomed, "We have three hours to set up before your parents get here. Your usual project groups are going to be your teams for today."

Soon Bakugou found himself moving tables around with Kirishima while the girls arranged a bunch of fancy snacks like at the cocktail parties his mother liked. 

"Are your parents coming, Kyoka?" Momo asked.

"Yeah." Jirou groaned. "My dad insisted on bringing a couple guitars along and I doubt I'll be able to stop him from convincing someone to watch him play. He's such an attention whore."

"That's cool though," Momo said.

"You're going to be the first person he ropes in," she predicted. "What about your parents?"

"No, they're busy." Momo sounded a mixture of sad and relieved.

"What about you guys?" Jirou called over to the boys.

"My mom is!" Kirishima answered excitedly. "She actually just texted me from the hotel."

"She lives pretty far, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, it's not too bad now that the bullet train is running, but it's still like an hour just to get to the station," Kirishima confirmed. "She's staying a couple days to make the trip worth it."

"Is your dad…?" Momo trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question.

"We don't really talk to him anymore," Kirishima busied himself with lifting an impressive stack of chairs.

"I see." Momo nodded. "What about you, Bakugou?"

"My old man's coming."

"Yes!" Kirishima clapped victoriously. "I finally get to meet Papa Bakugou."

"Is he less, ah, abrasive than your mom?" Jirou asked.

"He's a squishy fucking pushover. No one believes we're related."

"But he's your favorite, isn't he?" Kirishima nudged.

"Well yeah, the competition's not steep." Bakugou rolled his eyes. "Like I'm his favorite son because what are his other fucking options?"

"You're just a constant downer, aren't you?" Jirou sighed.

"Damn straight!"

Bakugou had once again managed to single handedly kill the good mood, so they continued working in silence for a while. The quiet was good for his headache, at least. He snuck a few crackers from the display in an attempt to settle his still-churning stomach. Eventually, Momo asked quietly: "Do you think Endeavour will come?"

"Not if Half-and-Half has anything to say about it." Bakugou smirked, remembering the #2 Hero's look of shocked displeasure after the festival.

"I wonder…"  Momo hesitated. "We've spent a lot of time together and he never talks about his family, so I just- I wonder what happened between them."

"None of our fucking business." He didn't like Icy-Hot, but he wasn't a fucking gossip.

"Of course." Momo went quiet again.

By the time parents were supposed to begin arriving, Bakugou felt like he'd already exceeded his daily allotment of polite restraint and emotional intelligence. He wasn't sure he would survive an entire day of small talk and some supposedly encouraging bullshit about how parents are the real heroes.

The first arrivals, already waiting when the doors opened, were Frog-Faces parents (with siblings in tow), Kirishima's mom, and Iida's parents and brother. Kirishima rushed forward, lifting his mother off the ground with an enthusiastic spin. This earned him a shriek that quickly turned to laughter. Tsu received the reverse, being immediately surrounded by her clinging sibling while her parents waited patiently for their turn. The real show-stopper was Iida, who had clearly not been informed of his brother's attendance. He approached quickly, but faltered at the last few feet. Instead of moving closer, he bowed low.

"I'm honored by your ongoing support!" The words burst out like a popped balloon. "I will do my best to be worthy of it."

"Tenya-" his mother started, but was halted by Tensei's raised hand. The retired hero wheeled himself forward, ahead of their parents, until it was just the two of them in the middle of the room.

"It's okay, Tenya." He placed a firm hand on his little brother's shoulder. "I'm okay. Forget about the legacy. Whatever kind of hero you decide you want to be, that's who Ingenium is now. I'll always be proud of you."

Iida looked up in surprise, quickly dragged into a hug. 

This shit's getting way too sappy.

Bakugou's attention moved back to Kirishima and the woman now moving toward him.

"Mom, this is Bakugou." He gestured excitedly. "Bakugou, this is Mom."

"Or Nakamura for those who aren't comfortable calling strangers 'Mom'," she greeted with something between a nod and a bow.

"Bakugou doesn't even call his own mom 'Mom'," Kirishima informed her.

"Some of Eijirou's friends from elementary school called me Mom because he didn't realize until he was around 4 or 5 that I had another name." She swung an arm around her son and gave him a quick kiss on the head. "But you already know how he is, being his tutor and all."

"All four of them got the collective attention span of a house fly." Bakugou nodded in agreement.

"I knew this is how you two would bond," Kirishima lamented exaggeratedly. "Entirely at my expense."

"I hear your father's coming." Nakamura ignored her son. "You excited to see him?"

"I'm from Musutafu." Bakugou couldn't think of a time he had ever been excited to see his parents. "Not like I went far."

"You didn't tell me that!" She gave Kirishima's shoulder a light shove. "I could use a tour guide."

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you." Kirishima laughed.

Something behind Bakugou caught her eye. "I guess I should go introduce myself to your teachers like a responsible parent. You boys slay lit memes or whatever it is the kids are doing these days."

Kirishima rolled his eyes. 

"'Mom' seems nice." Bakugou grinned. 

"You laugh, but just wait until those mom vibes really sink in and you'll forget her real name too," Kirishima joked before something sad crossed his face.

"What?" Bakugou prompted. Kirishima glanced over his shoulder to make sure his mother was out of earshot.

"I actually did know her first name back then," Kirishima confessed in a low whisper, "but… I only ever heard her called 'Sachiko' when my dad was yelling, so for a long time I just didn't want to say it."

All the times Kirishima sat patiently, trying to pull Mitsuki's poison out of him. Fulfilling his promise to never waver every time Bakugou needed him. All the while-

"I guess it's kinda stupid." Kirishima laughed uncomfortably. "Just don't say anything to her, it will make her sad and she's-"

"It isn't."

"Huh?" 

"It isn't stupid," Bakugou insisted firmly. "You're a good son."

"Bakubro… Thank you." Kirishima smiled and - oh god, were those tears in his eyes, fuck- waved at the approaching Mina, Sero, and Kaminari.

"I gotta meet Mama Kirishima!" Mina bounded up.

"Nakamura, actually," Kirishima corrected.

"Huh?"

"Her surname is Nakamura. Kirishima is my dad's name," he explained. "I thought about changing it, but it's a lot of paperwork."

"Oh. I follow." Mina nodded. "Anyway, I need to see if she also radiates sunshine."

As more families kept filing in, Bakugou spotted Masaru hovering near the doorway with Deku and Round Face.

"That's too bad your parents had to work," Masaru told Pink Cheeks. "But when Inko gets here, I bet she'd have some great suggestions for your project, after all those years feeding Izuku's hero obsession."

"I see where Deku gets being such a sweetheart," she said warmly.

"Oh, no, he's not my-"

"I'm not his-"

"-dad"

"-son"

After talking over each other, the two fell awkwardly silent. 

"Then…" she looked between them in confusion, "who's dad are you?"

All three jumped when Bakugou answered from behind them.

"Mine."

Chapter Text

"No way." Round Face shook her head in disbelief. "But he's so- and you're so-"

"Yeah, I know," he interrupted. "All the neighbors think the Old Hag had an affair."

"Katsuki," Masaru scolded.

"Speaking of the devil," he ignored the reprimand, "how'd you ditch her?"

"If anyone asks, I'm in a very important meeting with a representative from Riz Elegante." Masaru betrayed only a hint of a smile. 

"Nice." Bakugou grinned approvingly. Their contact from Riz happened to be one of several business associates that Mitsuki couldn't stand, and vice versa. "Did I hear Auntie Inko is coming?"

"Once she gets off work," Deku answered.

"I wasn't asking you, nerd," Bakugou growled.

"Katsuki, play nice, you're at school." Masaru nudged his shoulder.

"I'm always at school," he pointed out. "I fucking live here with this shitstick."

"Guess you better shape up then," Masaru countered.

"Okay, god, I'll behave! Let's just grab food before they make us listen to some lame speech about persevering in these trying times or some shit."

He only made it a few steps before the idiot squad caught them.

"Bakugoooouu," Kaminari whined. "Are you really not gonna introduce us?"

"I ain't met your parents either!"

"That's not fair," Kaminari protested. "You can't meet them because they aren't coming."

"Why not?" Sero asked. "Do they live far?"

"Not really." Kaminari scrunched a hand in his hair, a nervous tick Bakugou noticed during their tutoring sessions. "I kinda didn't tell them."

"Did you get rid of the mailed invitation?" Bakugou asked.

"The what?" Kaminari looked at him with an expression of pure horror.

"UA mailed out invitations. You gotta get rid of the paper copy."

"Fuck," Kaminari swore. "My mom probably threw it in a pile of other mail and forgot about it, but if they open it I'm fucked."

"Just say you forgot." Bakugou shrugged. "It's more believable coming from you than me."

"Yeah." Kaminari sighed in defeated. "It is."

"I thought you liked your mom?" Sero questioned him.

"I do. But she'd bring my dad and… when both of them are around they feed off each other and it would get out of hand so fast."

"I know what that's like," Masaru commiserated.

"I bet." Kaminari laughed. "I only saw them together once for like 30 seconds and it was already hitting and yelling."

"Fuck you, I never hit her!" Bakugou protested. He barely even participated in the whole embarrassing display, so fuck taking the blame for it.

"How often do you really 'fight' back?"

Irritated by the memory, he stormed away with a growl.

"Katsuki, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"It's fine, you old geezer." He cut his father off. "I'm just gonna grab something to eat."

Nearby the buffet table, Icy-Hot stood with a woman clearly related, but too young to be his mother, and an older boy with similar resemblance. Though vaguely aware Shouto hadn't been Endeavour's first eugenic attempt, something about seeing the Todoroki siblings together unsettled him. Like the whole story hadn't been quite real until the two unfavorites, both heavily favoring their mother, were standing in front of him.

He wasn't necessarily trying to eavesdrop, but he didn't move away either.

"You look better," the young woman said, running a hand through her little brother's hair. "I mean, more relaxed somehow."

Half-and-Half just stood there, blank as ever.

"That Midoriya boy has been good for you, I think." She replaced her gentle carding with a mischievous ruffle. "Maybe he'll even teach you how to have fun for once."

"It's not my intention to be… antisocial," Todoroki said. "I am not very good at being fun."

"I know." Her face fell, drawing a clenched fist back to her chest. 

She held out a few more seconds before moisture began to collect at the corners of her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Shouto. We should have- I should have done something. Especially after what happened to Touya, I should have-"

"I never blamed you, Fuyumi," Todoroki responded quietly.

"I know." Her breath hitched with a watery laugh. "Even after everything he put you through, you're still too sweet for your own good."

"Excuse me a moment." Icy-Hot suddenly glanced his way, having definitely noticed him pretending not to listen. Bakugou was halfway through preparing an excuse when Todoroki addressed him.

"I see your mother isn't here."

"Neither is your dad," Bakugou shot back, not above being petty.

"He is not welcome," Todoroki said dangerously. "And aware that, with the support of my siblings, I could dismantle his entire career in a few sentences."

Bakugou simply hummed in acknowledgement.

 "You're an only child, aren't you?"

"What of it?" Bakugou stubbornly ignored the obvious implication.

You're alone, aren't you?

"Is she aware of this event?" Todoroki gestured to the activity around them. 

"No."

"It helps to have allies," he insisted. As if he and Bakugou were anything alike. As if that word applied to him in the same way.

"Don't need it." Bakugou declined. "She's not as bad as him."

"How would you know?" Todoroki cocked his head curiously.

"If you're gonna spill your life story to a loudmouth like Deku, you should at least check that no one's around."

His eyes widened fractionally, surprise quickly turning to intrigue. "You've known all this time and said nothing?"

"What's there to say?"

"Not to me," he clarified. "I mean you never told anyone else."

"I ain't a gossip." 

Todoroki studied him with that weird, unreadable silent stare he did when he was thinking.

"Thank you."

"Whatever," Bakugou dismissed uncomfortably.

A ghost of a smile crossed his chronically blank face. "I hope you know I would do the same."

Todoroki returned to his family and glanced over his shoulder expectantly. The older siblings followed suit. Bakugou sighed dramatically before finally caving to the social pressure.

"Bakugou!" Fuyumi said warmly, then with the concerned mom voice Inko does, "How are you doing?"

She knows.

"Thought you said you don't snitch," Bakugou accused the youngest Todoroki.

"They don't count," he answered remorselessly. "We've kept the family secrets to ourselves our whole lives, but not from each other."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but accepted the explanation.

"Speaking of family secrets," he went on, "Bakugou overheard everything I told Midoriya months ago and never said a word to anyone. So he has earned my trust."

"Shouto, just where are you having these conversations?" the brother -Naruto, or something?- interjected.

"It's his to tell, Natsuo," Fuyumi said firmly, then she turned back to Bakugou. "We were raised to think opening up to outsiders was dangerous." Holy shit, she just came right out and said that, Todorokis are so weird. "So I'm grateful Shouto has friends who won't betray his trust."

"Since when are we friends?" Bakugou blurted, then instantly regretted it. But instead of looking hurt, Fuyumi just laughed.

"What did you call him again, Shouto?" She grinned at her little brother. "I believe it was 'A challenging but irreplaceable ally'."

"Yeah, that fucking sounds like him," Bakugou huffed.

Fuyumi laughed again and moved to ruffle his hair the way he'd seen her do to her brothers. He instinctively flinched out of the way.

Goddamn reflexes!

"I'm sorry, I should have thought-" She pursed her lips before adding quietly. "Shouto used to react like that too. I should know better."

Stop saying you know me.

"Well, I'm not Shouto!" Bakugou snapped. "Don't get the wrong idea. My parents never beat me senseless at 5-years-old or dumped boiling water on me, so stop fucking looking at me like that!"

"You're right," she said gently. "I'm sorry if I was projecting. I've realized lately, a lot of the silly things I do are trying to make up for the ways I failed Shouto when we were younger. He's grown up now and it's too little too late, but that's not your problem."

"How do you just- just say shit like that?" Bakugou sputtered. Half-and-Half was blunt, but this was a whole new level. 

"Therapy," she answered with more unflinching honesty. "The boys won't go, but I try to bring the advice home with me. You should try it sometime."

"My purpose in introducing you-" Shouto redirected the conversation, making Bakugou wonder how obvious his discomfort was if even Half-and-Half was catching on, "-was an invitation. On weekends, I meet my siblings in rotating private establishments so our father doesn't locate us. I wanted to offer you use of this arrangement to see your father without your mother interfering."

"I know your situation isn't exactly the same," Fuyumi added hastily, "but whatever the issues, us troubled kids need to stick together."

"Hey Auntie Inko, why doesn't Hisashi come around anymore?"

"Our custody agreement changed," she explained calmly. "Izuku doesn't have to see him on weekends anymore."

"Why?"

"Because he hit me. And now he's not allowed to be around us anymore."

"That's a good thing, right?"

She nodded, but she looked sad.

"I hope that it doesn't always have to be like this. But for now it's better this way."

Fuyumi had Inko's emotional rawness. The calm, accepting honesty that made him feel terrifyingly safe. Like he could let go and sink into the warmth and it really might be okay. 

"I'll think about it," he conceded. Now he needed to escape all this feelings talk. Any excuse would do. Anything except...

"Katsuki, is that you?"

Oh fuck.

"It's been a long time," Midoriya Inko said cautiously.

"Hello, Miss Midoriya," he kept his head low, unable to meet her eyes.

"'Miss Midoriya'?" she questioned in surprise. "Why so formal?"

Because I don't know where I stand with you.

"I'm a little old for 'Auntie Inko'."

"I guess you are." She looked him over with something guarded and unreadable that looked wrong on her usually soft features. "Are your parents here?"

"Just Dad." He shuffled aimlessly and tried not to think about why Inko made him so nervous.

"Do I need to pretend this event didn't happen when Mitsuki's around?" Inko inferred.

"Yeah."

Fucking say something, coward!

"Izuku was so worried about you," she said. Of course. It always came back to Izuku. 

"I'm strong for my age! Auntie Inko said so!"

"Yeah, well, Inko tells Izuku that he's strong. Wake up Katsuki, she's just too nice to say otherwise."

"Don't be." Bakugou's jaw started to ache with how hard he clenched his teeth. Inko just sighed and stepped closer. Bakugou backed away before he could stop himself, then forced his feet to stay still.

"You look tired, Katsuki." She brushed his bangs back. "Have you been sleeping okay?"

"What's it to you?" He shook her off as the anxious buzzing in his gut began to creep it's way into his lungs.

"I used to be angry at you." sihe squared her shoulders, like a dangerous sheep or a very determined rabbit. "But since things between you and Izuku have settled down, I'm trying not to be. Regardless, I do still care about you."

"Why?"

"I've known you since you were a baby." Inko stated her answer like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Exactly. So why?" Bakugou clenched his fists inside his pockets. Before Inko could formulate a response, he decided he couldn't stand to hear an answer.

"Katsuki!" she called after him. He weaved through the crowd, hopefully fast enough she wouldn't follow, creeping along the edge of the gathering until he found an exit to slip out of.

Aizawa had finally started to relax a little. Most of the potential problem families had already shown up without their most volatile members. Midoriya Inko told him at the beginning of the year about her ex-husband, that she was Izuku's only guardian and his father was not allowed around him without her presence. It was shockingly assertive for the seemingly timid woman, but she wouldn't be the first to find courage for her child where she couldn't for herself. 

Endeavour he expected to be a bit trickier, since getting into UA could easily be played off as hero business. Much to his surprise, the Todoroki children seemed to have the situation with their father relatively under control. He could only imagine the pain and guts it took to reach this point, but was glad for it nonetheless. The Kaminaris were something of a mystery. The parents were loud and argumentative, yet he so seldom encountered them that he knew next to nothing about them. The Yaoyoruzo's were equally elusive, but quiet on top of it, so he had yet to puzzle out Momo's apparent anxiety surrounding them.

His last concerning wild card was Bakugou Mitsuki. He wouldn't have too difficult a time justifying intervening on her behavior, except that Bakugou Katsuki would absolutely refuse the help. Aizawa rarely felt true dread these days, but determining whether Bakugou would be more embarrassed by his mother's outbursts or a teacher's intervention sounded like hell.

Overall, things were going well. And since he was an eternal cynic, too well for it to last. 

Nearby, Bakugou's father and Kirishima's mother were swarmed by curious friends.

"Was Bakugou always so-?" Kaminari made an angry lion-like face, complete with claws and a snarl, then mimicked an explosion.

"Sort of," Masaru answered uncertainly. "He was always loud and trying to fight everything. But he used to be… I remember when he would get more excited about things than mad. Like he wanted to prove himself for the fun of it. Until he was around 11 or so. Then he started pulling away from me and he just got… so angry. All the time. Maybe that's just becoming a teenager. But I miss when things made him happy."

Masaru stopped, seeming startled to remember he had an audience. 

"That's probably more than you were looking for." He laughed anxiously. "Sorry, just a dad caught up reminiscing."

Nakamura placed a hand on his shoulder, the other clenched in a raised fist, and okay, now he saw the family resemblance.

"Puberty making you sad is the essence of parenting," she declared. "Eiji had this phase where he-"

"Mom, I'm right here."

"-would stay late every day at his school's gym, and when he got home he would go straight to his room. He got in great shape, sure, but he was so quiet. God, I was so worried. Mina dear, you remember? I'm not sure what snapped him out of it, but I'm suspicious you had something to do with it."

"I'm still right he-"

"Oh, I didn't do anything!" Mina waved her hands in front of her. "He just had to figure some things out."

"This is the best day of my life." Sero swung an arm around Kirishima. "Now we just need some baby Bakugou pictures and I'll be complete."

"He would never forgive me," Masaru replied.

"Aww," Mina whined.

"...Which is why you have to promise not to tell him."

The teens around him lit up like Christmas as Masaru glanced around to ensure the coast was clear before unlocking his phone.

"The All Might pajamas were sacred."

By the giggles and coos, Aizawa could only assume the currently good-looking Bakugou Katsuki had been a very cute toddler. So cute that no one but Aizawa noticed her enter.

"Masaru, you fucking liar!" She stormed through a rapidly parting sea. "'Important meeting' my ass!"

"Hi, Honey," he said sheepishly, with the look of a man who had accepted his fate.

"'Oh, Mitsuki, your son is in the hero program isn't he? Are you going to Parents' Day?' she asked. 'What Parents' Day?' I said like a complete moron."

"Mitsuki-"

"'Oh, didn't you get an invitation in the mail? My daughter is in general studies, so hers isn't until tomorrow.'" Mitsuki exaggerated the inflections to an almost sing-song presentation. "'But I'm almost certain the pamphlet said his class was today'."

"He asked me not to tell you," Masaru pleaded.

"He's fucking 15, he doesn't get a say!" she shouted. "The kid doesn't call the shots, Masaru. Jesus Christ, be a fucking man!"

"I agreed with him," Masaru said shakily. "After the scene you made last time you were here."

"Are you shitting me?" She scoffed. "That's really what you think?"

"I-"

"Then what are you gonna do to get him under control? Fucking stutter at him?"

"I don't want to do this here." Masaru raised a placating hand.

"Yeah, well today we're learning we can't always get what we want, you fucking-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Aizawa's stomach clenched as his student threw himself between his parents. Teeth bared, the boy's defensive stance burned itself into his memory.

"Of course." Mitsuki sneered. "Go ahead, hide behind Katsuki, like you always do. Fucking pathetic!"

"Would you just go?!" Katsuki yelled. "You've made your fucking point, you caught us, now would you stop!"

"Oh, I'm going." She stepped away, dragging Katsuki with her by a hand around his bicep. "You're a fucking coward, Masaru!"

For the first time, Aizawa saw a shade of Katsuki in his father; in the heaving breaths his panic fueled while the world disappeared around him. The quiet stares had turned to whispers by the time Masaru unfroze. 

The Todoroki girl approached cautiously. "Mr. Bakugou-"

Masaru sprinted after his wife and son, and Aizawa made a decision.

Chapter Text

Of fucking course he could hear his mother from the goddamn roof. The woman had the lung capacity to fly a hot air balloon. Part of him had wanted to just pretend he didn't hear, just wait it out and hope she never found him. But the only thing more terrifying than facing her was letting her loose on his entire class and their fucking parents. 

So he had jumped into the fray with no escape plan, landing him here. 

"Look, I know Masaru is more pleasant to bring to dinner and all that shit." Her firm hand on the back of his neck made him itch. "But if something actually needs to get done, that's where I come in. It's not a coincidence that your teachers have been calling my cell first since you were in fucking kindergarten."

"Well I'm not in fucking kindergarten," he hissed. "I don't need you, so you can go home now."

"Of course you don't." She mocked dismissively. "You're all grown up and know everything."

"What do you want from me?!" he rasped, betraying more emotion than he meant to.

"You have so much potential, Katsuki." She sighed. "You're gifted in so many ways, but sometimes I just don't know what to do with you. I'm screaming at a stubborn brick wall that's going to do whatever he wants, no matter what I say or do. And I'm afraid your attitude, your complete disrespect for authority, is going to cost you this amazing future you could have if you would just shut up and listen every once in a while."

"-it's going to be your own damn fault because you don't listen! You never listen!"

"Katsuki!" his father burst through the door, face twisted with dread.

"I got it, Dad." He refused to look at the man. "You can go now."

"I… if you wanted-"

"You heard the kid," Mitsuki taunted. "You can go now."

Katsuki wondered if at this rate his jaw would eventually stay permanently locked like a fucking tetanus patient.

"I'm sorry, Katsuki."

"I'm so sorry, Katsuki. I don't know what to do."

"Just go!" He hadn't meant to yell it, but his frustration boiled over. Mitsuki's smug expression only made him angrier.

"You can fucking go too." 

"Fine." She grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. "But don't you fucking lie to me again, Brat."

The quiet came so suddenly it didn't seem real. Or maybe it was just now he started feeling real? The warm sun offset by a cool breeze, the rustling trees of UA's manicured landscape. All at once, it was too much. He sat down on the stairs, torn by those tantalizing few minutes he'd felt like he belonged somewhere, and accepted the reality that it was over.

He couldn't bring himself to go back. For him, Parents Day was over.

"When you said this may be a 'challenging position', you weren't fucking around." Six collapsed onto the preemptively coffee-colored couch of the teacher's lounge. "Nezu wants an answer by the end of this week, but I'm gonna level with you, Shouta. I'm not sure I'm cut out for this."

"Is anyone?" Aizawa asked monotonely over his coffee. "It can't be that much harder than reform school."

"It's just such a different atmosphere than I'm used to." She shook her head in a vain attempt to clear it. "With my juvie kids, if there was an ongoing problem I could actually help them. I could change their schedules, advise their teachers, and if they had some problematic relatives I could actually keep them safe. Here I'd just be.. I'd be all talk!"

"That is typically what a therapist does, yes," Aizawa deadpanned.

"You know what I meant." She huffed. "When we started this project with 1A, I expected more 'this article said my hair is stupid', you know? Typical bullying shit. But there are so many underlying issues."

She stood up and started pacing.

