Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts, as many things do, with a mug of hot chocolate.

Katsuki gets nightmares, sometimes. He knows that some of his classmates do, too, because every so often his tired eyes meet another pair of tired eyes in the darkness at two in the morning when normal people should be asleep. Every time, the motions are identical: Katsuki makes hot cocoa for himself, aggressively shoves hot cocoa at whoever the other pair of eyes is this time, and in a silent nod, they mutually agree that not a word of this is to be spoken to anyone else, ever.

If Katsuki has his way — and he usually does — that's where it ends. Except this time, the pair of eyes is red and barely meets Katsuki's waist. And when Katsuki shoves a mug of hot cocoa at Eri, she only blinks at it in surprise, and then blinks up at Katsuki in surprise, and now the two of them are standing in the kitchen at 3:17 a.m. blinking in surprise at each other in the darkness.

Katsuki grits his teeth. "Oi. Take the cocoa, already," he says, voice gruff with equal parts lack of sleep and lack of patience. He jiggles the mug to emphasize the point, and the steaming liquid sloshes precariously close to spilling.

Eri jumps at the tone of his voice, but tentatively reaches out to accept the mug regardless. She curls her hands around it. "O-oh. Thanks," she murmurs, and says nothing else.

This is normally when Katsuki nods at the other person, and the other person leaves, and Katsuki goes back to contemplating why his brain decides it's a great fucking idea to invent new and increasingly innovative ways of meeting his own mortality.

Except the silent nod does not happen, Eri does not leave, and instead of contemplating his existence, Katsuki freaks the fuck out because he has no idea what he's supposed to do now. There's a kid half his age clinging to a mug of cocoa and blinking up at him with sleepless eyes. And most importantly, she's breaking the unstated but universally acknowledged agreement to leave Katsuki Bakugou the fuck alone.

Katsuki panics. "You want to sit?" he asks, and shit, he just fucked up, because all Katsuki wants is for him to be by himself and for Eri to go the fuck to sleep. And now he's opened the door to Eri staying awake in the common room, together, and he has no earthly idea how to shut that door without making her cry. And making Eri cry is a one-way ticket for the scorn of all his peers, which Katsuki could handle, if it didn't include Kirishima and his disapproving puppy-dog eyes, and also if it didn't include Aizawa, who would solve the puppy-dog eyes problem by expelling Katsuki before the week was out.

The air is so still that Katsuki could explode it just by breathing. Eri curls her fingers tighter around the mug of cocoa. Then, in a tremulous whisper: "Okay."

Katsuki does not scare easily. But now even he will admit, if only to himself, that he is fucking terrified. Not of Eri, mind you. There's unanimous consensus by the entire class and probably the entire planet that Eri is the sweetest child to inhabit the Earth. No, Katsuki is terrified because Eri is having feelings, and that means talking about feelings. Even Half n' Half, who has all the emotional bandwidth of a particularly dull rock, is better at talking about feelings than Katsuki, which is incidentally another thing he will admit only to himself.

But Katsuki is not a quitter. If he's dug his own grave, he's damn well going to dig his way back out or lie down and die there. So he grunts back at her, listens to the pitter-patter of her feet as she putters behind him, and he drops onto one end of the couch in the common room. Eri wordlessly slides up onto the opposite end. Katsuki notices that the box of tissues on the coffee table is closer to him, and he yanks a tissue and pretends to rub at his nose so he can put the box back down closer to her — like hell is he going to listen all night if she starts up the waterworks.

Eri makes no attempt at conversation, which does not bother Katsuki in the least. He hates talking for the sake of talking, which is why most of the class annoys the hell out of him. (Half n' Half is especially talented because he can annoy Katsuki without talking at all.) The two of them sit there on the couch in the darkness, a respectable four feet of distance between them, and Katsuki sips from his mug while Eri takes kitten licks of her cocoa.

When his drink is half gone, Katsuki grunts. Eri turns her head to him. "Nightmare?" he asks, but there's no rising intonation at the end, so it's really more of a statement.

Eri is quiet, but then she gives a mute nod.

Katsuki's seen enough of Deku and his crew being touchy-feely with each other to know that he's supposed to be sappy and sentimental in response. He nearly bites his tongue off at the thought, but successfully manages to croak out a strained, "You… want to talk about it?"

Eri shakes her head.

Oh, thank fuck.

Katsuki doesn't say that, though. Instead, he nods in understanding back at her. "Yeah, they're a real bitch."

Eri jumps. Katsuki curses — this time in his head — and reminds himself to keep his swears there.

"…You too?" she finally wonders.

Katsuki barks a laugh. "Happens to everybody. Especially when you see too much shit."

Eri jumps again. Fuck. He did it again. How the fuck do all the extras do it?

"Anyway," Katsuki adds hastily, "I know they feel real. But they're not. And you gotta remember that."

Eri turns the mug of cocoa between her fingers. "But… what if they are real?" she murmurs, and Katsuki sees wetness beginning to appear at the corner of her eyes, and fuck no, he's had enough dealing with Deku's crybaby crap during the day, he's not dealing with it at three in the fucking morning, too.

"Listen up, Eri," he demands, and the command makes her startle and stops the would-be tears. "That mug of cocoa in your hands? That's real. The couch you're sitting on? That's real. And I'm as real as the hand in front of your f — er, fancy — face. Whatever sad excuse for a dream your brain decided to show you sure as f — freaking heck this is hard — sure as fudge isn't."

Eri blinks and does not seem to understand. Katsuki thinks it is because he isn't swearing enough.

"All I'm saying, is — you get some dumb dream again, and after it goes away, you and me and that hot cocoa will still be here," Katsuki tells her. He hopes that's enough reassurance, because Katsuki does not handle emotional support very well, and he handles bawling kids even less well.

Eri is quiet and Katsuki prays that she's not about to start sobbing, because he will chuck the tissue box at her if she does. Her mouth flicks upward into a ghost of a smile for the briefest of moments — and then it's gone again.

"…Thank you, Bakugou-san," she finally whispers. She doesn't say anything else — Katsuki thinks she doesn't need to, just like Katsuki thinks there is nothing else for him to say. The two of them sit in the shadowed common room until Eri's mug is empty.

"Bakugou-san…" she murmurs after a while. "If… Can I…?"

"Don't be stupid," Katsuki admonishes her. "The common room's for everybody. You don't have to ask for permission."

Eri's face flickers, whether in relief or sadness, Katsuki doesn't know. "What if… the dream… it comes back?" Her eyes are tired and drooping, but she still clings to wakefulness like a blanket. Katsuki considers her over his own empty mug.

"…You know what I do, when I get dumb fucking dreams?" Katsuki asks her back, because he's fucking tired of dealing with emotions and tired of tiptoeing around words and just tired in general because it's past three in the morning. Besides, punching his emotions in the face has worked out great for Katsuki so far — well, maybe not great, but very broadly speaking, it's worked — and he figures if it works for him, it might work for Eri, too.

Eri doesn't jump at Katsuki's f-bomb this time, and Katsuki doesn't know if it's because she's already getting inured to his cussing or is just getting tired. Hopefully the latter, so he can try to actually get some fucking sleep. Eri only looks back at him and slowly shakes her head no.

Katsuki grins back at her. "So if that dumb dream of yours comes back and tries to scare you," he begins, grin growing wider as her eyes grow wider, "here's what you're gonna fucking do."

Denki startles awake. He feels the faintest flicker of pride that he hadn't screamed. It's very rapidly quashed when he resigns himself to a sleepless night the day before Present Mic's English test. He checks the clock. Well, day of, now.

He heaves a sigh and trudges down the hall to the common room. If he's not getting any sleep, he might as well treat himself to hot cocoa and some cookies or something. He absently finds himself wondering whether Bakugou is up, too. The last time Denki had a nightmare, Bakugou was awake for some reason, too, and practically forced a mug of hot chocolate into his hands.

They didn't talk at all — Bakugou's expression very clearly radiated the threat of imminent death if Denki so much as thought about it. And since Denki was very well aware that he'd be the first to be killed off if he was a character in a slasher flick, he kept his lips sealed, even if the drink was actually quite soothing and he couldn't help but drift back to sleep later.

So even if Bakugou is a walking ticking time bomb — actually, scratch the time part, he's just a bomb — Denki finds himself absurdly hoping that Bakugou is awake so he can partake in hot cocoa privileges again. When he makes his way down to the common room, he hears rustling in the kitchen, and he can't help the relaxed smile that comes to his face. Maybe he will get some sleep, after all.

When he enters the kitchen, he's met with a pair of red eyes. Except he has to turn his head down to see them. Denki's first, sleep-addled thought is: Bakugou shrunk.

"U-um, Kaminari-san…?"

Denki blinks, and realizes several things at once. First, he hasn't said anything for a solid minute. Second, Bakugou did not shrink. Third, Eri is in the kitchen instead. And finally, this means Denki will not be getting any hot cocoa tonight.

"Kaminari-san…?" Eri repeats, gazing up at him, eyes wide with concern.

Denki shakes himself and laughs off his confusion, something he is very good at. "Eri-chan! What are you doing up this late?"

Eri blinks at him flatly, as if asking him the same question. "…Couldn't sleep," she finally says.

Denki may not be the brightest Chargebolt in the room, but he knows code for a bad dream when he hears it, so he only nods at her knowingly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

To his surprise, Eri shakes her head. "No… It's okay," she tells him, voice small but assured. "Do… you want cocoa?"

"Huh?" Denki says, eloquently.

"Um. Cocoa. It… helps me go to sleep," Eri explains, still looking up at him with wide, wondering eyes.

"Oh! Uh, sure. I think we have some instant packets in here somewhere," Denki says, finally managing to recover some semblance of normal human functioning. Funny coincidence that cocoa helps put the both of them to sleep, but Denki knows it's not the instant packets that do the trick (or, as Bakugou calls them, "steaming piles of dog shit") — it's whatever wizardry Bakugou works in the kitchen.

Still, Denki's not about to turn down a request from a girl who just had a nightmare. But Denki's also pretty sure he'll burn the whole building down in particularly spectacular fashion if he tries to make anything more complex than the instant mix. Instant cocoa it is.

"It's okay. I know how to make it," Eri says, interrupting Denki's thoughts. He looks up to see her standing on a stepstool and picking up a tin of cocoa powder that Denki didn't even know existed. Instant cocoa… it isn't?

Denki laughs awkwardly. "Oh, well, that's very sweet of you, Eri-chan. But you can let me do it."

"I already started it, so it's okay," Eri reassures him, except it's the opposite of reassuring, because a kid half Denki's age shouldn't be messing around in the kitchen when Denki can barely boil water without burning himself. And also because there's already a pot on the stovetop — what — and the burner is already on — what — and Eri is already standing on a stepstool in front of the whole thing like a teacher in front of her class. What is happening.

"I just have to add the cocoa now," Eri says to herself. Denki furiously rubs his eyes, and considers the possibility that he is either still dreaming, or that he has suddenly developed the ability to spontaneously discharge electricity.

Denki laughs more awkwardly, and also a little nervously this time, because if the dorms burn down and Aizawa finds out that it's Denki's fault for not stopping Eri from playing in the kitchen, Denki's pretty sure he'll be expelled, multiple times. Technically, you can only be expelled once, but if anyone can figure how to perform multiple expulsions, it's Aizawa.

"Um, so, hey, Eri-chan," Denki starts, clearing his throat and sidling up to where the girl is stirring the mixture intently. "Did Aizawa-sensei give you permission to use the kitchen?"

Eri looks chastened. "Er… no," she confesses. "But… I've made cocoa before. And it came out fine."

Alarm bells are ringing in Denki's head. How long has this been going on? How are they all still alive? And how come the cocoa mixture looks and smells so rich and chocolatey and good?

"All done," Eri announces, and the burner flicks off with a click. She takes the pot in hand, and with great care, pours the still-steaming liquid into one mug, and then into a second mug, without a drop being spilled. Denki has so many questions. How does Eri know where the mugs are? How does she now how to use a stovetop? How come a kid in primary school can cook without setting everything on fire, and Denki can't?

"Um… here," Eri says, and offers Denki one of the mugs. Denki robotically accepts it, and too late realizes that it's Bakugou's — the rabbits with the exploding heads are a dead giveaway. Eri's mug is one with the Crimson Riot logo, which means it's Kirishima's, and because Kirishima's a bro, he won't mind Eri using it. Bakugou, on the other hand… Denki starts thinking of ways to avoid being explodo-killed by tomorrow evening. The only reasonable plan he comes up with is blaming Kirishima. Kirishima's a bro.

"Is it… okay?" Eri hesitantly asks. Denki jumps, but manages not to spill the cocoa. He takes a tentative sip.

"Wow, Eri-chan — this is — this is amazing," he says, and means it. He takes another drink. He could've never made something like this. It's comforting the way the drink warms his body. Denki chooses to focus on that, instead of the damage to his ego.

A flicker of a smile lights up Eri's face. "Oh — I'm glad."

Denki takes another swig. He glances out the door to make sure the devil himself isn't listening in, before turning back to Eri and whispering, "It's just as good as Bakugou's."

Somehow, Eri's face lights up more. Denki clutches at his heart.

"Seriously, where'd you learn how to make this?" Denki asks, because if he can win the lottery, not flunk anything, and make this hot cocoa recipe, you know what, Denki doesn't need anything else, he's set for life.

Eri looks down at her feet, looking guilty. "It's… a secret."

"Aw, come on, Eri-chan. I know how to keep a secret," Denki teases her.

"No, you don't," Eri states flatly, and the force of that stab wound makes Denki spray out his cocoa in a fine mist, which then proceeds to settle all over the floor that Bakugou just cleaned up yesterday. He winces. He wonders if he can pin this one on Kirishima, too. Kirishima's a bro… right?

He shakes himself. "You don't know that!" he protests.

Eri nods meekly.

And you know what, Denki is proud, but he's not that proud. He drops to his knees, only realizing too late that his pajama pants now have chocolate stains on them. "Teach me, please!"

Eri startles. "Um… I really… can't."

"Why?" Denki pleads.

Eri looks away, looking extremely guilty. "…Because the kitchen will blow up."

Which… fair.

But still.

Denki reluctantly gets to his feet and takes another drink from Bakugou's mug. He ponders the girl standing in front of him. In spite of the multiple blows to his pride he's received tonight, he feels himself smile regardless.

"Well, I hope the cocoa does the trick," Denki tells her, with a real smile because Denki is a nice person, but he also really wants the secrets of Eri's hot cocoa. "I know it works for me."

Eri nods, looking relieved by the change in conversation. "Me too. …And. If it doesn't work…" Eri trails off.

Denki's ears perk up. "Oh?" he wonders, ears raised. "If it doesn't work, then what?"

Eri nods again, and looks Denki dead in the eyes.

"You tell the nightmare to fuck off!"

Bakugou's mug slips from Denki's hands. Bakugou's mug. From Denki's hands. And onto the floor. Where it breaks into approximately thirteen thousand individual pieces. Kirishima's a bro… Right? Right?

And that is the precise moment when Denki realizes that he's in deep shit.

Katsuki is having a fucking terrible day.

The first thing he sees when he opens his bedroom door is Discount Pikachu bent over in dogeza and begging to be tutored for the English test — which is fucking today. Katsuki sticks his foot on the dumbass' head for waiting until the last fucking minute, because like hell does Katsuki have time to tutor an idiot who couldn't even remember what day the fucking test was. Still, Batteryface insists on following Katsuki all the way downstairs to the common room, and Katsuki considers it a show of personal growth that he doesn't blow Sparky's face off right then and there.

Katsuki also considers it a remarkable display of self-restraint that he doesn't blow anyone up when he sees that the kitchen has been completely desecrated. Katsuki grits his teeth. He just fucking cleaned it. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to spray chocolate on the floor? This isn't fucking modern art.

But when Katsuki opens the cabinet door and finds that his mug is missing, his hitherto unlimited well of patience has finally run dry.

He turns back to the common room. "Where," he announces, tone so frigid that it would put fucking IcyHot to shame, "the fuck. Is my mug."

There is dead silence. Fucking cowards.

"Maybe you didn't hear me," Katsuki repeats, very generously. "Which one of you extras took my mug?"

Someone grumbles something suspiciously like, "That's not the same question."

Fortunately for all their sakes, Katsuki doesn't have time to interrogate them all before class starts, which suits Katsuki just fine. He can make the time in his busy schedule to interrogate them after class is over.

Things snowball from there. Deku is somehow more annoying than usual, IcyHot does nothing different but his continued existence is an affront to Katsuki to begin with, and Sparky keeps sending him pleading glances from across the room. Katsuki is gracious enough to crumple up a note and chuck it at Batteryface's battery face in response.

It reads: Tough luck, Chucklefuck.

Katsuki aces it, of course, and after taking his frustrations out on an unlucky punching bag in the gym, Katsuki has achieved a fucking transcendent stage of serenity and zen.

Naturally, when he returns to the dorms, the kitchen is on fire.

"What the actual fuck, Pikachu?" he shouts after the blaze is extinguished. "I told you to stay the fuck out of the kitchen!"

"I just wanted to prove myself!" Kaminari moans in response.

"All you proved is that you need some ears and a fucking brain," Katsuki growls, because it was admittedly kind of impressive that Pikachu was so unbelievably dedicated to being fucking awful at cooking that he somehow managed to set water on fire. How do you even do that?

Kaminari slumps, defeated, onto the floor. "…I just wanted hot chocolate," he mumbles, barely audibly.

And suddenly everything clicks: the dogeza, the floor splatter, the pleading looks that Pikachu probably thought would distract from Katsuki's wrath. Fucker miscalculated. Nothing distracts from Katsuki's wrath.

Katsuki grabs Kaminari by the collar. "You. Me. Your room. Now."

It takes a little bit longer than "now" to make it all the way to Kaminari's room, but Katsuki is willing to forgive Kaminari for that, because Katsuki is a goddamn saint.

Katsuki is far less willing to forgive the atrocities Kaminari's committed in his kitchen.

"Did you really think," Katsuki begins, dangerously, "that I wouldn't figure out who the idiot responsible for screwing with my mug is?"

"I didn't break your mug!" Kaminari protests.

"Oh yeah? How'd you know it was fucking broken?"

"Because I broke it!" Kaminari blurts. Katsuki waits for Pikachu's brain to catch up to his mouth. It takes several long moments — and Katsuki relishes every last second of it — but finally Kaminari pales. "Oh crap."

"Yeah. Oh crap," Katsuki grins, because Pikachu's belated recognition that he's neck-deep in shit almost makes this whole day worth it. Almost. "And no dogeza's gonna save your miserable ass now."

"Have mercy!" Kaminari begs, flinging himself to the ground and attempting dogeza anyway, because the fucker's an idiot like that. "It was late, and dark — and all I wanted was hot chocolate, because I don't know what you do but it's really good and —"

Kaminari dissolves into incoherent babbling. Katsuki's eye twitches.

"— and Eri made hot chocolate and I dropped your mug and Eri swore —"

"What the fuck."

Kaminari stops. He glances up at Katsuki warily, as though Katsuki's about to explode his head off, and Katsuki would be lying if he said he hadn't considered it.

"Say that again," Katsuki orders him.

Kaminari looks petrified. "Uh. Eri swore?"

Katsuki scowls. "Before that, Pikachu."

"…That Eri made hot chocolate?"

Katsuki scowls harder. "…Was it any fucking good?"

Kaminari looks utterly bewildered. "Uh. Yeah. Way better than I could make."

"That ain't fucking news, Pikachu." Katsuki glares at him for a moment longer, then sighs in a signal that being blown the fuck up is not in Pikachu's immediate future. Still in his future — but not immediately. Never say that Katsuki doesn't know the meaning of restraint.

"Get up, dumbass, and here's what's gonna fucking happen," he barks, and Kaminari scrambles upright, looking as confused as he did during today's English exam, but nodding furiously as though he understands, which Katsuki thinks is why his grades are so awful in the first place.

"You," Katsuki enunciates, and jabs a finger at Sparky's chest. There's nobody else in the room, but Pikachu's also an idiot, so Katsuki figures it doesn't hurt to be sure. "Are going to pay for the mug you broke. And you are also going to never set foot in the kitchen again without adult supervision. I'd make you clean the kitchen up, too, but we both know you'd fuck that shit up."

"You know it!" Kaminari agrees, croaking out a chuckle. Then, seeing that Katsuki's eyes are still burning murder orbs, wisely decides to stop.