"Tsu is pretty well adjusted, I'll give you that. And Iida is handling his situation remarkably well. But I'm worried about Midoriya and Momo, they both have some serious anxiety issues. Kaminari has similar insecurities, but he's going to be much harder to get through to with how accustomed he is to deflecting with humor. I'm picking up some well-managed but chronic depression from Kirishima. I'm almost positive Jirou's been bullied and her feelings get hurt a lot more than she lets on. Hagakure is literally invisible, that can't be good for a kid's self-esteem. And don't even get me started on Bakugou and Todoroki! I'm a mandated reporter. I swear to god, if that woman shows up again I'm going to start filing charges."

"Did you think I called you in for amateur hour? If this were some psych 101 shit I wouldn't need you."

"I need individual sessions with them, Aizawa," she determined. "All of them. One after their day in class and a two week follow up at least. Or else this whole idea is just stirring things up for no reason. It's irresponsible."

"I could probably swing that." Aizawa's smirk deepened. "If you actually worked here."

"I said I'm thinking about it. How has this school even functioned without a full-time counselor? I mean, first responders have some intense mental health needs even when they're not children!"

"If you look at the current top ranked heroes, I think you'll get your answer."

Endeavour, an abusive flaming ball of jealousy and rage. Hawks, too young to be where he is and underhandedly lashing out at the world that forced him there. Even All Might, before his retirement, had been so excessively self-sacrificing it nearly killed him. The overwhelming responsibility of being in the top spot had him convinced every bad thing that happened when he took a break was a personal failure. She sat back down with a long, tired sigh.

"You're fond of Bakugou." It wasn't really a question.

"I understand him more than most," Aizawa rephrased, but didn't deny it. "I want to help him, but with UA's previous fuck-ups and the whole country watching him, I need to get it right."

"Legally speaking, the father is your best bet," Six pondered aloud. "Filing to remove him from the home altogether means we have to prove criminal charges. Giving custody to one parent over another is just a matter of convincing a judge that it's best for the child."

"So you're saying I have to convince the meekest man I've ever met to leave his angry banshee of a wife and then contest her in court? That's my best bet?"

"Since Katsuki no longer lives with them, we might be able to arrange something like a guardianship agreement between the school and Masaru without them officially divorcing."

"Not UA," Aizawa corrected firmly. "Just me."

"Shouta." She grinned. "That's so sweet. When did you go all soft?"

"Shut up," he grumbled, much to her delight.

"I'm gonna tell Joke."

"Don't you fucking dare."

She wants to harp on it more, but they have work to do.

"It would be easy to bully Masaru into granting you guardianship. But for him to contest Mitsuki on it, we'll have to really convince him that this is best for Katsuki."

"And do you think it would be? Not as a friend, as a professional. Do you think this is the right thing to do?"

"I don't think there's ever really a 'right' answer in Psychology." She ignored Aizawa's eyeroll of distaste. "But out of our current options, I do believe this is the best one."

"Let's say Masaru agrees," Aizawa hypothesized. "What steps do we need to take with Katsuki?"

"Katsuki's biggest emotional need is to feel in control," she observed. "Even if he doesn't have a choice about the guardianship contract existing, give him options when writing it up. How do weekends work? Who has what financial responsibilities? Who gets contacted in an emergency? Don't present it as telling him what's going to happen, start by asking his opinion on the parts he can choose. Otherwise he's going to fight you on the whole thing."

"I think you're underestimating him if you think he's that easy to manipulate."

"I think you're underestimating social science."

"I can try it. But he's going to know when he's being pandered to."

"Just trust the science, you cynical caterpillar."

When Bakugou woke up, the first thing he noticed was the half-empty bottle of vodka he stole last night. The bottle sitting on his desk in plain sight, that he'd done absolutely nothing to disguise before falling asleep. The second was the alarm he forgot to set.

Whatever. He hadn't been too keen on breakfast anyway. If he ignored his hair and teeth and all other basic human maintenance, he could make it to class in a dead sprint.

At least he still got a morning run in.

When he burst through the door, Aizawa was already talking.

"We're leaving straight from here to the joint exercise with 1B, so nobody run off when the bell rings."

"Shit, was that today? I'm not emotionally prepared to look at Monoma."

"Kaminari, thank you for volunteering." Aizawa's gaze gained a satisfied glint as his student shrank immediately. "Up you go."

Kaminari swore under his breath.

"Aren't you gonna take a turn, Sensei?" Kaminari questioned.

"No," he answered, flat and completely unapologetic. "Why do you think I became an underground hero in the first place?"

"Not fair," Kaminari grumbled as he sat down next to Six, now shrouded in a florescent pinkish-purple.

"No, it isn't," Aizawa agreed.

Kaminari Denki's search results were unexpectedly brutal as a whole, but one dig really stood out.

This Year's Worst Matches

While Sero Hanata and Tokiyomi suffered comically fast first-round defeats, their opponents went on to be the tournament's finalists. Kaminari Denki, on the other hand, forces us to ask: What is he even doing here?

In theory, an electricity quirk would be one of the top players. But it's wielded so poorly, the only person Kaminari manages to take out with it is himself. It seems overuse causes a supposedly temporary stupor, though permanent brain damage would be a sensible explanation for that performance.

Kaminari's nervous neon glow had dulled to an oppressive navy blue.

"This is really harsh," Six told him sympathetically. "Even compared to the kind of gossip adult pros get, that was cruel."

"Nothing I haven't heard before." He shrugged with a hollow laugh, the causal dismissal undermined by the dark cloud around him that radiated insecure hurt.

"From who?" Six asked and Bakugou's vision blurred as his mind's eye saw a tall blonde man towering over him.

"What's wrong with you?! Are you fucking stupid?! Your sister could have been killed!"

Blues and purples pulsed chaotically.

"Kaminari," Six said, gently but firm. "You're not stupid and you earned your place here. I know you don't believe me right now, and that's okay. That's why your team needs to keep telling you."

The dark shades shifted through vibrant purples to a rosey color as Ochako reached out a hand and intertwined it with Kaminari's, giving him an encouraging nod.

"If you want to be done, we can end a bit early," Six offered. Kaminari nodded silently, hand squeezing Ochako's tightly. 

"You don't need to be ashamed of getting your feelings hurt," Six insisted to the unusually quiet boy. "It's something every hero goes through."

She began another search, this time for Shade Six, and scrolled immediately to an article titled 'Friendship is Magic'.

"Here's one about me," she proceeded to read aloud:

It's no secret that some quirks are better than others. In fact, there are more useless quirks than powerful ones out there. But most people are at least aware of which they have.

Meet Shade Six: she can make rainbows out of your feelings. That's pretty much it. And yes, that's her "hero" name. Just imagine calling in back-up to a scene, you're engaged with a villain, lives are on the line, and all you get is a petite lesbian who can read auras.

"As you can see, I was not popular when I debuted." Six didn't appear bothered by her own words. "That journalist was wrong about me. Just two months later, I was all over the news for negotiating a hostage situation on a military base in Okinawa. Combat-grade weapons, 170 people in the building, and I did it with no casualties. He stopped bothering me after that." She squeezed Kaminari's shoulder affectionately. "The news may not see your potential, but that doesn't mean you won't do great things."

"Make them eat their words, Kaminari!" Ochako encouraged, earning herself a small smile.

"Let's take a break," Six announced. "Free time until we head out with 1-B."

The second they were dismissed, Mina rocketed up from her seat and launched herself at Kaminari, wrapping him in a tight hug. Kirishima and Sero hovered behind her.

Was he supposed to do something?

Mina kissed Pikachu on the forehead before pulling him in again. She gave out affection like it was nothing, held her classmate protectively like a guardian. It looked… heroic. She played the part of heroes that he didn't like or understand without even trying. He didn't realize he'd been staring until Kirishima spoke to him.

"She never hesitates," he said wistfully. "If she sees someone hurting or in trouble, she doesn't freeze up or shy away. She follows her instincts. Some of us have to work at being heroic, but Mina was just born that way."

"Didn't realize you admired her so much."

"Ever since middle school," he elaborated, a little forlorn. "She jumped between her friends and a terrifying monster without a second thought."

Deku, tears everywhere and frantic, with nothing but a backpack.

"You looked like you needed help."

"If you need someone to talk to, she's a good option," Kirishima hinted.

"Fuck off." Bakugou shot the suggestion down immediately.

He felt weird. Unstable, like a rubber band on the edge of snapping. As he watched Kaminari's better friends surround him with support, he started to understand what was being offered to him.

You could have this.

The terrifying, hopeful whisper craved connection.

"-it's going to be your own damn fault-"

He couldn't.

He didn't deserve it anyway.

Chapter Text

He was not going to sit out of combat training. Hell no. He was Bakugou fucking Katsuki and he did not back down from a fight. But the thought of another person touching him at that moment made his skin crawl, adrenaline bubbling dangerously just under the surface. He recognized this headspace as the one where shoving Six into a desk was a good idea.

'Don't fuck this up.'

He wouldn't run, just maybe… limit his potential for disaster.

"Hey, Sensei," Bakugou muttered without actually looking at Aizawa. 

"You're speaking to me again," he noted. "I'm honored."

"I want to train with Kirishima today."

Bakugou held his breath, waiting for a lecture about learning to get along with new people, probably something about how he doesn't deserve special treatment, but it never came.

"Do what you need to do. I'll tell Vlad not to bother you about it."

Bakugou bristled at the word 'need,' but relief ultimately overwhelmed any irritation. And was that Mindfuck Man from general studies? Hovering behind Aizawa, the boy with the dark eyebags was definitely watching him. He usually ignored anyone outside of 1-A, and even then only acknowledged the ones he liked. But this kid may be worth paying attention to. Monoma, on the other hand, wasn't one to be ignored.

"I hope we get to try out some rescue missions with 1-A," Monoma sneered, eyeing Bakugou, "since they have such an experienced expert on getting kidnapped."

"You wanna fucking die, Copy-Cat?!" Bakugou set off an impressive series of explosions, sweat already collected courtesy of his out-of-control anxiety.

"Scary." Monoma chuckled. "Someone should muzzle that thing."

Before Bakugou could follow through on his threat, Hands Girl dragged him away with a rushed apology.

This was going to be a long fucking day.

Vlad directed them to pair up, one from each class, making it glaringly obvious by the uneven number that Bakugou and Kirishima were an exception. 

"I guess that makes sense," Kirishima mused, surveying the field of partnered classmates.

"What does?" Bakugou interrogated defensively.

"That 1-B wouldn't want to spar with me," Kirishima clarified. "They can't really learn much from Other Tetsutetsu."

"Are you fucking serious?"

Kirishima looked back to him, confusion written in his furrowed brow.

Oh my fucking god, was this boy for real?

"It's me, dumbass!" Bakugou nearly yelled in exasperation. "I'm the problem, not you."

"Really?" Kirishima looked both hopeful and incredulous.

Christ on a bike, he honestly thinks anyone would rather pair up -or do anything, really- with me over him??

"Yes, really, Hair-for-Brains."

Kirishima still looked suspicious. "Why?"

"Because…" Bakugou tried not to fidget too obviously. "You know how my quirk is hard as hell to control?"

"Yeah." Dumbass Rock Boy nodded.

"And if it gets out of control, most of these weakling extras would literally fucking die."

Red spikes bounced as he kept nodding like a bobble head.

"And I'm kinda… on edge today." 

Goddammit, this was hard. Why did Shitty Hair have to go and draw such a self-deprecating conclusion?

Just fucking say it!

"So I asked Aizawa if we could pair up."

Silence.

"Since, ya know, if I do go overboard it won't really matter because you're tough and you can handle it-"

The shithead just kept staring at him wide-eyed.

"-so I can still do some training actually worth doing and I won't get kicked out of UA."

He was rambling now, talking through the anxiety of not knowing what the fuck his friend was thinking. Then Shitty Hair's face lit up like it was fucking Christmas.

"Baku-bro!" he exclaimed. He jumped, literally jumped, with excitement, god, he was such an idiot.

"Yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head," Bakugou grumbled.

"I won't let you down!" Kirishima declared, grin shining like the goddamn sun.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." Bakugou tried to wave him off casually, like this wasn't the most vulnerable he had ever felt of his own volition. "This is a good opportunity to test yourself against different quirks. You can spar with me any time."

"I already know how most of 1-B's quirks work against mine from Tetsutetsu," Kirishima dismissed. "And you always give the best pointers anyway."

Bakugou had no way to check, but judging by the strange warmth burning from his gut to his ears, he suspected he'd turned about as red as Kirishima's hair.

"Too good to associate with us, Number One?!" Monoma yelled from across the practice field.

Bakugou had already opened his mouth to yell back when Kirishina cut him off.

"Ignore him, dude."

Bakugou's jaw snapped shut. He owed Kirishima, the least he could do was keep his temper in check. But then Monoma kept going.

"Pretty arrogant for a damsel in distress."

Okay, fuck keeping his temper in check, he was going to kill this bastard-

"Monoma."

"Huh?" the boy responded instinctually.

"Shut up."

And he did. Monoma's mouth kept moving but no sound came out, voice paralyzed by Shinsou's quirk. He didn't need some general studies extra defending him, but Shinsou's bored-yet-pissed expression could just as easily be construed as not wanting to hear Monoma talk anymore.

The fuck was eyebags doing here anyway? Did Aizawa have a secret child or something?

"Bakugou, Kirishima." Aizawa addressed them. "Feel free to ignore the rotations. Just work on whatever you want to work on. The only rule you two have right now is absolutely no howitzer. "

"Yes, sir." Kirishima saluted with a bright grin. Bakugou took that as his cue to put as much distance between himself and Monoma as he could possibly justify. 

"What's our game plan?" Kirishima asked excitedly, like sparring with Bakugou wasn't a thing he'd done dozens of times before.

"You've been working on how long you can hold your ultimate, but it won't do you much good if your opponent decides to just back off and wait." This he was good at, he could do this. "You need to end the fight before your time runs out, so we should work on mobility and strikes while you're in that form."

"Dude, do you just lay awake at night and think about battle strategies?" Kirishima asked in awe.

"Sometimes," Bakugou admitted. Usually for himself, but more and more for the 'Bakusquad' lately. Not that he'd ever admit that.

"You're the best, dude!"

Yeah, I thought so too.

He fought the bitterness down.

"Come at me, Shitty Hair!"

To say Bakugou was feeling his bad choices would be an understatement. He was shaky and nauseous and he really needed to eat something. Still, this was his strong suit, so he had Kirishima on the ropes anyway.

"Don't just barrel through, Shitty Hair, watch my movements and predict where I'm going to be!"

A few seconds later, Kirishima lunged for Bakugou's landing on his current trajectory, forcing him into a tight turn that strained his shoulders awkwardly. He tumbled into a roll on impact.

"Good!" he panted proudly. "Even if you can't catch me, at least make me work for it!"

Another near-miss sent him into a much less graceful roll, only avoiding landing head-first with a quick one-handed blast. Kirishima had forced him against one of the many semi-destroyed buildings of the practice grounds, leaving him no choice but to attempt a dodge over the approaching tank-like teen. He cleared the other boy's head and believed he'd made it until a jagged hand snagged his ankle. The blast he sent in response might as well have been a light breeze for all it did to Kirishima's unbreakable. He instead leaned into the blast to reach Bakugou's outstretched wrist, quickly wrenching it behind his back. Bakugou's face hit the dirt as Kirishima planted a knee on his back, other hand securing his wrist at an angle that would mean blowing himself up as well should he activate his quirk again.

"Got'cha!" Kirishima yelled triumphantly.

He sure did. 

Bakugou fought to tear himself out of the iron hold, shooting pain through his twisted arm. Panic bubbled up through his internal mantra of "it's just Kirishima, you're fine, you're fine you're fine-"

Small explosions involuntarily popped against his side and back. 

Calm the fuck down.

Fighting and failing only made the panic worse, so he stopped struggling. 

Don't freak out, just wait it out.

His body froze as his mind left the situation entirely.

"You good dude?"

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"You told me to get out, so I fucking did."

"Your father called you 10 hours ago and told you to come home!"

The shattered plate she'd thrown at him as he ran out the night before was no longer splintered across the doorway. Cleaned up by his father, no doubt. 

"I stayed over with Satoshi."

"Bullshit! His house was the first one I called. I even called the Midoriyas, you weren't there! So how are you perfectly dry after a night out in the rain?"

"Someone offered their couch at the bus stop," he admitted resentfully.

"And you went with them?!" she shrieked, followed by flailing smacks. "Are you stupid?! Do you know what could have happened?!"

What did happen.

She couldn't know.

"I'm fine, I can take care of myself, you hag!" 

He couldn't. He'd fucked up and if she knew he would never hear the end of it.

"The day you get carted off by some back-alley pedophile, it's going to be your own damn fault because you don't listen! You never listen!"

Bakugou scrambled away, immediately crouched, ready to start grappling. Kirishima was still talking, but the words dissolved in the rush of heaving breaths flooding his ears, pulse drumming in his head. 

Finally, he managed to read the other boy's lips, making out his name.

"Bakugou, please talk to me." Kirishima moved hesitantly closer.

"Don't touch me!" Bakugou screamed, sounding desperate and afraid even to himself.

"Okay." Kirishima stopped, slowly dropping his hands to his knees. "I'm not going to do anything until you say it's okay."

The hushed, pacifying tone should have pissed him off. But this was Kirishima and he believed him, and right now he needed to believe someone.

"I just want to understand what's going on so I can help."

Oh god. I believe him.

The static began to fade, and to his horror, was replaced by some unnameable emotion, part relief and part something else raw and stinging. The stinging moved from his chest to his eyes and leaked out in a choked sob. 

"Fuck," he whispered, hand clamped over his mouth in a futile attempt to keep the flood dammed up.

"It's okay," Kirishima said softly and it only made the flooding worse. Another strangled cry devolved into uncontrolled sobbing.

"Is it okay if I come over there?" Kirishima asked gently, and somehow he found himself shaking his head yes. True to his word, he still didn't touch.

"Are you hurt physically?"

Bakugou shook his head, shame spiking to new heights.

"I'm sorry," he choked out.

"For what?" Kirishima asked, confusion seeming genuine. Every time Kirishima spoke, Bakugou felt his careful barriers between himself and the world break down a little more. 

"So stupid, I'm so fucking stupid," Bakugou rambled. "I can't do anything!"

All Might, fragile and thin, bloodied for him.

"I'm useless," he sobbed.

"Bakugou, what are you talking about?" Kirishima sounded scared now, good job asshole.

"Why did you come after me?" Bakugou searched his face, jagged ridges of his quirk now soft and smooth, save for the scar on his eyebrow, for any sign of treachery. "You should have left me there."

"Left you…" Kirishima trailed off, confused until it dawned on him. "Bakugou, no."

"I did it to myself like I always do," he cried. "Fucking arrogant, acting batshit at the sports festival, and now All Might is gone- "

"Stop," Kirishima whispered gently. "None of that was your fault."

"It is- "

"So what if you were cocky and dramatic at school? That doesn't mean you deserve to be kidnapped. You hear how crazy that sounds out loud? No one thinks that."

"She does." It slipped out before he could stop it.

"She?" Kirishina pondered, then, "Oh… your mom. Right. God, she really did say that, didn't she?"

Bakugou nodded, completely unable to look at him now.

"Do you still not want me to touch you?" Kirishima asked. Bakugou shrugged noncommittally. Kirishima moved slowly, telegraphing his movements to give him time to change his mind.

No one had hugged Bakugou in years. Not since he stopped letting his father hold him. It always seemed too restrictive to be enjoyable, but this was different. Kirishima didn't hold him so much as lean Bakugou's weight against himself and lightly rest his arms around his shoulders. It was… nice. And somehow, he actually still managed to cry harder.

"It's okay." Kirishima's thumb rubbed circles on his shoulder. "Let it out."

Exhaustion began to overtake him. He curled further into Kirishima, only vaguely aware that he was no longer on the ground.

Chapter Text

Midoriya knew the sound of Bakugou yelling from a mile away. Could hear it in his dreams, a chorus of 'go fuck yourself' and 'eat shit and die.' But by the time he reached where Bakugou and Kirishima secluded themselves, the yelling had turned to sobbing.

Bakugou was on the ground, incomprehensible rambling pouring through Kirishima's soft attempts to calm him. Kirishima lowered his quirk, in spite of the explosions still crackling from Bakugou's hands, and slowly reached for him. Midoriya flinched, expecting Kirishima to be blasted away, but to his surprise… Bakugou leaned into it. The pops died down as he slumped boneless against his friend. 

"Kacchan!" he rushed forward as Kirishima adjusted Katsuki to a position he could lift. In other circumstances, Midoriya would be impressed, knowing personally how dense Katsuki was. Angry red burns scorched his back and forearm.

"What happened?!" While assessing the damages, he realized Bakugou was no longer conscious. "Is he okay?!"

"Midoriya, go get Aizawa," Kirishima instructed, sounding unexpectedly calm. 

"But-"

"Please," Kirishima cut him off.

"Oh my god!" Mina rounded the corner to find Midoriya crying and the most stubborn person she knew being bridal carried. "What happened?!"

"Did he hurt himself?!" Midoriya cried.

Again?

" Deku!" Kirishima stressed

"Right, Aizawa." He stumbled slightly, figuring out where his feet were through some sudden light-headedness. 

"Aizawa-sensie!!" He didn't realize he'd been using One for All until he tried to stop and slid an extra four feet.

"What happened?" Aizawa abandoned the reprimand he'd been giving Kaminari about being aware of his surroundings, (how the hell do you forget metal is conductive?)

"Kacchan!" Midoriya shouted.

"Well that clears up everything," Aizawa muttered sarcastically. "Just lead the way, problem child."

Kirishima met them halfway and soon they were back at the locker rooms. As Aizawa helped lower Katsuki onto the bench, he began to stir. Kirishima attempted to back up and give the boy some breathing room, but Katsuki's right hand had an iron grip on the front of his gym shirt.

"Bakugou, can you hear me?" Aizawa placed the back of his hand investigatively against Bakugou's sweat-sheened forehead. He grimaced under the touch.

"Hey Bakubro." Kirishima gently shook his shoulder. "You've got an audience."

He received some unintelligible sounds that were probably curses. 

"What happened?" Aizawa asked Kirishima.

"He- when I…" For the first time since Midoriya stumbled upon the scene, Kirishima's calm expression broke. "We were just sparing. But then I pinned him and he just-"

Kirishima cut off quickly, looking on the edge of crying. He tried again.

"I had him in a hold and he freaked out. I let go, but he was still panicking and started talking about All Might and saying things like- like we should have left him at Kamino."

"All Might already told him," Midoriya said desperately. "It wasn't his fault. I thought he understood that."

"Well, his mother disagreed," Kirishima grumbled  bitterly.

"We'll talk about that later," Aizawa interrupted pointedly. "Ashido, I need you to find Recovery Girl."

"Got it." Mina broke from her stunned silence once given a task and took off.

Bakugou stirred again, his distressed whimper drawing Midoriya's attention back to the still-damp cheeks and puffy eyes. He'd seen Bakugou cry before, plenty of times. He was an angry crier, especially when he got tired, often storming off as frustration overwhelmed him to avoid anyone seeing. Crying because he was in physical pain looked much the same: Aggressive sniffling and trying to wipe away the evidence with a sleeve before anyone noticed. 

This was different. This desperate, messy, terrified crying was rare and it scared him. It reminded him of the glimpses he'd seen in the Bakugou house while too young to understand. Of the night he found Katsuki in his usual forest training grounds with his arms covered in burns he refused to explain. This secret, fragile side of himself he locked away didn't belong at UA. This was where the invincible version of Katsuki came to prove he was the best, while vulnerable Katsuki was a secret he would never be forgiven for knowing. 

Crackling sparks gleam through the trees accompanied by distraught screaming. Small burns run up and down the insides of his forearms. 

"Don't fucking touch me! Just leave me alone!"

Red eyes fluttered open, fear melting into confusion.

"What the fuck?"

"What the fuck indeed," Aizawa answered wryly. "Welcome back."

As awareness set in, Katsuki pushed himself off of Kirishima and confusion became discomfort.

"I'm fine."

"Kacchan, you're not fine!" As soon as it slipped out, Midoriya regretted his mistake.

"The fuck are you doing here?" he snarled". Come for a show? To see the feral animal have a meltdown?!"

"Kaccha-"

"Just fucking leave me alone, all of you!"

"Midoriya, thank you for your help." Aizawa dismissed him. "It's time for you to go."

It wasn't fair. He knew Kacchan better than anyone. He'd been there with him from the beginning, he's been trying to help for years. But Katsuki would never let him.

"What the fuck did you say, you fucking snitch?!"

"Kacchan, I-"

"Why the fuck is this lame teacher, who doesn't give a shit about me otherwise, going on about my parents?"

"She asked me!"

"Asked you what?!"

"If- if I ever saw your parents hit you."

Screaming and swearing and explosions follow. The teachers do nothing. Nothing about the violence in front of them or behind closed doors. They ignore it. Like always.

When Iida and Ochako began to ask questions, he just shook his head. Nothing he said would be anything more than new reasons for Katsuki to hate him.

"Did someone get hurt?" asked a 1-B student.

"It was the rock guy and explosion guy that went off on their own," another answered.

"Poor rock kid. He's so sweet too, I don't know why he hangs out with someone so aggressive like that."

"Actually, the rock kid's fine," a third student informed them. "I saw him go by carrying Bakugou back to the lockers."

"Shit, are you serious? How does that even happen? Did he explode himself?!"

"I wouldn't put it past him, he's pretty wild."

"Stop it!" Midoroya felt the blind rage take over him. "You don't know anything about him, so just stop talking!"

It came out louder than he intended, judging from the circle of stares on him.

"What 1-A has in raw power gets balanced out by half of them being batshit crazy," Monoma taunted.

"I think you need to have another chat with Shinsou." Ochako came to his defense.

"Midoriya!" Kaminari called to him, followed by Sero. "What's going on? Something with Bakugou?"

"He's… not feeling well," Midoriya answered lamely.

"More like carried off the field," Monoma spoke again. "He's getting good at this Princess Peach thing he's got going."

"Is he okay?" Sero ignored the 1-B nightmare.

Midoriya tried to do what Kacchan wanted. To lie and say he was fine, that he's always fine.

He couldn't do it.

"No."

Aizawa knew he had the best of intentions, but if they wanted any chance at a cooperative Bakugo, Midoriya had to go. Hopefully Kirishima could work some magic before things got too combative.

"Dude, you want a water or something? You sound awful."

"Fuck you, I sound fine." His aggravated patient scowled, but accepted the offered bottled. Kirishima was a sorcerer. There was no other explanation.

"You really freaked me out there for a minute." He kept his tone casual. "I know I'm a formidable opponent, but I never thought I'd accidentally kill a classmate."

Bakugou snorted. "Just skipped breakfast is all. Get me something to eat, then I'll destroy you."

"You just skipped breakfast, huh," Recovery Girl interrogated skeptically, marching in with Mina in tow. "And then you lost control of your quirk and passed out."

"And dinner," Bakugou conceded, "and the lunch before that."

"Can you stand?" she nudged him with her cane.

"Of course I fucking can, I ain't ancient like you!" He made it most of the way to his feet before swaying back into Kirishima. 

"You're quite a handful, you know that?" she began poking at the burns, resulting in a startled snarl from Bakugou.

"Fucking warn me at least!" He winced. "Jesus!"

"You really messed yourself up out there," she said seriously, taking on a more gentle tone. "Young man, just how did you manage to burn yourself all the way back between your shoulder blades?"

"That was my bad," Kirishima answered sheepishly. "I had his arm pretty twisted up at that point." 

"You didn't do shit," he denied. "Look, I sweat fucking nitroglycerin. Shit happens. I'll be more careful next time." 

She paused and turned back to Ashido for a moment. "Mina dear, we're alright here. Go ahead back to class."

She looked like she wanted to protest, but then nodded, continuing her uncharacteristic quiet. The moment she was gone, Recovery Girl returned to Bakugou.

"You're not in trouble, honey. We're just trying to understand." She must have seen the cracks in the armor to use a pet name like honey with Bakugou. "Let's start with why haven't you been eating?"

He seemed surprised by the question, like he hadn't just casually told them something deeply concerning a minute ago.

"Just don't feel like it." He avoided her eyes and shrank into himself, the desire to hide painted on all his body language.

"Alright." She let it go for now. "I'm going to heal you up now, but I don't want you going back to class today."

"Whatever."

While the burns were bright and painful, they weren't a severe injury. Still, the instant the quirk kicked in, Bakugou swooned. 

"You haven't been sleeping much either, I take it." Recovery Girl frowned.

"What are you, my fucking mother?" he mumbled groggily.

"Mouthing off to the very end." She smiled sadly as Bakugou once again slumped into Kirishima's arms. Addressing the sturdier boy, "Are you alright to take him up to the office with me?" 

"Yeah, I got him."

"Thank you. I don't want to aggravate him more than we have to, so I think it's best that you're the only one who touches him. He seems to trust you."

Aizawa watched Kirishima lift his friend like it was nothing, carry him to the nurse's office, then plant himself protectively beside the bed while Bakugou slept.

"Kirishima." He gestured him to a more private corner. "A word."

"What's up?" He followed intently, like a cadet reporting for duty.

"You need a break," Aizawa said bluntly.

"Huh?"

"From all of this," he clarified. "Let the adults take care of him for a little while."

"You heard Recovery Girl," Kirishima protested. "He trusts me."

"He does," Aizawa agreed. "I'm sure that trust was hard earned and I'm not sure how you did it. But you need to take care of yourself too."

Kirishima chewed his lip uncertainly with his sharp teeth.

"What is it?"

"You don't know…" The boy struggled. "You just don't know him like I do."

"That's true," Aizawa conceded. "Is there anything in particular I need to know?"

Kirishima's brave face finally crumpled.

"He- he's been messed up since Kamino and it's not getting better," he confessed, tears welling up because of course they were, he's a child. "And his parents aren't helping. His dad tries, I think, but his mom… I think she's really hurt him before and I- I don't know what to do."

"I'm also concerned by his home environment. I'm still working out what to do with Six, but I promise, you aren't the only one who's noticed." And now the waterworks were really flowing. How did someone like Bakugou always end up surrounded by criers?

"I think something really bad happened."

"He was kidnapped," Aizawa reasoned. "That's going to take some time to get over."

"No, I mean- I don't know how to explain it, but it's more than that."

"Okay." Aizawa could hear the conflicted turmoil behind the words and remembered his own days of secrets only other kids were privy to. "I believe you."

"If you make your kids feel heard, the rest will come naturally."

Six kept being right, but she sure as hell didn't need to know about it.

"We'll figure it out," he continued. "You're excused from class to stay with him, but if you feel like you need to step out for a break, you take it."

"Yes, sir!" Kirishima saluted enthusiastically.

That was one talk down, next he needed to find Problem Child. Unsurprisingly, he found Problem Child causing problems. 

"Didn't he, like, beat the shit out of you in middle school or something? Why do you even care?"

"You don't know us!"

"Midoriya!" he called. "We need to talk."

He bounded over to Aizawa, the fight he'd just been having seemingly forgotten, replaced by focused urgency. "How is he?"

"Asleep," was all Aizawa was willing to give him. "I wanted to ask you a few things."

"Like what?" He quickly shifted from ecstatic to wary. The innate distrust was something he'd learned to accept from Bakugou, but hadn't expected such suspicion from Midoriya. 

"You've known him the longest," Aizawa explained. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

"Not exactly, but- kind of?"

"Explain."

"Well, I don't think it was on purpose this time."

"I'm sorry, what?" Aizawa's neutral gaze widened in surprise.

"No, this hasn't happened before," Midoriya corrected definitively.

"Okay, back up a minute." Aizawa was not letting it go that easily. "He did or didn't do what on purpose?"

"I- you know, well…"

"Midoriya."

"He didn't hurt himself on purpose this time!"

"But he has before," Aizawa pressed.

"He-" Midoriya looked like he might throw up. "It wasn't… I don't know for sure, and it was just this one time. That I actually saw."

Aizawa sighed heavily.

"Okay, fine. What about his parents? Have you spent much time with them?"

Immediately, whatever progress he'd made in interrogating Midoriya shut down.

"It's not my house," he snapped, uncharacteristically harsh.

"But you spent a lot of time together growing up."

"I stopped going over. Haven't been there in years. I couldn't tell you what it's like." Whatever hush order Bakugou had Midoriya under only escalated his suspicion. 

"I want to help him," Aizawa attempted to soften his gruff exterior. His student was unmoved.

"That's what they all say."

Chapter Text

"Mina!" Kaminari called, spotting her hovering behind Vlad.

"Hey guys." She gave the boys approaching her a weak smile. At least some of her boys were okay.

"What's going on?" Sero asked her bluntly.

"I don't really know, to be honest. I think Bakugou burned himself by accident."

"That's really not like him," he remarked. "Volatile quirk or not, his control is amazing."

"I know," Mina agreed. "I think there's something wrong more… mentally."

"Like what?"

"I don't know." She didn't have an official name for it, she wasn't a doctor. But the term post traumatic stress had some up in hero history social studies before. "He hasn't been eating. Kirishima said he had a panic attack or something while they were sparring."

"Is Kirishima with him?" Kaminari asked.

"I don't think you could pry them apart right now if you tried." The ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

"Shit." Kaminari scratched at the back of his head anxiously.

"You think it's because of Kamino?" Sero proposed.

"I don't know," Mina repeated. She just didn't know. 

"Maybe…" Kaminari started hesitantly. "Something could have happened while he was missing? I mean, he was alone with the villains for an entire day."

"-like we should have left him behind."

"Whatever it was, he blames himself for it." Mina shook her head sadly. "For getting kidnapped, for All Might, and whatever happened in between."

Just when he'd gotten used to waking up in his dorm room, he wakes to white ceiling and white sheets and no idea how he got here.

It's not the bar, so you're fine. Calm down.

Sitting up was a chore. He attempted to rub his eyes and only one hand cooperated, the other trapped in the grip of a certain redhead who had somehow managed to fall asleep while leaning from a plastic chair to a stiff hospital bed. He stirred, waking up far more quickly than Bakugou had.

"You're back!"

"Did I go somewhere?" Bakugou asked incredulously.

"In a way," Kirishima answered with a knowing look that made Bakugou feel like he was being x-rayed. He slid out of the covers, relieved to find his pants were salvageable and only his shirt had been replaced with scrubs. 

"Where are you going?" Kirishima followed.

"Dorms," he answered flatly.

"Recovery Girl wants to see you before-"

"Yeah, well I don't want to see her."

Kirishima surrendered. The dumbass always let him get away with too much. He stayed a few steps behind the entire way to their rooms where Bakugou expected to finally escape.

"I don't think you should be alone right now," Kirishima insisted seriously.

"I'm not a fucking toddler."

"Please, Bakugou," he pleaded. " Pleeease. You really scared me earlier, so just indulge me a bit."

"Whatever." He flung the door the rest of the way open with a crack.

"Thank you." Kirishima bowed quickly with his hands in a prayer position. 

"Just get the fuck in here."

Bakugou immediately snatched his stashed vodka out of a desk drawer.

"You should at least eat something before you drink that," Kirishima half-ordered, half-pleaded.

Bakugou accented his swig with a middle finger before tossing it back in the drawer,  then flopped onto his bed, still exhausted from a generally overwhelming day. Kirishima pulled over the desk chair, sitting backwards with his hands and chin resting on the back. Bakugou laid with an arm over his eyes, but he could still feel Kirishima staring.

"What, Shitty Hair?!"

"I think you really need to talk to someone."

Bakugou scowled. "And here I thought you were the one person that didn't think I'm crazy."

"I don't think you're crazy!" he denied fervently. "But you never talk about what happened and… I don't know what they did to you when they took you, but you're not okay."

Bakugou made a sound between a scoff and a growl.

"The way you're going, it's as if-" The words began to tumble out. "You got hurt really bad, like- Say you broke a bone, like your leg or something? And then you just kept running and training and stuff. And you won't go to a doctor because you're pretending it's not that bad, but it is and it won't heal because you won't let it."

"What if it's more like a really old injury that didn't heal right?" Bakugou went along with the metaphor, astounding even himself. "You just hurt the same leg again, but not as bad this time. So there's not much point in messing with it."

"I'd think then you have to take the time to go back and reset the bone so it heals right. Or else it will be all jacked up forever. Like John McCain's shoulders."

"That's a fucking awful plan."

"It does sound pretty shitty," Kirishima admitted. "What if we just start with the less bad thing that happened more recently?"

"It wasn't a big deal," Bakugou immediately deflected.

"Then it shouldn't be so bad to talk about," Kirishima reasoned.

She likes to stand behind him purely because it bothers him. She gets a thrill out of it. Her hands travel over his shoulders and down his stomach. 

"You're so fit!" She traces the center line of his abdomen. "Too bad it didn't help you."

"That shape-shifter girl with the knives… she just said some shit about cutting me and felt me up a bit."

"Well that sounds terrifying," Kirishima balked. 

"She was all talk." He tried to downplay the sharp, threatening knife edge and haunting giggle to both Kirishima and himself. "Shigaraki wanted me to be their new friend, so she couldn't really do anything. Think she just got a kick out of fucking with me."

"Still, that's messed up."

Bakugou stared down at the fists clenched in his lap and said nothing.

"I would be scared. Being chained up around someone like that, I mean. You got no idea what they're gonna do. Sure Shigaraki didn't want her to hurt you, but if he's not there, who really knows? They could do anything they wanted to you. That'd be horrifying. Even if she didn't injure you physically, that's still messed up and traumatic."

Bakugou's throat felt too tight to talk, so he nodded.

"But the first time someone scared you like that," Kirishima pressed on, "they really hurt you, didn't they?"

"You got anywhere to go?"

"No."

A sudden sob escaped as he pressed a hand over his mouth, rocketing upright. Shit, where did that come from? He was fine just a minute ago.

"What happened?" Kirishima asked gently.

Bakugou shook his head, shoulders trembling. He began to bite into his fist, but the second the sensation of fingers in his mouth registered, he lurched for the trashcan and emptied his stomach.

"It's not much, but it's better than the street," he says cheerfully. A hand reaches out and runs through his hair, drying it instantly. "You want some tea or something?"

Bakugou wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while the acid burned his throat. 

"Okay." Kirishima let out a long breath, handing him a tissue off the desk. "If that's too much, maybe just start with where it happened?"

It's cold. The heat doesn't work and a draft blows in from the cardboard-and-duct-tape panel of the window. Tea boils over an open fire. He doesn't question the ignored stove. He doesn't know what 'squatting' is yet.

"You live around here?" the man asks.

"Sort of."

"Shitty apartment building down the street from Tsubasa's. Think it's condemned now."

"Okay." Kirishima nodded. "What were you doing there?"

"This should warm you up a bit."

Sips of tea warm the ice in his veins until he drifts.

"Just getting outta the rain." Bakugou wasn't sure he had even said it out loud until Kirishima responded.

"Alright. So you're taking shelter in some bad weather. What next?"

When he drifts back, everything is too warm. Stifling and heavy. He chokes trying to breath around fingers shoved in his mouth, down his spasming throat. He lifts his arms and only one of them moves, the other pinned down by a strong grip. Weak sparks singe the weight.

"You don't wanna do that." The voice rumbles against his chest. He can breathe when the hand on his mouth vacates to grab a slightly moldy apple from the windowsill. He holds it pointedly in sight. The round fruit begins to shrink and wrinkle, blackening to a dry, dead husk.

"Were you alone when you went there?" Kirishima asked.

"Did you know humans are 60% water?"

Bakugou's hands explode without his permission, scorching the bed cover.

"I can't, I can't-" He couldn't be here, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. "Fuck, I can't do this!"

"Okay, okay, whoa." Kirishima scrambled to his feet. "Break time. Just breathe with me."

Kirishima modeled exaggerated breaths and Bakugou managed to distract himself from the nausea by imagining how stupid Kirishima would look in a Richard Simmons get-up.

"It's okay if you can't tell me," he assured . "It's just that… I need you to believe me, whatever happened, it wasn't your fault."

"I was a fucking idiot and trusted a goddamn stranger," he contested.

"How old were you?" Kirishima asked carefully. 

"Eleven," he said begrudgingly. He knew how it sounded out loud, but he still should have known better.

"What were you doing out in the rain alone when you were 11?" Kirishima kept his tone neutral.

"I got in a fight with my mom." He felt more cornered with every question. "She told me not to come back."

"She kicked you out?" exasperated concern seeped through.

"Sometimes." Bakugou picked nervously at a burned hole in his pant leg.

"You were eleven and on the street alone," Kirishima emphasized. "That's… really fucked up, man."

"I was usually fine," Bakugou defended. "Got pretty good at finding a safe-ish place to sleep. I was just hanging at the bus stop until the storm passed."

Arms pulled inside a thin sweatshirt. No matter how tightly he curls himself, the cold seeps through, sapping both his energy and his quirk.

"How does the bus stop factor in?" Kirishima prompted patiently.

"I- uh, met someone." Growing dizziness faded the already low lighting, like the room around him wasn't quite real. "I knew it was fucking stupid! It wasn't cold enough I was gonna freeze to death or anything, I should have just sucked it up! I was just- just so tired."

Hands travel to his clothes and he doesn't fight. Too dazed and overwhelmed to realize what's happening, he even shifts his weight to accommodate the moving fabric.

He lets it happen.

"Did someone offer you a place to stay?"

Shirt slides up, rough fabric of the couch harsh on bare skin. Abundant dust adds a new layer of hell to the experience of can't breath, can't breath, can't-

"Bakugou? Stay with me, man. We're at UA and you're safe here."

"I fucking know that!" He tried to sound angry, but it was too strained and weak to be any kind of intimidating.

The touches get bolder and he's afraid. He doesn't want this. He wants everything to stop, to just pause until he figures out what's happening to him, a break until he has enough air.

Someone yanks his hair harshly, forcing his head back. 

At least it isn't wet anymore.

He stood abruptly, pacing over to the window and back. "We're done talking about this!"

"Bakugou…" Kirishima sounded absolutely heartbroken. It was jarring. "Did they-?"

"Don't fucking say it!"

"Did they rape you?"

"GET OUT!"

Lightheaded with panic, Bakugou resorted to what he knew best: violence and yelling.

"I'm sorry-"

"I SAID FUCKING GO!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going!" Kirishima raised his hands in cautious surrender, inching his way to the door. "I'm sorry!"

Bakugou slammed the door behind him. With no one left to yell at, he just screamed unintelligibly at nothing while throwing or exploding every object in reach. His desk was mostly cleared and empty by the time he picked up the still half-full bottle of vodka.

Kirishima splayed out on his back across the bed, eyes closed, as chaos raged behind him. In the next room over, the screaming just kept going. Thuds and booms projected a bleak picture of Bakugou's thoroughly destroyed room through their shared wall. He didn't know for sure what Bakugou went through, growing up or at Kamino, but by his reaction… he could infer enough. A traumatic childhood, made worse by a chaotic and unsafe home.

He flinched as a particularly loud boom shook the dorm.

Had Bakugou ever told anyone? Probably not, if he was being honest. Bakugou hadn't really even told him. But what did knowing do? He couldn't force the guy to get help, god knows you can't force Bakugou to anything-

Except someone did.

The thought made him nauseous, but it also soothed the worry that he had done the wrong thing by leaving. He was persistent- he had to be to get anywhere through all that stubbornness- but refusing to give Bakugou his space sounded dangerous. Maybe not more dangerous than leaving him alone, but he didn't want to lose the trust that had taken him so long to earn. 

The unhinged fury next door seemed to be winding down now. A few more minutes, and it was quiet. He pressed an ear against the wall to hear Bakugou panting, but no more crashes followed. He knocked three times on their wall, like he always did when Bakugou got done having a fit. It took a while, but to his relief, the knock was returned. He didn't dare try to go over yet, but a text couldn't hurt.

Me:

Any better?

He didn't expect a response, but to his surprise:

Bakubro: 

fuck you you fucking fuck

Kirishima let out a relieved breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Me:

Thanks for answering :) Let me know when I'm allowed to come back

Bakubro:

Never

Me:

I'm gonna make some of Momo's fancy tea if you want any

Bakubro: 

eat shit and die

That went better than expected.

In the kitchen, he attempted to stretch out the tension in his shoulders that had built up carrying around Bakugou and stress. 

Definitely a chamomile day.

He considered evacuating when he heard the rest of 1-A coming up to the dorms, but that would probably just worry the rest of the Bakusquad more. Not to mention Midoriya.

"Kiri!" Mina launched herself into his arms on sight. He picked her up with the hug and realized halfway through he needed to just… not let go for a second. 

"You okay?" she asked quietly in his ear. He just squeezed harder in response before finally releasing the embrace.

"What happened out there, bro?" Kaminari interjected. 

"It's complicated," he answered evasively. "But I'm fine and Recovery Girl fixed Bakugou up."

"How's he doing anyway?" Sero asked more seriously.

"Ask me your fucking self."

Kirishima spun around in surprise to see Bakugou stride into the kitchen.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Recovery Girl?" Mina cocked her head in confusion.

"He's not an ideal patient," Kirishima muttered when Bakugou ignored her.

Something was off. His movements were too exaggerated, too relaxed, as he pulled out his pre-made dumplings.

"Are they finally ready?!" Kaminari was immediately distracted as Bakugou tossed a wok on the stove, halfway missing the burner.

"You gotta steam them first, but basically." He began arranging them in a steamer that Kirishima was fairly sure belonged to Sato. 

"You good, dude?" Sero asked apprehensively.

"Why the fuck wouldn't I be?" he challenged, intentionally obtuse, as if the semi-healed burns covering his right forearm didn't exist.

"Okay." Sero sighed, in a 'so that's how it's gonna be' tone. Kaminari, on the other hand, seemed perfectly willing to ignore the day's events and slip back into an easy banter with Bakugou.

Too easy.

"Bakugou," Kirishima leaned in as close as he dared, "are you drunk?"

"Gotta finish these bitches how I started 'em." He gestured to the wok.

This wasn't like him. Bakugou may not care about breaking the rules, but he did care about getting caught. Being noticeably smashed in the dorms, then storming into the kitchen with everyone around was the kind of impulsive move usual Bakugou would yell at Kaminari for. But there was nothing he could do about it, short of picking him up and taking him to his room. Somehow that didn't sound like it would go well. All he could do for now was monitor the situation and hope nothing sensitive came up.

Then Uraraka arrived.

Chapter Text

"What about Silencer?" Uraraka called over her shoulder to her group as she retrieved a glass of water from the kitchen.

"You talking about that girl who blew up on HeroScape a couple days ago?" Mina asked.

"Yeah. The one that spoke out about being assaulted by a manager at her agency," Uraraka confirmed.

"Yeah, that was pretty messed up." Mina cringed. 

"What happened?" Kaminari jumped in.

"She can create a sound barrier around herself up to 5 meters. One of the higher-ups called her into his office and told her to use her quirk. He came onto her and said if anyone heard them, he would fire her and make sure she never got another job."

"Oh shit," Kaminari swore.

"That was years ago. She said she didn't think anyone would believe her back then, but now that she has a reputation as a hero, she hoped someone would listen."

"If it was years ago, why the fuck bring it up now?"

Oh no.

"She's been advocating for other victims in the hero industry," Uraraka answered, tone a warning that he ignored.

"Does she really want to be known for that?" He swayed a little into his heavy step forward. "She's a fucking hero, but most people only heard of her for being a victim. The attention can't be worth it."

She stared at him in disbelief, sputtering a moment before finally finding her voice. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Gonna have to be more specific, Round Face."

"You actually think rape victims should just stay quiet?!" Her voice raised in both pitch and volume.

"Maybe I do!" Bakugou spat combatively. "Maybe I think telling the whole world about it is fucking pointless!"

"Victims standing up for themselves is not pointless!"

"It sure as hell ain't gonna change anything!" He slurred slightly.

"Bakugou," Kirishima pleaded.

"People talk a few days, then they'll forget all about her-"

"Bakugou!"

 "-because no one actually gives a shit!"

Kirishima stepped in front of his friend, pulling him in close. "You're drunk and you're making a scene."

Bakugou glanced around the room of people staring at him.

"Fuck this!" He stormed out, awkward silence falling behind him.

"Does he just never know when to shut the hell up?!" Uraraka exclaimed.

"That was… something," Sero commented apprehensively.

"That was weird." Mina drew her arms around herself uncomfortably. "Not usual Bakugou weird, I mean like really weird."

 "What did you say to him?" Uraraka asked Kirishima suddenly.

"I- uh…" He debated whether the truth would help or make things worse. He glanced around and waved her closer. "You have to promise not to tell."

She raised a skeptical brow, but nodded.

"He's kinda- well, he's drunk right now-"

"Seriously?!" she cut him off.

"Yeah, but he was freaking out before that." Kirishima prayed this wouldn't blow up later. "He just… he's not doing well. So can you pretty please ignore him being a major asshole just this once?"

"What's up with Blasty?" Mina leaned in.

"Nothing," Kirishima blurted, then realized how unbelievable he sounded. "Well, I don't know, he's… I think the whole Kamino thing still has him messed up."

"I don't get why you always defend him." Uraraka sighed. "But for you, I guess I'll let it go. For now, anyway."

"Thank you!" Kirishima full on bowed in gratitude before jogging up the stairs. 

His knocks on Bakugou's door were ignored, as were his texts. 

I'm not gonna sleep tonight.

Uraraka Ochako didn't think of herself as a vindictive person, but she couldn't help a small grin of satisfaction when Bakugou walked in, pale and moody in wake of a killer hangover.

Serves him right.

Shade Six perched on the edge of Aizawa's desk, talking down to where she assumed the pro hero had currently cocooned himself. In an odd way, righteous anger at Bakugou always seemed to make her feel braver, so when Six asked who in the group wanted to go next, she decided to get the ordeal over with. 

The moment the quirk touched her, Ochako lit up a sunset pink-orange. 

"You ready?" Six asked as her mouse hovered over the browser's search button. She responded with a confident nod.

'Uraraka Ochako'

Every mention of her included a picture of Bakugou. She knew the general public's take away from the sports festival was of a helpless little girl getting beat up by a rabid monster. She knew the press was wrong about her, and on her more generous days, she would say they were also wrong about Bakugou.

That didn't make it any less infuriating. She wasn't particularly gifted, she didn't have any industry connections, she didn't have money. She had to work for every step. She earned her place here, and what reputation did she get? A fragile little girl who needs the world to go easy on her. 

'Beauty and the Beast: UA's most controversial match'

'UA Review: Is it feminist to hit a girl?'