"And in return, we're both going to pretend that the last twenty-fucking-four hours never happened. Are we fucking clear," Katsuki growls, and Kaminari bobs his head in wild agreement. Fucking master of diplomacy, right here.

"Good," Katsuki snorts, and turns to leave. "Next time you want hot chocolate just fucking say so," he yells back, and slams the door behind him.

Katsuki has another nightmare that night, because apparently being saddled with Pikachu's idiocy for an entire day isn't enough. He grumbles to himself as he stomps (quietly, it's almost two in the morning and he's not a barbarian) down the hall to the kitchen.

Eri's already there.

"Oi," he calls out, unceremoniously. Eri turns, recognizing his voice. "Next time some extra walks in, don't go giving them my mug, got it?"

"Oh — sorry!" Eri apologizes. "I thought — because —"

Katsuki waves a hand dismissively. "Stop apologizing. It doesn't matter now, anyway." He stands next to her by the stovetop. Even on the stepstool, her head doesn't even come up to his shoulder. They watch the chocolate mixture sputter and bubble for a while.

"…You're the only one allowed to use it."

Eri looks up at him. "Huh?"

Katsuki nods his head at the cocoa. "You gonna let that shit burn or what."

"Oh!" Eri flicks the burner off with practiced ease, and a small, shriveled part of Katsuki swells with pride. The mugs get pulled down from the shelf, the hot cocoa gets poured, and the two of them sit down on the couch, the motions done often enough by now that it's become a ritual. Eri takes a sip out of Kirishima's mug, because Kirishima's a bro. Katsuki takes a sip out of Kaminari's mug, because turnabout's fair play. Pika pika, motherfucker.

"Um… How is it?" Eri asks tentatively.

Batteryface hadn't been lying about how good it was — it's taken Eri a little bit of practice, but she's managed to match the recipe exactly. It's perfect.

"It's not bad," Katsuki says instead. "You made Pikachu's fucking day."

Eri blinks at him, uncomprehending. "Pika… Chu?" she squeaks, much like the namesake ugly electric rodent.

"Yeah. You know. Kaminari."

Eri blinks, again, then makes some sort of squeaking noise into her mug. Katsuki quietly smiles into his own.

Eri's stomach growls. Katsuki raises an eyebrow at her, and because he's had too much fucking practice staring at things at whatever godforsaken hour of the morning it is, he can see Eri's face go red in response. 

"That… wasn't me," Eri lies, badly.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "There isn't anything wrong if it was. So no telling fucking lies."

Eri wilts. "That… was me," she confesses.

"Did you eat dinner?"

"Uh. I… wasn't hungry. So…"

Katsuki scowls. Even when he was a fucking dumbass kid, he knew better than to skip meals. Then again, for years nobody ever bothered to fucking teach her. Bastards.

"Listen up, Eri. You can't just go skipping meals. You gotta eat or you're just gonna feel like shit all the time. You understand?" he demands. "Besides, how are you supposed to fucking sleep on an empty stomach?

"…I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be fucking sorry, you need to fucking eat." Katsuki runs a hand through his hair. He sighs. "…What do you like."

"Huh?"

Katsuki growls. "I'll make something small for you this time so you can go the fuck to sleep. Just promise not to skip any fucking meals from now on," he tells her, taking a long swig of his hot cocoa so he doesn't have to look at her when he says it.

She's still silent after Katsuki finishes his long swig, so he takes another. When he finishes that one, she still hasn't said anything, so he chances a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes are wide. Oh fuck, she's not about to cry, is she? He thought she was above busting out the waterworks, but Katsuki's still not above chucking the tissue box at her face.

Eri does not cry. But she does, finally, smile, and then whisper in a voice so quiet that Katsuki would've missed it if it had been anytime but dumbfuck-o'clock, "…Curry rice."

"Fine, curry rice, and then you go the fuck to bed. Got it?" Katsuki asks her, and she nods, not confident, but also not at all meek like she had been, when a sleep-deprived Katsuki had first found a sleep-deprived Eri and they had started this weird… whatever the fuck this was.

"But first," Katsuki prompts her, and he raises his mug in the air. "What do we say to nightmares?"

Eri raises her mug to meet his own. "To fuck off," she chirps.

The mugs clink. "A-fucking-men," Katsuki grins.

"So can we, please?" Ochako asks Aizawa. She's made a point of clasping her hands in front of her face and bending forward at a nearly 90-degree angle, to better convey her sincerity and enthusiasm.

In return, Aizawa releases the longest, most drawn-out, most long-suffering sigh conceivable, to better convey his total and utter exasperation.

Next to her, Deku clears his throat. "It'll just be the five of us," he offers, just as they had practiced over and over for a week beforehand, because there is no such thing as being too prepared when it comes to sweet-talking Aizawa. And especially when it involves Eri.

"Iida will be coming, to make sure we don't get into trouble," Deku continues, projecting a confidence that Ochako does not feel but is doing her best to project, too. She attempts to project this by nodding furiously. "It's just a curry restaurant two blocks from campus. We'll be only a couple hours — and we'll bring Eri back straight after."

Aizawa levels them both with a particularly unenthused stare. Ochako would feel more pessimistic about this if his default expression was something other than "particularly unenthused stare." At last, he heaves another sigh. "I can't say I'm excited about the idea. I only hope that you put just as much effort into your plan as you put into rehearsing your speech."

Ochako grimaces, though frankly at this point she's been smiling for so long her smile may already be a grimace.

Aizawa shuts his book with a snap. "I only ask two things of you. Make sure Eri is back before dark. And make sure she enjoys herself. If not," and now his eyes glint in warning, much like the protective teacher he is, or a serial killer, "I am sure I can devise an appropriate punishment." And with that, he trudges out of the classroom without another word.

It's only after Aizawa has been gone for a solid minute and does not magically reappear to announce, actually, just kidding — it's only then that she and Deku allow themselves to celebrate.

They miraculously manage to retain that feeling of elation until the day they are set to take Eri to the restaurant. Then Deku devolves into a nervous wreck.

"We're going to mess it up." His voice quavers. His eyes quaver. His body quavers. He places a hand on the countertop to steady himself, and then the countertop begins to quaver.

"Deku," she announces, steady as she can manage, which is steadier than Deku can manage, so she'll take it. "Everything will be fine."

Deku nods as though in agreement, but it's clear from the thousand-yard glaze in his eyes that he is on another planet altogether. A planet where Eri takes one step outside the campus and —

"— she trips and falls and hurts her knee? Or we meet a dog on the way, and it's very cute, probably a shiba inu, and the owner says it's safe to pet her but then Eri does and she bites her hand and then Eri starts bleeding — judging by the size of her hands and the number of teeth and average jaw strength, there would probably be at least three open puncture wounds — which means that —"

"Deku," Ochako reminds him. She taps him on the shoulder and sets him to zero-g, because she's not sure that poor countertop can take much more.

"— and at the hospital they'll want to know if she's allergic to medications — wait, does she have any food allergies? What if she's allergic to curry? What if she's allergic to something in the curry? What if she's allergic to dogs, and there's not a dog at the restaurant, but it could be next door, we should probably sit away from any —"

Deku only stops mumbling when his head collides with the ceiling and makes him stop. He blinks owlishly at the floor below him. Of course, Eri chooses that moment to enter the room.

"Deku?" she calls out, blinking with wide, baffled eyes. Deku and Ochako both mechanically rotate their heads to face her. "Why are you on the ceiling?" Eri wonders in genuine curiosity.

"…I wanted to see if we still had one?" is Deku's best attempt at an explanation.

"…If we still had… a ceiling?" Eri wonders, even more confused.

"Uh," is all Deku manages, which is really just as well, because his answers are probably only going to get more mangled from here. Ochako sighs, and can't help but marvel at how Deku remained fearless in front of Aizawa — but when faced with the mere stray thought of Eri tripping over a crack in the sidewalk, he completely goes to pieces.

Ochako turns to Eri with a knowing smile on her face. "Deku's kind of silly sometimes, isn't he?"

Eri considers this briefly, then gives a slow, but certain, nod.

"Uraraka…" Deku weakly protests.

"Come on, let's get you down," she offers, then stops and cocks her head. "Although… If we leave Deku here, you could have his portion, Eri-chan. What do you think?"

"That would be mean," Eri points out.

"You're right, that would be mean. Guess he'll have to come with us," Ochako smiles back. She immediately lets Deku down, and Deku just as immediately stumbles onto the floor and barely catches himself from falling onto his face. Deku pouts, Eri giggles, and Ochako nods to herself. Things are going to be just fine.

Eri does not trip even once on the way. She does not get lost, and they do not see even a single friendly shiba inu, let alone a mean one. They make it the entire two blocks without Eri so much as stepping in a puddle. Eri walks close to Deku as if held there by a gravitational pull, and Deku finally seems to let himself relax, and Ochako doesn't need to do anything but walk beside them with a smile. Things are going to be just fine.

"I want the super-duper spicy curry!" Eri announces.

Things are not going to be just fine.

Deku spits out his drink at Todoroki; whether due to Eri's announcement or the soda dripping from his face, Todoroki's stubbornly deadpan expression has given way to something that can pass for mild surprise if Ochako squints really hard. She is sure she doesn't look much better, though — probably whatever she looks like when she's overused her powers and is on the verge of reacquainting herself with her breakfast.

Eri frets. "Are you okay?" she wonders, looking up at Deku with wide, wavering eyes.

"Yeah, I'm — uh, yeah. I'm fine," Deku reassures her, as he reassuringly hacks out a reassuring cough. "But, uh, Eri — that's really spicy, even for me. Are you sure you want it that hot?" Deku asks, very diplomatically, because super-duper spicy curry is a bit of an understatement. It's actually closer to nuclear bomb curry, in the sense that the spice lingers for years, causes radiation burns, and is strictly prohibited by the Geneva Convention.

"Midoriya, where are your manners?" Iida booms, oblivious to the very clear and very present danger of the super-duper spicy curry. "It is not our place to second-guess — hrk!"

Ochako gives him a good kick to the shin from underneath the table. The kick seems to jog Iida's brain, because his eyes also go wide with realization. The four of them look to each other, all of them going through the exact same thought process: If Eri eats the super-duper spicy curry, she will have a horrible experience the likes of which she has never seen. And if Eri has a horrible experience the likes of which she has never seen, Aizawa has made it indisputably clear that they will have a horrible experience the likes of which they have never seen.

They all nod in unanimous agreement: They must protect Eri from the super-duper spicy curry.

"Iida-san…?" Eri wonders.

Iida's up first, apparently. He jolts in his seat. "That is — what I mean to say is —" he stammers. "I believe I merely misheard you when you said you wanted the super-duper spicy curry!"

Ochako cups her face in one hand. That attempt was four points out of ten, max.

"That's right," Eri says with a nod. "The super-duper spicy curry," she says, and to emphasize it points to the menu where it says "super-duper spicy curry," and then points to the picture of super-duper spicy curry. Iida's question is swatted away as if it was a fly. Iida is defeated.

Todoroki is next. "Eri-chan," he announces, gravely. "You can't have the super-duper spicy curry."

Ochako raises an eyebrow. She hadn't figured Todoroki for the direct approach. This is promising.

"Why not?" Eri wonders.

"Because you'll drop it."

"…Huh?"

"Like it's hot."

Ochako cups her face in her other hand. This is somehow worse.

"Do you understand, Eri-chan?" Todoroki asks her, seriously, as if anyone could understand.

"…No," Eri admits. Todoroki is defeated.

Ochako is next at bat. "This is your first time here, isn't it, Eri-chan?"

Eri nods.

"Well, let me tell you a secret," she stage-whispers. Eri's eyes go wide, and she nods again, enraptured by hearing Ochako's secret. "The super-duper spicy curry… It's not that good."

Eri is hooked. "Really?" she murmurs.

Ochako nods conspiratorially. "Yeah. It's super slimy and gross." (It's not.)

"Ew." Eri shudders.

"And there are lots of nasty vegetables." (There aren't.)

"Ewwwww!"

And for the finishing touch… "And it's so spicy that the last person who tried it — their tongue melted!" (…Close enough.)

"Really?"

"Really," Ochako confirms.

"Oh, good, I can't wait to try it!"

"Yes, that's — wait, what?"

"If it's really spicy then that means I won't have to taste the vegetables," Eri explains.

Ochako blinks. This isn't how it's supposed to go.

"And curry is supposed to be like that, so I don't mind."

"Er, wait, Eri-chan —"

Eri beams up at her. "Thank you for telling me, Uraraka-san. I'm really excited now!"

Ochako is defeated.

All of their hopes rest on Deku's shoulders now. He scrunches up his face in thought. His eyes blaze in determination, and then he gives a confident nod.

"We're going to mess it up," he announces.

Well, then.

Ochako makes one, last, futile attempt to warn Eri away from the dangerous curry path she has chosen. "Okay, Eri-chan, if you're really sure. But if you don't like it, you have to promise to trade curry with me. Promise?"

"Thank you, Uraraka-san! I promise," she says, smiling so wide that Ochako is nearly blinded. Ochako tries to smile back at her. But Ochako has seen the future, and the future is devastation wrought by a plate of super-duper spicy curry. At least Ochako will have Eri's smile to remember her by.

In no time at all, the few remaining moments they have with Eri end. Four plates of curry, and one bomb, are placed on the table with a heavy thud, like a guillotine dropping from above. Ochako rearranges the rice on her plate, which has much the same effect as rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. Nobody touches their food.

Eri — sweet, innocent, gone-too-soon-from-this-world Eri — looks at them curiously. "…Are we not going to eat?"

Iida jolts again; Todoroki looks catatonic. On Eri's other side, Deku is muttering to himself, probably contemplating every single plausible way Eri will be injured by a plate of curry, and also every single implausible one.

Ochako manages a weak laugh. "…Yes, Eri-chan's right. Let's eat," she says, sounding just about as enthusiastic as announcing that the family pet was hit by a car. Still, nobody touches their food.

Eri seems to take it as permission, though, because she takes her fork in hand. Four glasses of water are instantly shoved toward her, as if they are warding talismans that can dispel the evil of the curry with their mere presence.

Eri takes a big scoopful of curry.

Ochako hears "O, Fortuna."

Eri lifts the curry from her plate.

Ochako finds religion.

Eri opens her mouth.

Ochako closes her eyes and pledges that the first thing she will do when she becomes a pro hero is to erect a monument in Eri's memory and launch a public awareness campaign about the dangers of super-duper spicy curry.

"Mmmmm, it's good!"

Ochako forces one eye open, then the other. She looks next to her. In a miracle, Eri has not exploded, imploded, or spontaneously combusted. In fact, Eri just looks a bit like a squirrel with cheeks stuffed full of curry. A very unexploded squirrel.

In that moment, all Ochako can think to say is, "It's rude to talk with your mouth full, Eri-chan."

"Oh — I'm sorry," Eri apologizes, through a mouthful of food. She blinks. She swallows. "I mean, sorry! It was just… good," she explains nervously. She glances around the table. "Er… is everything okay?"

Ochako has no idea if everything is okay. They are all staring at her, Ochako included, as if they just watched Eri fight off a tiger, a shark, and a tigershark with her bare hands, at the same time. In all honesty, Ochako thinks that the only thing she is capable of right now is staring — she feels relief, and surprise, and she's even a little bit impressed.

But mostly she is just very, very confused.

Ochako clears her throat. "So… You liked it, then?" she decides to ask first, in an attempt to break the ice.

Eri nods. "Uh-huh. Thank you for helping me decide, Uraraka-san!"

Ochako definitely did not do that, but okay. "So… You don't want to trade curry?" she asks in disbelief.

Eri shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. It's just right."

Ochako stares at Eri's curry. It is bright, bright red. Heat waves are emanating off of it. She can feel the spiciness seeping into the pores in her skin.

But if Eri likes it, then it can't possibly…

Realization strikes her. The restaurant must've been watching as they valiantly struggled to dissuade Eri from ordering the super-duper spicy curry, and replaced it with a much milder curry instead. Eri only thought she was eating spicy curry.

Ochako smiles brightly. "Mind if I take a taste, Eri-chan?"

Eri smiles brightly back at her. "No, go ahead, Uraraka-san!"

Ochako takes a scoopful of Eri's curry in hand, and nods to herself, confident in her conclusion. She will have to tip the restaurant very well, she decides, as she takes a bite.

Ochako has to order seven extra glasses of water to put out the raging fire in her mouth. She figures that counts as a big enough tip.

Katsuki stares into the pantry. He's out of curry.

"Fuck," he mutters aloud. What the fuck is Eri going to have for lunch tomorrow now?

After all, tomorrow is Monday. And Monday, of course, is Eri's Curry Day.

It had been maybe a few weeks ago during one of their late-night rendezvous that Eri had managed to persuade-slash-guilt Katsuki into letting her have a secretly-snuck chocolate chip cookie. ("Don't you fucking dare tell anyone, you little gremlin," Katsuki said, cookie clenched between his teeth, and Eri, cookie clenched between her teeth, nodded back.) Halfway through her cookie, Eri mentioned that the cookie tasted better than the cafeteria cookies.

Katsuki nearly exploded. "You eat that shit?" he demanded.

Eri nodded. "Aizawa-sensei says he doesn't always have time to cook. So he said I should go to the cafeteria for lunch."

Katsuki grit his teeth and because he was not about to explode the replacement mug that Pikachu had very generously funded, he gingerly set it down on the table and away from the blast zone. "Please fucking say you're getting lunch from Lunch Rush."

Eri cocked her head. "What's a Lunch Rush?"

And, well, Katsuki had put a stop to that right fucking then and there.

The very next day Katsuki tracked down Eri before lunch and shoved a bento in her face. And while a lesser man would have washed his hands and called it a day, Katsuki Bakugou is nobody's lesser man.

Seeing as Monday is the worst day of the week, Katsuki decides that it should start with something Eri likes — which is why Monday is Curry Rice Day, and also why Katsuki makes sure to bust out his best and spiciest curry powder. He sneaks in as many vegetables as possible, because Eri's got to eat her vegetables somehow, and burying them under an avalanche of spice is the best way Katsuki knows how. Tuesday is for Tamagoyaki, and Katsuki uses a savory recipe with just a hint of sugar to make it stand out. Wednesday is Omelette Rice Day. It's cutting it a bit close to use egg dishes two days in a row, but eggs are a fucking fantastic source of protein. Besides, Katsuki always makes sure to spell out Eri's name with sriracha, in case any of her half-pint classmates get any ideas. Thursday is for Onigiri, and although Katsuki always includes a variety, because variety is the spice of life and anything with spice is good in Katsuki's book, he also always includes more of the plum because he knows Eri likes it more than the others. (He once shaped the rice balls into pandas, but Eri absolutely refused to eat them on account of not wanting to hurt them. Katsuki attempted to reason with her, explaining that they were just fucking rice balls and besides the head is where the protein is anyway, but for some reason that only made it worse.) And for Friday, Katsuki finishes off the week with egg-and-cucumber sandwiches, cut into neat triangles, along with a side of apple slices that have been cut to look like rabbits. Katsuki's natural instinct is to immediately decapitate anything remotely rabbit-shaped, but he refrains from doing so for Eri's sake.

Every day without fail, the bentos are returned to Katsuki spotless.

But Monday cannot be Curry Day if Katsuki has no curry. He'll either have to improvise, or Eri is going to be eating shitty cafeteria food again. Not on Katsuki's fucking life.

Kirishima's face pops into his field of vision. "Yo, Bakubro —"

"Shut up. Fuck off. Die."

"— you've been staring at the pantry for like ten minutes now. You doing okay?" Kirishima continues, ignoring instructions that Katsuki had thought were very fucking clear.

"Just peachy. Now shut up, fuck off, and die."

"Okay, I'll get right to that," Kirishima assures him. "Just tell me what's wrong first?"

Katsuki gestures a hand at the pantry.

Kirishima hesitates. "Uh. Are we doing charades?"

Katsuki gestures more to the pantry.

Kirishima's eyes bounce back and forth between Katsuki and the pantry, between the pantry and Katsuki. "So… that's a pantry," Kirishima finally announces, fucking brilliant mind that he is.

Katsuki growls. "There's no fucking curry," he explains.

"Oh," Kirishima says with a slow blink, as though he understands the significance of this fact. "I mean, you could always make something else, though?" he wonders, immediately showing that he clearly does not fucking understand the significance of this fact.