The aura around her turned red. She took the mouse from Six and clicked on an article titled 'The Colosseum: How UA's Sports Festival Glorifies and Rewards Violence'

"This should be good," she grumbled bitterly, skipping past the introductory paragraph.

If UA's focus on combat alone wasn't troubling enough, they've also taken no precautions when matching opponents. Children with quirks best used for utility are paired against students with aggressive, potentially deadly powers. Nowhere is this more apparent than the match up of Uraraka Ochako and Bakugou Katsuki. 

Uraraka, a petite young woman with the ability to make things float, is placed in an empty arena for a one-on-one fight. Her opponent, Bakugou, can release violent explosions from his hands at will and seems to have no reservations about doing so.  Uraraka crafted a patient, clever plan to overcome her blatant disadvantage, but was inevitably blown away by the sheer power of her opponent. This uneven playing field was only one of many unnecessarily harsh defeats.

But I wonder, would the audience truly have been happy with the underdog victory they wanted? Would they really be satisfied if the gravity girl managed to crush Bakugou, a 15-year-old boy, with hundreds of kilos of falling debris? 

UA needs to remember that these young heroes are children and should be treated as such.

"Well, that's not what I expected," she remarked. "Congratulations, Bakugou, not everyone who watched the sports festival wants to see you crushed by falling rocks."

"Eat a dick, Round Face." Bakugou barely glanced up from whatever he was doing on his phone under his desk.

"This author has a very good point." Six ignored the banter. "Making the final event a straight up fight sends the message that at the end of the day, combat power is the only thing that matters. In a time where heroes are already under heavy scrutiny for allowing excessive state-sanctioned violence, pitting children against each other for entertainment is controversial at best."

"But neither of us even got hurt!" Ochako exclaimed. "Midoriya and Todoroki's fights were way more violent. So why is it always my match that people talk about?!"

"That part's just sexism," Six admitted. "Which I imagine is incredibly frustrating."

"I earned my spot here just like everyone else!" She fumed, orange-red rippling around her. "No one sees that! Even my parents asked me if I wanted to quit and come home!"

"We support whatever you want to do sweetie. But don't get yourself hurt for our sakes, that's the last thing we want."

"It's not fair for you to be singled out like that," Six commiserated. "The way people talk about you must be stressful for your parents too. 'If strangers are worried, shouldn't we be?'  As a parent, you would have to ask yourself that."

"Exactly!" The rippling escalated in vibrant orange. "I didn't ask for anyone to be worried about me and I'm tired of being underestimated."

"Well, you have your whole career to prove them wrong," Six encouraged. 

When class ended, she felt good . Like everything to come was an opportunity to make people eat their words.

"Bakugou." Aizawa caught him before he could sneak out.

"Yeah?"

Aizawa gestured him over, then waited for the other students to clear out.

"I'll get straight to the point: You went through a traumatic experience and you are not coping well. You need to see someone."

"I don't fucking need to do anything," Bakugou growled hostilely. "You can't make me!"

"I can't," Aizawa agreed, "but I can require you to sit out of combat training until you do."

"What the hell?!" Was he he fucking joking? "You can't do that! I didn't even hurt anyone, why am I being punished?!"

"This isn't a punishment," Aizawa assured. "And you did hurt someone: Yourself. It would be irresponsible to let it happen again without at least taking the bare minimum of precaution."

"Don't fucking baby me! I'm the best fighter here!"

"I appreciate that you took the measure to train with Kirishima to avoid injuring other students. You showed a lot of maturity and awareness of your own mind in doing so and I'm proud of you for it. But the fact remains that you are unwell and need to talk to someone."

"The hell is some shrink gonna do? You think they can throw out some pretty words and fucking fix me?!"

"I know it's not that easy." Aizawa remained annoyingly calm. "I'm not saying you have to take up weekly therapy to go back to class. But you need to actually let Recovery Girl assess you and talk to her. Or another teacher, if you'd prefer. You just need to be honest with someone in the staff so we can try to figure out a way to help."

"This is fucking pointless," he spat and stormed away, absolutely seething.

"I don't care if you don't like her!" Mitsuki shoved him out of the elevator, sending him staggering a few feet before regaining his balance. "I don't fucking like her either. But the school said we're going to counselling and it's your own goddamn fault, so suck it up."

"Fuck all of you!"

Since 1-B had been delayed for an exam that morning, 1-A had a half-hour free period before joint training. But when the past week had been filled primarily with hands-on training and group activities, few of them had much busy work to do. A few groups gathered to work on Aizawa's project, which was a good idea, but she had something to settle. 

She held her tongue with drunk Bakugou last night for Kirishima's sake, but today's sober Bakugou had things to answer for. When Aizawa called Kirishima out to talk, she took the opportunity to spare him the drama and planted herself in front of Bakugou's desk.

"Care to revise your statement?" she asked pointedly, arms crossed in disapproval.

"What fucking statement?" he mumbled groggily.

"You were a bit inhibited last night, but surely you remember saying that the campaign against sexual assault is pointless."

She had come ready to fight, but instead he… flinched? Did Bakugou do that?

"Doesn't fucking matter what I think." He looked away uncomfortably.

"So you do have a conscience in there!" Ochako exclaimed in amazement. "And here I thought your blatant disregard for other people extended even to violence against women."

She barely heard the reply muttered under his breath, "That's not the same thing"

"I'm sorry, what?" Ochako challenged.

"We weren't talking about hitting girls," he explained quietly.

"I guess we weren't," she conceded, "but women are disproportionately affected by rape."

Okay, that time he definitely flinched.

"The fuck do you want from me, Round Face?!"

"I want an explanation for what you said," she pressed on sternly.

"Well, then it's too bad I don't remember."

"Really?" She couldn't believe him, the pure stubbornness. "You honestly don't remember saying that advocating for victims is pointless? And that if it happened years ago, they might as well keep it to themselves because no one cares?"

Bakugou glared silently at his desk.

"Is that really what you think?" Uraraka pushed. "You think we should just keep ignoring the problem? Like it's not worth making a fuss about?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then why?"

"It's not gonna change anything!" Bakugou exclaimed breathlessly. "If the statute of limitations are up, what's the point? Life went on, why drag it back up?!" 

"Rape isn't something that just goes away!" she shouted in frustration. "Just because it was a long time ago doesn't mean it's over for the victims! They can get support now, even if they didn't back then."

"What the fuck is that gonna do?!" Bakugou was yelling now too. "If it was years ago, they should be over it by now!"

"You don't just get over something like that!" she shot back. "Not without years of therapy!"

Bakugou slammed both hands onto the desk with a loud bang, chair flying back as he stood.

"I DON'T NEED FUCKING THERAPY!"

The room froze. In the dead silence, Bakugou's eyes widened with the horrified realization of what he just said. Stunned, he stayed perfectly still for a moment.

"Bakugou…" She struggled for something constructive to say as his breathing audibly sped up. "I'm sorry."

A hand flew over his mouth as he shoved past her in a dead sprint.

"Oh my god," Midoriya rasped, looking nearly as shellshocked. Tears quickly sprung to his eyes, one hand clutching his chest.

"What just happened?" Hagakure asked from the far side of the room.

"Don't know," Ojirou answered. "Other than Bakugou thinks he doesn't need therapy. Which I'm pretty sure we've all known is untrue since the day we met him."

"What were they fighting about?" Ochako heard Sato whisper to Shoji from her other side. 

"Kacchan!" Midoriya rocketed from his desk and, like always, ran after him.

Chapter Text

Momo, in general, hadn't thought terribly highly of Bakugou. He was loud and aggressive with terrible impulse control. But she had to admire his confidence. Since being stuck in a group with him, he had somewhere along the way stopped grating on her nerves so much. At times, she even felt an odd sort of kinship that she didn't understand. 

Her experience hadn't been anything extreme. She developed faster than other girls in her middle school and had to unbutton her shirt to use her quirk. It wasn't surprising that she had been singled out, but that didn't make it any less cruel. A group of boys made a game out of 'copping a feel'. Her polite upbringing obligated her to just accept and ignore it. Maybe it was an accident. But then it kept happening and the snickering began to follow her. She was afraid to be seen, and afraid to be alone. They got bolder until a teacher finally noticed as an older boy pulled her shirt down in a crowded hallway and squeezed her breasts. Her father made sure every boy involved got expelled, but the damage was done. She changed schools to escape the unbearable humiliation.

Her lungs felt like ice as she watched the boy leave in a flurry of all too familiar shame and terror.

"Ochako?" Mina nudged anxiously. "What did that... Did he mean...?"

Ochako didn't move or speak. Eventually, Momo answered instead.

"Bakugou just revealed something very personal he didn't intend to." Her voice shook. "I think it would be best to respect his privacy and not talk about it."

"But he's- I'm really worried about him." Mina stressed, absently fussing at a bracelet. "After what happened yesterday, Kirishima looked so scared."

"Yesterday?" Momo wondered just how many Bakugou-related incidents could wrack up in 24 hours.

"He had a really bad panic attack during joint training," Mina recounted, sliding a stray chair under herself as she joined Momo's desk. "He accidentally burned himself and when I got there he was completely unconscious. Kirishima had to carry him."

"I see." Momo took in this new information, turning it over with her own experience of anxiety. They were so different as people, but the pieces of Bakugou's recent chaotic behavior fell into place.

"Ochako?" Momo touched her hand in concern. "Are you okay?"

The girl looked stunned, panicked, and nauseous all at once.

"I thought he didn't care, but that's not what he meant." Her eyes started to well up. "He thinks no one cares about what happened to him."

"He does," Momo acknowledged sadly.

"He thinks it would ruin his reputation." She continued processing out loud, rerouting her brain to apply all of her advocacy know-how to Bakugou, of all people. "That being a victim is all he would be known for and no one would respect him."

Momo nodded along.

"I didn't mean to…"

"I know you didn't," Momo told her gently. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known."

"I- Am I reading this right?" Mina interrupted with a strained whisper. "That Blasty freaked out because he just yelled in the middle of class that he was sexually assaulted?"

"In essence." Momo kept her voice low, grateful the other two were doing the same in spite of their compromised emotional states.

Ochako jumped suddenly at her phone buzzing with a text. Whatever it said seemed to reignite her panic. 

"Everything okay?" Momo asked, as if anything was currently okay. Ochako handed over her phone silently before becoming the third student to sprint out of this world's most dramatic half-hour free period.

Deku: 

I need you to get Aizawa. Tell him to come to the boy's dorm, it's an emergency.

That was not encouraging. She'd nearly forgotten the other girl in this conversation when Mina leaned over to read. 

"Oh shit."

"What's going on with Midoriya?" Kirishima asked Ochako as they returned, distinctly without their teacher.

"Kiri!" Mina answered instead. "You know Bakugou better than anyone. If he accidentally blurted out something really intense and personal in the middle of class, how do you think that would go?"

"Very extremely not good." Kirishima answered with distressed suspicion. "Is that a thing that happened?!"

"Yeah..."

"How bad a thing?"

"The absolute worst," Mina said emphatically.

"That's very bad."

"Like, so bad."

Momo kept a joke about Bakugou's friends sharing his emotional vocabulary to herself.

"He's going to freak," Kirishima worried. "I should check on him."

"Let Aizawa handle it," Momo commanded suddenly.

"But Bakugou responds best to me."

"I know," Momo agreed. "But right now, he's afraid and ashamed and I think the fewer people see him like this the better. He's very prideful."

"I already know everything." Kirishima surprised her. "And he knows I know."

"Still." She couldn't put into words why Kirishima had to stay.

"Momo, what's wrong?"

She hides behind her savior, Miss Miyashiro, the chemistry teacher who happened to witness her torment.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm glad you care about your friend, but I  think Momo needs some time alone right now."

Miss Miyashiro shields her as she leaves the nurse's office to meet her father.

"Are you coming back?!"

She never spoke to anyone from her first middle school again. She and Bakugou were nothing alike, but she wanted to at least give him the chance for Aizawa to be his Miss Miyashiro. To have someone stand between him and the world until he was ready to face it. Maybe she was wrong, she didn't know Bakugou like Kirishima did. But it felt like the right thing to do.

"How long have you known?" Momo inquired.

"Just since yesterday." Kirishima twisted his folded hands anxiously. "That's why he was acting so crazy in the first place. Well, that and the booze."

"Since when does Bakugou drink?" Mina asked.

"I've actually never seen him drink for fun," Kirishima recalled. "I think he only drinks when he's upset. Which is kind of a lot lately."

"It's common for victims to turn to substance abuse to cope," Ochako recited.

"I'm so weirded out talking about Bakugou like this " Mina bit her lip. "I know you're right, I'm just thinking about how much he would hate it."

"I wonder…" Momo attempted to assemble the puzzle pieces. "Was what happened to him a consequence of denying the villain's invitation?"

"No," Kirishima answered immediately, then, "Well, not most of it anyway."

"He told you?"

"A little. I don't want to betray his trust or anything, but if you already know..." He struggled with the conflicting priorities. "That Toga girl did something to him, but he said it didn't go that far. The really bad thing was years ago."

"That might actually be worse." Mina paled.

"His mom kicked him out and he was on his own in a storm and..." His calm account began to fall apart. Momo watched the cracks form and splinter as Kirishima the rock finally broke down. 

"She yells at him and hits him and threw him out and then that happened and he thinks it's his fault because she blames him for everything! She blamed him for getting kidnapped, like he should have stopped it somehow and it's so fucked up! In training he was so scared, it was like he wasn't even there anymore. And I did that to him! I held him down and made his mind go back there, and it was so bad he hurt himself just to get away from me! I know talking about things is supposed to help, but when he tries he can't breath. I just- I don't know what to do!"

Mina hugged around his shoulders as he cried into his clenched hands.

"Okay, I tried not to be nosy, but now my man Kirishima is crying and that cannot stand." Kaminari shouldered into the circle.

"The short version: Bakugou went through some really awful shit and Kiri is the best friend in the world," Mina summarized.

"Well, I could've told you that last part," Kaminari quipped with a light nudge to Kirishima's shoulder, earning a watery smile.

"Thanks, guys." Kirishima sniffed and tried unsuccessfully to rub away the tears. "It's been a lot and I feel like I can't really do anything to help him."

"Has he ever been treated for mental health issues?" Momo asked.

"Doubt it." Kirishima shook his head. "I don't think he ever told anyone before."

"That should be where Aizawa starts then, since he has obvious symptoms of PTSD." Momo fell into her strength, drawing on text-book knowledge to categorize and diagnose a world she didn't understand until it made at least a little sense.

"Like what?" Kaminari reminded her that Bakugou's friends were the exact opposite of book-smart.

"Like..." She hesitated to pick Bakugou apart over something so personal, but these were his friends. They spent so much time with him lately and they couldn't help him if they had no idea what was happening. "What Kirishima described definitely sounds like flashbacks. And poor emotional regulation. Hypervigilance, definitely."

"...He has high blood pressure?" Good lord, Kaminari.

"It means being really defensive and overreacting to your environment. Like, you know where all the exits are and if anyone is behind you."

"He's always hated people touching him," Mina mused, "but I thought it was just because he doesn't like people."

"I thought that got better?" Kirishima raised anxiously. "I didn't realize it still made him uncomfortable, shit, I-"

"Relax, Kirishima, you're the exception."

"I am?" He looked up at her hopefully.

"Have you seriously not noticed that you're the only one that can touch him without getting yelled at?"

"Now that I think about it, she's right," Kaminari confirmed. "How'd you pull that off, anyway?"

"Bakugou is kinda like a cat." Kirishima shrugged. "You can reach out, but from there you gotta let him come to you."

"Midoriya went after him." Ochako sighed heavily. "I doubt that went well."

"They may not like each other, but they've been together for a long time," Kirishima considered. "He understands some things about Bakugou the rest of us can't. We're just going to have to hope that's enough."

The second the door to his dorm shut behind him, Bakugou realized his mistake. He should have just left the grounds. Now he was trapped in here.

They know they know they-

The room started to blur. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, flickered a vague awareness that he was hyperventilating and that was probably bad, but he couldn't stop. 

How do I get out of this?

Leave UA. There were other schools out there, and maybe, in time, 1-A would forget about him. But then his parents would want to know why and nope.

Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he would wake up the next morning to find this didn't really happen. Nothing felt real right now, so there was a chance.

His foot caught a partially burned physics book as he staggered toward the bathroom. 

Right. 

He destroyed his room last night. Destroyed everything he could get his hands on because Kirishima knew, it was real and it happened. He hadn't accepted the… event, even in the privacy of his own mind, as something that actually happened to him until recently. But it did. And now the entire fucking class knew, soon Aizawa would know, his parents would know, god, if the media found out. 

He couldn't face it. And there was no way out.

Except.

The thought came like an answer to prayer.

I could die.

It scared him, but the ability to escape somehow provided some relief from the panic.

He had always been one for extremes. All or nothing. He would be the best, and if he wasn't, then he was worthless. He would be a protege; talented, powerful, fucking untouchable. The image he painted in his mind on covers of imaginary hero magazines would never recover from this.

It was over.

He was over

How fucking ironic would it be to go out on the last words 'I don't need fucking therapy'? A wild laugh escaped and he wondered if he looked as crazy as he felt.

But how to do it? He placed his hands on both temples and imagined the blast that would instantaneously remove him from consciousness. Physically speaking, it would be easy. But to actually do it… Years of accidental burns and hard-learned control screamed at him we are absolutely not doing that. What if he fucked up in his panic and didn't… finish the job? Brain injuries affected performance in everything, the last thing he wanted was to permanently disable himself and still have to live with this shit. Not to mention the last of his hearing would be gone. 

All or nothing.

Was his room high enough for… fall damage? If it wasn't, then he would just break his legs and be out for the season and very much still alive. Plus stopping the reflex to save himself would probably require quirk restraints he didn't have. He needed a more controlled method. Pocket knife, maybe? He rummaged around until he found a relatively sharp bladed multitool. Now just press down...

Oh shit, this was way harder than TV made it look. He never fully appreciated the durability of skin until he began intently applying pressure to his own. A few drops of blood beaded in a red line that would very much not kill him.

The 'easy' way out my ass.

"Kacchan!"

Oh, goddammit all!

"What are you doing?!" Deku snatched his arm and took the knife without hesitation. Bakugou was so surprised by the boldness he forgot to fight the nerd. Or maybe he was just really checked out at the moment. It was hard to tell.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK, this was so stupid!

"Tell me you weren't trying to kill yourself!" Oh Jesus, here came the waterworks.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself, you stupid nerd."

"I don't believe you," he cried angrily, pissing Bakugou off even more in return.

"Why'd you want me to fucking say it then?!"

"You don't get to do this!" Deku shouted. "You told me to jump off the roof for a better next life and I didn't, so you don't get to kill yourself when you're you!"

He didn't really understand the words right now, but Deku was definitely doing one of his heartfelt speeches. God, he really did tell the nerd to kill himself, didn't he? He barely even remembered it.

What a piece of shit. 

"You don't know what I would have given all those years to be you! You're amazing, Kacchan! So you can't die!"

"You're so loud," Bakugou huffed.

"Are you even listening to me?" he asked with a hysterical laugh.

"No."

"Kacchan." Deku crouched down on the bathroom floor with him, because somehow that's where he ended up. "I know you're hurting."

The fuck is it to you? he didn't say out loud because he didn't want to hear about how much Deku fucking cared about everything.

"Some really bad stuff happened to you," he understated, "but you can't let it beat you."

"Nothing beats me," Bakugou argued lazily, then laughed to himself. "Except my mom."

"Jesus, Kacchan." Deku rarely swore, but every man had his limits. "Come on, let's get you off the floor at least."

"Don't touch me you fucking loser, I got it!" He pulled himself up clumsily. "The hell are you even doing here?"

"You ran off looking pretty upset and I was worried. Rightly so, apparently."

Oh yeah. The therapy thing. He forgot what started this spiral for a moment.

"I know you don't want to talk about it." Deku's gaze stabbed into him with all it's overbearing empathy. "But whatever happened, I'll always think you're amazing."

"Don't fucking patronize me!" He shoved Deku on his way past. "I don't need some flowery ass speech about how I'm so brave and everything gets better, don't even try to give me that bullshit or I'll blow your fucking head off!"

"Okay," Deku surrendered.

"That's a first," he scoffed. He stood in the middle of his bedroom with absolutely no idea what he planned to do. But Deku was here to yell at, that was always a good distraction. "If you say a single word about what you think you heard today, you're a dead man."

It felt strangely… normal. Maybe because the way he feared people would look at him was how Deku always looked at him. The nerd had already seen him at his lowest so many times, this was basically routine for them.

Maybe no one else was paying attention.  

Deku was a stalker, so of course he overheard. And Round Face knew. But he yelled all the time, maybe most of the class just tuned him out? If he could buy her silence, maybe he could bury the whole thing and pretend today didn't happen. 

Good Christ, he's crying again.

"When did it happen?" Deku asked quietly. 

He didn't answer.

"When you were- did the villains-"

"Shut up." He sounded too tired to be threatening, but Deku mercifully shut his mouth anyway. The overwhelming exhaustion was a welcome relief, returning him to the floor that seemed to be his new best friend. Tired was good. Sleep was sort of like death, but with less commitment. 

"Why are you here, Deku?"

"I told you, you looked upset and-"

"No, I mean why do you give a damn? I beat the shit out of you our entire childhood, so why the fuck do you care what happens to me?"

"We've been together our whole lives, Kacchan."

"I've known you since you were a baby."

Fucking Midoriyas.

"What about it? I sure as shit don't care about you."

That shut him up. It was far from the meanest thing he'd said to Deku. Including nicknaming him Deku. But some part of him that had grown to respect the nerd whispered that he should care.

"I've been trying to understand why you hate me so much," Deku said wistfully, "and I think I'm starting to get it."

"That so?" Bakugou challenged skeptically.

"You didn't want someone weak acting like an equal because you didn't want to associate yourself with weakness. The idea that someone could possibly see you as anything less than indestructible scared you."

"You're on thin fucking ice, Deku."

"I've been on thin ice with you since we were four. I'm used to it," he said with a wry smile, then more seriously, "But anyway, feeling like people think you're weak is basically the absolute worst thing for you."

"The hell are you getting at?" 

"Whatever happened, you're still the strongest, most amazing person I know."

"I fucking know that," he snapped, clinging to hollow arrogance like a cracked shield.

Don't fucking do this to me you crybaby boyscout fuckwit.

"You know it up here." Deku tapped his own temple. "But still, someone made you feel weak and it's wrong."

He wanted to be angry, but the well of rage he believed to be endless finally failed him. In its place was just tired. Or something like tired, but not quite? Like his brain had turned to floaty mush. The floaty mush didn't particularly care if Deku hung around. Worse yet, the stingy thing was coming back, travelling all the way from his stomach to behind his eyes.

Someone made you feel weak.

Deku always did know how to get to him. He might be able to deal with the crawling, nauseating terror that accompanied people touching him, if he could just escape the damage to who he was. If he could undo the change from strong, smart, talented to disgusting, pathetic, weak, maybe he could learn to cope with the rest.

For some reason Deku still thought he was 'amazing.' But Deku was also an idiot. The rest of the world would not be so forgiving.

Kirishima would be.

His stomach lurched at the thought of his next door neighbor and what he planned to do 10 minutes ago. Kirishima would be stuck living next to the dead kid. The haunted dorm room where the bad thing happened. Plus, the dumbass would probably actually miss him.

"Who the fuck are you texting?!" he demanded so suddenly Deku dropped his phone.

"I asked Uraraka to get Aizawa since she already knows what happened."

"You're bringing the teachers into this?" Bakugou complained, though some part of him had known this was inevitable. "Why are you the absolute worst?"

"Kacchan, you tried to kill yourself."

"No I didn't!"  he denied vehemently. "I briefly considered killing myself. If I decided to die, I'd be fucking dead. I don't do things halfway, you damn nerd!"

He could almost believe himself if it weren't for the small cut dripping down the inside of his left forearm.

Great, now both arms have self-inflicted injuries, that will look great on the psych eval.

"Hello, problem children." Aizawa let himself in. "Uraraka said this was an emergency."

"Yes!"

"No."

Aizawa sighed before joining the boys on the floor. 

"Talk to me."

"Kacchan wanted to kill himself," Deku blurted out immediately.

"I fucking thought about it for like a couple minutes. It's not that big a deal."

"You're unbelievable, you just-"

"I'll take it from here, Midoriya," Aizawa cut him off. At the boy's obvious hesitation, his tone softened. "I know you boys have been let down by your teachers before. But I need you to trust me."

Eventually Deku nodded compliantly and left.

"This is quite the mess you've made here." Aizawa gestured to the splayed and charred contents of his desk.

"Fuck off." Bakugou scowled.

Aizawa settled in a few feet away, legs crossed, brushing a bit of charred paper out of his way. "Let's start at the beginning.

Chapter Text

Sitting on the floor of his destroyed bedroom talking about feelings with Erasehead was definitely not how he expected his first year at UA to go. His heart pounded in his ears as the floaty feeling cut him off from naming whatever emotion he felt at this point.

"Uraraka said you ran off earlier and Midoriya followed. What triggered that?"

"Got in an argument with Round Face." His last bit of rebellion would be to use mean nicknames until his last breath.

"About?"

"Feminism."

Aizawa stared at him a moment. "I admit, that is not what I was expecting. Could you be a bit more specific?"

Does it even matter anymore?

"It was about that Silencer chick."

"Ah." Something in Aizawa's gaze shifted, connecting the dots. "That struck a nerve with you, I take it?"

Bakugou curled tighter, knees hugged to his chest. Waiting for judgement.

"Bakugou." Aizawa sounded so far removed from the formidable Eraserhead, all patient and gentle. It was jarring. "Heroes go through terrible things. It's a part of the job. It doesn't make you any less worthy of being here."

Goddamn, how many times is he going to fucking cry this week?

"You don't know anything about it," he bites through his folded arms.

"You could tell me."

"Nice try, therapy man," Bakugou said in a vaguely James Bond voice.

"You really did not like that idea, did you?"

"Fuck the hell no," he assured. "I'm not talking to some random fucking stranger."

"Recovery Girl isn't a stranger. Neither is Six or Hounddog."

"They're just people I see in the building sometimes, I don't know them."

"I see." Aizawa hummed in contemplation. "Then how about you talk to me?" 

"That's not your job," Bakugou backpedaled.

"Not strictly speaking," Aizawa agreed, "but now that you live here and I've been trusted with your health and safety, it's hardly outside my scope of responsibilities."

That made sense. Aizawa had to deal with him on a daily basis anyway, and had already proven he was willing to keep doing that. If he wasn't, the chronically busy man wouldn't have put so much effort into bringing him back. Bakugou  released an exaggerated sigh.

"What do you wanna know?"

"How long have you been having panic attacks?" he asked bluntly.

"Jesus, going straight for the jugular? What the fuck, Sensei."

"I thought you'd appreciate a direct approach." Aizawa shrugged. "How long?"

"Mom, something's wrong with Kacchan!"

"Katsuki, sweetie, you're okay. Just breathe with me."

"Don't remember exactly. Before middle school."

"Have you noticed any patterns in what sets them off?"

"I should rent a fucking room at that school with how often I'm called in there!"

She yanks him close, too close and too warm.

"I don't fucking know!" Bakugou spat. "Is there anything rational behind freaking out over nothing?"

"You don't freak out over nothing," Aizawa corrected patiently. "These reactions you have are just things your body learned to survive."

"How the fuck is hyperventilating until I throw up or pass out gonna help me survive?"

"Okay, that's fair," Aizawa acknowledged, taking a minute to draw up what of physiology he remembered. "But before that part, your sympathetic nervous system releases adrenaline to help you fight or escape whatever is coming after you."

"So why does it make me fuck-mothering useless instead?" Bakugou demanded.

"When Kirishima pinned you, what was your first reaction?"

"To blow him sky fucking high." Finally a question that was easy to answer.

"Exactly." Aizawa leaned forward, ever so slightly closer. "But you resisted that urge because even though your body reacted to the perceived danger, your conscious mind knew you didn't want to hurt Kirishima. That's a commendable thing."

"Didn't straight up murder my best friend, go me," Bakugou remarked scathingly. Oh shit, did he just say he had a best friend out loud? "Really got my shit together."

"Don't sell yourself short. When you suppressed your instinct to fight, all that adrenaline had nowhere to go," Aizawa explained. "That's where the throwing up and passing out comes in. You put yourself through that because you didn't want to hurt Kirishima. Believe it or not, you're a good friend to him, Bakugou."

"Shit." He rubbed at his eyes. Since when was Aizawa so fucking sappy?

"Letting people get close is hard." The sympathetic, lightly halting tone said he spoke from experience. "Especially if you've been betrayed before. Not everyone turns out to be worthy of your trust, but somewhere out there, someone is. You need allies to survive in this field, and taking risks to find them is just a part of living."

"They really hurt you, didn't they?"

"Kirishima knows." Bakugou dug his nails into his arms. "He knows way too much. So does fucking Deku, but he's always been a weird stalker like that."

"Do you think Kirishima would ever use that against you?"

"Bakugou, you're drunk and you're making a scene."

"Just breathe with me."

"Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault."

"No."

"Good." Aizawa actually smiled. "I don't think he would either. He's a good kid."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

"Tell him what?" Aizawa asked earnestly. Instead of answering, Bakugou kept his head buried and lifted his still lightly bleeding wrist. "No. I think you should, but what your friend knows should be up to you."

"You think he'll be upset?" Bakugou dared to turn his head and look up with one cautious eye.

"Bakugou," he said seriously, slightly exasperated. "You really underestimate how much he cares about you. When you were taken, he felt guilty that he wasn't there to protect you. He feels guilty now because he doesn't know how to help you. If you managed to seriously hurt yourself, he would be devastated. If you died, I'm not sure he would ever really get over it."

"That doesn't make sense!" Nothing really made sense today. "He's made of goddamn sunshine, people love him! He has plenty of other friends, better friends, that actually deserve him!"

"It doesn't matter who deserves what, he chose you. Whether you like it or not, you're his best friend." Something old and soft crossed his face. "If you can't find it in you to get better for yourself, at least give treatment a chance for him."

Well, shit. With how much Kirishima put up with lately, he owed the dumbass to at least try. Out of the corner of his eye, Aizawa started to look… uncomfortable? The silence that settled in carried on too long.

"What is it?" Bakugou asked when he couldn't stand the idle dread anymore.

"I am going to have to tell a parent," Aizawa confessed. "I'm guessing you would prefer that be your father."

Bakugou shrank impossibly further into himself.

"I'm only required to tell them the current situation. I don't know if I'd quite call this an attempt, but I need to at least say that you had an intense episode of suicidal ideation. Your father can decide if he wants you to stay here or go to a hospital."

"He'll tell her," Bakugou whispered. "Please, please don't call them."

"The only way I can do that is if I need to keep you separated for your safety," Aizawa explained slowly. "I can do that, but you're going to have to admit to both me and Nezu that you don't feel safe with your mother."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I know it sucks," Azawa commiserated. "I've actually been planning to speak with your father for a while now."

"About?" Bakugou asked suspiciously.

"About requesting a guardianship contract so I don't have to inform your mother or let her see you when things like this happen."

"What… does that mean?" Bakugou inquired cautiously, like he might just be reading the whole thing wrong. "The school would be my third parent?"

"Not the school," Aizawa corrected. "Just me."

Bakugou thought his heart might stop.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think your mother is good for you to be around."

"No, I mean why take that on yourself? Why would you do that?!" He became increasingly hysterical. "My actual parents don't want the fucking job, why the hell would you? What's your angle?"

"My angle is you're a promising student in a bad situation. You deserve a chance to heal, and that's not going to happen if you're still dealing with current abuse at home."

He cringed at the word, but didn't have much of an argument against it left.

"You're going to regret this," Bakugou promised him.

"I won't," Aizawa refuted confidently. "Believe it or not, you're not the first student I've gotten custody of."

"Icy-Hot?" Bakugou assumed.

"No, Shinsou," Aizawa contradicted, then after a pause, "I'm going to need to loop back around to that though, if even you think Todoroki should be permanently removed from Endeavor."

"Yeah, so why you bugging me and not him?" he challenged.

"Because Todoroki is doing this thing we call coping," he answered bluntly. "I've spoken with his older brother and sister. The two of them are monitoring the situation."

"You're an only child, aren't you?"

"I can't believe I'm beating fucking Icy-Hot for most screwed up in 1-A."

"You do always say you want to be number 1," Aizawa remarked. Bakugou cracked up in an unexpected laugh.

"I don't think that's how you're supposed to respond, Sensei."

"You wouldn't want to hear the right response anyway." Aizawa shrugged. "But you see why I need you to let me involve an actual healthcare professional. A licensed therapist I am not."

"Oh no, you talk to me like a person instead of a fucked up science project you need to fix. What a drawback."

"I don't think you've met very good therapists. Which makes it harder to trust a new one." Aizawa began to stand. "You and I need to take a field trip to the nurse's office, then I need to make some phone calls. Do you want me to send Kirishima up with you?"

"Don't bother him with this shit if he doesn't want t-"

"Let me rephrase that: can I permit Kirishima to come see you, or do you want me to restrain him?"

"...He can come."

Recovery Girl was, blessedly, as stoic as Aizawa about the whole thing. She nodded as he explained the situation, expression unreadable. It wasn't until she insisted he lay down that he remembered: they might still send him to the looney bin. Even if no one knew why he freaked out, a trip to psych outside the school would never stay quiet. He could see it now, articles about how the kidnapping ruined him and he was too unstable to be a hero.

"I want to talk to my dad before any of you do anything," Bakugou demanded suddenly.

"I'll call him after Nezu and let you talk to him," Aizawa promised.

What if my mother wants me committed?

She already thought he was fucked up and he just gave her a reason to ship him off, shit, shit, shit!

He fell down that rabbit hole until Aizawa returned with his father on the phone. His chest hurt with how real everything suddenly became at the sound of his father's voice.

"Hey kiddo. How are you doing?" He sounded strained and scared and relieved all at once.

"I'm fucking fine," Bakugou retorted stubbornly.

"I'm going to come in and sign some stuff before we tell your mom." Oh he had definitely been crying.

"Thanks," was all he could manage through the sudden lump in his throat.

"I love you, Katsuki. I'll be there soon."

He hung up before Bakugou even remembered what he had wanted to say. He meant to start making demands with a speech about preserving his hero career, but it all escaped him now.

"Am I going to the hospital?" he asked, eyes squeezed shut in fear.

"No," Aizawa answered. "Because of your particular circumstances, your father and I decided to keep you here for now, with Recovery Girl as medical and Six as psych, as far as required credentials go. Nezu already approved it."

He was so relieved he thought he might melt into the fucking floor.

"May I let Kirishima in?"

He couldn't seem to talk right now, but nodded.

"Bakubroo!" Kirishima burst in the second he received the green light to do so. "God dude, I was so worried, are you okay?! Midoriya was crying all over the place, what happened?"

"Uhh…"

"That was a lot to throw at you at once." Kirishima backed up. "Sorry. I've just been… I'm so glad to see you."

"Yeah," Bakugou said lamely, hoping the 'you too' was implied. Kirishima's eyes landed on his left arm that he had completely forgotten about. 

"Shit, man." Pained realization accompanied the strain in his voice and start of tears. "You… Can… can I hug you? That's okay if you say no, I just- Shit."

"Sit the fuck down, Shitty Hair."

He obeyed, sitting next to Bakugou on the stiff hospital bed. Bakugou made no move to do anything that could be deemed hugging, god no, not when he was this lucid. Instead he leaned his weight against Kirishima like an oddly shaped chair. 

"I'm so sorry." He half heard, half felt Kirishima's soft apology, rumbling low in his chest.

"The fuck are you sorry for?"

"I didn't realize it was getting this bad," he explained, like he was somehow supposed to do something about that.

"It's not like I've been thinking about it for a long time or anything," Bakugou muttered. "I just kinda panicked after… After."

"I heard." Kirishima understood immediately, oh god, what had he heard? "It should be okay though. Not many people really understood what you guys were talking about."

"Who?" Bakugou demanded immediately, "Names."

"Midoriya, obviously. Momo. Mina kinda figured it out. Kaminari knows something really bad happened that you accidentally told Uraraka, but doesn't know any details. Sero was chilling with Shoji when it happened, but he's probably going to put some things together just because he's been paying attention. That's everyone, as far as I know."

That… wasn't that bad. Mina had already seen him break down at joint training, and he felt strangely okay with Kaminari knowing he was fucked up somehow. Probably because Kaminari was also a bit fucked up. Deku and Round Face were both victim-advocate bleeding hearts, who also didn't really matter to him on an interpersonal level, so long as they could keep their fucking mouths shut it would be tolerable. That just left one variable.

Momo.

What the fuck did miss perfect rich girl have to say about it?

"I bet your dad beats you."

The girl from middle school appeared in his mind again, poking at him like a wounded animal. 

"Stop stressing so much," Kirishima pulled him back out of his head. "They're worried, but they're cool about it. They won't disrespect you or anything."

"You believe in people way too much," Bakugou huffed.

"Name one time!" Kirishima protested.

"You're best friends with me!"

"Did you just admit we're best friends?" Kirishima beamed.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about!" Bakugou tried to sound annoyed but it definitely came out fond. 

"I'm glad you hadn't been thinking about it for awhile," Kirishima said more quietly. "If it ever comes up again, please, please tell me."

"I don't really understand why you care so much," Bakugou admitted, "but I'll try."

"Thank you." Kirishima shifted his weight back so his arm planted slightly behind Bakugou, taking even more of his bodyweight onto his shoulder. "It's not just me, you know. The whole squad cares about you a lot."

"Fucking morons," he grumbled. Kirishima laughed lightly and rested his cheek on the top of Bakugou's hair. It was weird, but… nice.

The tired finally won when he fell asleep like that, still waiting for his dad to show up.

Chapter Text

"Katsuki?"

In spite of the gentle tone, he still jumped at his name.

"Hey old man." He sat up as his father took a chair nearby. 

"Hi, Mr. Bakugou!" Kirishima greeted, because he physically couldn't stop being friendly.

"Hi Kirishima. Good to see you again."

"Uh…" Kirishima shifted awkwardly. "Should I give you the room?"

"That's up to Katsuki." He turned back to his son expectantly.

"Stay," his mouth said without consulting his brain.

"It seems I owe you." Masaru addressed the redheaded rock that had somehow become a person he clings to like a security blanket. "Your teacher says you've been there for Katsuki a lot lately."

"Katsuki would like to wrap up this sappy shit," he growled in third person.

"Alright," Masaru relented. "What do you want to talk about?"

He really didn't have a good answer to that. He didn't want to say much of anything. The silence went on until broken by Kirishima.

"Not to ruin the moment," he smiled nervously, "but you were out for a while and I didn't want to disturb your nap because you looked like you needed it, and now I really gotta pee."

"Then go, you dork." Bakugou gave him a light shove. Then he was alone with his father. He still didn't want to say much. He did have questions though. "How long do I have before I need to deal with Mom?"

Masaru's face fell. "Aizawa and I have been talking about that. I've agreed to go through with giving him guardianship, but keeping Mitsuki out of the loop is a bit more complicated. To deny her contact, we would have to formally accuse her."

"Accuse her of...?" He didn't want to hear it, but he needed his father to say the word.

"One or both of us would have to accuse her of domestic abuse."

"Will you?" he demanded, an old anger he thought he'd managed to bury now stirring.

"Do you want me to?" 

That's all I've ever wanted from you

He couldn't say it. 

"What do you need me to do, Katsuki?"

"I need to be away from her for a while," he finally confessed.

"Okay. Then we need to talk to Aizawa and Nezu. They're also going to want a detective from PD there."

He was too afraid to hope this might actually happen.

"That younger woman with the short hair and the biker get-up-" Six, definitely "-She said she wanted to see if you were open to family therapy."

"'Family' as in with her?"

"Both of us," Masaru clarified. "Not at the same time though. Just me and you, and when you're ready, you and her."

"Do I have a choice?" he grumbled.

"Yes." Masaru voiced the word with unexpected severity. "Six and Aizawa said it would be important to take this at your pace. You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to."

"That's not what she's going to say." They had both lived with her more than long enough to know boundaries were not something he was allowed to have.

"Probably not," he agreed, whatever brave gust he had found deflating.

"What have they told you?" What his father knew, soon so would his mother.

"Just what happened today. That you had a panic attack and tried to hurt yourself."

The bare bones, thank you, Aizawa.

"I'm sorry," Masaru whispered. "I didn't realize how much Kamino affected you. And I'm sorry I didn't protect you."

"I don't need your protection!" he snapped, anger flaring too suddenly to control. He had some nerve, suggesting he even could with his track record. "Not now."

"I know." He dabbed at his cheeks with his sleeve. "I know you haven't needed me for a while now. You made sure of it because I let you down when you did."

Yeah, you sure the fuck did.

He couldn't decide which he wanted more: to let out a decade of rage, or just try to make his dad stop fucking crying.

"'I'm so sorry, Katsuki. I don't know what to do,'" he quoted his father's words from years ago, chest aching as they rattled their way out of the pit he'd cast them down for the past decade. "That's what you said to me right before we went back to pretending the shit she did was okay. You always knew it wasn't. You were just too much of a coward to do anything about it."

This bitter, broken anger was nothing like his usual day-to-day fury. He felt like stone. Hardened and cold, full of sharp blemishes where he had cracked under the heat and pressure that made him. Irreparable and permanent, like this anger was a fundamental part of him, baked into his composition. He didn't know how to let it go or who he would be if he did, so he hovered on the edge of 'its okay' and 'I will never forgive you'. Maybe both? 

I will never forgive you but it's okay.

He wanted to rant and yell. He wanted to take back what he already said. He wanted to protect his dad from how badly he wanted to hurt him. Guilt, anger and love warred against each other and on the outside, he said nothing.

"It's okay if you don't forgive me," Masaru told him, and god that only made it worse. "I just want to understand."

"She said Kamino was my fault," he blurted, "and all you cared about was that she was yelling and hitting me in front of the teachers!"

"You're right. I should have stepped in," Masaru acknowledged, then leaned forward trying to catch his gaze. "You know it wasn't your fault though, don't you?"

Why would I know that?

He swallowed, trying to steady himself before answering. "She blames me for everything, Dad. Everything that's happened to me I earned and sometimes I think she might be right."

"Everything meaning the kidnapping," he prompted inquisitively. "What else?"

"You know what she said after the Sludge Villain?! That if I wasn't such a fucking show-off with my quirk I wouldn't have gotten targeted. Like I was just asking for it!"

"I didn't realize-"

"She would kick me out after our fights and whatever shit went down out there was my fault for pissing her off!" 

"Like... like what?" Masaru asked hesitantly.

"It didn't always go well. Being on the street alone." He couldn't get specific, he couldn't.

Masaru cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt, just to do something with his hands, anxiety hitting a new peak. "Katsuki…"

"She always said if something happened it would be my fault." He wants him to figure it out. He doesn't ever want him to know.

"If something… She said that about-" Masaru looked afraid, which struck him as a strange reaction to something that had already happened. 

"I don't want to talk about it." He already felt on the edge of breaking. Yelling to make Masaru back down was one of the few scraps of control he had left.

"I'm sorry," he said for the thousandth time. It was getting old, really, after all these years. "Whatever happened... she doesn't know, does she?"

"No." He couldn't imagine her keeping something like that to herself. Surely she would bring it up at some point to gloat about how fucking stupid he was.

"I don't think she would have said that if she did," Masaru supposed aloud with an uncertain waver.

"But you don't know." He scoffed. Even his father couldn't narrate away her harshness this time. "Jesus, why did you marry her?"

"It wasn't always like this," he defended.

"When? When was it not like this?"

Bakugou read the uncomfortable story, played out on his father's silent face. Most of his parent's fights revolved around him, but until that moment he never considered… maybe they were happy before…

"Before I was born."

"We had very different ideas about how to be parents," Masaru confirmed without confirming. "That isn't your fault."

"Is that why she hates me?"

"She doesn't hate you."

He snorted skeptically.

"She doesn't," he asserted, exasperated, like he always sounded when he thought Katsuki was being the difficult one. "Your mother is… complicated."

"Is that the polite way of saying 'a huge bitch'?" he asked bitterly. Masaru cracked a smile that he tried to hide.

"I'm going to do what I can to get her to go to counseling. Either with me or on her own. Until you decide what you want to do."

"Are you really? Or will you cave the second she says no?"

Masaru didn't respond to the jab, merely accepted it glumly.

"Hey, Bakugou!" Kirishima reappeared. "Or, uh, Bakugous? Anyway, there's a cop here?"

"Is that a question or a statement, Shitty Hair?"

"I think he wants to talk to you?" Uncertainty remained, Kirishima scratching nervously at his hair.

"We need to meet with him, along with Nezu and Aizawa," Masaru explained.

"Now?!" He was all kinds of not ready for this.

"Might as well get it over with." Masaru left to gather this panel of judges Katsuki would apparently have to talk to.

"Fucking hell," Bakugou cursed. "He's a doormat for 15 years and now he's talking to the cops. I shoulda tried to off myself years ago."

"Dude." Kirishima made a distressed noise at the dark humor. "How are you so calm right now? I thought you would be more, ya know..."

"Screaming and violent?"

"Yeah, that."

"I think there's something wrong with me," he confessed. "Nothing feels real right now, like I'm not really here and this isn't happening."

"I think that's a Radiohead song."

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes. Kirishima shuffled back and forth on restless legs, not asking something. "Fucking spit it out, Shitty Hair."

"Are they going to take you away?" There's something life grief in the soft question that he doesn't understand..

"No." Thank god.

"Kirishima," Aizawa called. "I need to borrow Bakugou for a while. It's up to you if you want to go back to class or to the dorms, but you can't stay for this part."

Kirishima nodded obediently, leaving him alone with his Dad next to him, and Aizawa, Recovery Girl, Nezu, and a fucking cop all staring at him.

"This is like that time four fire trucks showed up because I blew up the alarm in the kitchen," Bakugou mused. Such overkill.

"With your father's cooperation, it should be relatively easy to award UA temporary protective custody until we can get Aizawa to a judge for official guardianship," the cop laid out. At least this one wasn't a fucking cat or some shit. "We just need to ask a few questions."

"Yeah, yeah, just shoot already," Bakugou grumbled. The detective pulled up a clip board.

"Are you still having thoughts of hurting yourself?" 

"No."

"Are you thinking of hurting anyone else?"

"No."

"Have you ever made an attempt on your life before this?"

"No."

"Have you ever intentionally harmed yourself before?"

He looked down at his lap, pointedly away from his father, like he could somehow get the soft mutter to the cop across from him without the man next to him hearing. "Yes"

The scratch of the pen on paper made his skin crawl.

"Has your mother ever harmed you physically to a degree that left visible marks?"

"Yes."

"Has this happened in the past year?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel unsafe going home?"

Fuck.

His eyes burned as the truth he kept buried so far down he'd forgotten it clawed out his throat.

"Yes."

"Okay." The detective pocketed his pen. "That's what I needed. He's all yours from here."

Thank fuck that was over.

"I always hate that part." Recovery Girl shook her head in disapproval. "So insensitive. Are you alright, dear?"

He shrugged.

"You're going to stay here overnight for observation," she informed him. "No class for you tomorrow. The day after will be your choice, depending on how you're feeling."

"What the hell am I gonna do all day tomorrow then?" 

"You're going to give yourself a break," she ordered. "And some therapy."

"Well, that just about settles it," Nezu chimed, so annoyingly goddamn cheerfully. "Call if you need me!"

The lab-rat-dog took off without another word, like this stop was just a footnote in his day. Now that he thought about it, knowing Nezu, it probably was.

"You must be tired," Recovery Girl assumed gently, receiving a reluctant nod. "Alright you two, clear out. Time to let my patient rest."

As they walked out side-by-side, Bakugou smirked at the thought of calling them his Dads. He knew Masaru would just be flustered, but what would Aizawa even do?

"I'm so sorry it came to this, honey." The soft sympathy came so naturally from Recovery Girl he forgot to be mad. "I keep telling them they put way too much pressure on you kids. They teach all this quirk training and battle strategy and completely skip over things like mental health. I've been pushing to change it for years, but so far Aizawa is the only one who listened."

"Not UA's fault I'm fucked up."

"You kids deserve better." She disappeared briefly and returned with a blanket and pillow, far more comfortable than the standard hospital edition he had currently. "The night shift girl tonight is a lovely young woman named Crystal, but if you need me, I'll be right down the hall."

All this care and warmth was overwhelming, but he didn't feel lucid enough to fight it. Hopefully things made more sense in the morning.

Chapter Text

He knew it was inevitable, but that didn't make him any more ready to deal with her.

"What the fuck, Katsuki!"

"Nice to see you too, Mom." He kept his face blank, voice light and irreverent, his wall of pretending not to care raised high. And if he scooted just a little closer to Aizawa, that was nobody's damn business.

"You told them you were going to off yourself?!?!" She was already screaming, right from the word go.

"No!"

"I know you're dramatic, but fucking hell, Katsuki!"

"Deku told them that!" he protested desperately.

"Oh Christ, what have you done to poor Izuku now?!"

"Nothing!"

"What, pray tell, could you possibly have to kill yourself over?" She spread her arms in an exaggerated gesture. "Your new school doesn't worship you like the old one? Someone beat your score in gym?"

"Fuck you." It was weak and sad and sounded pathetic.

"Mrs. Bakugou," Aizawa said almost neutrally, just a hint of danger seeping in.

"Eraser, good to see you again!" she greeted, tone shifting instantly. "I'm so sorry about my boy here, he's always causing you trouble. He was spoiled at his old school with all that attention and-"

"Your son did not do this for attention."

"I'm sorry?" She raised an incredulous brow.

"As his parent, you need to take this seriously." Holy shit, no one ever talked to his mom like that.

"I know it seems like a serious situation," she backpedaled, "but my kid wakes up angry and starts screaming at his toothbrush. If I took everything he freaks out about seriously, that's all I would ever do."

Okay, ow, that hurt because she's not wrong, he knows his temper is out of control.

"He has serious unresolved rage issues, yes," Aizawa conceded. "But Midoriya found him cutting into his wrist alone, and I've been a pro more than long enough to distinguish between a tantrum and a crisis."