"You think I haven't already fucking thought of that, Hair-for-Brains?" Katsuki grunts. "Besides, it's not for me. It's for —"

"Eri-chan! Welcome back!" Kirishima interrupts him, instantly deserting Katsuki for Eri — which, understandable, honestly. "Where'd you go? Did you have fun?"

"Uh-huh," Eri answers and even without seeing her face Katsuki can hear the sunshine in her voice. "Deku and his friends took me to a curry restaurant!"

Katsuki nearly blows the pantry up. Deku and his friends fucking what. If they took her anywhere but the curry place two blocks away —

"It was the curry place two blocks away," Eri adds, and she doesn't know it, but she just spared Deku's miserable fucking life. Katsuki had been worried they'd fed Eri some shitty slop for food, but at least Deku doesn't have shit taste in curry, even if he is a class-A idiotic fucker in every other way imaginable.

"And the curry was really good!"

Katsuki nearly blows the pantry up again. Deku's idiot brigade couldn't tell a pot from a pan if Katsuki hit them over the head with one, but all they needed to do was take one trip out and Eri's gushing all over it. Sure, that curry restaurant is good, but Katsuki can make fan-fucking-tastic curry, too.

Except Katsuki has no curry. Fuck.

Katsuki pokes his head out from the kitchen, as casually as possible, just to figure out how much shit from Deku's crew he's going to have to deal with, and certainly not to scope out his competition. But while Eri is positively glowing, Deku's squad looks as though they were run over by a particularly vindictive truck. Half n' Half looks like a half-dead zombie, Glasses looks like the stick in his ass got shoved even farther up his ass, Round Cheeks seems ready to collapse, and fucking Deku looks exactly as though some nefarious evildoer took one of his pristine limited-edition All Might figures out of its box.

"The fuck happened?" Katsuki blurts.

Everybody except for Eri jumps, who just waves at him and says with the sweetest smile ever known to exist before or since, "Hello, Bakugou!"

Deku, who had jumped nearly three feet higher than everyone else, immediately covers Eri's ears with his hands. He hisses, scandalized. "Kacchan! Language!"

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "The hell happened?"

"Kacchan!"

"Er, but that aside, Bakubro's right," Kirishima breaks in, waving his hands placatingly. "You all look like… uh," he trails off, eyes darting over to Eri. "Tired," he settles on.

Uraraka clears her throat. "Just tired because of how much fun we had. Isn't that right, Eri-chan?"

Eri does not respond, because Deku's still covering Eri's ears with his hands and glaring at Katsuki, as though Katsuki had taken another of his pristine limited-edition All Might figures and taken it out of its box. Deku's a fucking idiot. Each and every one of Katsuki's All Might figures is hermetically sealed.

"Deku," Ochako says, and gently elbows him. Deku jumps again but releases Eri's ears from captivity. "Did you have fun, Eri-chan?"

"Uh-huh," Eri says with an innocent nod. "I'm so happy you and Deku and everyone took me!"

"That's good!" Ochako smiles. Then, with a serious look that suggests the thought of expulsion is weighing heavily on her mind, she adds, "And please make sure to tell Aizawa-sensei how much fun you had."

Eri's smile is so blinding that it gives Twinkle Toes a run for his money. But more importantly, Katsuki is not going to be beaten in a curry competition by shitty Deku. He grunts and returns to the kitchen — he's not hiding, this is a tactical retreat — and because you know what, if this is the fucking curry Olympics, Katsuki's not just going to medal, he's going to take fucking gold.

He will do this without having any curry. Somehow.

Katsuki stews in the kitchen for the rest of the evening, like a dragon guarding its castle (because yes, the kitchen is Katsuki's fucking castle), with "fuck off" vibes so strong that even Half n' Half gets the message and does not come within a thirty-foot radius.

Round Cheeks, however, does not get the message. Katsuki will have to redouble his "fuck off" vibe training.

"Round Cheeks," Katsuki greets her when she trudges into the kitchen. He does not immediately kick her out because she can at least tell utensils apart and knows how to not make a fucking mess. Besides, he reserves the right to kick her out later.

"Good evening to you too, Bakugou-kun," Uraraka greets back, with a tone that Katsuki recognizes as the all-out-of-fucks-to-give tone that Uraraka deploys only after a very long day of quirk training, and that Katsuki deploys every single fucking day. She rifles through one of the cabinets and produces a cup of instant ramen.

Katsuki's lip curls at the mere sight of it. "Second dinner?"

Uraraka laughs mirthlessly. "More like the first."

"Didn't you take Eri for fucking curry?"

Uraraka startles, drops her instant ramen like the pile of hot garbage it is, and darts to the kitchen door to look into the common room like a prairie dog sticking its head out of its burrow.

"Round Cheeks, what the fuck —"

"Bakugou-kun!" she admonishes him, returning back to the kitchen with a relieved sigh. She sticks a finger at him. "You have to be more careful!"

Katsuki blinks at her finger, and would debate the merits of blowing it up if he wasn't so thoroughly confused. "What the fuck," he repeats.

"Bakugou-kun!" she hisses, her cheeks now puffed even rounder. "You can't go around swearing in front of Eri-chan!"

"…Well, she's not fucking here, is she?"

"But you didn't know that!" Rounder Cheeks counters, ignoring the fact that Katsuki did, in fact, know the exact time that Eri had left the common room, and that was certainly not because Katsuki had hovered next to the kitchen door right until the very moment she left.

"And besides, she's seven!"

Katsuki started swearing at least that young, so he doesn't see what the fucking problem is.

"Whatever," Katsuki grunts, turning away from the finger still invading his personal space. "You didn't answer my fucking question," he points out, putting extra emphasis on the fuck.

Rounder Cheeks' cheeks go even rounder, somehow, but since Eri isn't present for Katsuki's cursing, she seems to let it slide. "We did take Eri-chan for curry," she finally mumbles.

"And you didn't fucking eat anything?"

Roundest Cheeks sighs and reaches for the instant ramen lying on the floor, but instead of throwing it in the garbage like a sane person, she rips open the plastic wrap.

"…Eri-chan ate," Roundest Cheeks corrects him, and stares longingly into the cup of instant ramen as if it could divulge the secrets of the world to her, when all it's going to give her is MSG and a fucking heart attack at age twenty. She pokes at some of the mysterious yellow powder sticking to the styrofoam, then straight-up licks it from her finger. Katsuki shudders. The instant ramen may very well give Roundest Cheeks a heart attack, but it's going to end up giving Katsuki a heart attack first.

Roundest Cheeks finally turns to Katsuki with a despairing gaze. "She picked the spiciest curry on the menu."

"So?"

"And she ate all of it," Roundest Cheeks says. Then, seeing that Katsuki's expression remains unimpressed, adds, "Without a glass of water."

Katsuki can't help it — he laughs in her face.

"Hey!" Roundest Cheeks protests. Her cheeks are becoming rounder, in the face of all known properties of physics, and Katsuki briefly wonders if her quirk is actually just looking like a very aggrieved squirrel. "It's not funny!"

"Of course it isn't, Squirrel Cheeks. It's fucking hilarious."

"No, it's not! We saw Eri's life flash before our eyes!"

"I've been to that curry place, Chipmunk Cheeks, and their spicy curry isn't even that fucking spicy."

"It absolutely is! I tried it — I still can't feel my tongue! I drank more water than I have in a week! I couldn't eat anything since!"

"You're just a fucking pansy."

"I still can't believe Eri-chan ate the whole plate. If it had been worse, Aizawa-sensei totally would've expelled us."

"Good thing for you Eri's one tough fucking cookie," Katsuki can't help himself from bragging. "No way is she going to lose a fight with some curry just because her tastebuds got a little hot."

Round Cheeks sighs. "Of course you see it as a fight, Bakugou-kun."

"That's exactly what it is, Hamster Cheeks," Katsuki tells her.

Round Cheeks grimaces. "Can you please stop naming me after rodents?"

"Sure thing, Platypus Cheeks."

"…That's worse."

"Make up your damn mind, Gerbil Cheeks."

Uraraka sighs again, slumping against the counter. "Next thing you know, she's going to start wanting chili powder in her hot cocoa."

Katsuki snorts a laugh. "That's ridic—" he cuts himself off. That's… actually a fucking fantastic idea. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Uraraka's stomach growls then, and she heaves herself away from the countertop with a grimace. "Anyway, that's my sob story. Laugh at me if you want, but let me eat my instant ramen in peace."

Katsuki blows the instant ramen in her hands the fuck up.

"Wha — Bakugou-kun!" Uraraka protests. She scrambles to the floor, scraping for charred bits of rock-hard noodle and freeze-dried the-fuck-knows-what. "I even said you could laugh!"

"Oh, I'm absolutely fucking laughing at you."

"But that was my dinner!" Round Cheeks whines.

"I'm making tonkatsu," Katsuki informs her.

"Good for you," Round Cheeks grumbles.

"There'll be enough for two."

"Huh?"

"It's a big fucking portion, so there's gonna be enough for another person. Don't want it to fucking go to waste," Katsuki growls, because every time Pikachu's left food on his plate, he's seen Round Cheeks shoot him a glare that would've vaporized most people on the spot. Pikachu is somehow immune, unfortunately. He turns away from her and starts seizing ingredients from the pantry at a madcap clip. "Just make the fuck sure that if you ever take Eri out for curry again, it's the same place. It's the only one around here that's not absolute crap. Got that?"

Katsuki doesn't even turn to check and see if Round Cheeks does indeed got that, because he's already getting the kitchen prepped. And because Katsuki is a fucking master chef, the tonkatsu is ready in record time, and needless to say, everything about it is fucking perfect. Squirrel Cheeks is too busy stuffing her squirrel cheeks to notice that Katsuki has set aside a third portion in a separate container that he carefully places in a black lacquerware bento off to the side of the refrigerator.

When Eri greets him the next morning, she is all wide smiles and cheer, in spite of it being a godawful Monday morning. He shoves the bento at her per his tradition. Eri accepts it with a smile per hers.

"Oh! It's tonkatsu!" she exclaims in surprise.

"Yeah. Something different. Since Deku took you out for curry rice yesterday," Katsuki says, looking off to the side so he doesn't have to look her in the eyes and admit to not having curry powder and being a fucking loser.

Eri nods, recalling the memory. "The curry rice yesterday was really good."

Katsuki shuffles his feet and doesn't say anything. He's man enough to admit that their curry is really good — he wouldn't settle for eating anything less. But this isn't defeat. This is just because Katsuki didn't have any curry powder. Their short-lived victory ends exactly one fucking week from now.

Eri hums thoughtfully. "It reminded me of Bakugou's curry," she finally says. "That's why I liked it."

Katsuki whips his head around to stare at her.

A bell chimes in the distance. Eri startles and looks up at him with wide eyes. "Oh! I have to go. Bye, Bakugou!" she tells him, then scampers off and disappears around the corner.

Katsuki is left standing in the empty hallway, staring at nothing for a solid five minutes and feeling explosions go off in his chest. At least, until Hair-for-Brains finds him.

"Yo, uh, Bakubro. You coming to class, or —"

"Shut up. Fuck off. Die."

Shouto notices things.

For instance, he notices how Kaminari is never present in class the same day of a thunderstorm. He notices that when the season begins to turn to winter, Bakugou shivers every day in the cold until Tsuyu becomes the first to don a scarf and coat, after which Bakugou dons his own scarf and coat not a day later. He notices that, despite the fact that Aizawa-sensei calls them all problem children, there is a softness in his eyes when he says it that Shouto has never seen in Endeavor's.

That's why Shouto is very probably the first to notice the mysterious changes that have been occurring in the dorm. For starters, an extra lacquer bento box has begun to mysteriously appear in the refrigerator. Sometimes it's there in the evening, sometimes it's only there in the early morning — but only on school days, and it's always gone by the first class of the day. For another, things have begun to appear and disappear from the kitchen, apparently at random. One time it's a basket of red delicious apples sitting on the countertop that wasn't there the day before; the next, it's chocolate chip cookies that vanished overnight. And that's not to mention the surprising shortage of chocolate or marshmallows that even Satou has commented on, or the more recent shortage of chili powder to accompany it.

Shouto asked Bakugou about it once, since Bakugou spends more time than anyone in the kitchen.

"Fucking gremlin," Bakugou had growled and stomped off, and that was the end of that.

Except it really wasn't the end of that, because two nights later Shouto was awake long past midnight finishing an essay due the next day, only to hear stomping down the hall that sounded suspiciously like Bakugou's stomps two days ago.

Coincidence? Shouto does not believe in coincidences.

But when Shouto takes it upon himself to investigate the noise, there is nobody in the hallway. There is nobody in the common room. There is nobody in the kitchen, except in the kitchen there is a pan on the drying rack that wasn't there when Shouto went to bed, and an empty tin of cocoa powder on the counter next to it.

"Gremlins," Shouto breathes.

Shouto can't let this opportunity pass him by. He takes his essay down to the common room along with a blanket and sits on the common room couch and waits. And waits.

It is just after six in the morning when Shouto's patience is rewarded, and he spots a figure entering the kitchen. Shouto silently stands, and draped in his blanket so that only his head is showing, stealthily approaches the kitchen.

The figure is taking something from the refrigerator, but in the early morning light, Shouto cannot see what it is. Shouto debates turning on the kitchen light and alerting the figure to his presence when the figure turns and —

"Fucking hell, what the fuck."

Oh. It's Bakugou.

"Good morning, Bakugou," Shouto tells him. He wiggles an arm out from underneath his blanket to give a slight wave.

"It's too fucking early for this shit," Bakugou growls. "What the fuck do you want."

Shouto lets his gaze drift to the lacquerware box in Bakugou's hand. Realization dawns on him. He looks at Bakugou and nods once, seriously. "For the gremlins. I understand."

Bakugou blinks back at him. "…Yeah. The. Fucking gremlins," he grunts, then shoves his way past Shouto with the bento box and stalks up the stairs.

Shouto knows that Bakugou is disinclined toward conversation at the best of times, so he decides to let the matter lie as he finishes his preparations and takes his seat in class. Besides, he has the answer that he's looking for now, anyway: the food that disappears in the middle of the night is because of gremlins.

And that's when Todoroki has his second epiphany, and he jumps in his seat so high that his knee knocks against his desk.

"Todoroki," Aizawa's voice drawls from the front of the classroom. "Is there something you want to share with the class?"

"No, Aizawa-sensei," Shouto answers. Aizawa looks back with a particularly dubious stare, which would have been more worrying if Aizawa's default expression was something other than "particularly dubious stare." He turns back to the chalkboard and continues his lecture. Shouto sneaks a glance at the back of Bakugou's head.

Everyone knows you don't feed gremlins at night. So what in the world is Bakugou doing?

If Bakugou really is feeding gremlins at night, that's a security threat. And if he isn't, then he's hiding something. And while Shouto has a great deal of respect for other people's privacy, if this involves gremlins — and more importantly, feeding gremlins at night, who does that? — then the safety of everyone in the dorm is at stake. Shouto owes it to the class to investigate.

Unfortunately, ever since that encounter in the kitchen, Bakugou has been unnaturally on edge, even for him. Whenever Shouto attempts to strike up a conversation, Shouto is informed of a variety of actions he can do with various body parts. When Shouto kindly attempts to inform him that those actions are in fact anatomically impossible, however, Bakugou begins exploding things. Shouto does not attempt to correct him anymore. 

Needless to say, Shouto's investigation has hit a roadblock. Still, Shouto cannot give up. He sits at his desk before class, pondering his options. He could build a trap to capture the gremlin, but he does not in the least know how to begin doing so — not to mention he would likely be violating gremlin rights.

Obviously he cannot just ask Bakugou. That would be absurd.

Aizawa slides open the classroom door, signaling the start to the school day. He is followed by Eri, who peeks her head from around the corner with wide, red eyes. The class immediately breaks into a chorus of "awww" and "cute!" and other incoherent noises that cannot be transcribed in any language.

"Class, Eri will be spending the day here until lunch," Aizawa dryly informs them, as though the physical manifestation of sunshine had not just walked through the classroom door. "I trust that there will be no problems focusing on the lesson, given that the alternative is detention."

The class begrudgingly quiets.

"Eri, you can take Mineta's seat. Mineta can stand."

"Hey, what?" Mineta quails.

Shouto nods. They are about the same height. It makes sense.

Class proceeds as normal. Shouto at times sneaks glances at Eri's seat, where she has dedicated herself entirely to completing her page of color-by-numbers. Shouto finds her focus and determination admirable. One time as Shouto lets his gaze wander toward Eri, his eyes catch with Bakugou's, who is apparently doing the same thing. They stare at each other, neither willing to look away first.

"Bakugou and Todoroki," Aizawa calls out, still facing the chalkboard. "Whichever of you wins your staring competition can clean the chalkboard. The loser can clean the windows."

Surprisingly, Bakugou is the first to look away. Which is a shame, because Shouto much prefers cleaning the windows.

When lunch rolls around, Uraraka practically jumps out of her seat. "Aizawa-sensei!" she calls out. Aizawa looks at her, flatly, as though he is for the millionth time regretting having become a teacher. "Can we eat lunch with Eri-chan?"

The class bursts into excited murmuring. Aizawa turns his flat gaze to Eri. "What does Eri think?"

Eri turns shyly away. "Um. If everyone wants… I'd like that."

Twenty pairs of eyes immediately lock onto Aizawa's expectantly. In response, Aizawa grunts and leaves the room.

Kirishima nods sagely. "If that isn't permission, I don't know what is."

The classroom erupts in noise — chairs scuffing against the floor, creaking floorboards, desks knocking against desks, backpacks unzipping and shoes squeaking, there is chattering and laughter, and Shouto finds himself getting lost in it all. By happy accident, Shouto finds his desk placed in between Eri's and Yaoyorozu's, and all of them are crowded around one giant makeshift lunch table, Eri at the center of it all.

"Wow, Eri-chan!" Kaminari's voice comes from across the table. "That's a really nice bento!"

Shouto decides to look for himself. Although Kaminari is not usually correct, his observation this time is accurate. On one side, a set of apple slices has been painstakingly carved into rabbits so lifelike that Shouto thinks they might hop out of the bento itself. On the other, a bed of snow-white rice is seasoned with artfully placed black sesame seeds and a sprinkling of seaweed flakes. And the centerpiece of the arrangement is a pair of egg-and-cucumber sandwiches that look straight from the pages of a food magazine. Even from where Shouto sits, they smell refreshing and subtly sweet.

"Oh my god, they're even cut into triangles," Ashido murmurs.

"Triangles," Sero echoes in a hushed whisper.

"That's really yours, Eri-chan?" Uraraka joins in, clearly impressed. "Did you make it?"

Eri looks very interested in her food. "Yes, it's mine. But… I didn't make it."

Midoriya laughs, hesitantly. "Well, whoever made it, it's clearly delicious. Let's all —"

Ashido verbally bulldozes him. "Then was it Aizawa-sensei?"

"Huh. I never figured him for the cooking type," Jirou admits.

"Making assumptions of one's teachers is not an act of honor!" Iida protests.

"C'mon Eri-chan!" Kaminari wheedles her. "Is it Aizawa-sensei?"

"Um," Eri mumbles. And because Shouto is more observant than others give him credit for, or maybe because he's just the one sitting next to her, or maybe just because he's seen the look in her eyes in his own mirror too many times to count, he instantly recognizes her expression. It is the look that Shouto wears when Endeavor hauls Shouto into his office just to yell at him and Shouto wants nothing more than to leave the room and crawl back into bed.

Shouto opens his mouth to say something — but instead of words, there is an explosion. The classroom instantly goes quiet.

"All you extras better shut it. Can't you see she's uncomfortable?" Bakugou barks. "Lay off."

Shouto blinks at Bakugou in wonderment. And that is when realization upon realization comes crashing at him, all at once. Firstly, that Bakugou had somehow managed to seat himself on Eri's other side, despite his desk being not at all close to Eri's to begin with. Secondly, that Bakugou had been the one to surrender in their impromptu staring competition when they both locked eyes watching Eri — and Bakugou never surrenders. And finally, that the lacquerware bento sitting in front of Eri is the exact same lacquerware bento that had been mysteriously appearing in the refrigerator and that Bakugou had been carrying when Shouto caught him that one very early morning.

The bento, the food, the fierce look in Bakugou's eyes just now — it all makes sense. This is the breakthrough he's been waiting for.

"Eri-chan," Shouto says, unable to stop himself from breaking the silence because the magnitude of this epiphany is just too great to ignore. Eri turns to him curiously, along with everybody else.