At that, she stared at him with this strange expression, like she was seeing him for the first time. Or like maybe he was an impostor but she wasn't quite sure.

"I don't understand," she finally said. "You shout about being better than everyone all day long, but then you want to die?"

"Not right now!" he argued defensively, "Although, this conversation is definitely reminding me of the appeal."

"What is this about?" she demanded exasperatedly. How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that?

"Of course this is the one time you're quiet." She sighed, but she didn't sound angry. She pulled up a chair and looked like she… actually wanted to know. But he had no idea how to answer, so he just bounced his leg and picked at a nail bed. "Is this about Kamino?"

"Partially." Close enough to the truth to make his head spin.

"Did they hurt you?" Her voice was soft, in a way he hadn't heard directed at him in a decade.

"The fuck do you care?" His voice is rough as the anger bursts out of him, until it cracks with something else. Something more vulnerable that he despises. "You said it was my fault that they got me anyway!"

He couldn't look at her, he wouldn't survive another round of her blaming him unless he distanced himself.

"Fuck." The annoyed distaste in her tone he knew so well crumbled as she breathed the word. "That's not what I- shit."

He finally looked up at her and she was… crying? Not quite, but close. She didn't do that, he got the unfortunate waterworks from his dad, so what the fuck was happening?

"Okay." Her breath shuttered as she exhaled, eyes wide as she ran a hand through her hair. Was it really that easy? A few words from an authority figure she respected, and it was all different now? It couldn't be. "Your dad mentioned going to therapy together. I thought it was stupid because we've been to therapy and it didn't do jack shit, but… I guess I can give it another shot."

That sounded terrifying and awful and somehow he found himself saying, "Okay."

"He actually has an appointment by himself in a few minutes." Aizawa reminded them of his presence. "We can finish this conversation another time."

"I can wait," she said,  freakishly calmly. 

"Glad to hear it." 

Her scrutinizing gaze landed on him again, tension set in her jaw. "May I have a moment alone with my son?" 

"No," Aizawa answered, completely unapologetically.

"The fuck do you mean 'no'?"

"He's under protective custody right now. You aren't allowed to be around him without a legal authority present. You will also leave whenever he wants you to."

Katsuki had barely gotten to take in her shocked face when he was escorted from the room, head spinning too much to care where he was going.

"Are you okay?" Aizawa slowed now that they were out of earshot.

"That went too well." He's too dazed to discern much else.

"You actually have an appointment in an hour, but I thought you should probably have some time to recover first. Plus you still haven't eaten, don't think I didn't notice."

'Breakfast' was weird. They were in some isolated corner of the teacher's lounge that Aizawa had established as his 'shut up and clear out' spot. Just a couple chairs around a coffee table, but they were the comfy chairs and apparently that was worth coming to threats and blows over to Aizawa. He still didn't feel hungry, but...

He was not going to be defeated by fucking toast. 

It was just so hard to eat with his stomach in constant knots. A couple bites of egg, a break. A bite of toast, a break. Even the jello was kicking his ass. Fuck, why was this so hard?! It was just fucking eating, a basic ass human function that every fucking creature in existence managed to pull off in one way or another. This was pathetic.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it," Aizawa ordered.

"What, are you the fucking thought police?"

"I know it's frustrating for simple things to be this difficult." Aizawa read him like a fucking book. "It will get easier, just give yourself some time."

"You sound like those fucking 'it gets better posters,'" he grumbled.

"No, it doesn't always get better-"

"That's really not what you're supposed to say."

"-but it does get easier."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" He threw his spoon down with a clatter.

"Life is hard. That doesn't change because you grow up. You still have to deal with a lot of shit," Aizawa elaborated. "But you get better at dealing with it. You learn to live with all the ways life sucks and eventually it starts to not bother you so much."

"I guess that makes sense." He scowled at his plate, wishing it would get fucking easier now, please.

"Bakugou," he said commandingly, like they were gearing up for a practice mission. "You can do this."

When Bakugou sat down with Six, the glow around him looked like a bruise. Angry red brushed over deep browns, purples and blues. He stood out painfully bright in the blank, borrowed room Six currently used as an office.

"You're going to hate this," Six told him bluntly, "but screenings are a good place to start. Then we can narrow down what we're dealing with."

The page said PHQ 9 at the top, whatever the fuck that meant, and had questions with four options: 

1. Not at all
2. Several days
3. More than half the days
4. Nearly every day 

In the past two weeks, have you experienced: 

Little interest or pleasure in doing things?

Maybe?? A 4 sounded too extreme, it wasn't that bad, but it was at least 50% of the time that he didn't want to exist. So a 3?

Feeling down, depressed, or hopeless? 

It was just that one time he freaked out and thought everything was hopeless. He didn't feel good most of the time recently, but hopeless sounded like an exaggeration. 0.

Problems falling asleep, staying asleep, or sleeping too much?

Okay, fine, that was a 4.

Feeling tired or having little energy?

Only in the morning until he dragged himself out of bed. Then again when he sat down at lunch… basically, only if he stopped moving long enough to lose his momentum. 2.

Poor appetite or overeating?

...4.

Feeling bad about yourself — or that you are a failure or have let yourself or your family down?

"This is fucking stupid!" The paper exploded in flames.

"What question got that reaction?"

"Well, the number six has a knack for pissing me off today!"

"I see." She caught a scrap of singed paper floating down beside her, apparently still legible. "It looks like you've been having trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah, so?" he growled defiantly.

"Has the issue been falling asleep or staying asleep?"

"...Both."

"Any nightmares?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Bakugou, for this to help, you need to accept that your thoughts and emotions are my business." She smoothed out the paper scrap. "And it looks like you're not eating either. Recovery Girl mentioned that had been an issue."

He hated this. 

"I don't need you to fucking list out everything that's wrong with me! I already fucking know, okay?" He was on his feet, shaking with rage. "I've fallen so goddamn far and I can't catch up. Fucking Deku was nothing and now he's fucking ahead of me! And no matter what I do or how hard I try, I can't fucking fix it!"

"How do you think you've fallen behind?" she asked calmly.

"Fucking… everything! I freaked out at training. I don't remember half the classes I go to. And my mother is on my case about my fucking grades."

"What's happening with your grades?"

"I just had a bad couple weeks" Bakugou defended instinctually, "but I'll cut out some more study time, pull them up before the end of the semester."

"You misunderstand my question." She shook her head with this frustrating look like he was missing something. I'm not fucking stupid. "I've seen your grades and they're fine, they just aren't typical for you. I want to know what's causing the change."

Bakugou shot an incredulous glare.

"If you need time off to take care of yourself, that's okay," she assured. "We'll work with Aizawa and figure something out if you need to miss class for a bit. But If you're having trouble concentrating, that's a problem we need to figure out."

Bakugou flashed through a series of emotions, starting with suspicion and ending in confusion.

"You're very focused on 'fixing' your performance," she observed. "I think you're underestimating how much your day-to-day abilities are affected by how you're feeling. I know prioritizing your feelings isn't something you're used to, but right now taking care of your emotions is the most efficient way to get you back on your A game."

"But why's my head doing this?!" He kicked her desk with a frustrated snarl. "It's fucking stupid!"

"Well, think about how you got through traumatic experiences." She adjusted the desk away from where it had bumped her knee without breaking eye contact. "When you're in a stressful situation that you can't get out of, cutting off your senses and emotions makes it easier to endure. Instead of wasting energy on a continuous fight or flight response, your mind and body shut down. It's a useful defense mechanism. The problem is that once your brain learns to avoid stress that way, it dissociates when you don't want it to."

"How do I make it stop?" he asked desperately.

"You have to let yourself exist here. Experience what you feel right now in the present and deal with it instead of blocking everything out."

"Fucking how?"

"Well, lets try." She leaned back, tossing her clipboard away onto the now very askew desk. "What do you feel right now? I'm talking physically. Sounds, textures, a weird leg cramp, anything."

"My shoulders hurt," he realized. "So does my jaw. And my head."

"Those are all common spots for stress to show up as pain. What else?"

"It's too warm in here."

"I can open a window." She stood up and slid the glass away to let in a cool breeze.

"I feel nauseous all the time." He choked up so suddenly he couldn't even try to control it. "And tired."

"Well, no wonder you're checked out so much. You feel terrible."

"And this is supposed to help me?"

"We can't treat it if we don't know what's wrong," she reasoned. "Think of this kind of like an investigation."

"I hate feeling like this." He finally sank back into the chair. "I just want it to stop."

"That's the goal." Her lips smiled while her eyes stayed sad with sympathy. "But the only way out is through."

"Awful."

"You think you could try one more screening for me? And if you're feeling really generous, don't blow this one up."

"'Don't blow this one up'," he mocked in a nasally voice, snatching the paper, with a clipboard this time to incentivise its survival. At least this one was just yes or no.

• Repeated, distressing memories, or dreams

• Yes
•  
•  

• Acting or feeling as if the event were happening again (flashbacks or a sense of reliving it)

• Yes

• Intense physical and/or emotional distress when you are exposed to things that remind you of the event

• Yes

This fucking sucked and he did not like where it was headed.

• Avoiding thoughts, feelings, or conversations about it

• Yes

• Avoiding activities and places or people who remind you of it 

So fucking what? Who doesn't avoid shit that sucks?

• Blanking on important parts of it

Fuck, he never even thought about that until now. There were definitely things he didn't remember, but other factors played into that and it's not like he was trying to remember anyway.

• Negative beliefs about oneself, others and the world and about the cause or consequences of the event

The fuck was that supposed to mean? Of course he thought negatively about it, he got fucking kidnapped and worse. Was he supposed to act like it was goddamn sunshine and rainbows?

• Feeling detached from other people

...Maybe? He couldn't remember feeling close to anyone in the first place, so maybe that was just him. But he did feel alone in a crowd more than usual, so maybe.

• Inability to feel positive emotions

Fuck this quiz.

• Persistent negative emotional state

You just fucking asked me that!

• Problems sleeping

• Yes

• Irritability or outbursts of anger

Okay, he wasn't exactly a reflective person, but he wasn't stupid.

• Reckless or self-destructive behavior

...Maybe a little

• Problems concentrating

Was that related?

• Feeling "on guard"

• Yes

• An exaggerated startle response

• Jesus Christ, fucking yes, okay

He threw the clipboard at her lap. She glanced through his answers and he loathed the look of pity that formed.

"You got something to fucking say, Mood Ring?" he challenged.

"I just wanted to have some objective data to go along what I already suspected."

"And what's that?" He shoved as much aggression into three words as possible.

"You're dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

Fuck!

Some part of him had wondered about the nightmares and the panic being something, but wasn't this a bit… much? Like, he didn't tour Iraq, the villains didn't torture him or anything.

"From what ?!" he demanded uncertainly.

"I think you're better qualified to answer that than I am, Bakugou. You're the one in your head, not me. What were you thinking about when you answered those questions?"

He bit back another response of none of your goddamn business. "A few things." 

"Repeated trauma makes us more likely to develop PTSD." She nodded, like whatever batshit crazy rattled around his head was making total sense. "Your mind and body learned that it could happen again and overreact to safe situations because you aren't able to believe your environment is ever safe."

"We're training to be heroes. Of course this shit isn't safe!"

"Your mind can only take being in danger mode for so long before it burns out. Eventually the overuse of your stress response makes it harder to function at all." He hated that it made sense.

"This is really going to help me get back to being the best at everything?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Like I said, the only way out is through."

Chapter Text

Therapy was fucking exhausting. And he had to do this shit twice a week? 

"Blanking on important parts."

He only ever tried to forget, not remember. But if this was an investigation, as Six called it, maybe he should? Just in his own head, though. This was not leaving his mouth. 

Start with the easier one.

Deku running after him, both arms broken and still trying to help, as if he could do anything. After telling himself the Sludge Villain was a one time defeat, that he would never let anyone overpower him again, here he was, powerless. 

Okay. Go in order. What happened after that?

Suffocating, hands cuffed, he's surrounded, the knife girl is watching him-

It all blurred together in flashes of scenery and fear. The only clear parts were from the brief period where he was left alone in the basement trying to plot an escape. Maybe if he sat up a bit, hands together like they were back then, he'd remember more. Maybe even something useful to make all this shit worth while.

"-we've got a few hours to kill"

His eyes snapped open.

That was the end of that fucked up experiment.

"Bakugou," Recovery Girl called. "You have visitors."

Kirishima bounced up to him like they hadn't seen each other in weeks. "Hey, bro! You feeling any better today?"

"She said visitors, plural." He would not let Kirishima's sunshine rays distract him. "Who the fuck did you bring?"

"Mina asked if she could come along," he answered casually. "Don't worry, I told Midoriya it wasn't a good idea for him to come up yet."

"Damn right, I don't want to see that-"

"So we're good?" 

"I didn't say that!"

He paused his usual make Bakugou be social routine.

"If you really don't want to see her, that's okay." Kirishima meant it. If he said no, it wouldn't turn into a guilt trip. "She's just really worried about you."

"Whatever," he feigned indifference. 

He had never seen Mina look so serious.

"Hey Blasty," she sank down on the edge of the bed, "How are you feeling?"

"How the fuck do you think?"

"Probably like shit," she guessed.

"Give yourself a fucking star." Did he even know how to be nice to people?

"You haven't lost your snark, so that's good." She laughed. "It's so good to see you!"

"You saw me fucking yesterday." He rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean!" She moved to shove him playfully, then froze, stopping short.

"What the fuck was that?!" he growled, shoving her back a bit harder than he meant to. "I'm not made of fucking glass, don't give me that shit!"

"That's not why!" she protested.

"Then why are you holding back?!"

 "Because I think you've been hurt enough! And if I add anything more to what you're dealing with, I'll hate myself! It's purely selfish, I promise." They had all gotten so good at dancing around his fragile fucking ego. He could at least have the decency to be embarrassed about it.

"Sorry," he muttered into his lap. "I'm just fucked up right now."

"You've always been fucked up, Blasty." She shot him a wry smile. "We love you anyway."

In some bizarre way, that made him feel better. No platitudes about how he should love himself. He is fucked up, but not really any more than when they first met. That simple, no-bullshit observation felt like maybe, maybe she still saw him as the same person. Mina was his friend before she knew what was wrong with him, and would stay his friend after.

"Do you know when you're coming back to class?" she asked, tone softening to match his slipping guard.

"Tomorrow."

"Oh. Are you sure?" she asked skeptically. "That's really fast."

"I don't want to get behind."

"Okay, but… take care of yourself, okay?"

"Everyone keeps fucking saying that."

"And yet you don't do it!" 

"To be fair," Kirishima interjected, "I don't think Bakugou really knows how self-care works."

"What's to fucking know?" he he snapped. "Maybe I just don't want to drink tea and take bubble baths when I could be getting shit done!"

"It doesn't have to look like white ladies in yogurt commercials," Mina said with a find laugh. "It can be anything that makes you feel better."

"I think UA would get pissed if I broke curfew and blew shit up every time I felt bad."

"What about cooking?" Kirishima jumped in again excitedly. "You're usually way more chill in the kitchen. And if you make your favorite stuff, maybe you'll actually eat something!"

"Did you just fucking tell me to get back in the kitchen? What am I, a fucking house wife?"

"Now you're just being difficult on purpose."

"I like cooking sometimes, but…" Fuck this was hard, everything was so fucking hard right now. "It's a lot of effort and sometimes I don't care- I don't feel like doing anything and I won't enjoy the end result anyway so why fucking bother?"

"Shit, Blasty," Mina swore. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

"Just since Kamino," he answered. But then… "Well, on and off since the end of middle school, I guess, but not all the time until Kamino."

"We used to spar a lot when you were stressed out," Kirishima proposed, dropping the pretense that he hadn't been dragging Bakugou out to blow off steam for his own well-being. "But I don't know if that's okay now. It might do more harm than good."

"You can still hit me, just don't fucking pin me." The babying annoyed him, even if it was justified. "Probably don't sneak up on me either or you're gonna get a face full of fire, but other than that we're good."

"Then we're back on as sparring partners?" he beamed.

"We were never off, shithead. I had one bad day, okay? Fucking one. I don't need the fucking kid gloves."

Kirishima went quiet at that.

"What?"

"That day was really scary, dude." His voice cracked painfully. "It was an accident, but I hurt you, and- If you're not okay, you have to tell me, because I can't-" He took a shaky breath before finishing. "I need to know what your triggers are because I can't do that again."

The anger died in his throat at the look on Kirishima's face, of absolute devastation. He couldn't argue it away, couldn't say it was fine or yell about pity. 

"Sparring is okay, I promise, just don't-" Christ, he was going to have to list them. "Don't grab me. Like, wrists and neck specifically, but at all really. And don't hold me down."

He felt light headed.

"And nothing around my face, that portal fucker teleports by goddamn drowning you, and the Sludge Villain pulled the same kind of shit and-"

Stop stop stop, do not go down that road right now.

"If I can't breath, that's bad," he finished lamely.

"Thank you," Kirishima said, so fucking earnestly.

"He feels guilty now because he doesn't know how to help you."

"You just work on your ultimate so I can let loose and blast the shit out of you," he goaded. "It's very therapeutic."

Finally Kirishima smiled without the ghost of fear lurking behind it.

"Well, if you ever want to mix it up, I'm down," Mina offered. "But I tragically cannot withstand getting blasted with nitroglycerin."

"Lame," Bakugou jabbed, feeling a bit more normal. "So what did I miss this morning?"

After asking Mic to cover his classes, of course the man would know what was going on. That still didn't mean Aizawa wanted to talk about it.

"Shouta." He interlocked one of their hands. "You're making that face you do when you want to murder someone at a fundraiser but it would be impolite."

"Maybe because I want to murder someone, but it would be impolite," he shot back.

"Names?" Mic asked, like writing this hit list would help anything.

"Bakugou Mitsuki. Among others."

"She's that bad, huh?"

"She blamed him for his own kidnapping," Aizawa fumed.

"Yikes," Mic hissed sympathetically. "How's my loudest little listener doing, anyway?"

"Terrible," Aizawa said bluntly, then stubbornly left Mic hanging.

"I heard about what happened at joint training from Cementos. But judging by his absence and yours this morning, I'm guessing more happened since then."

Aizawa glanced around to make sure they were alone, in spite of being in the teachers lounge. "The short version is he had a very triggering argument with Uraraka and decided his only escape was death."

"Oh." Mic nodded with a grimace. "And the long version?"

"He has an extensive history of abuse, garbage coping skills, and he's most willing to talk to me,  but I don't know how much I can help him because I suck at this!" He gestured to their current corner coffee table conversation.

"So does Bakugou," Mic remarked thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why he's comfortable with you. If you were more outwardly emotional, it would probably scare him off."

"You're saying he's comfortable with me because he's used to people not caring about him. Great."

"You know that's not what I meant!" he chastised. "You've seen how he is around Midoriya. People who wear their heart on their sleeve confuse and scare him. He doesn't trust it."

"You know what Kirishima said to me?" A smile suddenly cracked his face.

"Something something that's so manly?" 

"'Bakugou is like a cat'," Aizawa quoted, "'You can reach out, but you have to let him come to you'."

"I don't understand how that boy can be simultaneously so smart and so dumb." Mic laughed.

"Same with Bakugou. They're smart and dumb in opposite ways."

"That whole little group is like that," Mic observed, leaning back in his chair. "The other four are witty and good with people, but bad at school work, and it takes all four of them to balance out one extremely min-maxed Bakugou."

"Is that a DnD term?" Aizawa asked suspiciously.

"Tell me that boy is not the most min-maxed real person you've ever met!" Mic steamrolled on. "Maxed out power, high intelligence, then rolls negative for charisma."

"Why do I even talk to you?"

"You should have written a prenup," he joked. "Now you're stuck with me. Everything you have is mine."

"We have the same salary." If he rolled his eyes any harder they would fall out of his head.

"You just wait until you're saddled with all my student loans and gambling debts," he mock-warned.

"We work at your alma mater." Aizawa finally broke into a laugh.

"Ha! Gotcha!" Mic grinned victoriously.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aizawa denied stubbornly. "I've never found you funny once in my life."

Befriending Kirishima had been a slow, steady build of mutual respect and partnership, eventually becoming a friendship. The rest of the Bakusquad warmed up to him through Kirishima, but that still took time. As a general rule, Bakugou didn't make friends.

So what the fuck was Momo doing here?

"Hi, Bakugou," she greeted nervously. "I'm glad you-"

"What is this to you, a fucking zoo?!" 

"No!" She was so easy to rattle.

"We aren't friends, so what the hell are you doing here?"

She knew, and he knew that she knew, but he didn't have to acknowledge it.

"I was- I wanted to see if I could-"

"If you could get a look at the hot gossip?" It was bitter to the point of sounding unhinged, but he didn't plan on stopping. "See if they had to chain me up again?!"

"No!" she protested, expression horrified.

"I don't need Miss Perfect's fucking pity!" He didn't want anyone to see him like this.

"I don't pity you!" she asserted with enough confidence to catch his attention, pausing before he let out a sigh.

"Then what the fuck do you want from me, Ponytail?"

"Before UA," she started with new determination, "I had to change schools because of harassment."

By her closed body language and the current context, he didn't need to ask what kind of harassment. 

"Those boys were all expelled, but still, I never talked to anyone from that school again." The story tumbled out like opening an overstuffed locker. "I couldn't even look at my old friends, I was so embarrassed and hurt."

"What are you getting at?" Even now he couldn't shake the distrust.

"I'm glad you're still here."

Oh. Solidarity.

She doesn't want anything, she's just a good person.

She was the first to not ask him anything. She said her piece, put herself out there for his sake, and left.

"Wait." The word slipped out. She froze in the doorway a moment before slowly returning.

"I'm listening."

Momo had just thrown a lifeline, down the well where he was drowning in the dark. "How did your parents react?" 

"My mother cried." She kept her answer both blunt and vague. "My father was angry. Mostly at them, but also at me for not doing something sooner."

"She's going to blame me," he whispered the fear. "And no matter how many fucking posters say it's not my fault, I can't stop being so angry at myself."

"What are you angry at yourself for?"

"For not fighting harder! For being so fucking stupid in the first place! For- for fucking losing over and over until I'm so goddamn damaged that I'm useless!"

"I was angry at myself for a while too." She crossed her hands calmly, calm except for the fingers twisting around each other. "I could have gone to a teacher or my parents, or just done anything before it got worse and I didn't. I just let it happen and it's hard to forgive myself for that. It's hard to let go because you can't really take it out on the people who hurt you. The only one around to punish is yourself."

Holy shit. She actually gets it.

"I'm so fucking angry all the time. I mean, I've kind of always been like that, but… I just want to go back to being angry at shit that makes sense."

"It's perfectly logical to be angry about what happened to you," she commiserated with a practiced certainty that told him she had given it significant thought before. "It's figuring out where and how to direct it that's hard."

"You get it. But everyone else just thinks I'm fucking crazy."

"Not everyone," Momo assured him, "Certainly not your friends. They're the ones who really matter."

"Sero and Kaminari don't even know what happened," Bakugou argued.

"They can make an educated guess. Those two catch on to more than you think. And Kirishima and Mina are really trying to understand. I told them I can relate to what you're going through to a degree, and they've been asking non-stop questions ever since. I keep telling them it's different for everyone, but they don't want to push you right now."

"I can't talk about it." He forced the airy words out in a low rasp.

"That's okay," she assured. "Just talk about what you can. We'll listen."

Chapter Text

It had been his choice, his demand really, to go back to class. But now that it came to actually doing it, he thought he might puke. The tension festered until he nearly jumped out of his skin, bashing his knee off the desk when Kirishima knocked.

"You ready to gooo, Bakubrooo?"

He stormed through the common room as fast as he could without full on running, trying to ignore the stares following him. He would never admit how closely he clung to Kirishima the entire walk to class. He tried to keep up with the chatter, the other boy's attempt to distract him from the anxiety, no doubt, but the closer they got the more his head felt like static.

"Hey." Kirishima stopped. "If you need to take another day, just say so. I'll take good notes. And by that, I mean l'll take pictures of Momo's notes."

"The longer I'm out, the weirder it will be to go back," he reasoned, trying to convince himself more than Kirishima.They nearly made it when they were spotted in the hallway outside homeroom.

"You better quit fucking staring at me, Icy-Hot, or I'm gonna take out your other eye."

Todoroki took an unintimidated step toward him.

"You kept my secret," he said in a low, whispered version of his usual formal-cryptid speak. "I said I would do the same."

A jolt of tingling panic flashed through him. How many people know and just didn't say anything?

"Yeah, yeah. You better." He stalked past, shoving shaking hands in his pockets.

Icy-Hot's good on his word, it's fine it's fine it's fine-

"Hey, my man is back!" Kaminari shouted, bounding up to him and then- stopping short of his usual suffocating distance. Bakugou couldn't decide if he was pissed or relieved.

"What'd I fucking miss?" he asked casually, like he didn't already know from Kirishima and Mina's visit. "Anything important?"

"Hero's Highlights had some really weird theories about Ojirou's tail anatomy," Kaminari answered with a gleeful grin.

"We don't talk about that!" Ojirou yelled from across the room.

"Class was a little chaotic with Six and Aizawa taking turns disappearing, so Mic improved a whole bit about hero theme songs," Sero informed. 

"You do not want to hear his," Kaminari added. "It's just 3 minutes of distorted, off-beat garage punk and yelling"

"At least he wasn't fucking boring." Mic was tacky as all hell, but he was never afraid to be bold.

"It was alright," Sero judged. "How about you?"

Stop fucking asking me that.

"I'm fine," he answered gruffly, immediately pushing past Sero and Kaminari to sulk at his desk.

"Bakugou-" Sero tried to recover.

"I said I'm fucking fine, Scotch Tape!" he snapped, tossing his backpack down hard enough to slide the chair eschew with a screech. "Leave me alone."

Sero accepted defeat and backed off, Kaminari following. Even Kirishima kept his distance to let him settle in. Everyone seemed to get that he needed space, except-

"Bakugou!" Iida's formality thinly veiled an awkward nervousness. "It is my duty as class rep to welcome you back and, in this difficult time, offer my assistance should you ever need anything going forwa-"

"I don't fucking need anything from you, Four Eyes!" Defensive rage rose up, predictable as the tide. "I don't know what you think you know about me, but if you ever talk down to me like that again I'll fucking kill you, ya hear?! I don't need your help, so get the fuck away from me!"

"Whoa, easy!" Kirishima materialized, attempting to calm him. "Dude, he's just doing his job."

"He knows," he hissed in a low whisper

"Maybe, but you don't have to kill him over it," Kirishima whispered back.

"Yes I do!"

Shit, why hadn't that been his first thought? Why take himself out when he could just destroy the evidence and his annoying fucking classmates at the same time? They all kept looking at him with this face, like he was some kind of wounded animal to be put out of its misery. His eyes met Midoriya's shining green ones, the same open rawness as during the sludge villain, the kidnapping,  falling in a fucking creek, and he snapped.

"STOP FUCKING LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! I don't need anyone's fucking pity! Don't forget I can beat the shit out of all of you!"

"Reconsidered that 'I don't need therapy' stance yet?" Ojirou mocked.

"You wanna die, Tails?!" he jumped to his feet, hands blazing. 

"I'm just calling it like I-"

Ojirou was cut off by Sero nudging him with an elbow, then shaking his head desperately.

"No, go ahead!" Bakugou growled dangerously. "Fucking finish that sentence."

Ojirou glanced around the tense room.

"I don't know what's going on, but sort your shit out, Bakugou." He shook his head. "You're embarrassing yourself."

He let the involuntary blasts speak for themselves and crashed back into his seat, kicking his feet onto the desk, arms crossed to look as stand-offish as physically possible.

God fucking dammit. Tails was right. He literally just lost his shit over people looking at him wrong.

"Bakugou, welcome back." Aizawa emerged with his usual morning grouchiness. "I would appreciate it if you could wait to pick a fight until I've at least finished my coffee."

Bakugou scowled as an answer.

"Six is busy being hired as a real staff member instead of the weird friend who stashes her jello cups in my office, so today we're going to go over some regular current events."

He was met with a chorus of groans.

"Don't worry, half of them are crimes. I know you kids love those."

Bakugou had to admit, the crimes were the best part. Local elections were probably important somehow, but he wasn't old enough to vote and a police chase through a minigolf course over stolen Glade Plug-ins was so much more entertaining. Next was about an employee pretending to rob himself.

"Why would someone fake a robbery?" Deku wondered aloud.

"So he could close early and go home," Aizawa answered immediately. "A man after my own heart."

"Sensei!" Deku half-scolded, half-laughed.

"This last one is a bit more serious, but I can't tell Nezu I let you all read Florida Man articles for an entire class period, so bare with it."

Third child between the ages of 9 and 13 missing in Musutafu in the past two months.

Ten-year-old Yamamoto Haruki was reported missing after being absent from school for several days. When a teacher contacted the boy's mother, she confirmed she had not seen him in more than 72 hours.

"Why didn't the parents report him as missing?" Asui asked.

"Most likely, the boy leaving home for a day or two was not unusual," Aizawa guessed.

"What parents don't know where their 10-year-old is for multiple days?!" Iida exclaimed in horror.

"Mine," Bakugou answered without thinking.

Whoops.

"My Dad forgot to pick me up from summer camp for two days once," Kaminari contributed.

"My father always knew my location," Todoroki remarked. "However he once failed to notice my brother Natsuo hadn't come home for 3 weeks before realizing he had moved into a friend's attic."

"Oh." Iida awkwardly dropped his eyes to his desk.

"One time my dad dropped me off at the dentist and eventually the hygienist had to drive me home so they could close," Kaminari continued. "And he left me at the gym overnight. And one time, this weird 24 hour pizza place where the floor was super sticky-"

"Sounds like he was trying to lose you," Bakugou observed.

"Probably." Kaminari shrugged. "Where'd you get dumped?"

"Nowhere." His usually bitterness came too sharp, heightened by the renewed rawness of the wound it covered. "She didn't forget me, she kicked me out."

"That sucks," Kaminari sympathized. "Kinda the same end result though. You're stranded by yourself with nowhere to go and no money like, 'hey, I'm 12, please pretend I'm not here.' It's hella awkward."

"The kinds of dynamics you just described are common in missing person cases." Aizawa summoned their attention. "Most often, it's a crime of opportunity."

"So you're saying I was a very kidnappable child," Kaminari joked. "Thank god I was  annoying."

"That's awful, Kami!" Mina clearly did not find it funny at all. "Like, I've never met your dad but I already want to fight him. And Bakugou's mom. I'd add Endeavour, but let's face it, I would never win that."

It was a bizarre realization that Mina could fight his mom. Mitsuki was in pretty good shape, but her quirk was useless and Mina could shoot acid from her hands. The image shook him, uncomfortable with the idea of needing someone else to fight his battles for him, but not entirely displeased by the idea. He wouldn't feel guilty if Mina did it because Mina was good and kind and never started senseless violence and she didn't owe the hag anything.

Aizawa standing between him and his mother played through his mind on loop. It scared him a little, to feel his dedication to protecting himself slip. He couldn't expect Aizawa to defend him forever, but the temptation to hide behind him like a small child called to him. He felt a bit pathetic, remembering how Icy Hot stood up to his father all the time these days. Endeavour wouldn't dare hit Shouto in front of the teachers.

"You're an only child, aren't you?"

Did it really make that much of a difference? The rest of the class had moved on when Bakugou whispered over to Kaminari.

"Do you have siblings?"

"Yeah. An older brother and younger sister."

"Does your dad treat them like shit too?"

"Uhh… well… Wow, that's really forward there, Bakugou". Kaminari paused to organize his thoughts. "Well, my brother is the gifted one we all thought was going places. He has a bit of a drug problem now, I think the pressure of being my Dad's favorite got to him. It's weird though. My mom started paying way more attention to me when she gave up on Hatori, and that just seemed to piss my dad off more."

The others probably already knew Kaminari had two siblings and issues with his dad. Only Bakugou never bothered to ask. He hadn't even known about Kirishima's dad until Momo asked. God, he was shitty at this friendship thing.

"When we were little, Hatori was the one who would help me with homework or come find me where ever Dad dumped me," Kaminari said with a sad kind of nostalgia. "You remind me of him sometimes. Mostly with that look you get when you're about to beat me at something and be a real dick about it."

"I should have guessed you were a middle child." Bakugou smirked.

"Yeah, yeah." Kaminari rolled his eyes. "The desperate craving for attention is our calling card, I know. But I hope you know, you're just as obvious."

"Hah? I don't have any siblings."

"Exactly!" Kaminari grinned. "Only children are self-absorbed and suck at getting along with their peers."

A few days ago, he would have answered with threats of violence, but today… "Guilty as charged."

Todoroki had grown accustomed to finding Midoriya crying his eyes out. It was just how he expressed intense emotions. He didn't understand it, but he… not liked, but appreciated it? He grew up monitoring the moods of his parents for his own survival. Predicting Endeavour's behavior in particular was vital. To this day, he assumed the worst of emotions he couldn't read.

He never had to guess with Midoriya. Open displays of joy, anger, sadness, all three at once, he gave them away without a second thought. With Midoriya, he could finally stop guessing, stop fearing what was going on in another person's head. So when he walked into the cafeteria to find Ochako and Iida consoling a sobbing Izuku, he accidentally had the exact wrong reaction. Fortunately, he realized the mistake and removed the fond smile for a more appropriate time.

"What's wrong?"

"He's upset about Bakugou," Ochako answered.

No surprise there. Midoriya had been 'upset about Bakugou' for most of the week. 

"I see." He took his usual seat. "Something in particular, or just the whole situation?"

"How did I not know?" Midoriya sobbed.

"He didn't want you to," Todoroki answered simply.

"We were finally doing better, but now… he knows that I know and probably hates me for it!"

"Why would he hate you?" Todoroki inquired curiously.

"Because he doesn't like looking weak, especially in front of me," Midoriya cried. "And now that I saw him like that he's never going to talk to me again."

"Not if you treat him normally," Todoroki disagreed. "Don't ask him how he's doing, because you know he doesn't want to talk about that with you. Challenge him in training or something instead."

He wasn't sure when Bakugou started making sense to him, but the need to put up walls to protect himself struck deeply familiar.

"Thanks, Todoroki." Midoriya gave him a watery smile.

"I made a terrible mistake earlier," Iida kicked himself.

"You were just trying to be supportive," Ochako reassured him. "If anyone should feel bad, it's me."

She had barely spoken about the fight. Or at all, really. A sullen cloud hung over her the past two days. "What happened wasn't your fault."

"I can't stop seeing his face when he realized…" She started to choke up. "And what he tried to do to himself- I should have just left it alone."

"You didn't know, Ochako," Iida told her softly. "For all you knew, he was just being a jerk."

"I knew something was off though," she disagreed. "Kirishima told me he was upset the night before. And when we were fighting he kept flinching and I just ignored it!"

"But you didn't know," Iida repeated.

"Maybe this was a good thing," Todoroki voiced.

"What?!" Midoriya yelped. "How could Kacchan having a complete mental breakdown and trying to hurt himself be a good thing?"

"He's finally getting help," Todoroki answered. "He's so stubborn, I don't think it ever would have happened otherwise."

"I… guess that makes sense," Ochako supposed. "I still feel awful, though."

"It's an awful situation." He didn't know Bakugou's exact pain, but he knew hopelessness of living with it alone. "But I think in time, this will turn out to be for the best."

Chapter Text

Even Bakugou had to admit, going immediately back to combat training was a bad idea, so he'd begrudgingly agreed to spend that time in therapy.

"How was your first day back?" Six asked neutrally.

"It was a fucking shitshow. I lost my head within five fucking minutes." Bright red flickered around him like a cloak of anger.

"Having trouble regulating your emotions is normal for your diagnosis," Six told him. "Particularly primal reactions like fear and anger."

"It's not like being angry all the fucking time is new for me," he pointed out.

"How far back do you remember having trouble controlling your temper?"

That was like asking him to remember learning to breathe.

"As long as I've been alive," he tried immediately, but then… He remembered sprinting through the house with a towel for a cape, squealing delightedly as his father caught him and swung him through the air. So maybe he wasn't always always angry. "I guess it wasn't as bad when I was a kid. But that's normal, right? Teenagers are just fucking angry."

"It could be. If you had to put an age to it, when would you say it got worse?"

"Eleven."

Shit, too fast, should have pretended to think about it first.

"Did anything happen that year that might have been related to the change?"

"My mom and I were fighting more." His tone was cagey, halting. "Then one got really bad and we started fighting a lot more."

"Do you remember what it was about?"

He would never forget. "I gave Deku a black eye." 

"I'm so sorry, Inko. I don't know what's gotten into him lately. No, I'll take care of it, you just worry about Izuku."

He hears Auntie Inko crying through the phone.

"I don't know what to do, Mitsuki," she sobs. "Izuku adores him, but this can't keep happening. I think we just need to separate them as much as possible for now."

"That shouldn't be necessary, Izuku's such a sweet boy-"

"It's necessary, Mitsuki."

"Do you think it's possible that your anger at Midoriya and your anger at your mother are connected?"

"What the fuck are you trying to say?! That I hate that damn nerd because I have mommy issues?"

"That's not how I would word it, but essentially." At least she owned up to it. "Midoriya already has a good relationship with his own mother, and then yours was on his side as well."

"Well... yeah, it pissed me off that I got in trouble every time he was around, but that's not why I started hating him."

"Then why did you?"

"Are you hurt? You could have hit your head."

"I hate him because he won't leave me alone and mind his own goddamn business," he raged. "He thinks I'm weak and pitiful and need his fucking help when I don't."

She started writing shit down, so that must have sounded crazy.

"I disagree with your assessment of how Midoriya sees you," she informed him. "I believe he thinks very highly of you."

"Then why does he keep acting like I'm some fucking damsel in distress?"

She tossed the clipboard aside and leaned onto her elbows, obligating eye contact. "If All Might was losing a fight because of his injury, you would want to help him, wouldn't you?"

He nodded hesitantly, certain this was a trap.

"Midoriya would want to help him too, wouldn't he?"

"The dumbass tried at the USJ even though he couldn't do shit. I had to bail him out."

"Do you think Midoriya looks down on All Might?"

Oh.

So that's where she was going with this.

"That's different."

"Why?"

"It just is!" 

Still, she didn't back down. "Why is it okay for Midoriya to try to help All Might when he's hurt or in trouble, but not you?"

"Because I'm not a fucking hero!" he shouted. "I'm just… just some kid he went to school with, I don't fucking matter! The fate of the world doesn't depend on me. There's no reason for him to give a shit!"

"I know it doesn't make sense to you." She had the knowing face again and he didn't like it, everyone needed to fucking stop that. "But your well being is important to him. He's not waiting for you to screw up, he's afraid for you because he knows you wouldn't reach out for help even if you did need it."

...Maybe.

Kirishima usually looked forward to his mom's weekly phone call. Today though... he was just so tired.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi sweetie, what's up?"

"Nothing, really," he tried to sound casual.

"What's wrong?"

Yeah, there was really no point trying to lie to his mom. But where did he even start with all of this?

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern growing at his silence.

"Yeah, I'm- You remember meeting Bakugou, right?"

"Of course. Hard to forget, the poor boy's parents got into a screaming match in front of the whole class. How's he doing?"

"Not good," Kirishima confessed. "Really not good, Mom, he-"

"Eiji, honey." She definitely heard the tearful cracks in his voice. "Talk to me."

"He tried to kill himself." The words scraped out of his throat.

"Oh my god. Eiji, that's awful. Is he okay now? What's happening?"

"Aizawa's trying to help him, but-" God, it was all so much. "I'm still so scared. He barely talks about it, but some of the stuff that happened to him was really bad and he started drinking. He had a panic attack in class and-"

"Sweetheart, slow down," she interrupted calmly. "Start at the beginning."

He told her everything. All of the secrets Bakugou trusted him with spilled out, but it didn't feel like a betrayal. She wasn't a gossipy classmate, she was his mom. She knew everything about him, so how much could it really hurt for her to know this too?

"What are you doing this weekend?" she asked softly.

"I don't know. Haven't planned anything yet."

"Good." He could hear her rummaging around through the phone. "I'm coming up for a visit."

"Mom, you were just here and it's expensive-"

"I don't care, Eiji," she insisted. "I won't get involved in anything you don't want me to, but you're getting a Mom Day where I spoil you rotten whether you like it or not."

Oh no, definitely going to cry now.

"Can Bakugou come if he wants to?"

"Of course." She put all of the mom-warmth possible into her answer, "I love you so much, but I've still got some to spare."

When he hung up, he felt lighter. Like the whole situation was less impossibly terrifying. He was almost embarrassed that his mom could still make him feel like that in one phone call, but he couldn't really bring himself to mind.

A floor above, Sero, Mina, and Kaminari were waiting for him with the unspoken expectation that he would bring Bakugou. Or at least try to get the boy to come out of his room. He could knock on the door, but that felt too demanding. Instead he did his four knock pattern on their shared wall. After a few months, he'd accepted he had to be loud for Bakugou to actually respond, especially if he'd taken his hearing aids out. He was certain Shouji usually heard before Bakugou did.

He held his breath until the knocks returned from Bakugou's side.

Me:

Video games at Sero's?

Bakubro:

Sure

He waited in the hall until Bakugou emerged. 

"Smash bros?" he asked warily through the door.

"You bet!" Kirishima encouraged.

"I'll fucking destroy you."

He looked almost normal. Hands shoved into baggy pockets, blank frown hiding any possible hint of excitement. It was just something about his eyes, and maybe the extra defensiveness in the hunch of his shoulders, that betrayed he wasn't quite okay. 

"And then Sero will end all of us, I know how it goes " Kirishima brushed off the aggressive challenge easily.

Bakugou followed about four feet behind, seeming reluctant to stand too close, much like back when they had first met. 

Of course he doesn't want people close after what happened to him-

Stop. That's not helping. 

"Hey guys," Kirishima greeted.

"You got him to come!" Kaminari exclaimed upon spotting Bakugou. 

"Don't push your fucking luck, Sparky," he growled back. 

"I'll sit out," Sero offered smugly. "Give the rest of you a fighting chance."

"I'm coming for your throne, you glorified fucking ribbon dancer."

"Hang on," Kirishima clicked the controller on only for it to flash and die again. "Kami, swap me."

Kaminari resurrected the dead controller in his hands, "This was all an elaborate ploy to become player one."

Kirishima would be the first to admit he was not good at Smash Bros. Or video games in general, really. He hit buttons and had fun, but with no real skill or strategy to it, so it was unsurprising when Kaminari smacked him off Zelda's castle with Ike's C-stick. Mina was great at shooters, but button mashers weren't really her thing so she went out next, courtesy of Bakugou, who had taken an immediate liking to Cloud when he showed up in the new edition.

That makes more sense now.

Kaminari was pretty good, crediting years of being annihilated by his older brother. Bakugou hadn't actually played before UA, much to Kaminari:s frustration.

"How are you just instantly good at literally everything you do?" he complained. "It's so unfair."

"Raw fucking talent," Bakugou answered, striking the glowing orb floating across the screen before Kaminari could get there. "Omnislash, motherfucker."

"Fuck!" Kaminari shouted as Ike rocketed off the screen in a fiery blast.

"Winner 1 V 1's Sero!" Mina announced excitedly.

"Come at me, Elbows," Bakugou grinned.

Sero must be getting serious because he picked Link, and that was the end for Bakugou. 

"God fucking dammit, you son of a bitch!" he yelled, down to one life against Sero's three. He managed to snag an ultimate power up, but then-

"Get back here, you bastard!"

"Nah, bitch," Sero jumped onto a platform quickly moving away.

"Stop running you fucking coward!"

His frustrated, impatient jump for Sero marked his defeat.

"Fuck!"

"Nice try, Baku," Sero teased.

"Shut the fuck up!"

It was almost normal. Almost. 

"You wanna go again?" Kaminari asked. 

"Nah, I'm rotating out," Bakugou declined. 

The other four started up again and, as usual, Kirishima went out first. Bakugou had stopped paying attention, arm resting on his curled knees, and didn't notice the other boy watching him as he slipped a small water bottle from his sweatshirt.

"Is that water or vodka?" Kirishima asked quietly.

"None of your fucking business, Shitty Hair."

"Bakugou-"

"I'm actually having fun for once, you bastard, don't ruin it."

"Okay."

The next round, Kirishima sat out and watched Bakugou's coordination dwindle as his cheeks flushed. 

"Damn, Bakugou, you were putting up a good fight last time, what happened?" Sero antagonized.

"Shut up," Bakugou snapped harmlessly.

"I'm going to beat you at this rate and I suck," Mina added.

"Shhhhh," Bakugou hushed her. "I don't suck, I'm just drunk."

"Wait, like, right now?" Kaminari's moment of distraction resulted in Sero sending him spiraling into the distance. "Shit!"

"He's sneaky," Kirishima informed them.

"And you're not sharing?" Kaminari said in mock-hurt.

"Fuck off, you don't need it," Bakugou grumbled.

"I don't think you're supposed to need it, dude," Sero said with mounting concern.

"And you're not supposed to be such a fucking priss," Bakugou snapped back.

"Bakugou," Mina cut in gently. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not fucking okay!" he growled, "Stop fucking asking."

"Okay, yeah, that was a stupid question." She wilted, but tried again. "How's it going with Six and Aizawa?"

"Aizawa put me in protective custody," Bakugou answered, to the surprise of everyone. "My mom's not allowed around me without someone watching her."

"Oh shit," Kaminari breathed.

"Therapy's fucking weird," he went on, tongue loosened by the buzz. "I don't get what talking about shit that already happened is supposed to do, but I guess it's supposed to help. Six wants me to do these weird mindfulness exercise things, but I don't want to because being aware of myself fucking sucks. Like- hooray, now I know exactly how shitty I feel, congratu-fucking-lations."

"Maybe it just takes time," Sero suggested.

"You fucking sound like her." Bakugou took a long swig of vodka. 

"Is that bad?"

"I don't know." Bakugou sighed. 

"Do you feel bad right now?" Mina asked curiously.

"The buzz kinda takes the edge off. I don't feel like I'm about to snap all the fucking time. All the noise in my head just kinda... stops."

"You need to tell Six and Aizawa." The order came from Kaminari, of all people.

"I don't need to do shit, Dunce Face."

"I'm sorry, you just…" Kaminari stammered. "You sounded like my brother for a second there and he- he's really not doing well."

"Your druggie brother isn't my fucking problem."

"Bakugou," Kirishima warned. 

"Alright, sorry, Christ!" Bakugou slumped back. "Just play your fucking game and mind your own goddamn business. Nosy bastards."

A couple rounds later, Bakugou was snoring softly, curled up on Sero's bed.

"So we can all agree he's really not okay, right?" Kaminari broke the unspoken 'don't talk about it' rule.

"Absolutely," Sero answered, pausing the game to look at Kirishima and Mina, "I'm assuming you two know more details than us, but when I heard what the fight was about... I know Bakugou well enough to put the pieces together."

"I didn't want to think it and be wrong," Kaminari said hesitantly.

"He's always been weird about people touching him." Sero again proved himself more observant than he let on. "I hoped he just wasn't used to affection, but after... I'm right, aren't I?"

"That doesn't make sense." Kaminari shook his head desperately, like he could reason away the awful truth. "He didn't get really bad until after the villains took him, so isn't that when… something happened?"

Sero pondered a moment, "I think it might have been more than one time. I mean, Bakugou is objectively attractive, he looks just like his mom and she's a model. With him getting thrown out on his own all the time, it wouldn't be much of a stretch for someone to have messed with him before all the Kamino stuff. And then the kidnapping just made it worse."

"That's essentially accurate," Kirishima confirmed reluctantly.

"Do you know like... what exactly they did to him?" Kaminari asked hesitantly. Kirishima shook his head.

"I don't and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"I've been avoiding sparing with him since he came back," Sero admitted. "My quirk is kinda the worst for him right now."

Bakugou stirred in his sleep, letting out a small whimper, before settling back down. Kirishima's heart clenched and he decided he would do what he could to avoid hearing it again.

"There are some rules for sparing with Bakugou."

Chapter Text

A hand grips his wrist, while another on his hip pins him still. The fear crawls up his throat and out his mouth in a desperate cry and he wonders if he will survive this moment.

"Bakugou!" 

There's yelling and the smell of smoke and suddenly he's upright and gasping.

"Whoa, Bakugou, it's okay, you're okay!"

Kirishima was in front of him, quirk active and hands raised. 

Where the fuck am I?

Sero's room. Sero's bed was the burning smell. Pillows and blankets were spread out across the room. The other four had slept on the floor after he passed out drunk like an asshole. They stayed with him and now he was screaming and blowing up Sero's shit at fucking sunrise.

"Fuck," he heaved. "Fuck, just give me a minute."

"Okay." Kirishima stood back, frozen in place like he was afraid to move. Maybe that was fair, he was acting a bit like a spooked animal. A few more seconds of heaved breaths and the nightmare started to fade.

I'm in the dorms with the idiots and everything is fine.

"I'll buy you new sheets," he said to Sero.

"I don't care about the sheets, dude. I just care if you're okay."

"I'm fine," he growled, embarrassment starting to replace the fear.

"Did you want to get breakfast?" Kirishima offered, like it wasn't 5:30 in the morning.

"Just go back to sleep," he ordered. "I gotta go."

He pushed past Kirishima and fled before anyone could ask him more questions. Back in his room, he boiled himself in the shower for half an hour and then sulked until it was time to drag his ass to therapy.

"Good morning, Bakugou," Six answered his knock.

"I thought we agreed I only had to see you twice a week." Bakugou scowled.

"That's true," Six confirmed. "But did you have plans other than sulking in your room this whole Saturday?"

"...No."

"Good. There are some things I think we need to address anyway," she said, much to his dismay. He took his usual seat, back near the wall with the exit in view. He wasn't sure what the dark red-violet surrounding him indicated to Six, but it didn't seem good.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Fucking shitty. Next."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Fucking nightmares." He just got there and was already avoiding looking at her.

"What about?"

"None of your fucking business," he snarled.

"Bakugou, we talked about-"

"I don't want to talk about it!" The purple flared red around him, dancing like flames. She sighed and he almost felt bad about how difficult he was being.