"Are you," Shouto asks, voice grave, "a gremlin?"

"Uh," Eri finally manages. "…No?"

Shouto's face falls. He was sure he had it.

Bakugou explodes in laughter. "Leave it to IcyHot to — a gremlin? I can't — I'm wheezing."

Midoriya cuts in with a cough that sounds suspiciously like a muffled laugh. "Yes, well, we'll run out of lunch time if we keep on talking without eating anything."

"Yeah," Kirishima nods. "Let's just agree that whoever made Eri-chan's lunch clearly cares a lot about her," — an explosion — "and leave it at that."

Shouto frowns and pokes at his soba with his chopsticks petulantly. Everything was so clear. Where did he make his mistake? Bakugou said he was giving food to a gremlin. And there Eri sat, with the very same bento before her. Ergo, Eri must be a gremlin.

"Bakugou and Eri are close," Shouto stubbornly insists to his soba noodles.

"They certainly are sitting next to each other," Yaoyorozu notes.

"Exactly," Shouto nods, because it's so obvious. He doesn't know how he hasn't seen it before, but now that he has, the epiphany has been realized; the conclusion, inescapable. He may still have to work out the details, but that will come in time. For instance —

"Maybe the gremlin is Bakugou," Shouto muses.

"Todoroki, no —"

"What did you say, you Half n' Half piece of —"

"Kacchan, language —!"

From that day on, Class 1-A is banned from eating lunch in the classroom.

Katsuki notices things.

For instance, that Half n' Half is a fucking stalker.

"What. The. Fuck," Katsuki growls, because the very first thing he sees when he opens his dorm room door in the morning is Strawberry Milk's dumbass face.

"Oh. Good morning, Bakugou. I didn't expect to see you here," Bowlcut McFishface says, eyes wide with wonder, as if it was the most unimaginable fucking thing to see Katsuki in his own fucking room.

"You're standing right in front of my front-fucking-door," Katsuki snarls.

Freezer Burn's eyes widen, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. He looks Katsuki's door up and down, as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh. I guess I am," is all he says back, and doesn't move.

And you know what, Katsuki has grown as a human being. He shuts his eyes, grinds his teeth, furiously wills the sparks to stop popping from his hands, and counts to ten as slow as possible.

"What," Katsuki finally enunciates, in between deep, calming breaths, "do you fucking want."

And like the world's ugliest, stupidest-looking heterochromatic puppy, Dodoroki cocks his head to the side, and says in a complete deadpan, "I just wanted to see you."

Katsuki really can't be blamed for the explosion.

"Bakugou, what did we say about explosions in the dorms," Aizawa tells him in detention, later that day. He is giving Katsuki a particularly tired stare, which Katsuki would feel more concerned about if Aizawa's default gaze was anything but "particularly tired stare."

Besides, Katsuki can't help it. His explosions are a self-defense mechanism against fucking half n' half dumbasses.

"Bakugou," Aizawa sternly prompts him.

"…Not to," Katsuki finally grunts. 

Aizawa wears the face of someone who has long since given up on getting the answer he wants and will just take what he can get. He turns to the other of the two. "And Todoroki, please be more considerate of the feelings of your classmates. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Poké Ball Hair says with a nod, his ridiculous Poké Ball hair flouncing with the movement.

Except Strawberry Shortcake understands exactly fuck-all, because when Katsuki opens his locker door later that week after quirk training, Candycane Head's vacant fishlike gaze is staring back at him.

"Oh. Hello, Bakugou. I didn't expect to see you here," he manages to say, before Katsuki slams the locker door in his fucking face.

"Bakubro, something wrong?" Kirishima pipes up from down the room. Katsuki bites his tongue, counts to twenty, then jerks his locker door back open.

"Let me be abso-fucking-lutely clear," he hisses at Trout Yogurt's blank, dead-fish eyes, "I don't want to see your fucking face anywhere near me unless I'm beating the shit out of you during training. Fucking got that?" he snarls, then slams the door shut again.

"I understand," comes a muffled voice from the locker.

This time, something seems to penetrate that dense dichromatic skull, because Katsuki stops seeing red-and-white hair at his front door. It does not, however, stop Peppermint Patty from trying to blend in with the potted plants in the common room when he thinks Katsuki isn't looking.

Tonight, Yin-Yang Reject is attempting to commune with the potted ficus in the corner of the room. Katsuki heaves a sigh and turns back to tending his hot chocolate. At least fucking Poland is only stalking him in the common area now instead of his room. Katsuki figures he'll take what he can fucking get. He wonders if this is what Aizawa feels like when dealing with Deku's shit.

Katsuki groans. Fuck. Katsuki's too young for this, he can't be turning into a soulless husk like Aizawa already.

Katsuki hears the small, tentative shuffle of footsteps in the kitchen coming up behind him. It's been so long now that Katsuki doesn't even have to turn to know that they belong to Eri.

"Good middle-of-the-fucking-night, squirt," he grunts at her, sprinkling some chili powder into the bubbling cocoa. Best fucking idea Round Cheeks has ever had.

Katsuki waits for her response — "Hi, Katsuki," or "You already started the cocoa, Katsuki?" or "Good middle-of-the-fucking-night to you too, Katsuki." (She hasn't said the last one yet, but Katsuki is hopeful that it's coming any day now.)

But when Eri doesn't say anything back, he frowns. "Cat got your tongue," he asks, turning to look at her, and it's a damn good thing that Katsuki hadn't been holding the pot of boiling hot cocoa because he would've dropped it right fucking then and there.

It's the day that Katsuki had hoped would never come: Eri is fucking crying.

Fuck fuck fuck shit shit fuck shit fuck.

His panic must be visible on his face, because Eri visibly swallows and wipes at her eyes. "I — I'm s-sorry," she stutters, eyes red to match her irises. "I d-didn't mean to —"

Katsuki recovers himself and bends down to grab her by the shoulder and look her in the eyes. "Don't you dare fucking apologize," he tells her, but instead of calming her, her eyes only go wider. Fuck fuck fuck.

Katsuki steals a glance into the common room, where a pair of mismatched eyes gleams in the darkness. Fuck if Katsuki is doing this here, with that fucking heterochromatic fire-and-ice rabid demon raccoon —

Eri hiccups.

"Hey, Eri. Listen to me," Katsuki tells her, and shakes her a bit, so she has no choice but to look him in the eyes. "Do you know where my room is?"

Eri blinks at him, eyes wide with tears but also now partly in confusion, which is an improvement from tears, so Katsuki'll fucking take it. "U-um. Yes. I — I mean, I t-think so."

"Course you fucking know where it is, you're a smart cookie," Katsuki says. He grabs the hot cocoa — thank All Might it's fucking done — and pours half of it in his mug, before taking her hands and wrapping them around the mug.

"Take the cocoa with you to my room," he tells her, trying to keep her busy so she doesn't have time to cry, "and I'll meet you there before you can count to one hundred. Got it?"

Eri looks up at him, hands clutched tightly around the mug. She sniffles. "One hundred?"

"I know you can count that high, right?"

"Uh — uh-huh."

"Then start counting, and I'll be there before you can even fucking finish."

Eri stares at him for a long moment, then finally manages to make a jerky nod of her head and start on her way.

Katsuki waits until she's out of sight before he dumps the rest of the cocoa in whatever mug is closest (Deku's, god-fucking-dammit), drops the empty pot in the sink (he'll clean it in the fucking morning), shoves the empty ingredients to an empty spot on the counter (another fucking morning problem), grabs a pair of cookies as an afterthought (if they're fucking oatmeal raisin he is going to annihilate someone), and races out of the kitchen as though Pikachu had set it on fire again. He flips off the glowing eyes in the ficus for good measure.

When Katsuki arrives at his dorm room door, Eri's eyes are wet but the waterfall has stopped. The walk and the cocoa seem to have done her some good. "What'd I fucking tell you?" he greets her with a grunt. "What's my time?"

Eri sniffles. "Um. …Eighty-seven."

Katsuki huffs. It was eighty-one. They're going to have to work on her counting. He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and after scanning the hall for suspiciously red-and-white-haired individuals and not seeing any, Katsuki shuts it with a soft click.

Eri stands in the middle of his room, cocoa held between her hands, and looking like she doesn't quite know what to do. Come to think of it, they've only ever met in the common room or the kitchen — Eri's never been to Katsuki's room before. In fact, none of his classmates have been to Katsuki's room before. Katsuki suddenly feels like he doesn't quite know what to do either.

He sets his cocoa down on his dresser and scratches his cheek. "Uh. Just sit fucking wherever, I guess." As if she was only waiting for Katsuki's permission, Eri gravitates straight toward Katsuki's bed and immediately wraps herself in the blankets. When Eri's figure is more blanket than human, Katsuki sits down next to her, and the pair of them sit there in shadow, silence only broken by Eri's intermittent sniffles and the sound of sipping cocoa.

"…Do you… Like your quirk?" Eri eventually asks.

Katsuki resists the instinctive urge to say, "Fuck yeah," because that's probably not the answer she's looking for right now. His brain cycles through, "It's fucking bomb," "Fuck yeah," again, and "Hell fucking yeah," before finally arriving at, "There's lots of cool quirks, but I guess mine is pretty cool, too."

Eri seems to meditate over his answer. She takes a sip of her chili powder-infused cocoa and does not even flinch. Katsuki is inexplicably proud.

"Do you ever wish you…" Eri trails off, as if afraid to say the words aloud. "Had… um, another quirk?"

Katsuki grips Deku's mug tight. Fuck. He is not equipped for this conversation.

"Or maybe," Eri's voice is shaky now and sirens are blaring in Katsuki's head screaming at him to fucking abort abort abort, "It'd be better… not to have —"

"Do you ever wish you had blue eyes?" Katsuki blurts.

"…Huh?" Eri asks, confusion clear in her voice, and Katsuki breathes a sigh of relief that he cut that train of thought off before it reached the fucking station.

"Say you don't like the color of your eyes — which you shouldn't, because red eyes are fucking great. But say you don't. Would you get rid of them?"

Eri doesn't hesitate to shake her head no.

"Right. You and me — we've both got red eyes. They're a part of who we fucking are. And they're pretty badass, too."

Katsuki takes a breath. "Same fucking thing with your quirk. Your quirk, the color of your eyes — doesn't matter what some loser extra thinks about them. Be fucking proud of them, because they're fucking yours, and there isn't anything wrong with your eyes, and there sure as hell isn't a damn thing wrong with your quirk," he tells her. He turns Deku's mug in his hands. "…Or not having one," he adds.

Eri looks deep into her mug of cocoa, lost in thought.

Katsuki sighs. He can't believe he's about to fucking do this. "You know fucking Half n' Half?"

Eri shakes her head.

"You know, IcyHot."

Eri shakes her head.

"That, fucking, Cherry Smoothie little shit."

Eri shakes her head.

Katsuki clenches his teeth. "Fucking, Todoroki," he grinds out, as though each syllable physically pains him, because it does. Never fucking again.

"Oh. Deku's friend," Eri realizes. "He's nice."

He's actually an asshole, but that's a conversation for next time.

"Yeah, him," Katsuki grunts. "So you know he got his quirk from his parents. Ice from his mom and fire from his POS dad."

"POS?" Eri wonders.

"Piece of shit," Katsuki helpfully supplies. "Anyway, he hates using his fire side because his dad's a piece of shit. Used that fire crap to hurt people. Half n' Half — he thought using the same fire as his dad would make him a piece of shit, too."

Eri is quiet, listening intently.

"But. Fucking Deku," Katsuki mutters, and stares down at Deku's mug in his hands. It's decorated with cheerful cartoon rabbits doing whatever the fuck it is that cheerful cartoon rabbits do. "…Deku convinced him to use it."

"Why?" Eri wonders.

"Because it's his quirk. Not his shitty father's, not anyone else's. His," Bakugou says, rubbing his thumb around the rim of the mug. He finally snorts a laugh. He downs the last of the hot cocoa, then bops Eri on the head with the empty mug. "Same goes for you, squirt. It's your fucking quirk. Don't let anyone tell you what the fuck to do with it, and sure as hell don't ever be ashamed of it."

Eri stares deep into the hot cocoa from inside her blanket cocoon.

"Katsuki… is really nice," Eri finally says, and Katsuki suddenly feels warm, and not from the cocoa.

"Almost like Hero Deku," she adds, thoughtfully.

Good feeling's fucking gone. "What," he growls. "No way. I'm better than Shitty Deku. Deku's a fucking dumbass."

Eri looks confused. "You don't… like Deku?"

"Fuck no."

"But… Deku calls you friends."

"Surprise, Deku's a fucking idiot."

"But… you're using his mug," Eri points out.

Katsuki explodes it out of reflex. Shit.

"Anyway," Katsuki says, because they are changing the subject right this fucking instant. "What the fuck happened? Did someone say something to you?"

"…No," Eri mumbles, but looks away, which Katsuki has learned by now is the tell that she's fibbing.

"Who was it? Just tell me and I'll fucking kill them," Katsuki offers. "Was it fucking Half n' Half?" he asks, hopefully.

"No!" Eri says, head swiveling back to Katsuki like a cat's.

"I bet he's been following you everywhere, too."

Eri blinks at him. "How did you know?"

"'Cuz I'm a genius," Katsuki brags. He smacks his fists together and they crackle. He grins dangerously. "I'll blow that motherfucker off the face of the planet."

"No!" Eri cries out again. Her little fingers clutch at Katsuki's shirt, even though changing Red-and-White's color scheme to Black-and-Blue is Katsuki's god-given duty.

"I mean," she stammers, hand still tight on Katsuki's shirt, "I have seen Todoroki-san a lot — but all of Deku's friends are really nice and Todoroki-san is really nice too, even if he won't tell me why he's following me — a-and besides it wasn't him."

"Dammit. So close," Katsuki grunts with a frown. But still… "So it was someone."

Eri's eyes go wide like an animal caught in a trap. She occupies herself by fiddling with her blanket arrangement.

"…It was Kojirou," she finally admits. "We were at recess, a-and there was a rabbit. He was talking about how he was going to do mean things to it. …It looked really scared."

One part of Katsuki resonates with understanding — he, too, has an instinctive distaste for rabbits, which is totally rational by the way since they're so jumpy and timid and just overall fucking useless. Another part of Katsuki resonates with a different, more uncomfortable understanding.

"Nobody was doing anything, so…" Eri trails off. Even holding her empty mug, her tiny hands ball into tiny fists. "I told him that he was being mean — a-and, that he should stop."

Katsuki watches her — even in retelling her story, her eyes are steadfast; even swaddled in blankets, her back is straight. It's a far cry from when they had first seen each other at bumfuck-o'clock, when she was skittish as a scared kitten, and about to shatter into pieces if Katsuki so much as breathed in her direction. She's toughened up since they'd first met.

It's definitely because of the capsaicin.

"T-that's when Kojirou… He used his quirk, a-and he made the grass so I couldn't move and he told me I was dumb 'cuz I couldn't move and he laughed at me in front of everyone, and he was right because I couldn't do anything, and he wouldn't stop making fun of me, and I — I…"

Katsuki finds his eyes wandering to the broken pieces of Deku's mug, scattered on his bedroom floor.

Katsuki clears his throat. "So did you punch him in the face?"

Eri jumps. She shakes her head furiously. "No! Of course not!"

"Well, why the fuck not?"

"Because… it's wrong?"

"It's not wrong to stand up for yourself," Katsuki tells her. "You should've knocked that smug little shit's face off."

"But… but Sensei says I shouldn't hit people," Eri insists. "It's wrong," Eri insists again, firmer.

Eri's Sensei is right. Katsuki knows that now. But Katsuki also knows that there are some people you have to stand up to. Because, not so long ago —

"This isn't hitting people," Katsuki fibs. "It's self-defense."

"Self…defense?"

"Yeah. Totally fucking different," he assures her. "Hitting people is hitting people. Self-defense is hitting people back."

"That… sounds the same."

"They're not the fucking same," Katsuki insists back. (They kind of are.) "Look — you saw that dumb rabbit and wanted to protect it, right?"

"The rabbit's not dumb," she asserts with a stubborn pout.

"That's what I'm talking about," Katsuki tells her. "You won't even let me talk shit about the stupid useless rodent even though it's abso-fucking-lutely a stupid useless rodent."

Eri puffs her cheeks, now looking very much like a rodent herself. "Stop saying —"

"Fine, I'll stop calling it names out loud," Katsuki says with a wave of his hand. Besides, he'll still call it names in his head. "So, it's fucking like this. Hitting people is something you do because you can. That's what that dumbfuck Kojirou was doing — he was being mean because he's a fucking loser. Self-defense is something you do because you have to. It's for protecting — the way you felt like you had to protect that (runaway rotisserie) rabbit."

Eri seems to mull over his words.

"That's the difference between hitting people and self-defense. And it's a huge fucking difference," Katsuki says, finishing his impromptu speech by slamming a fist into his hand. Most majestic fucking speech in recorded history.

Eri is quiet, staring intently into her empty mug of cocoa. Finally, she stirs. "I… think I understand."

"So it's fucking settled," Katsuki announces with a nod. "I'll teach you self-defense."

"Huh?"

"Come on, you want that Kojirou assclown to keep being an assclown?"

Eri looks torn between saying "no" and asking what in the world an assclown is.

"Then someone's got to introduce his face to the dirt. And who better than you?" Katsuki says with a wolfish grin. Eri looks at him blankly, because she's a precious sunshine child who's never had a mean thought once in her life. Katsuki huffs. "I'm not telling you to go and pick fights. This is just so that if he — or anyone — tries to mess with you, you know how to protect yourself."

Eri is quiet for a long time — so long, in fact, that Katsuki feels awkward for the first time since he first let Eri into his room. He abruptly remembers he pilfered a pair of cookies from the kitchen. Maybe Eri will accept them as a bribe. He rummages for them only to find out that they are, in fact, oatmeal raisin, which means that their bribe potential is absolutely zero, and also by the transitive property means that someone's getting explodo-killed tomorrow.

Finally, she turns to Katsuki and gives a determined nod. "Teach me," she says, no hesitation in her voice, because she has long since left that at the door, and Katsuki has never been more proud.

"Alright," Katsuki answers, not even trying to hide his grin. "But I need you to follow some rules, okay? First rule of self-defense is this: You never throw the first punch. But if someone lays a finger on you, you can fucking deck them."

Eri nods. "Uh-huh."

"Second rule: No telling anyone I'm teaching you. You have to keep it a fucking secret, got it?"

Eri ponders this one for a moment, but then nods again. "Okay."

"Last rule, and this one's the most important: Next time you see fucking Half n' Half, slug him as hard as you can."

Eri frowns. "I can't do that."

"Don't worry, we'll work up to it," Katsuki shrugs. "Now, the first thing you gotta know is how to stand when you're throwing a punch. Get the fuck up off the bed and I'll fucking show you."

The two of them practice stances well into the night until Katsuki notices Eri's eyes begin to droop. When the third yawn in less than a minute escapes her lips, Katsuki knows it's time to wrap up for the night.

He bends down to pick her up, piggyback; Eri's already half-asleep as he lifts her up, and she reflexively wraps her arms around his neck like a koala. She's fully asleep by the time Katsuki can carry her back to her room, because like fuck is she staying the night in his — Katsuki will help her fight off nightmares and teach her self-defense and make her lunch, but he's not a fucking bed-and-breakfast. It takes many long seconds of trying to unhook her from his neck (for a kid, her grip is stronger than a fucking vise), and he finally manages to tuck her in. She immediately reaches for her pillow and snuggles close against it, and by the time Katsuki shuts her door with a soft click, all Katsuki can see of her is the rise and fall of a lump in her bed.

Katsuki turns, and the next thing he sees is an unkempt mop of red-and-white hair.

"Oh. Hello, Bakugou," Snow White says, in a perfect deadpan. "I didn't expect to see you here."

As Katsuki explained to Eri earlier, there is a difference between picking fights and fighting back — the difference between punching people because you can, and because you have to. And because Katsuki absolutely has to punch Half n' Half in the face every time he sees him, that makes Katsuki's fist an exquisite example of self-defense.

Like an abnormally large number of things, the situation Eijirou now finds himself in is directly the fault of Bakugou Katsuki.

Okay, Eijirou is at least partially to blame, since he agreed to the whole thing. And some of the blame can even be extended to Midoriya, who is normally pretty blameless as far as these things go, except for when Bakugou is involved, and then everything instantly goes to shit.