"Okay." She backed off. "You never have to talk about anything. But if you think you're up to it, I wanted to talk a little about the day of your attempt."

"It wasn't an attempt," Bakugou insisted immediately.

"How would you describe it then?" 

"I just panicked for a minute, it wasn't that serious."

She quite obviously did not believe him. Fucking empaths. "Okay. Why did you see no other way out when you 'panicked,' but now it seems you do?"

He remembered the feeling of the walls closing in and scrunched the fabric over his thigh in a fist, the other leg bouncing anxiously. The oppressive purple darkened to nearly black.

Jesus, not pulling your punches today, are you, Doc?

"I thought everyone knew and my hero career was over," he admitted, so strained his stomach was starting to hurt.

"You're talking about your argument with Uraraka?" Six inferred.

Bakugou nodded silently.

"And you thought your classmates would lose respect for you if they knew you were sexually abused?"

His leg bounced faster in hopes it would keep the blood flowing to his head and ward off the dizzy feeling.

"That doesn't sound 'not serious,'" Six said gently. 

"I thought people would say I deserved it," he blurted out suddenly. "Like it was just karma putting me in my place."

He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth clenched. Part of him knew the rehearsed answers of 'not your fault,' but it never stuck. Those victims were never the bully that beat people up or told kids to kill themselves. He wasn't a nice young lady who got jumped in an alley, he was him. So he needed to hear it. 

Did I deserve it?

"The media has been hard on you." She sounded sad. "But you're still a child, Katsuki. I promise, no reasonable person could think you deserved to be abused."

That pretty well killed the last of his composure.

"She said if something happened it was my fault because I don't listen and-" His voice cracked and stopped working.

"When was this?" she prodded gently.

"After our big fight, I didn't come home because this guy offered me a place to stay and I was so stupid!" The words tumbled out frantically. "I went with him and drank tea from a goddamn stranger. I think he fucking drugged me and I couldn't- I couldn't- Fuck!"

"Oh, honey." Her professionalism slipped for a moment. "I'm so sorry."

"I didn't fight because-" he gasped messily "-at first I didn't know what was going on, and then he- fuck, he could have killed me, and I didn't wanna die but now I wish I'd at least tried. Maybe if I tried I wouldn't feel so- so fucking worthless."

"Feeling paralyzed in the moment is common," she said gently. "So is blaming yourself for not stopping it. It's something a lot of survivors have to work through."

"Don't cry, you'll be fine. You just have to get used to it."

His hands exploded as he lurched to his feet, pacing through the roaring in his chest, hands clasped behind his head. He was breathing too fast, vision starting to blur.

"Bakugou, you're okay." Six's voice cut through the rushing. "Tell me what's going on."

"I can't talk about this," he shook his head with a broken whisper.

"Then tell me about right now. What are you feeling?"

"I feel like I'm gonna crawl out of my fucking skin!" 

"It's okay if you're not ready to talk about what happened," she assured patiently. "Lets just take a breath for a moment."

She got up and retrieved him a water, which he downed immediately. He declined the pack of crackers, but she put them within arm's reach anyway.

"How about we go back to the fight with your mom?"

He nodded breathlessly.

"She doesn't know what happened to you, correct?"

Another nod.

"But you're afraid that if she did know she would blame you for it." She didn't need his confirmation that time, she already knew. "Do you ever blame her for it?"

"How you mean?" His brows knit together in confusion.

"You were on the street that night because she threw you out. She didn't cause what happened, but she put you in a situation where you were vulnerable and then blamed you for being there. I'm just wondering if that's a factor in how much your fights increased after that."

"She blames me for fucking everything, it's nothing special."

"Parents are supposed to try to protect their children. But you were expected to do it yourself. That's hardly fair to ask of an 11-year-old."

"I don't need anyone's protection!" His voice raised, regaining a fraction of strength. "I can fight better than either of my shitty parents! Better than you too, you fucking glorified lava lamp!"

"That's true," Six agreed. "You can. You're strong and incredibly skilled. No one is denying that. The problem is power comes in many forms, and anyone can be made vulnerable under the right circumstances. Even All Might, Hawks, Eraserhead. And you."

All Might's frail form appeared in his mind. Alongside Aizawa's beaten body at the USJ. 

Anyone can lose.

It seemed obvious, but he had never allowed the thought to form before. He needed invincibility to be real. Something attainable. And it wasn't. 

"Awful," Bakugou concluded. But the dark cloud around him had cleared to a pale blue.

"We still have some time left," Six said, weirdly chipper. "But that was pretty intense, so how about we head to the cafeteria and you can get whatever you want. On me."

"That's the first thing you've said that I don't hate." Bakugou smirked, then added suspiciously, "Did Aizawa put you up to this?"

"He may have mentioned a personal mission to throw food your way whenever possible."

"I eat fucking fine!"

"But doesn't everything taste better when you don't have to pay for it?" 

"...Yes." Damn, she was good at this.

He was halfway through the spicy wontons he'd been lured into eating when Kirishima texted.

Shitty Hair:

My mom is taking me downtown, you wanna come?

Me: 

Wasn't she just fucking here?

Shitty Hair:

Yeah, but then I sounded sad on the phone and now she's back

"Kirishima's mom is unreal."

"Oh?" Six inquired.

"She's coming up again because he sounded sad." He scoffed. "She's a big fucking softie, just like him."

"Do you think you'll see her?" 

"He invited me out with his fucking mom because he's a lame ass nerd."

"Are you going to go?"

"... Maybe."

"I think you should," Six encouraged. "She sounds nice and you could use something lowkey right now."

"Whatever," he mumbled, pretending not to notice the blush-like shift to lavender his aura took.

Me:

Yes, I'll join your date with your mom, you fucking nerd 

It was still only 10 AM, so he hoped most of the dorm would still be in their rooms. The early risers like Momo and Icy-Hot weren't too bad anyway. He snuck up the stairs to the common room, tiptoed past the kitchen where… the entire Bakusquad was cooking?

"What the fuck?"

Kaminari startled the worst, dropping a bottle of furikake seasoning.

"Since we were all awake anyway, we decided to make breakfast!" Mina recovered first. "It's just egg rice and some toppings, but that's all I know how to make!"

"Well, you are the least hopeless in the kitchen," Bakugou granted. Kirishima had managed to cut himself somewhere along the way and was holding gauze around his left pointer finger. 

Gonna have to teach this dumbass how to use a fucking knife.

"So you'll actually stay and try some?!" she said excitedly.

"Six already ambushed me with food."

Four wontons is not breakfast.

"Pleeeease," she begged. Behind her, Sero was trying and failing to pan fry tofu.

"I'll try it. I make no promises beyond that. If it's- Oh my god, Sero." He couldn't watch this anymore. "Stop. Take that out, your oil isn't nearly hot enough."

He cranked up the burner and forced Sero to wait a fucking second for it to heat up. Meanwhile, he tugged Kirishima to the sink and shoved his hand under the faucet. 

"You got the first aid shit out?"

"Here." Kirishima pulled out a nearby drawer in response. Bakugou collected gauze that wasn't soaked red, small butterflies, bacitracin, and medical tape.

"Give me your hand, Shitty Hair."

Kirishima obliged and Bakugou quickly got to work. He coated the cut that ran at an angle where his finger met his palm thinly in bacitracin. A couple butterfly bandages sutured the cut closed, then he pressed the gauze over his work and taped it down.

"There, now you won't get your dumbass all over the kitchen, you fucking biohazard."

"What would we do without you?" Mina grinned as she stirred an egg into another bowl of hot rice and mirin until it was a fluffy, risotto-like texture. She began topping it off with an assortment of seasonings, seaweed, scallions, sesame seeds, pickled ginger and… avocado?

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" He glared skeptically at the avocado.

"Globalism is the future, my friend," Kaminari quipped. "You can't stop progress."

"Just trust me," Mina insisted, tossing a bowl in front of him. "It's delicious."

She was right. It was. 

It was a simple dish, but Mina didn't cook, none of them did. And he had to begrudgingly admit the avocado thing actually worked as a nice substitute for the substantial, fatty portion his preferred slice of salmon would normally occupy. 

"How?" he marvelled.

"I might have had to call my mom," Mina admitted. "Twice."

"And she just picked up and walked you through cooking on a Saturday morning?"

"She hates that I don't care about cooking," she explained. "Thinks I'll make a bad wife. So when I asked her to teach me remotely, she was ecstatic."

They all kept up the facade, that they just happened to decide to learn how to cook this morning, not giving him a chance to decline the kindness.

They did this for you.

It was the first full meal he'd eaten in weeks.

Chapter Text

"Eiji!" His mother wrapped him up in a tight hug. She wasn't a big woman, but she was strong and could lift him off the ground as easily as he could her. 

"Ma, you just saw me." He laughed.

"That was days ago!" she cried. "Like, at least three."

"Thanks for doing this," he said more quietly.

"None of that." She ruffled his hair out of habit and immediately regretted sticking her fingers into the spikes of gel. "I'm here because I want to be- Oh god, this stuff feels awful, you put this on your head every day?!"

"I suffer for beauty, mother." He grinned.

"You are very cute." She pinched his cheek obnoxiously. "Is it just you and me today?"

"Bakugou actually said he'd come," Kirishima informed, both happy and nervous.

"That's great." The playfulness faded to something softer. Warm. "You're a good friend, kiddo, you know that?"

He shrugged.

"No, you are, and I'll keep saying it until you believe it," she insisted.

"Did you talk to Nanako about him?"

"I did. I hope that was okay."

"She's like, not allowed to say anything, right?"

"She's a professional secret-keeper," she confirmed. "Dating a pediatric psychiatrist does have its advantages. Plus, I didn't use his name."

"What did she have to say?" Maybe a professional could give him some kind of guidance on how to deal with something so serious.

"I'm afraid there's not really a trick to it, sweetheart." She squeezed his shoulder. "Getting better is a lot of time and patience."

"I'm just worried that he's getting worse instead of better," Kirishima admitted fearfully.

"Recovery isn't linear. You remember when I used to get sad after we left your dad? Sometimes I would be doing really well for a while, then have a really bad day. But that really bad day didn't mean I wasn't improving over all. Brains are complicated. Don't let the bumps get you down too much."

When they picked up Bakugou, he looked better. Not good, really, but closer to relaxed than he had in weeks. Kirishima had forgotten about Bakugou's media issues until he took in the plain black beanie and grey sweatshirt. He thought the commotion around Bakugou had died down. Bakugou was favoring sweatshirts a lot lately, so he couldn't be sure of the reason.

"Baku-babe!" Nakamura exclaimed. "Good to see you again."

"God, he really is your son," Bakugou grumbled, a wry smile slipping through the act.

"I tried to map out the day. But alas, I am a country girl and really am not good at coordinating the trains, so you're welcome to reconfigure." She handed him a sheet of scribbled notes that vaguely resembled a chart of times and locations.

"Todashi's is overrated," he disapproved. "And you don't want to be anywhere near the Strip during rush hour. And this is in the East End, that's the opposite direction from your hotel and you don't want to be there after dark. Jesus, I need a pen."

"Teach me your ways, Master." She dug a pen from her purse.

"We're going to Market Square first," he announced. "Then the strip district around 1, and I'm not taking you two country bumpkins to the East End at all."

"Yes, Sensei." She grinned. 

As Bakugou led the way to the station, Kirishima leaned in to whisper. "Did you make a terrible day plan on purpose?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She feigned ignorance as she pulled up a perfectly reasonable, well organized itinerary on her phone and deleted it. 

"Thanks, mom." 

Market Square was home to the coolest library Kirishima had ever seen. He expected a building with some books, and instead got a multimedia center with seven stories. The outside was covered in hanging gardens, while the floor they were currently on was entirely red, down to the water fountains and doorknobs. 

"Is this whole place color coded like that?" Kirishima asked excitedly.

"Yeah, it's got some serious Mask of The Red Death shit going on."

The walkway they were on cut across the open high ceiling, leaving them suspended in a glass box of a hallway.

"Holy shit!" Kirishima exclaimed as his nerves reacted to the perceived death drop. "Mom, are you seeing this?"

"We lost her," Bakugou informed him, gesturing back to the red room.

"You boys go ahead," she said, staring down over the edge where the solid floor turned to glass.

"You're not any higher up just because you can see it," Bakugou reasoned. "Just don't look down."

"You see though," she squeezed her eyes shut, "the problem is, I am not brave."

"You can do it mom, come on." Kirishima backtracked and offered her his arm.

"This is going to be like roller coasters, isn't it?" She predicted with dread. "You have a great time while I faint in terror."

"Do you want me to carry you?" he offered.

"No," she whined, wrapping both her arms around his right one and burying her face in the back of his shoulder. "Just guide me."

When he looked back, Bakugou was grinning, the look of unguarded amusement lighting up his face as he watched the ridiculous display. Whatever 'gift' everyone seemed to think he had with Bakugou, it appeared to be genetic.

"I'm glad someone is having a good time," Nakamura said in mock-annoyance when she saw Bakugou's smirk, reaching the other side.

"Where exactly are we going?" Kirishima asked.

"There's a Thai place across the sky bridge with really good curry," Bakugou answered.

"Wait…" Nakamura said hesitantly. "That wasn't the sky bridge?"

"That was just a hall inside the library," Bakugou told her. "The sky bridge crosses 7th street."

"Oh my god." She buried her face back in Kirishima's shoulder. "He's trying to kill me."

This time, she actually accepted Kirishima's offer and jumped on his back the whole way across. 

"You're safe, you can get down now," Kirishima announced.

"So what's this curry made of?" She stumbled a step before regaining her footing. "Spiders and scorpions?"

"Only if you want it to be," Bakugou replied wryly. 

"You're a menace, Bakugou Katsuki." The jab was light, obviously teasing.

"I know." He turned away with just a hint of the sadness that had been hanging over him the past few weeks slipping through. "I'll find us a seat."

Kirishima only made it a couple bites in before his mother was stealing his coconut shrimp.

"If you wanted an appetizer, why didn't you order one?" he complained.

"Because I only wanted a couple! Besides, this is preparing you for life with a girlfriend."

"Mom-"

"Or boyfriend." she added.

"Mom."

"We're a no-judgement household."

"Does Nanako steal your food?"

"No," she admitted. "But she never complains when I steal her's."

"You have to bring her next time," Kirishima concluded. "She's a more willing victim."

"What about Bakugou?" She slid a hand over to the mysterious crockett-like appetizer Bakugou was eating.

"You don't want to do that," Bakugou warned. 

She stared him dead in the eyes as she raised the bite to her mouth. After about 2 seconds of chewing, she realized her mistake.

"Oh my god." Her face began to turn red, eyes watering. "Holy shit, you enjoy this?!"

"He warned you," Kirishima laughed. "Bakugou likes food that feels like eating crushed glass and fire."

"I'm going to die." She dabbed a napkin under her eyes before blowing her running nose.

She ordered her curry as 'white people mild' after that.

"Is that all you're eating, Bakugou?" she asked as he continued picking at his appetizer, declining an entre entirely.

"I ate before we left."

That was true. They probably shouldn't push him on it when he was already exceeding expectations.

"Well, I'm ordering some apps to go in case you change your mind." She flipped through the menu. "What do you like?"

"I'm fine." He bristled.

"Don't worry, she'll steal half of them anyway," Kirishima joked, earning a light elbow to the ribs from his mother. While Bakugou begrudgingly picked through appetizers, the television in the corner caught Kirishima's attention when he recognized the name 'Yamamoto Haruki.' The sound was turned off, so he typed it into his phone under the table.

Missing boy found and rushed to emergency room

10/12 22:45 

Yamamoto Haruki was found malnourished and severely dehydrated, to the point of hallucinations and unconsciousness.

He remembered Aizawa's observation about family dynamics and missing person cases and cringed. 

"So you're saying I was a very kidnappable child?"

Things with his dad had been hard, but he felt so spoiled next to Bakugou, Todoroki and Kaminari. The sense of stability and safety his mother provided, something he had long taken for granted, was a foreign concept to them. He would need to bring Kaminari on a mom trip some time too. He deserved the experience of feeling genuinely safe and cared for, even if just for the day.

A train ride later, the strip district was crowded.

"I thought you said this was the not-crowded time?" Kirishima whined.

"It is. This is the closest to breathable it gets."

"It's an open-air market, I thought breathable was the point?!"

"And you wanted to hit the East End," Bakugou smirked incredulously.

Kirishima adapted to the congestion fairly quickly, attention pulled away by the shops that were so cool. 

"Duck," Bakugou ordered, dragging him down as a 20 lb fish flew over his head, tossed from one worker to another. 

"Was- was that a flying dead fish?"

"You gotta watch where you're going, dumbass," he scolded. "Shit doesn't stop just because you don't know what you're doing."

"Oh my god!" 

Kirishima spun around at the sound of his mother's distressed voice. She stood about 4 meters behind them, staring at a brick wall. 

"How do they even get it up there?"

Chewing gum dotted the wall in dozens of colors up to 3 meters. 

"Whoa," Kirishima marveled.

"It's disgusting," Nakamura remarked in awe.

"It's just gum on a wall." Bakugou rolled his eyes. "People are fucking weird like that."

Kirishima was about to respond when a passing body knocked into Bakugou. Where he expected angry yelling to 'watch where he was fucking going,' Bakugou flinched, hissing through his teeth.

The cool-ness of the market started to fade as he watched Bakugou's tense shoulder dart away from contact that seemed inescapable. A block and a half later, he'd had enough.

"I'm sorry, Bakugou, I'm really not a city person. This is kinda crowded for me. You think we can head out?"

"Whatever." Bakugou shrugged, unsuccessfully trying to hide the relief. "It's your day, I fucking live here."

The bay was only two stops away. A large, stone-paved circle around the docks provided an open space between the science center, the historical museum, and the aquarium. 

"Did you boys want to go in somewhere?" Nakamura asked hesitantly.

"It's pretty expensive, Mom."

"I know." She shrank a little as she sighed. "Still, if you-"

"I've seen it all before," Bakugou interrupted. "Come back another time."

"Okay." She smiled softly, appreciating the out. "Since you're the expert, how about a tour around the bay instead?"

"There's not much to see," Bakugou said before launching into a detailed explanation of the history and function of the docks. Kirishima tried to listen, but his mother was much better at keeping up. Instead he breathed in the ocean air and nearly cried when he realized he felt something like peace.

Eventually they turned into a small shop that sold make-to-order ice cream rolled up with weird spatulas. Once again, he was the only one watching the TV. The bottom text told him Yamamoto boy had woken up after 12 hours on IV fluids, but wasn't talking much. He didn't want to ruin the mood, so he kept his wondering to himself, but he couldn't get over how weird the quote was.

'Humans are 60% water.'

Chapter Text

He wasn't surprised when the nerds were waiting for him with breakfast again, though simpler than last time. American-style bacon and pancakes. Definitely picked by Kirishima. 

"You nerds managed to fend for yourselves two days in a row?" Bakugou taunted. "I'm impressed."

"Haha, just shut up and eat." Kaminari shoved a plate at him. 

"Looks like Bakugou is rubbing off on you in all kinds of ways," Jirou joked.

Jirou.

Her very existence stressed him out. She was so quiet and unassuming, but she knew everything. He wasn't even sure she needed to use her quirk half the time, people just trusted her or forgot she was there. Add in the super hearing and Jirou knew everything about everyone. He couldn't even be mad about it because she never blabbed. She would just be told something, anything, and go, 'Yeah, I know.'

What do you know?

Did it even matter if she wasn't going to tell anyone?

It matters.

"Nah, that wasn't Bakugou," Kaminari denied. "That was channeling my dad. Bakugou would be more 'You fucking want it or not, you piece of shit?!'"

"Accurate," Bakugou affirmed.

Right, Kaminari's shitty dad existed. He wanted to interrogate Pikachu about their shared experiences, but… how? He didn't just talk about things. It couldn't be that easy. Could it?

His chance came when Kaminari settled with his own plate next to him, a decent distance and across the counter from the others.

"Hey Dunce Face." He could do this, it's just breathing air and making words out the face hole. "When your dad left you places… did anyone ever fuck with you?"

"Not much," he answered, then considered for a moment. "I guess a little. One time I told this guy I was waiting for my dad and he just wouldn't fucking go away."

Thank Christ he's easy to talk to.

"He kept saying shit like 'I don't think your daddy's coming back' and offered to 'take me home.' I was getting scared he might actually do something, so I ditched and walked 4 miles to the train just to get away from him. Others proposed some colorful stuff, but no one ever pushed it past that."

"It's fucking embarrassing." Bakugou grimaced, pushing down the memory. "To be stranded like that."

"Yeah, it is," Kaminari agreed. "It's so unfair too, it's not like we chose to be there."

"No, we sure the fuck didn't."

"Do you ever blame her?"

"Bakugou." The voice started him out of his thoughts.

"The fuck do you want, Icy Hot?"

"Sparring practice," he answered simply. "Being number 1 in the class gets boring without number 2 around. Besides, you don't want to get rusty, do you?"

"You're fucking on!"

He saw through the goading. Todoroki was definitely doing this for his benefit. But he could at least pretend he didn't know. When they reached the practice field, Todoroki... just fucking stood there.

"Let's go, Half-and-Half, I ain't got all fucking day."

"Yes, you do," Todoroki pointed out, to which Bakugou could only growl.

"Just come at me already!"

"Not yet."

"Jesus christ, you drag me out here to bore me to death?"

"First I need to know. What are your triggers?"

"Fuck off!" he screamed back, ready to storm away when Todoroki called to his back.

"Mine are hot water, fire users, and just about anything coming at my face."

He froze.

"I also don't do well with older male opponents, particularly those with a significant size advantage."

Goddammit.

"You're difficult for me to fight." Todoroki continued the confession with painful, raw honesty. "Your short temper and driven nature, combined with a heat-and-fire producing quirk is uncomfortably reminiscent of Endeavour."

"Then why am I here?!" he snarled.

"Because the more I face you, the less afraid I become."

...Fuck.

In the same way Momo understood his shame and regret, Todoroki understood the fear. The bone-deep terror that surged up without warning plagued him too.

Oh, fuck!

Todoroki's room is next to Sero's.

"What did you hear?" he demanded.

"You're not the first person to wake Sero up with nightmares. Or burning sheets, for that matter."

Goddammit. He couldn't get defensive when everything that made him feel exposed was something Todoroki personally experienced. But it felt dangerous, to have scars this deep out in the open.

"Just don't fucking grab or pin me," he finally gave in. Todoroki nodded, like he really understood and everything was so fucking weird this weekend.

He launched himself at Todoroki and aimed downward to propel himself over the forming ice wall, hopefully shatter a few pieces toward Icy Hot at the same time.

In the air, aiming down-

Flames fizzle out as grief and fear overtake determination. He's going to win, but he didn't want it like this.

-he pulled back.

"What's wrong?" Todoroki yelled as he slid to a stop across the dirt.

"I understand now." Bakugou picked himself up. "Why you gave up back then."

"I'm sorry that's something you understand," he replied solemnly.

"Just fight me!" he shouted. "I'm not holding back this time!"

It took 45 minutes for them to entirely wear each other out.

"I don't like being grabbed either," Todoroki spoke between heaved breaths, lying on his back next to Bakugou. "My dad used to drag me around a lot. By my arms. Wrists. Hair. Whatever he could get ahold of."

"My mom pulls that shit too. The worst is though, I can't fucking stand anything around my neck. They all keep fucking going for that."

"Terrible."

"The Sludge fucker was drowning me and no one did anything except for fucking Deku."

"I saw you dragged through the portal," Todoroki reminded him. "I wouldn't like anything around my neck after that either."

"It goes back farther," he admitted quietly.

"You're not talking about a villain encounter, I take it," Todoroki inferred.

"Not the TV kind anyway," Bakugou confirmed.

"What'd he do?"

"It wouldn't hurt if you would just fucking relax!"

He rubbed at the side of his neck, scrubbing off the phantom pressure.

"Bastard liked choking me and shit. Think he got off on watching me gag." Stop, stop, why was this spilling to Todoroki of all people? "He liked that I was afraid, that I thought I was gonna fucking die. It was all a power trip. He didn't just ignore me and take what he wanted, he wanted to hurt me. And he wanted to make me say yes anyway."

Silence.

"Jesus Christ." Todoroki, the good rich boy, rarely swore. It was so unexpected he nearly laughed. "Bakugou, I- I'm so sorry."

Something about the endorphins of a good fight damped the panic he expected to feel having said so much out loud. 

"It was pretty fucked up." He felt a bit dizzy and couldn't tell if from the workout or the words. A weird disconnect was happening between his sensory memory, that was usually so overwhelming, and the casual conversation. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I've never fucking talked about it before."

"Kindred spirits?" Todoroki proposed. 

"Hell if I know." He sat up, resting an arm on his knee. "When I'm at therapy, at least figuring shit out about my parents feels like it could go somewhere. It's weird to have this random control freak I met once fuck up my life so bad."

"That must be hard. I wasn't able to process what happened with my mother until I finally saw her again at the hospital. All those years I was afraid she would look at me with hate and want to hurt me again. It turned out, none of it was scary like I imagined." He propped himself on his elbows, looking at Bakugou like nothing else in the world existed. "There's not really a chance for closure like that with what happened to you."