But the vast, vast, very vast majority of the blame is definitely Bakugou's. 

"Kirishima, I need a huge fucking favor," the man himself tells him one evening.

Eijirou just about falls over. A stupefied stare is all he can manage, because if Eijirou knows three things about Bakugou Katsuki, it's that he consumes spicy food like it's water; that he's actually incredibly mindful of everyone's well-being in spite of his explosive personality, and more importantly that Eijirou is never, ever to say so out loud; and finally, that Bakugou Katsuki would rather lose the top-ranking hero spot to Todoroki than to ask anybody for a favor.

"What?" Eijirou squeaks.

"You fucking heard me, fucking fuckass shitty-fucking-hair fuckwad," Bakugou snaps, which is an impressively long and fuck-laden string of profanity, even by Bakugou standards. Eijirou chooses to be impressed by this, instead of insulted.

"Course I heard you, Bakubro," Eijirou finally manages. He plots his next move, because he can already tell this conversation is going to be a minefield. He runs through answers in his head.

"What do you need, Bakubro?" — which is wrong, it implies Bakugou needs something and can't do it on his own, which means, boom, explosion.

"How can I help, Bakubro?" — also wrong, it acknowledges Bakugou is asking for help, boom, explosion.

"Look at you, Bakubro, all grown up and admitting when you're in over your head, super manly!" — which would be funny for exactly one millisecond before Eijirou's funeral.

"…What can I do, Bakubro?" Eijirou finally decides, voice cheerful, words nonjudgmental, and tone deliberately calming, in the way that you would talk to a bear to convince it not to eat you.

"Fucking get your ears cleaned, that's fucking what," Bakugou mumbles, without heat, which in the Kirishima-certified Bakugou Dictionary (Revised Edition), is practically a compliment. He doesn't say anything else, but Eijirou knows better than to prompt him. So Eijirou waits. And waits. And waits. And just when Eijirou is beginning to weigh the relative merits of preserving his sanity by speaking up and preserving his physical form by saying nothing —

"Has anybody seen my mug?" Midoriya's voice comes from the other room.

Bakugou nearly jumps out of his skin.

Eijirou pinches himself, because if Eijirou knows three things about Bakugou Katsuki, it's that he swears more than the saltiest sailor; that despite complaining about how everyone in the class is a fucking extra who just gets in his way, when exam week hits, the fridge and pantry fill with everyone's favorite foods overnight as if by magic, and more importantly that Eijirou is never, ever, to say so out loud; and finally, that Bakugou Katsuki would rather call Todoroki by his actual name than jump like a startled deer at Midoriya's voice.

Eijirou stares at Bakugou in wonderment. "Bakubro, what hap—"

"Not another fucking word," Bakugou hisses, just as Midoriya crosses the room toward them. Midoriya flicks his gaze between Eijirou, who raises a hand in greeting, and Bakugou, who refuses to acknowledge Midoriya's existence.

"Um, Kirishima-kun? Have you seen it?"

Eijirou shakes his head. "Sorry, bro, I don't even know what it looks like."

Midoriya nods. His eyes flit toward Bakugou, testing the waters as if the waters are explosive, because they are. "…Kacchan?" he finally ventures.

Bakugou explodes. "Why the fuck would I fucking care about your shitty mug, fucking Deku?"

Eijirou steps in, before Bakugou's verbal explosions become actual explosions. "You could tell me what it looks like, though? That way if we see it we'll know it's yours!" he offers.

"It's green and it's got rabbits on it. It was a gift… so it's special to me," Midoriya explains with a sigh. "I'm sure I didn't misplace it — unless someone's hiding it as a prank?" Midoriya wonders aloud, then pulls a face. "If they are, it's not funny anymore. It's been weeks, they can give it back now."

"Who the fuck would waste their time on a stupid prank like that?" Bakugou growls. "Especially if it's Deku's dumbass mug."

Midoriya shoots Bakugou a look of frustration and seems ready to retort. For the self-preservation of everybody involved, Eijirou crowbars his way into the conversation for the second time in as many minutes. "We'll keep an eye out, Midoriya bro! Don't worry, we'll find it!" He shoots a toothy smile and thumbs-up Midoriya's way. Bakugou remains immobile. Eijirou elbows him. Bakugou concedes a grunt.

"Thank you, Kirishima-kun," Midoriya tells him with a half-smile. "Oh, maybe Uraraka's seen it! Excuse me," he says, before darting to the other end of the room and quizzing Uraraka — although judging from how his face falls a few moments later, it's just as unsuccessful.

"I wonder where it is?" Eijirou wonders. "I mean, this place isn't a mansion. It shouldn't be hard to find."

"I exploded it."

"Oh, that would explain it," Eijirou nods. He blinks. "Wait, you what?"

Bakugou growls. "Did all that hair gel melt your fucking brain? Or is it just as fucking useless as your ears?"

"Hey, cool it, dude," Eijirou protests. "Did you really —"

"I won't fucking say it again."

Eijirou frowns in disapproval. "Dude, destruction of personal —"

"Look, I fucking know," Bakugou hisses, punctuated by an aborted explosion that fades into a weak fizzle, sounding something like ka-pffffffz. They'll have to reset the "Days Without Bakugou Exploding in the Common Room Calendar" to zero.

"Just," Bakugou whispers, glancing around the common room before lingering for some reason on the ficus plant in the corner of the room. "Upstairs. Idiot."

Eijirou agrees to this, because Bakugou is maybe not prepared for having this conversation in front of everyone and especially Midoriya. That doesn't mean that when they arrive in Eijirou's room, Eijirou can't pick up exactly where he left off, disapproving frown and all. "Dude, destruction of personal property is so unmanly."

"It was an accident," Bakugou insists. 

Mark Eijirou down as unpersuaded.

"I was thinking of how much Deku fucking pisses me off, and it just happened."

Mark Eijirou down as extremely unpersuaded.

"Okay — but why did you have Midoriya's mug in the first place?"

Bakugou freezes, not at all suspiciously, and shifts his eyes away from Eijirou, also not at all suspiciously. "…Accident," he eventually mutters, and Eijirou didn't think he could be any more skeptical, but here they are.

Eijirou runs a hand through his hair, and decides not to press the topic, because any attempt at getting Bakugou to express anything like remorse is doomed to failure before it even begins. "However it happened, Midoriya should probably know. Are you going to tell him?"

"Not on my fucking life," Bakugou growls.

"Well, it would be wrong not to tell him the truth. I can go with you, if you want? Or if you want to practice how to apologize first —"

"Why do you think I fucking told you?"

Eijirou frowns even more, in even more disapproval. "Look, Bakubro, don't get me wrong, I appreciate you sharing this with me. But I'm your friend, not your messenger boy. I won't apologize to Midoriya for you. That's super unmanly."

"Fucking Hair-for-Brains, I didn't fucking say that, did I?"

"Then what —"

"I'm not telling fucking Deku because I'm getting him a new one," Bakugou announces.

"…Buh?"

"You're helping," Bakugou adds, helpfully.

"…Buh?"

Bakugou glares at him. "You fucking sure that shitty sludge you pour over your head isn't killing your brain cells?"

Eijirou isn't sure, but that's not the point. "What — you're replacing Midoriya's —"

"That's what I fucking said."

"Then why'd you wait until —"

"'Cuz it took me almost three whole fucking weeks to even find the damn thing — it's custom-made, can you fucking believe that? Who the fuck custom-builds a fucking mug?" Bakugou snarls. "Fucking shitnerds, that's who."

Eijirou blinks, completely and utterly dumbfounded. Finally, he asks, "…Why?"

Bakugou goes silent and stares down at the floor, at something that Eijirou cannot see. "…'Cuz I don't do that shit anymore."

And Eijirou knows exactly three things about Bakugou Katsuki: that he's a neat freak bordering on obsessive; that despite flouting dress code, he's actually got some of the best grades in class and is somehow even a better tutor than Iida, and more importantly that Eijirou is never, ever to say so out loud; and finally that Bakugou Katsuki would rather lie down and let Todoroki drive a steamroller over him than even come within spitting distance of admitting that something he'd done was wrong.

Eijirou wipes a tear from his eyes. "Bro… you're so manly."

Bakugou scowls. "Fucking quit it with the fucking waterworks. Are you in or not."

Eijirou slaps himself on the cheeks. "Okay, okay, I'm super pumped up now," he announces, mostly to himself. "What's the plan?"

"The store that has Deku's mug is only open during school hours. You're gonna skip class to buy it."

Eijirou does not like this plan.

"Um. Not that I'm questioning your judgment," Eijirou begins, even though he totally is and from the look on Bakugou's face he definitely knows it. "But why can't you do it?"

"'Cuz it'll be fucking suspicious. When's the last time I missed class? Other than when I was fucking kidnapped."

"That's —" Eijirou cuts himself off. He thinks. "…Uh. Never?"

"And when's the last time you missed class 'cuz you slept through your fucking alarm?"

Eijirou wilts. "…Yesterday."

"Fucking bingo."

A burst of inspiration strikes. "But," Eijirou announces, proud of himself for identifying the very obvious hole in Bakugou's plan. "I don't really know what Midoriya's mug looks like, other than it's green and has rabbits on it. How do I know if I found the right one?"

"That's easy, Hair-for-Brains," Bakugou scowls back, as if he's already thought of the answer, because of course he has. "Eri's going with you."

Eijirou really does not like this plan.

"Wait, wait, wait," he says, frantically waving his hands. "You're asking Eri-chan to skip class, too?"

Bakugou shrugs, matter-of-factly. "You won't have to convince her. If it's for fucking Deku, she'll fucking do it," he answers easily, as if that's the problem, and not the fact that Eijirou will face Aizawa's very certain and very painful wrath if he finds out that Eijirou is an accomplice.

"What about Uraraka?" Eijirou valiantly struggles. "Or, even Iida? They would know —"

"Deku's crew? They don't know how to keep their fucking yap shut. Eri knows what the mug looks like, and unlike them she knows how to keep a fucking secret."

"But… she's seven!"

"Why the fuck does everyone care how fucking old she is?" Bakugou wonders aloud.

And you know what, Eijirou might have signed up for this just a few minutes ago, but he's officially un-signing, right now. "Look, Bakubro, I think it's great that you're going this far to apologize —"

"This isn't a fucking apology."

"— and trying to make it up to Midoriya is really super manly, but you know my grades are already awful —"

"You can copy my notes."

"— and if Aizawa-sensei finds out, I'll for sure be expelled —"

"Eri's not going to blab."

"— and you know I'll jump in front of a train for you, Bakubro, but… This?" He gestures expansively with his hands, in order to display all of the infinite ways this is a Very Bad Idea.

Bakugou seems to contemplate Eijirou's objection. "…I'll owe you lunch for a day," he finally offers.

Eijirou will be strong. He will not be bribed by one bento.

"I want a whole week," Eijirou demands.

"Fucking leeches, all of you," Bakugou mutters. "Fucking fine. Just bring back that fucking mug."

Which is why Eijirou is now standing at the train platform in casual clothes, and desperately trying to keep his internal screaming internal. For the twenty-third time that morning, he reminds himself that this is all Bakugou's fault.

He glances at Eri next to him. She looks just as uncomfortable as Eijirou feels: her eyes dart from person to person anxiously; her right hand clutches at the folds of her dress. ("Eri's not any good with crowds," Bakugou had said, pulling Eijirou aside before they left, and Eijirou had fleetingly wondered how, exactly, Bakugou even knew that in the first place. "She's tough, but keep an eye on her anyway, got it?")

"Um, so, Eri-chan, it's okay if you don't want to take the train. We can walk," Eijirou offers.

Eri has on a thinking-hard face. "Hero Deku was brave for me. So… I have to be brave for Hero Deku," she eventually says aloud to herself. She nods, once, then looks up at Eijirou. "But… Kirishima-san? Maybe… If you held my hand, it would help me be brave."

Eijirou blinks back at her. "Uh. Of course, Eri-chan," he manages to say at last, because that's all he can come up with. She's handling this way better than he thought she would. Way better than Eijirou would've, and he knows this for a fact because he once got lost in a train station when he was six and cried for a week afterward.

They make it to the train, Eri clutching Eijirou's hand the entire way, and only when Eri takes her seat does Eijirou allow himself a sigh of relief.

"Shouldn't you kids be in school right now?" a nosy woman who has apparently never heard of train etiquette shrills from next to them. Eijirou winces. Wasn't there an unspoken rule not to talk to strangers on trains? Eijirou had really been banking on that.

Eijirou glances at Eri. Eri glances at Eijirou. "We're visiting family," Eijirou finally settles on.

The woman frowns, radiating skepticism. "…You two don't look at all alike," she comments, offhandedly. She peers at Eri dubiously. "Are those horns?"

Eijirou feels his hand squeezed in a vise. ("Eri's sensitive about her horns. Her quirk, too," Bakugou had said, and Eijirou had pondered the possibility that Bakugou was actually a giant trivia box just like Midoriya. "So don't say any dumb shit about that.")

"…I like my horns," Eri says, barely loud enough to hear — but her voice does not quiver.

Eijirou takes that as his cue to turn to the woman. "Best part about Eri-chan is her horns. You like them, too," he says, grin widening with each word until every single one of his razor-sharp teeth is on full display. "Don't you?"

The woman looks as if she is strongly reconsidering several life decisions. "Y-yes. Of course," she eventually stammers. The intercom chimes. "Actually, this is my stop. Yes," she decides, then scuttles out the door without another word. Eri's grip only loosens a full minute after the train doors have closed.

"Good riddance," Eijirou grunts. "Hey, don't listen to people like that, Eri-chan. Some people are just jerks, you know?"

Eri looks down at her lap. "You… like my horns?"

Eijirou shoots her his sunniest grin. "Course! They're part of who Eri-chan is, so of course I like 'em!"

"…Right. I shouldn't be ashamed. Of them, or…" She trails off, then looks up at Eijirou with a smile that is much smaller than Eijirou's, but somehow even sunnier. Eijirou thinks his heart might melt. "Thank you, Kirishima-san."

Once they get off the train, they make exactly one more stop for a snack, because Eijirou thinks Eri deserves a reward for dealing with exactly one more jerk than she should've had to. ("She likes apples," Bakugou had said, and you know what, okay, Eijirou's just going to roll with it and file this away as another thing that Bakugou is inexplicably really good at.)

Eri does, in fact, like apples, because she polishes off the whole container just about the same time they arrive at the store Bakugou had marked out for them. The door opens with a jingle. Eijirou leads the way in, and just as immediately stops so short that Eri bumps into his back.

"What gives?" Eijirou whines. Because spread out in front of him are rows and rows and rows of mugs so deep that Eijirou cannot even see the back wall. Each mug is a grain of sand in the Sahara Desert. There are mugs as far as the eye can see. It is a mug-fest. A muggery. A mug-splosion.

"That's… a lot of mugs," Eijirou says, helplessly.

"…It's okay, Kirishima-san. We'll find it," Eri says, and squeezes his hand to reassure him, as if Eijirou is the one who needs reassuring — which, okay, maybe he is, is that so wrong? There are probably more mugs in the store than students Aizawa has expelled, and that's a lot.

They begin their search. Eijirou lets Eri take the lead because she's actually seen the thing, while Eijirou very capably plays the role of stepladder when Eri spots something on the topmost shelves. 

"Found it!" Eri announces, at last, after almost forty whole minutes of searching shelf after shelf. She cradles the mug in her hands like a trophy. Eri leads the way to the cashier, a skip in her step and a triumphant smile on her face that Eijirou can't help but feel himself smile at, too.

Right up until a spindly guy grabs Eri by the arm and traps her against his body.

"Eri-chan!" Eijirou cries out.

Eri squeaks; the mug tumbles out of her hands and rolls onto the floor.

"This," the spindly guy announces with wild eyes and a crooked smile, "is a mugging."

Eijirou feels a million thoughts run through his head all at once, like, "What the hell," "Crap, this is really happening," and "Oh god, I'm definitely getting expelled."

What Eijirou says is, "Dude, did you seriously just announce yourself with a pun?"

"What I'm doing is telling you this is a hold-up," the bad-joke guy sneers again. "So now it's time to put your hands up."

"You've gotta be —" Eijirou shakes himself. He feels his body hardening, on instinct. "Let Eri-chan go. Right. Now."

"Oh? Oh oh oh? Someone who has a quirk?" the guy says, his eyes going wilder and his smile going crookeder. "That makes my debut all the sweeter. I'll show you what a quirkless person can do."

Oh, good, it's Baby's First Crime. And it shows — the guy's clearly an idiot, he's made no efforts to hide his face, or his voice, and from where Eijirou stands he sees neither a weapon nor anywhere the guy can hide one. He's also announced he's quirkless, and announced to everyone within hearing distance that he is currently in the process of criming. Eijirou would definitely be able to take him one-on-one, and the police are probably already on their way.

But even if he's an idiot, he's an idiot holding a hostage, a hostage who happens to be Eri. Eijirou wouldn't be worried if the hostage was him — the guy's knuckles would sooner split on Eijirou's skin than even leave a bruise. But it's not him in the line of fire, it's Eri. And Eijirou's hardening quirk is great for protecting hostages, but less great at rescuing them.

"How does it feel to be powerless? To know that there's nothing you can do?" the guy laughs maniacally, and between that and the puns, he's clearly more nuts than a package of trail mix. Eijirou feels himself seethe. "I bet you think you're so much better than me. Well, you'll see. Today, I show the country — no, the world — what I can —"

Eri socks the guy straight in the nuts.

The spindly guy doubles over, quite clearly caught off-guard, and honestly Eijirou would've been caught off-guard, too, if the innocent-looking little girl he was holding hostage decked him in the unmentionables. That kind of spunk is actually pretty manly. In a weird, manhood-wounding way.

The faint whimpers of pained groveling remind Eijirou that, oh yeah, he's a hero-in-training, and he should probably take care of this scumbag. He trots over to where the guy is a crumpled, groaning lump on the floor, hands placed over his privates in a protective gesture that is far too little, and definitely far too late. Eijirou grabs the jerk's hands and wrenches them behind his back. Eijirou's not the kind of guy to take pleasure in other people's pain, but he figures he's allowed to feel the smallest twinge of satisfaction when the other guy grits his teeth and hisses out.

The police arrive not long after, and they cart the guy away. Eijirou holds it together for exactly five seconds after they leave. Then he becomes a blubbering mess. "Oh my god, Eri-chan, are you okay? Did he hurt you anywhere? Are you hurt? I swear, if he hurt you, I'll make sure he —"

Apparently, it's contagious, because now Eri's eyes go wide and she starts to blubber, too. "A-ah, Kirishima-san! I'm okay, I'm fine — and I'm sorry — I didn't mean to — I just —"

And then the two of them are kneeling down and sobbing on the tacky, off-white floor that smells kind of funky and probably hasn't been cleaned since the Stone Age. In the background, Kirishima can vaguely make out the store clerk awkwardly watching the two of them have an emotional breakdown in front of his counter.

The clerk clears his throat. "So… Are you going to buy that, or…?"

Eri insists that she's okay, but Eijirou makes her hold his hand the entire way back. Eri smiles and humors him, and it's a good thing, too, because Eijirou is one million percent certain that the entire day has shaved ten years off of his life. He's also not sure what he actually did. Eri made it through the crowds basically on her own, and stood up for herself basically on her own, and found the mug basically on her own. Eijirou just paid for everything.

And also, Eri punched a guy? The dude was admittedly a crazy asshole, and it was entirely out of self-defense, but still: Eri punched a guy. When did she learn to do that? The way Midoriya talked about her, Eri was nice but so used to being treated like she was worthless that she had come to believe it; that she had difficulty standing up for herself because she didn't think she was worth standing up for. And yet, here they are, with Eri standing up for herself in the manliest way possible.

Eijirou just can't get it out of his head, which is probably why when they get back to the dorm and Midoriya asks them where they were, Eijirou says, "Eri-chan punched a guy."

"Eri what?" Midoriya shrieks.

It takes a half-hour of Eijirou explaining it was self-defense because Eri was being held hostage (which doesn't calm Midoriya in the slightest), and Eri insisting that she's okay and not hurt (which calms Midoriya only marginally better), for Midoriya to finally offer them a shaky smile and a relieved, "As long as you're okay."

Eijirou and Eri nod back at him, and Midoriya seems to relent with a sigh. Eijirou discreetly glances over Midoriya's shoulder, where Bakugou is watching them from the kitchen with the smuggest grin Eijirou's ever seen plastered on his face, the one that in the Kirishima-certified Bakugou Dictionary (Revised Edition) approximately translates to, "You are suffering and I am having the time of my fucking life." Eijirou reminds himself for the eighty-seventh time that day that this is all Bakugou's fault.

"So, Kirishima-kun, where did you take Eri-chan, anyway?" Midoriya asks.

Eijirou freezes. Bakugou's smug smile also vanishes, but Eijirou is unfortunately not able to enjoy that fact as much as he would like because his brain is currently attempting to decide on a non-incriminating lie, and is failing miserably. He tries to occupy himself by running a hand through his hair, and — 

Whump.

Eijirou looks down. Next to him, Eri looks down. In front of him, Midoriya looks down, and from all the way across the room Bakugou looks down, and then looks back up and shoots Eijirou an authentic, accept-no-substitutes Bakugou death glare.

The mug — Midoriya's mug, the custom-made mug that is green and has cartoon rabbits on it and that Eri punched a guy for — that mug is staring back up at them, because it had fallen from Eijirou's bag, and is now rolling across the rug towards Midoriya before stopping right at his feet with a tink.

"Um," Eijirou very eloquently says.

"Is that —" Midoriya wonders, bending down to pick it up with amazement in his eyes. "Did you — for me?"

"…I heard that it was special to you," Eri mumbles and looks away. "Hero Deku helped me. So… I wanted to help Hero Deku."

"Eri…" Midoriya sniffles. His eyes are watery. Eijirou's man enough to admit his eyes are watery too.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, and his mouth moves in what looks like a, "Fucking hell," and retreats upstairs.

"Kirishima-kun," Midoriya says, wiping at his eyes to no effect, "Thank you for helping Eri do this."

Eijirou just nods back and does not mention how he's getting seven days' worth of lunches out of the deal.

"I'll miss my old one… But I think this one is even more special to me," he says, and his smile lifts into something bright and sincere.

Bakugou is smiling, too, when Eijirou bangs on his door, except because it's Bakugou, the smile is less sincere than predatory.

"You weren't a lot of help back there," Eijirou complains, because Bakugou absolutely wasn't, and then had the gall to enjoy it when for the hundred-and-sixteenth time this was entirely Bakugou's fault. "I spent my entire day on this, you know."

"Really?" Bakugou answers, his grin growing implausibly wider. "'Cuz the way you told it, it sounded like Eri was the one who handled shit, and you did exactly fuck-all."

"Don't remind me," Eijirou grumbles, because he can't really argue with that. "Where'd she even learn how to throw a punch like that?"

Bakugou shrugs. "Told you she was a tough cookie."

"Seriously. She's probably the manliest kid I've met."

And at that, Bakugou's smug smile shifts into something different — still a smile and still smug, but it is also knowing, and proud, and maybe even a little fond, if Bakugou is even capable of fond smiles. This is a smile that Eijirou has never seen before. There is no translation for it in the Kirishima-certified Bakugou Dictionary (Revised Edition).

"Damn straight," Bakugou says with that same mysterious smile that Eijirou cannot place. Eijirou has exactly one more second to linger on it before Bakugou slams the door on Eijirou's face.

The next time Eri comes to visit, Katsuki greets her with a wide grin. "I heard you knocked the fuck out of some asshole."

Eri blushes a deep red. "Er — it was an accident. I didn't mean —"

"You don't got a thing to apologize for, you little gremlin," he tells her, and ruffles her hair. "You defended yourself. You should be proud."

"…I guess," Eri mumbles.

And since Eri did such a good job knocking the fuck out of that particular asshole, Katsuki figures a reward is in order. "Hey," he grunts.

Eri looks up curiously at the sound of his voice.

Katsuki grins. "I think we're ready to move on to knives."

"Bakugou and Eri are siblings," Todoroki announces after class, one day.

Izuku blinks. "Sorry, what?"

"Bakugou and Eri are siblings," Todoroki repeats, helpfully louder.

Izuku bursts into laughter. "Ahaha, that's a good one, Todoroki-kun. Kacchan — a brother? I can't even imagine it," he says, smiling to himself and laughing a little again. Todoroki doesn't say anything in response, so Izuku turns to look at him.

Todoroki looks utterly betrayed.

"Oh my god, you're serious."

"I apologize," Todoroki says through a confused frown. "I didn't mean to imply that I was joking — was it something I said?"

"Yes — I mean, no, it's just that — never mind," Izuku says. He watches Todoroki skeptically, because he can't tell if this is an elaborate practical joke, or if Todoroki is being serious, and at this point doesn't know which is worse. "You think Kacchan and Eri are siblings?"

"It's obvious," Todoroki answers with a nod. Well, okay, then, that settles it.

"Todoroki-kun," Izuku says, putting on his most patient smile. "I can tell you for a fact that Kacchan and Eri are not brother and sister."

"How do you know that?"

Izuku blinks at him. "Are you suggesting that Kacchan has had a secret sibling his entire life and somehow nobody found out about it?"

Todoroki blinks back. "Not his entire life. Eri's younger than he is, after all."

Izuku does not bury his head in his hands, but it's a near thing. "Todoroki-kun… Kacchan and I have known each other since we were babies. He's never had a sister. Our parents also know each other. Kacchan's parents never had another kid."

"How can you be sure?" Todoroki presses.

"As sure as I am that I'm not All Might's secret love child."

Todoroki hums thoughtfully. "So it's possible."

Izuku runs a hand through his hair. "No, Todoroki-kun, it's not possible. We've known each other forever, been to each other's houses more times than I can count. Kacchan's never had any siblings."

Todoroki nods in understanding. "I see. So they were separated at birth."

"What, no."

"Eri never grew up with her parents, after all," Todoroki points out.

Izuku feels his hackles raise at the implication. "Auntie Mitsuki isn't that kind of person," Izuku states, leaving no room for argument. He chuckles to himself. "Besides, Kacchan would've really let her have it if she tried."

Todoroki nods. "Like a good brother would."

"Or," Izuku suggests, "Like a decent human being would?"

Todoroki harrumphs. "They both have light hair."

"Lots of people have light hair."

"Red eyes."

"Kirishima-kun also has red eyes."

Todoroki looks struck by an epiphany. "…Is that why they get along?" Todoroki says, awestruck.

"Wait, Todoroki-kun, no —"

Todoroki huffs. "He makes her lunch."

"Kacchan doesn't — wait, what?"

Todoroki shrugs. "Bakugou makes Eri-chan's lunch," he repeats, as if Izuku hadn't heard him the first time. "Every school day. I've seen him."

Izuku blinks dumbly back at him.

"Ah. And that's why Eri-chan likes spicy food," Todoroki nods to himself. "It's Bakugou's influence."

Izuku is not sure what expression he has on his face, but in his head there is a lot of screaming. "Sorry, Todoroki-kun. Kacchan stopped cooking for anybody but himself years ago."

"Then why is Bakugou making Eri lunch?" Todoroki shrugs again. "Answer: because they're siblings."

"Todoroki-kun," Izuku groans and now runs both hands through his hair. "Even if Kacchan were making lunch for Eri, that doesn't mean —"

"He tucks her into bed at night."

Izuku nearly falls over. "Wait, what?"

"Bakugou tucks Eri-chan into bed at night," he repeats, with a self-assured nod. "He carries her piggyback into her room. I've seen him."

Izuku chuckles weakly. "Uh, are we talking about the same Kacchan?" he asks in disbelief. "Because Kacchan's not exactly… Uh. Supportive in a physical manner. Or any manner, really."

"Then why is Bakugou tucking Eri-chan into bed at night?" Todoroki repeats. "Answer: because they're siblings."

"Or it was late at night and you hallucinated it?" Izuku offers.

"I did not hallucinate Bakugou punching me in the face."

Izuku screams internally. "Look, Todoroki-kun," he sighs. "As Kacchan's childhood friend, take it from me that there's no way he could keep something like that secret for so long. And also, I don't think Kacchan would appreciate you stalking him."

"I'm not stalking. I'm observing," Todoroki insists. "And I've already shown you all the evidence. What more proof do you need?"

"A birth certificate," Izuku mutters.

Todoroki frowns. "Midoriya, you know that won't help. After all, they were separated at birth."

Izuku groans, and if he had six hands like Shoji, he would be running all of them through his hair, but unfortunately for Izuku he is capped at two. "Todoroki-kun, even if that were true — and it's not — Kacchan's not the type to be ashamed of anything. If he were really siblings with Eri, why would he be trying to hide it?"

"Well," Todoroki says, "That's because of the gremlins."

And with that, Izuku is officially checking out of this conversation. "Anyway, Todoroki-kun. How do you think you did on the history exam?" The attempt to change the topic is admittedly ham-fisted, but Todoroki goes along with it and does not bring up his tinfoil hat theory again, so Izuku lets out a sigh of relief.

And a tinfoil hat theory it absolutely is. It's the most outlandish, out-from-left-field theory Izuku has ever heard — and Izuku has thought up plenty of tinfoil hat theories of his own. The hamsters in his brain are running in their wheels at Mach speed. He knows that Todoroki and Kacchan don't exactly get along, but what is Todoroki trying to accomplish with this? Todoroki holds grudges, true, but he's not mean-spirited for the sake of it; and even if he was, the person who's suffering here is Izuku, not Kacchan. Todoroki's jokes have always been delivered in a deadpan, but he'd insisted that this was anything but a joke and looked downright insulted when Izuku implied that it was. Unless this is a long con? Todoroki is certainly capable of being patient — but that still doesn't explain…

"Um, Deku? …Are you okay?"

Izuku snaps himself out of his trance. Eri's concerned eyes are staring up at him.

Izuku waves her off with a laugh. "Yeah! I was just thinking of a test we just had, that's all," and emphasizes it with another laugh that sounded more convincing in his head than it came out as. "Anyway, it's a great day outside — instead of eating inside, why don't we have a picnic?"

"Okay!" Eri nods enthusiastically. They pick out a particularly sunny knoll. Eri is especially insistent on helping him roll out the blanket (All Might-themed, of course). Izuku can't help but smile as he watches her. She's grown a lot: her smile comes easier, her eyes are sunnier, her steps are surer. It's a far cry from when they had first met — when she was clothed in nothing but rags and bandages and given everything she could ask for except for what she wanted.

"So what are you learning in school, Eri?" Izuku asks her.

"English," she announces proudly. "We're doing letters. So I know that D is for Deku!"

Izuku grins back at her. "Wow, Eri, good job! Kacchan and I were still learning kana when we were your age," he admits, impressed. "Of course, because it's Kacchan, he already knew them all."

It had been the first day of school, and Kacchan had made quite the first impression by writing his name in hiragana, then in katakana, and even kanji. In no time at all, he had earned the admiration of every last one of his classmates. Except for Izuku — Izuku's admiration was something Kacchan had already had for a long time.

"Um…" Eri's voice mumbles, interrupting Izuku's thoughts. "Can I… ask you a question?"

"Sure, Eri. You can ask me anything."

She frowns down at one of the pictures of All Might doing a flexing pose on the blanket, apparently collecting her thoughts. "Why… do you call Katsuki Kacchan?"

Izuku can't help but raise an eyebrow. Since when were Eri and Kacchan on a first-name basis? Not even Kirishima got that honor. Apparently not even Lord Explosion Murder is immune to Eri's puppy-dog eyes.

Speaking of which, they are now trained expectantly on Izuku. "Well, that's very simple, Eri," Izuku answers, even though it's anything but. "Kacchan and I are childhood friends — we basically grew up together. I had a hard time when I was first learning my Tsu's, so I called him Kacchan. It just kind of stuck."

Eri nods at his answer, but there is a frown on her face. "But… he says that you're not friends."

Izuku sighs. "That's… complicated."

Eri blinks. "Being friends is complicated?"

"Sometimes it is," Izuku smiles weakly at her. "We're… not as close as we used to be," he finally says, which is the understatement of the year.

"So… you call Katsuki Kacchan because you're close?" Eri wonders, her thinking-hard face on.

"Uh-huh. Just like how some people call close friends brother or sister, even if they're not related."

"Like a brother… or sister," Eri mumbles to herself, her thinking-hard face becoming even more thinking-hard. "But… even though you're not close anymore, you still call him Kacchan?"

Izuku sighs again, and absently wonders when Eri got so observant. Or, Izuku thinks instead, it's probably more that it's obvious to everyone, but that Eri is the only one to think to ask a question about it.

Izuku looks up at the sky. "…Because even though things have changed, I know that Kacchan is still going to be a hero one day. Things will never be the way they were when we were kids, because they can't be. But, I still have faith in Kacchan. And I still have hope that one day we can be friends again."

Izuku watches a cloud pass over the sun for a moment, before he shakes his head and looks back down at Eri, who looks more deep in thought than he's ever seen her. Izuku grimaces. Way to bring down the mood, Izuku.

"But enough talk about grown-up things!" he says, putting on a hasty grin, which manages to shake Eri from her funk. "Will you show me what you brought for lunch instead?"

Eri's smile returns, and so Izuku feels his smile return, for real this time. She reaches into her backpack for her bento. "Um… It's Wednesday… so that means omelette rice!" she announces, and opens it with thinly concealed excitement.

And omelette rice it is — putting Izuku's own lunch to shame. It could be from a five-star restaurant, if a five-star restaurant ever deigned to serve lowly omelette rice. Izuku opens his own bento, revealing what is by comparison a ridiculously plebeian fried rice, which Izuku had slaved for three months to master and still came out tasting merely edible.

"Your fried rice looks good, too," Eri reassures him, because she is sweet and polite and apparently also a liar.

Izuku laughs. "It's okay, Eri, I'll admit that I'm not the best at cooking. But your omelette rice looks great," he tells her. He smiles, a bit wistfully. "It looks like how Kacchan would…"

Izuku stops mid-sentence.

"Deku?" Eri asks, oblivious, as Izuku looks at Eri's bento, really looks. On one side is a bed of white rice, sprinkled with just enough seasoning to make it flavorful, just like how Kacchan used to do it. On the other side are apple-rabbits, which before Kacchan started decapitating them, were just like how Kacchan used to do it. The omelette is garnished with a single parsley sprig, placed exactly one inch from the right edge of the omelette and rotated precisely 62 degrees from perpendicular. Just like how Kacchan used to do it.

"Deku?" Eri repeats.

Izuku shakes himself, and looks to where Eri's name is spelled out on the omelette, also just like how Kacchan used to do it. "Um, Eri," Izuku asks, afraid to hear the answer. "…Is that ketchup?"

Eri shakes her head. "Nope. Sriracha."

"He makes her lunch," Todoroki's disembodied voice reminds him.

Izuku chokes.

"Um, Deku, are you okay?"

"Yes! Completely fine!" Izuku shouts. Eri does not look convinced, probably because he was not very convincing, not even to himself. He tries laughing, which does not make Eri look any more convinced, but Izuku can't be faulted for trying. "Anyway! We should eat lunch before the bell!" he announces, and immediately shovels a spoonful of heartbreakingly mediocre fried rice in his mouth.

Eri clearly doesn't buy that Izuku is just fine, but because she is an angel, when Izuku asks her to talk more about what she's learning at school, she answers and does not try to change the subject back to food that is suspiciously similar to what Kacchan would make. Izuku makes it through lunch, and then through class, and then through the rest of the day. He fully resolves to shove the day's events into the back of his mind and never think of it again.

"Should we take Eri-chan out for curry again?" Uraraka asks him, nearly two weeks later.

Izuku chokes on his forgettably bland fried rice, which has not improved at all with two weeks of practice. He greedily reaches for a glass of water.

"Are you okay, Deku?" Uraraka wonders, which — obviously not, he's choking.

"I'm fine," he finally manages to hack out.

Uraraka tilts her head. "…You've been super jumpy for the past couple of weeks," she eventually says.

"H-have I?" Izuku squeaks. "I guess I've just been a little stressed, is all!" he says, laughter bubbling nervously in his throat.

Uraraka gives him a flat look, which is the signal that now is the time to change the subject.

"But taking Eri-chan to eat again sounds like a great idea!" Izuku stammers. "Why don't we try someplace new this time?"

Now it's Uraraka's turn to go still. "Maybe… We should stick with the curry place. Since Eri-chan liked it so much."

Izuku frowns. "But you didn't like it there."

Uraraka fiddles with her hair. "…I may have talked to Bakugou-kun about it."

"What does Kacchan have to do with it?"

"He told me that it's the only good curry place in town, and he'd explodo-kill us if we took Eri-chan anywhere else."

Izuku freezes halfway to his food.

"Which is funny, because I didn't think Bakugou-kun would care? But then again, he's always taken food super seriously."

Izuku slowly sets down his chopsticks.

"And he wasn't surprised at all when I told him that Eri-chan ate the spiciest thing on the menu like it was nothing. Although, come to think of it, Bakugou-kun really likes spicy food, too, doesn't he?"

"Eri-chan likes spicy food. It's Bakugou's influence," Todoroki's voice echoes in his mind.

"Do you think —"

"Stop it! Get out of my head!" Izuku shouts, louder than he intended, and Izuku knows this because the cafeteria goes dead quiet and everyone is looking at him as if he'd announced he actually was All Might's secret love child. Izuku does the reasonable thing and hides in a bathroom stall for the rest of the lunch period.

In the end, Izuku considers later that night, squirreled away safe in his room and furiously scribbling in a notebook that was brand-new but is now approaching three-quarters full, the problem with refusing to acknowledge the reality staring you in the face is that it doesn't stop being reality. And once you see it for yourself, you can't simply unsee it. For instance, Tsuyu's apparently innocuous observation that Eri wasn't scared of the explosions that came with fireworks. Or Jirou's throwaway comment that Eri and Bakugou shared the same taste in music. Or Tokoyami's excessively florid monologue that, after many twists and turns that weren't strictly necessary, finally culminated in, "Bakugou and Eri are both creatures of the night and shadow."

(It also doesn't help that Todoroki stares knowingly in Izuku's direction whenever either Eri or Kacchan so much as enter his field of vision. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to, because his announcement that "Bakugou and Eri are siblings" has taken up residence in Izuku's brain and absolutely refuses to be evicted.)

Three notebooks later, Izuku is about 93.27 percent certain that Eri and Kacchan are not strangers. The exact shape of their relationship remains amorphous. (No, they are still definitely not siblings, sorry, Todoroki-kun.) But taken together, Eri's newfound penchant for spicy food, the professional-tasting bentos she brings to lunch that are of mysterious but delicious origin, the subtle way Kacchan keeps popping up in Eri's stories — all the facts point to Kacchan being a clear influence.

Izuku chews at his lip. The only question now is: What kind of influence is Kacchan? Izuku's stayed up nights compiling his notes on his observations; now he's staying up nights trying to figure out what it all means. Izuku has known Kacchan since before they were even toddlers, and Izuku can't decide whether he is the best person or the worst person to answer this question. He has memories of chasing after frogs and clambering up trees; of burnt notebooks and singed uniforms. He knows both what it is like to have Kacchan stand up for him, and to have to stand up to Kacchan.

How can Izuku know what Kacchan is to Eri, when he barely knows what Kacchan is to him?

"Oof!"

Izuku staggers; in front of him, Kirishima collects himself and rubs his head. Izuku holds his hands out in apology. "Oh, Kirishima-kun — I'm sorry, I should've been watching where I was going."

"No worries, Midoriya, bro," Kirishima says with a toothy smile and a cheerful wave. "You were muttering up a real storm there."

Izuku deflates. He thought he'd finally kicked the habit.

Kirishima cocks his head. "You look like you haven't slept in a week, dude," he says with a frown, probably because Izuku hasn't. "Something on your mind?"

"No, it's nothing —" Izuku starts, then catches himself. He looks Kirishima over. Actually.

Izuku takes a deep breath. No time like the present. "Kirishima-kun," he begins, slowly, because he is entering uncharted waters. "When you were with Eri at the store, and Eri, uh. Punched the guy. Can you describe the kind of punch it was?"

Kirishima blinks at him, with an expression that shows he clearly thinks this is a weird question, but is too nice to say so. "I guess? I mean, it's not like Eri's had combat training or anything."

"Right," Izuku says with a nervous laugh, because if Kacchan is involved, he can't actually be sure that Eri's never had combat training. "But if you had to describe the technique…?" he presses.

Kirishima scratches his head. "I dunno, if I really had to put a name to it…"

Izuku swallows.

"…It'd probably be a right hook?"

And there it is. It's one-hundred percent Kacchan.

"Kirishima-kun," Izuku begins, verbally tiptoeing around the bomb-shaped elephant in the room. "When you were with Eri… Was she acting… different than usual?"

Kirishima scrunches up his face, confused. "No, I don't think so." He scrunches up his face more. "Why, is something wrong?"

"No, no, no!" Izuku protests. "You know she's, er, been through a lot. I just want to make sure she's fitting in okay."

"Dude, you've seen how the class acts around her. She's like melon bread, everybody loves her."

Izuku gives a slight laugh and a slight smile. "I guess I just worry."

Kirishima looks at Izuku for a long moment, as though he's seen something he recognizes, but can't quite place it. Then he shakes himself and nods solemnly. "I get it, bro. If anything happened to Eri-chan, I'd be beside myself, you know." He pauses for a moment, thinking on his words.

"How do I say this? It feels like… Before, Eri was afraid to even want something? And now, it's more like… She knows that it's okay to want. And that she knows it's okay to work to make it happen."

"Yeah…" Izuku murmurs, and finds himself thinking back to Kacchan's childhood declarations that he will be the number-one hero, brimming with an enthusiasm and confidence that was infectious. Kacchan has always known what he's wanted, and has always worked hard to earn it. It's one of the traits that Izuku has always admired most.

"Maybe… I just needed to hear it from someone else," Izuku says, aloud, but mostly to himself. "And I'm glad. That she has good people teaching her."

He shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Kacchan's not a bad person — Kacchan could be mean, he could be hurtful, he could throw around words and explosions that hurt in equal measure — but Izuku had never once stopped having faith in Kacchan to, in the end, be a hero.

If Kacchan and Eri truly are important to each other, then Izuku has nothing to worry about. In spite of everything, Izuku smiles.

"I mean, Denki once told me that he heard Eri swear?"

Izuku's smile vanishes. "I'm sorry, I have to go right now immediately."

And before Kirishima can even open his mouth, Izuku has already activated his quirk and is sprinting down the hall. (There is a strict no-quirk policy in the dorms, but this is nothing if not justified.) He skids to a halt outside Kacchan's door. Kacchan has made it abundantly clear that nobody is ever to enter his room upon pain of explodo-kill, but Izuku refuses to feel intimidated. He takes a deep breath to steel himself. He raps his knuckles on Kacchan's door a single time.

A number of things happen all at once: a sharp clanging sound like metal on metal, the hurried scurrying of feet on the floor, a high-pitched squeak of surprise, and finally, a voice that is panicked, hastily muffled, and undeniably Kacchan's — undeniably Kacchan's, both because Izuku's known him his entire life, and also because the word is "Fuck."

Now Izuku panics — because if Kacchan is panicked, something must truly be awry. Izuku doesn't think twice: he bursts through the door and immediately stops short.

Eri is staring at Izuku with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. Kacchan is staring at Izuku with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. 

And also, there is a target on Kacchan's wall with three knives sticking straight out of the bull's-eye.

"Kacchan," Izuku says, managing to keep his voice steady through a monumental effort. "What's going on?"

Kacchan snarls. "Fucking Deku, keep the fuck out!" Which is the answer Izuku was expecting, honestly, except he had hoped it would include fewer f-bombs given the fact that Eri is standing right there.

Izuku turns to Eri. "Eri," he tries again. "What's going on?"

Eri is all smiles and cheer. "I'm learning how to throw knives!" she reports, proudly.

Izuku's brain shuts down. Kacchan's teaching her how to throw knives.

"I got three bulls-eyes in a row," she adds. Izuku reboots enough to rotate his head and look at the target on Kacchan's wall, where a trio of knives gleam from the bulls-eye at him. Kacchan's teaching her how to be good at throwing knives.

"She's a fucking natural," Kacchan grins.

"…You think so?" Eri asks shyly.

"I fucking know so, you munchkin. What'll we try next? I'm thinking swords."

"Wait, wait, wait, stop stop stop!" Izuku cries out, finally recovering himself enough to process how absolutely insane this is. "Kacchan, you — this is — why is Eri —"

"You sure can fucking mutter like your life depends on it, but you can't speak an actual goddamn sentence?" Kacchan growls. "Spit it out, already, fucking Deku."

Izuku jabs a finger at the knives jutting from the bulls-eye, courtesy of Eri (sweet, innocent, should-not-be-throwing-knives Eri), with Kacchan aiding and abetting. "Why is Eri throwing knives," Izuku demands.

Kacchan looks at Izuku as if he's just said something incredibly stupid — so the same look as always. He shrugs. "Got to practice if you want to be any good."

"Not the point! Why are you teaching her?"

"Well, how the fuck else is she supposed to learn?"

"She shouldn't be learning how to throw knives in the first place!" Izuku screeches, because that should be obvious. "Kacchan, this has to stop."

"What has to stop," Kacchan growls.

"This!" Izuku exclaims, waving broadly to indicate everything. "How long has this been going on?"

"You mean… the knives?" Eri pipes up. "Maybe… almost a month?"

Izuku pales. Almost a month.

"Oh, but the self-defense was for at least a month before."

Izuku pales more. At least two months.

"And the first time you made curry was… in winter?"

Kacchan shrugs. "Fuck if I know."

Izuku shakes himself. "Kacchan," he finally voices, equal parts disbelief and pure, simmering rage. "For almost half a year now, you've been teaching Eri-chan these… these age-inappropriate things?"

"Age-inappropriate?" Kacchan growls back. "How old she is doesn't fucking matter. I haven't been teaching her anything she didn't want to learn."

"Things that you've been pushing on her," Izuku insists.

Kacchan scowls back. "I've been looking out for her."

"You've been corrupting her!"

"What the actual fuck —"

"Language!"

"— is that supposed to mean?"

"You're feeding her spicy food!"

"I'm training her tastebuds!"

"You're teaching her to fight!"

"I'm showing her how to defend herself!"

"With knives!"

"Just in case."

Izuku is caught between wanting to swoop in and pluck Eri away from the torrent of swears coming from Kacchan's mouth and strangling Kacchan first. He decides to pull out his trump card. "Kaminari-kun says he heard Eri-chan swear," Izuku states.

"Oh, that's probably 'cuz of the nightmares," Kacchan answers.

"The nightmares?" Izuku repeats.

"Yeah. Eri, tell him what we say to nightmares."

"To fuck off," she chirps.

Izuku almost dies on the spot. "You're teaching her swear words?" he demands.

"I'm not teaching her fucking swear words."

"Kacchan, you literally just —"

"Fine," Katsuki grunts. He turns to Eri. "You heard Deku. No fucking swearing."

Eri nods. "Okay."

"Except for nightmares. They can fuck off."

"Okay."

"Kacchan!" Izuku hisses. "She is seven!"

Kacchan scowls in exasperation. "Am I the only one in this whole damn dorm who doesn't give a flying fuck how old she is?"

"It doesn't matter how old she is, you can't swear around kids!"

"I swore around you."

"That's not the point! Eri-chan shouldn't be swearing!"

"And she isn't. Except for nightmares, 'cuz they fucking deserve it."

"Kacchan," Izuku says. Once upon a time, he would have groveled or looked away. But now, his voice is firm, and he looks Kacchan straight in the eye. "You can't keep seeing Eri if all you're doing is being a bad influence!"

At that, Kacchan lifts his scowl into a smirk. "Since when can you tell me what to do, fucking Deku. Especially since it's that bad fucking influence you keep talking about that's saved your sorry ass."

Izuku narrows his eyes. "What are you talking about."

"What, you think Eri would've survived the super-duper spicy curry if she hadn't learned how to handle spicy food first?"

"That's —"

"And what do you think would've happened when Eri and Hair-for-Brains went to get your dumbass mug if I hadn't taught Eri how to fucking defend herself?"

"Well," Izuku acknowledges, worrying his lip. "Wait. How do you know about that?"

For whatever reason, that observation knocks Kacchan on his heel. "That's — none of your fucking business!"

Izuku ponders at his defensiveness, but sets it aside for now. He has more pressing matters, like: "Does Aizawa-sensei know?"

Kacchan grunts. "Aizawa-sensei couldn't even make her a decent fucking lunch."

"Well, since you're so sure that you're proud of what you're teaching her," Izuku threatens, "Why don't we tell Aizawa-sensei? Since he is her legal guardian and all."

Kacchan glares at him. "You wouldn't."

Izuku raises a single eyebrow in a silent challenge.

"You do that and I'll tell Aizawa-sensei about your Eraserhead collection."

Izuku shoots him a flat look. "Kacchan. You out of everybody should know that I'm not embarrassed by that."

Kacchan smirks. "I'll tell him what you do with them."

Izuku flinches. Kacchan grins victoriously.

"How do you — no, it doesn't matter," Izuku persists. "You can tell Aizawa-sensei what you want, and I'll tell Aizawa-sensei what I want."

Kacchan's palms crackle — which would have been intimidating, once. "Don't you fucking dare."

Izuku shrugs. "I guess I could be persuaded not to, as long as you teach Eri-chan some more age-appropriate things?"

"I don't do fucking picnics," Kacchan growls.

"It's your choice, Kacchan," Izuku tells him serenely.

"How many times do I have to fucking say it? You can't tell me what to fucking do, Deku."

"Believe me, you've made that perfectly clear."

"I'm about to make it absolutely fucking crystal," Kacchan snarls, and with that, leaps toward him, arm already pulled back for a punch. Izuku readies himself in a defensive stance, already planning how best to dodge and the optimal location for his counter — the right hook will leave Kacchan exposed on Izuku's right side, he could probably plant a decent kick on his torso, which would —

"No! No fighting between Hero Deku and Katsu-nii!"

Izuku freezes mid-kick. Kacchan's fist stops in midair. They both tumble to the ground in a heap.

"What," Izuku says.

"What," Kacchan parrots.

Eri suddenly looks shy. "U-um," she mumbles, folding the hem of her dress. "I was just. Thinking a lot about what Hero Deku said. About the people… who are close to me. How Hero Deku taught me how to listen, and that I can count on people to help me. And how he showed me what's right."

Izuku and Kacchan stare at her, from their tangled mess of limbs.

"And then I thought about how Katsu-nii always makes lunch, and helps scare off the nightmares, and, um. Showed me that… I can be strong. Strong enough to do what's right."

Izuku and Kacchan stare at her. Izuku is losing feeling in one of his legs.

"And, um. I don't get all grown-up things, and, and maybe there's stuff about being friends that I don't get yet," Eri continues, voice rising in strength and volume. "But, I like Hero Deku, and I like Katsu-nii. And, I — I don't want them to fight."

Izuku will be the first to say that this has been a very inspiring speech. Izuku will never forget it. His heart swells. Tears prick his eyes. But also —

"Did you say Katsu-nii?" Izuku blurts, at the same time that Kacchan sputters, "The fuck is a Katsu-nii?"

Eri flushes. "Um. I was just thinking. That Katsu-nii was like a big brother. If I had one," she trails off with a mumble.

Somewhere, Todoroki suddenly feels inexplicably smug.

"Is that… okay?" Eri finally ventures, face now blossoming with so much red that it matches her eyes.

Kacchan says nothing for several moments, from where he is still cutting off the circulation in Izuku's leg. (To be fair, Izuku is likely doing the same to at least one of Kacchan's limbs.)

Kacchan finally turns away, trying and failing to hide his own cheeks that are tinted pink. He clicks his tongue. "Call me what you want."

A smile draws itself up Izuku's face. "Kacchan…"

"Not a fucking word, Deku," he growls, finally making to extricate himself from the pile of limbs. "Don't fucking care what you think."

Eri frowns. "But Katsu-nii, getting Deku the new mug was your idea."

Izuku blinks. "Wait, Kacchan, that was you?" he demands of Kacchan's turned back, who by virtue of having turned is successfully hiding the blush on his face and far less successfully hiding the blush on his neck.

"Fucking fine, I broke it when I was making Eri hot chocolate so I got you a new one, fucking happy?" Kacchan bristles. "I knew you'd make a huge fucking deal about it so I had Eri and Hair-for-Brains buy you a new one, that's all."

"Kacchan, I —"

"If you break down and cry, I'm kicking your shitty ass out."

Izuku watches Kacchan's back with a pensive sigh. "Kacchan. I know you've been making lunch for Eri-chan, and Todoroki-kun told me you've been making sure she gets to sleep at night."

"Fucking Stop Sign Stalker," Kacchan mutters.

"And… I know that you're the reason that Eri-chan has been more sure of herself lately," Izuku adds, sincerely. "So… I wanted to say thank you."

Kacchan is still hunched over and studiously avoiding Izuku's gaze. "I don't need your thanks," he huffs.

"That's fine. But I want to give it," Izuku tells him. He glances at Eri, then chews his lip. "I won't say anything to Aizawa-sensei. And maybe… We could work harder to keep from fighting? At least in front of Eri-chan?"

Kacchan turns to growl at Izuku. "You could work harder at being less fucking annoying."

"Kacchan," Izuku says, subtly tilting his head at Eri, who is still watching them with guarded red eyes.

Kacchan crosses his arms. "Fine. You don't say anything to Aizawa-sensei and I'll make an effort not to beat your ass up. That a deal, shitnerd?"

Izuku nods. "Although — if you could stop swearing in front of Eri-chan —"

"Don't push it," Kacchan says, but doesn't say, "Don't fucking push it," so Izuku counts it as a win.

Eri lights up. "Does that mean that Deku and Katsu-nii are friends again?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, brat," Kacchan snorts, going over to the target and yanking the knives free. "It just means I won't blast his face off in front of you."

Izuku rolls his eyes. "I'm honored."

"You should be," Kacchan responds. He hands one of the knives to Eri. "Come on, squirt. You want to do another round?"

Eri looks over at Deku, the silent request for permission clear in her eyes.

Izuku relents with a sigh. "Okay. I know Kacchan won't let you get hurt. And I won't, either."

Kacchan raises an eyebrow. "The fuck does that mean?"

"Language, Kacchan," Izuku dutifully reminds him. "And I figure it's safer with two people looking out for Eri-chan instead of just one."

Kacchan scowls. "You saying I can't —"

"Oh! You're watching, Deku?" Eri interrupts him. She nods in determination. "O-okay! I'll do my best."

Izuku laughs nervously. "I'm sure you'll do great?" he offers, still caught halfway between wanting Eri to succeed at whatever she tries and wanting Eri to not be within a mile of any sharp, pointy object ever again.

"Oh, she'll do fantastic. Pull up a seat, Deku. You're in for a show," Kacchan smirks, and by the end of the afternoon Izuku is even more firmly convinced that Eri should never be within a mile of any sharp, pointy object ever again. Except now, after watching Eri pile up a dozen bulls-eyes in a row, it is for very different reasons.

As a teacher, Shouta Aizawa has sat through many parent-teacher conferences, and has found them all needlessly lengthy and tiring. This, however, is his first on the parent side of the table. Shouta supposes this should give him a new perspective on the tired ritual.

It does not.

"Ah, t-thank you for coming, Aizawa-san," Eri's teacher says when he knocks at the classroom door. He is a balding man with an anxious face and an obsequious disposition — which is to say, his class of primary schoolers doubtless runs roughshod over him. Shouta, of course, would never voluntarily subject himself to that misery. That's why he subjects himself to the misery of teaching high school instead.

They take a seat at the table and Eri's teacher, Tanaka, takes his time pouring the two of them a cup of tea, and then takes his time to lay the teacups on either side of the table in symmetric fashion, and then takes his time to wait for the tea to cool. Shouta is ready to fall asleep.

"You are Eri-chan's guardian, yes?" Tanaka finally asks.

Shouta shoots him the blandest possible look. "That is why I am here, isn't it?"

As far as Shouta's blunt answers go, this one is definitely on the soft end of the spectrum. Tanaka nonetheless looks like he's seen a ghost. The teacup rattles. 

"Of — of course," Tanaka says. "I did not mean to —"

Shouta interrupts him with a tired sigh, mostly because he is tired. He is always tired. "Tanaka-san. I do not mean to be rude, but please understand that I am also a teacher. I have sat on your side of the table. There is no need for formalities."

"Y-yes, yes, of course," Tanaka says with a quick nod of his head. The gesture makes his teacup shake again. "I apologize. Eri-chan is… a joy to have in class."

Aizawa blinks at him. Aizawa has honestly lost count of the number of parents he's told that their child is a joy to have in class, because that's the line that is generic enough to be true while always sounding genuinely complimentary. Good backup options are, "Your child is a hard worker," "Remains true to themselves," and "Offers a unique outlook in class discussions."

"Eri-chan is… a hard worker," Tanaka continues. "She is true to herself, and she offers a unique outlook in —"

"Tanaka-san," Aizawa interrupts. "What did she do that requires a parental visit?"

Tanaka blinks dumbly back at him. "Why, Eri-chan is a great child to have," he insists.

"I don't doubt that. I am her guardian," Aizawa says dryly. "But you did not summon me to tell me that. There are a limited number of hours in the day, and if I am not needed here, there are papers I need to grade."

This is a lie. Shouta would instead be sleeping.

Tanaka worries his lip. His hands shake. "Well. It is just that, as I'm sure you know, Eri is a quiet child. She has some friends… but she does not, er, seek attention the same way… some of her peers do."

Shouta stares at him, wondering if he will ever get to the point.

"So it came as quite a… surprise. When, she, er, gave another student a bloody nose."

Okay, Shouta is awake now. "She punched another student?"

Tanaka's eyes dart around the room like a cornered animal. "That appears… to be the case. Yes."

"What happened?" Shouta demands.

"I, er, cannot say that it did not go… unprovoked," Tanaka elaborates. "The student she punched is something of… a troublemaker. It seems he had been, er, making fun of another student. Eri apparently asked him to stop, and when he instead tried to start a fight… Well."

Shouta frowns. He can't say he's pleased with the events, but as someone whose job it is to stand up for civilians in danger, he understands the sentiment. Still, he certainly hadn't taught her to throw a punch, or that it was okay to do so instead of going to a teacher for help.

"We understand the circumstances, so we were fairly… lenient with detention. But we have also informed her — that is to say, firmly — that she is not to do so again," Tanaka says. He clears his throat. "We would. Er. Appreciate reinforcement outside school. As well. Yes."

"I will speak to her," Shouta says with a nod. "If that is all, then —"

Tanaka clears his throat. "Actually — there is another —"

"What."

Tanaka starts. He sits, stunned, for a moment, before rummaging through the papers on his desk. "Er. As you know. We are going through the English unit. And…" he trails off, continuing his search.

"Is Eri falling behind?"

Tanaka shakes his head. "No! No. Er. Far from it. She is actually… the top of the class. In English. Yes."

Shouta is proud, but also confused. "Then what is the problem?"

"The problem is…" Tanaka finally finds the paper he is searching for and slides it to Shouta. "Well. It is perhaps, er, better to see. That is, for yourself."

Shouta examines the paper, which has Eri's name on it in loopy handwriting. It is an assignment to print the 26 letters of the English alphabet.

A is for Aizawa.

Shouta does not smile. He does not.

B is for Bakugou.

Shouta raises an eyebrow. He hadn't thought Eri and Bakugou were that close, though perhaps he should've, since Bakugou is one of the problem children that somehow ends up involved in every single mess Shouta has the misfortune of dealing with.

C is for Curry.

Her favorite food, of course, besides apples.

D is for Deku.

This makes sense; after all, Midoriya had been the first to be her Symbol of Hope.

E is for Eri.

Shouta really does not see what Tanaka is getting at, and is quite frankly feeling himself fall asleep.

F is for Fuck.

Yes, what other letter would it start with? It's not as though — wait. Shouta rubs his eyes.

F is for Fuck.

Shouta stares at the offending four-letter word. Suddenly, a lot of things make a lot of sense.

"Tanaka-san," Shouta says, slowly, before standing from the table. Tanaka shrinks from his shadow. "I believe I know who is responsible. Please rest assured that we will be having a… discussion."

Every head in the common room turns to stare at him when Shouta marches through the door and heads straight for the bedrooms. He does not look at any of them, does not speak to them, and does not acknowledge them.

"Uh-oh, someone's busted," Kaminari cackles.

Shouta turns to glare at him. Everyone wisely decides to go back to minding their own business.

He stops outside of Bakugou's door and is about to open it when he hears voices inside. Normally, this would not give Shouta pause, but he thought he heard —

"Come on, Deku. Eri could do better than that."

"Hey, it's hard, okay Kacchan? I've barely started practicing."

Shouta shows more emotion than he has all day. Problem Child No. 1 and Problem Child No. 2 interacting in the same space? Civilly? Without explosions, holes in the wall, or property damage? What happened?

"Being a hero is hard, Deku. Should've thought of that before fucking applying."

"Language, Kacchan. We talked about this."

"What, are you going to tell Aizawa-sensei?"

"…No, but that doesn't mean you can keep doing this. You're training to be a hero, Kacchan."

"I'm not about to let some shitty guideline tell me what I can and can't do."

"Yes, but if Aizawa-sensei finds out…"

"Well, it won't be a problem as long as he doesn't. So can it, will you, Deku?"

And well, that's practically an invitation.

"And what," Shouta drawls as he opens the door, "are we not telling Aizawa-sensei?"

"Eep!" Midoriya squeaks.

"Fuck," Bakugou curses.

"Aizawa-sensei!" Eri greets.

Eri's voice makes Shouta do a double-take. Why is Eri in Bakugou's room? Also, why is Midoriya in Bakugou's room, and more importantly, why are they not at each others' throats?

And most importantly of all, why is there a target on Bakugou's wall with three knives sticking straight out from the bulls-eye?

The answer to all of these questions is almost certainly a migraine. Which Shouta is now beginning to feel.

"Although I understand this is vanishingly unlikely," Shouta begins, massaging his temple, "I do hope that there is a reasonable explanation for why the three of you are standing here in Bakugou's room with knives sticking out of a target in his wall."

"Um," Midoriya offers.

"Shit," Bakugou mutters.

"I'm practicing how to throw knives!" Eri volunteers proudly.

Shouta's eyebrow twitches. "You are what."

Eri cocks her head innocently. "Throwing knives," she clarifies. She gestures to the target. "The bulls-eyes are all mine."

"The bulls-eyes are yours."

"Uh-huh," Eri nods. "My record is twenty-one in a row."

"Twenty-one."

Shouta looks at the target. The knives gleam back at him, indeed all sticking out of the bulls-eye. Shouta can't help but feel a little bit impressed.

He is mostly very pissed off though.

"So. Whose fantastically witless idea was this?" Shouta asks, and waits for the fireworks to start — after all, Midoriya and Bakugou have never missed an opportunity to fight each other before.

Midoriya and Bakugou go uncharacteristically silent and look away. Shouta is reminded of elementary school students who think that they're safe as long as they don't admit to anything. Shouta sighs. This is why he doesn't teach elementary schoolers.

"I'm not mad," Shouta lies. "I just want to know whose idea it was."

Bakugou opens his mouth. Midoriya steps on his foot. Bakugou closes his mouth. There is silence.

"The first person to admit it will face less punishment."

Midoriya opens his mouth. Bakugou elbows him. Midoriya closes his mouth. There is silence.

"If neither one of you will admit to it, I'll have no choice but to assume that both of you are responsible," Shouta threatens, employing the age-old trick of trying to get them to rat each other out.

"It's a trick, Deku," Bakugou grunts.

"I know, Kacchan," Midoriya sighs.

And they're back to square one. "I don't appreciate the two of you lying to me right now."

"We're not lying," Midoriya and Bakugou say in unison.

"You're certainly not telling me the truth," Aizawa retorts, massaging his temple again, which only succeeds in making his head throb more. He heaves a sigh. "I realize that I'm not going to get an answer out of either of you on this," he finally relents. Midoriya's face lifts in relief. Bakugou begins to look ever-so-slightly smug.

"So I'm going to ask who taught Eri to swear instead."

Bakugou and Midoriya both look like the floor's been dropped from under their feet.

"Since we all know how this is going to end now, let's start with Bakugou," Shouta drones.

"Aizawa-sensei," Midoriya interjects, "you don't know that Kacchan is the one who —"

"Midoriya. Do you honestly expect me to believe that Eri has learned swear words from someone other than Bakugou?"

Midoriya opens his mouth. He closes it. "…That's fair."

"So, then, Bakugou. Care to explain?"

Bakugou is staring at Shouta with wide eyes. "Eri swore?"

"The f-word, in fact," Shouta emphasizes. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Fucking finally."

"That is incorrect, Bakugou."

"Er — Aizawa-sensei," Midoriya pipes up. "Kacchan's been a potty mouth since we were kids, so I don't think he really —"

"And," Shouta emphasizes, "Now that we've established that Bakugou is teaching a child to swear, it is not a stretch to imagine that he is also teaching her that it is a good idea to get into fistfights."

Bakugou's eyes widen again. "Eri," he almost whispers, "did you finally give that Kojirou asshole what was coming to him?"

Eri meekly nods.

"I'm so fucking proud of you."

"That is incorrect, Bakugou."

"…He was trying to hurt a rabbit," Midoriya reasons. "You could justify it as —"

"No, Midoriya, you cannot," Shouta tells him in exasperation. His head throbs. "Violence is not the answer."

Bakugou and Midoriya side-eye each other. "…I mean, we are training to take down villains," Midoriya offers, "and that's kind of violent, so I'm not sure —"

"You are also not seven-year-old children, although you often act like it," Shouta snaps. Midoriya at least has the decency to look sheepish, but Bakugou is unfazed. "Midoriya. You knew about this. Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Midoriya protests. "'Aizawa-sensei, Kacchan was swearing, same as normal?'"

"He was swearing around a child," Shouta points out.

"Right. That's normal," Midoriya agrees.

"Whether or not it is normal, it is something that I, as Eri's guardian, should be informed of, and I do not appreciate the two of you sneaking behind my back."

"So if we were to do it with your knowledge, it would be —"

Shouta levels a glare at Midoriya, who promptly silences himself with a meep. "This whole episode reflects poorly on your judgment, Midoriya." Shouta turns his glare at Bakugou, who only looks back at him with arms crossed over his chest. "Nonetheless, the ultimate blame lies with Bakugou, since he is the one who thought that any of these things was a good idea. I cannot in good conscience allow Bakugou to continue being a bad influence on Eri."

Bakugou scowls. "What, you want Eri and me to stop hanging out?"

"That is exactly what I want."

"Aizawa-sensei!" Midoriya objects. "You can't do that, it's not fair!"

"Okay," Bakugou shrugs.

Midoriya's head whips around so fast it nearly pops off. "What? Kacchan, you're seriously agreeing to this? What about —"

"Shut it, nerd," Bakugou grunts. "Aizawa-sensei's just trying to do what he thinks is right for Eri. I can't argue with that, even if I don't agree."

Shouta narrows his eyes. Bakugou is being unnaturally conciliatory. 

"Kacchan…" Midoriya murmurs.

"So I'm fine with it," Bakugou declares, then looks Shouta in the eye with narrowed eyes of his own. "As long as Eri is fine with it, too."

Shouta suddenly gets the distinct sense that he has been baited into a trap — and that Bakugou just sprung the lock.

He turns to Eri. She is staring hard at the carpet, eyes guarded. After a long moment, she turns to look up at him. Her eyes are wide and watery.

Oh no.

"You — you mean," Eri stammers, voice coming in fits and starts and teetering like a thing about to fall, "That me, a-and Katsu-nii can't play anymore?"

And whatever Shouta was expecting, it wasn't that. "You. And Katsu… nii," Shouta finally manages to intone.

Eri sniffles. "T-that Katsu-nii can't make me chocolate anymore?"

"What."

"O-or, chase the nightmares away —"

"What."

"O-or make my favorite lunch, or, or —!"

Eri's voice shatters into sobs. Bakugou reaches an arm out for her; she instantly latches onto him. She cries messily into Bakugou's side as he cards a hand through her hair. And no sooner does Eri tuck her face into the fabric of Bakugou's shirt than does Bakugou shoot Shouta the biggest, shit-eating grin Shouta has ever seen on his face.

Shouta glares back at him. Of all the —

"Shhh, it's okay, Eri," Bakugou murmurs, rubbing Eri's back comfortingly, but his eyes gleam, taunting Shouta silently. "I know it'll be sad, but Aizawa-sensei is just looking out for you."

Eri lets loose a particularly loud wail, and Shouta's headache successfully completes the transition to migraine.

"Same way I've been looking out for you," he adds, as a deliberate afterthought, which of course makes Eri cry even harder, and which in turn makes Shouta's head pound harder.

"Bakugou," Shouta threatens. "This is a farce. Stop this instant."

"I told you, Aizawa-sensei," Bakugou says with a nonchalance that does not match the grin threatening to split his face. "It's not me you have to convince. It's Eri."

"Don't play dumb, you know exactly what you're doing."

Bakugou looks offended. "What, you think I seriously gave myself the nickname Katsu-nii?"

"Kacchan blows Kaminari's face off every time he tries to use my nickname for Kacchan," Midoriya nods thoughtfully.

"First of all, inappropriate quirk usage," Aizawa scolds. "Second of all, I don't doubt your feelings on the matter."

Bakugou scowls back. "So you think Eri is the one faking?"

"No —"

"Hey, Deku. As the expert on crying, does it look like Eri's faking to you?"

"Yes, Kacchan, I cry sometimes, I'm not emotionally stunted like you," Midoriya shoots back. "And you want to really know what I think, Kacchan?"

Shouta rolls his eyes. If there is one constant, it is Bakugou and Midoriya's volatile relationship. All it took was one inadvertent insult from Bakugou and Bakugou's whole misguided ploy crumbles to dust at his feet. Shame. If the two of them ever managed to cooperate, they'd be a force to be reckoned with.

"What I think, Kacchan," Midoriya says, voice steely, "is that Aizawa-sensei made Eri the most upset I've seen her in a long time."

What.

"I was worried that she wasn't making friends — so when I heard that Eri found people like Kacchan she can open up to, that made me really glad," Midoriya adds, then fixes Shouta with a look of determination normally reserved only for tasks deemed plus ultra. "Aren't you glad, Aizawa-sensei?"

They're ganging up on him. Unreal.

"While I am happy to see that Eri is fitting in, especially after everything she has been through," Shouta begins, doing the conversational equivalent of tiptoeing through a minefield. Be firm, but gentle. Be honest, but not heartless. Tell her that it's okay that she has opened up to Bakugou, but also that Bakugou is a horrible influence. "I have… concerns… that she may be left with certain… impressions… that are not appropriate, especially for a girl of her age. As her guardian, her safety and wellbeing are important to me, and so I'm sure you understand that I will do what it takes to ensure that."

There is silence for several moments, broken only by Eri's sniffling.

"Kacchan," Midoriya says at last. "Doesn't that sound like Aizawa-sensei doesn't want Eri to be around you anymore?"

"It sounds like Aizawa-sensei doesn't want Eri around me anymore," Bakugou agrees.

"But I don't want Katsu-nii to go!" Eri protests with a sob.

Shouta groans. Well, that backfired.

"Wow, Aizawa-sensei, you made her cry again."

"It would be pretty mean to separate Eri from her Katsu-nii."

"Awful."

"Terrible."

"Horrible."

"Heartless."

"Bully."

"Meanie."

Shouta grimaces. He will admit to some amount of pride that in spite of the hurled insults and bad blood, Midoriya and Bakugou have found it in themselves to trust each other, even if it's only to turn their childish insults onto someone else. He only wishes that they could have found that unity when fighting villains, and not when Shouta's trying to properly punish whoever thought that throwing knives was a fantastic hobby for a seven-year-old.

And yet, that person who taught her to throw knives is the same person Eri is now clinging to as if to a life raft.

Shouta sighs. "No amount of childish name-calling changes the fact that I am Eri's guardian, and must do what is in her best interest," he says, to himself as much as to everyone else.

Midoriya's shoulders slump. "But, Aizawa-sensei, you've seen how close Eri is to Kacchan. After that, how can you still want to separate them?"

"I did not say that, Midoriya," Shouta rebukes him.

"Then — what are you —"

"Eri," he calls out, and kneels down so his eyes are level with her. She sniffles and turns a wary eye toward him. "I am sorry. I did not realize how important your relationship with Midoriya and Bakugou was, and because of that, I said things and took actions that made you unhappy. That was not my intent, and for that I apologize."

Eri sniffles again, but holds her gaze on his.

"I should have asked you how you feel about Midoriya and Bakugou, first," Shouta continues. "I am asking you, now."

Eri wipes a sleeve against her eye and is quiet.

"Um… Deku is really nice. I can always talk to him, and he taught me how to be kind, and, and how to make friends. And, Katsu-nii, um, always makes sure I have lunch, and keeps me safe from the nightmares and bad people, so I think he's really nice, too, even if he tries to be mean and scary. Um. And that's why… I like Deku and Katsu-nii."

Shouta examines her. Her speech started slow and halting, but by the end, her words were running over each other in an attempt to get out of her mouth first. There is no hint of a lie in her eyes.

"I see," Shouta finally says with a sigh. "Eri. As your guardian, what I want most of all is for you to be happy and safe. If there are times I take actions that you disagree with, it is not because I want you to be unhappy, but because I care about you and am concerned over your safety. Does that make sense?"

Eri nods after a moment's hesitation.

"I will not forbid you from spending time with Midoriya, or Bakugou. I can see how important they are to you, and you to them. But just because Midoriya and Bakugou do something does not mean it is appropriate for you to do it. When I ask you not to get in fights with other students, or to be mindful of your language, it is because I do not want you to get hurt. Do you understand?"

Eri says nothing for a moment — then launches herself at Shouta in a hug.

"I u-understand, a-and I'm sorry, and —" she blubbers.

"It's okay," Shouta says, and pats her back soothingly.

Midoriya breathes a sigh. "Then —"

Shouta immediately locks them with a glare that tells them that they are not off the hook yet. "Be aware that I will be scrutinizing your actions more closely than before. I do not call you problem children for no reason. Each of you, by yourselves, are magnets for trouble. The two of you combined summon a bad-decision-making singularity with the gravitational force of a black hole."

"…Thanks?" Midoriya grimaces.

"That is not a compliment, Midoriya," Shouta says. "From now on, there will be no teaching Eri to swear, no telling her to get into fights, and certainly no knife-throwing."

"She's damn good with them, though," Bakugou mutters.

Shouta ignores him. "Three weeks' lunch detention. Both of you. An additional week for every swear word I hear from her mouth. And if I so much as hear a whisper that Eri is learning anything inappropriate — and for your sake, I recommend you consider that a very broad category — I reserve the right to issue additional punishment as appropriate," Shouta pronounces. "Am I clear?"

Bakugou and Midoriya both bob their heads in agreement.

"I'm glad that we have reached an understanding," Shouta says. "See that my trust in you is not misplaced."

"Um. Aizawa-sensei…" Eri pipes up from his sleeve.

"Yes, Eri?"

"Can I still keep the knives?"

"You know, Kacchan, we wouldn't have to do this if you had just stopped swearing around Eri in the first place."

"Stop complaining, Deku," Katsuki growls from his end of the chalkboard, where he is forty-one sentences through his one hundred repetitions of I will not use swear words around children.

"I have every right to," Deku mutters, somewhere through his one-hundred repetitions of I will not let Kacchan use swear words around children. "My sentence is longer than yours."

Katsuki huffs. "At least Aizawa-sensei's not making us wash the windows anymore."

Deku groans. "My quirk wasn't meant to be used that way."

"At least you could use your dumbass quirk," Katsuki grumbles. "Turns out explosion quirks aren't great around glass."

"Actually, I was thinking about the way Kacchan's quirk works, and if you could apply —"

"Shut up, nerd. It was bad enough listening to you go on and on about goddamn snail reproduction last night. I swear, my ears almost fell off."

"Hey, Eri wanted to know. And you're one to talk — you kept talking over the horror movie we watched a week ago."

"How else is Eri supposed to learn that those dumb flicks are a walking pile of contradictions and stupid character decisions? They gloss over all that shit so they can scare you — but you start pointing out the inconsistencies and they lose their power. Maybe you would've figured that out if you spent a second not screaming your damn lungs out."

"Feeling terrified of the masked guy with the bloody machete is totally rational!"

"Except the masked guy with the bloody machete was holding a damn piece of plastic. Seriously, I think you screamed more than Eri the entire time."

"Oh yeah? I don't remember Eri looking ready to puke when we were talking about ancient torture devices."

"That whole Brazen Bull shit was fucking nuts, okay."

"To be fair, it might be apocryphal."

"Still fucking nuts."

"Anyway, I was thinking that Eri hasn't been off-campus in a while. Do you want to take her somewhere?"

"How about the abandoned cement plant? She really liked seeing shit go boom last time, and there's lots of random crap nobody'll miss there."

"Hmm… If we go right before dusk, there'll be fewer people, plus the explosions would contrast with the lighting. And it'll be safer because we don't have to worry about people using it as a shortcut."

"Sounds like a fucking plan. We'll meet up at —"

"Problem children," Aizawa announces himself as the classroom door slides open. "Can one of you explain why Eri knows how to pick locks?"

"It wasn't me," Deku shrugs. "Although it would be helpful in case she gets locked out by accident. Speaking purely hypothetically, of course."

"Me neither," Katsuki says. "Good someone taught her, though. It's a handy skill to have. Also purely hypothetically."

Aizawa glares at them. "Another week of detention," he declares, before stalking out.

"Sorry," Eri mumbles meekly from the doorway.

"It's okay, Eri, you didn't know!" Deku reassures her with a smile. "Besides, that one was Kacchan's bad idea."

"Damn straight."

"Kacchan, no using swear words around children."

"Fuck. I mean, fine," Katsuki belatedly corrects himself. "Did you bring lunch?"

Eri nods, and pulls three bentos from her backpack. "Just as Katsu-nii asked."

"Great, I'm starving," Katsuki announces, and the three of them pull up chairs and desks and each of them take one of the three lunches that Katsuki had prepared this morning.

"So, Eri-chan, how's school today?" Deku asks through a mouthful of rice.

"Um, we're doing colors today! I picked green and orange because that's Deku and Katsu-nii's colors, and Kojirou said it looked like a pumpkin, but the teacher heard and he had to sit in time-out."

"Should've punched him again."

"Kacchan."

Eri takes a big bite of her tamagoyaki and grins. "Wow, it's good today as always, Katsu-nii!"

"Course it is. Everything I make is da—"

"Language."

"— delicious."

Behind them, the classroom door opens almost imperceptibly. From the aperture, shadows murmur to themselves.

"You know, I've been watching for five minutes now," Uraraka murmurs. "But I still don't believe it."

"Siblings," Todoroki declares.

"Bro, are you seeing this?" Kirishima whispers.

"Am I seeing this? Are you hearing this?" Kaminari answers, buzzing with excitement. "I'm like one-thousand percent sure Eri-chan just called Bakugou Katsu-nii."

"Siblings," Todoroki emphasizes.

"My Bakubro, all grown up," Kirishima says, wiping away a tear.

"I'm happy for Bakugou," Uraraka decides. "A little weirded out, sure, but happy."

"Come on, slide it open more, I can't hear —"

"Denki, no, what if —"

"Eep! That's my —!"

"Whoops, sorry —"

The door crashes open and the four of them tumble through the opening and onto the floor. There is lots of staring.

"Siblings," Todoroki accuses Katsuki from the floor.

"Todoroki-kun…" Deku sighs.

"Oh, it's Half n' Half," Eri pipes up, and the wide-eyed fish look that flashes on Half n' Half's face is one that Katsuki will cherish for the rest of his days. "What are you all doing here?"

"…We smelled food," Kirishima tries.

"Wrong answer, try again," Katsuki tells him.

"…We were eavesdropping," Kirishima admits.

"Mercy, mercy!" Kaminari pleads. "It was an accident, please don't explodo-kill us!"

Katsuki grunts but makes no move to leave his chair. "I'm eating lunch right now, I'm not explodo-killing you."

"Oh, Bakugou, thank you for your benevemence —"

"Benevolence," Uraraka corrects him.

"Yes, that, oh thank you, you are a great brother —"

Kirishima's eyes widen. "Denki, don't —"

"— Katsu-nii."

Katsuki immolates his chopsticks. "Deku," he says.

"On it," Deku says, nonchalant, and promptly places his hands protectively over Eri's ears.

"Now that's fucking taken care of," Katsuki announces, and slides his chair out from the desk. It screeches against the floorboards ominously. "Because I'm so fucking benevolent, I'll give you asshats a five-second head-start. One."

"Er, Bakugou —"

"Two."

"Bakugou, do you maybe —"

"Three."

"I thought you changed, Bakugou!"

"Four."

"Siblings."

"Motherfuckers better start running," Katsuki snarls, and the pack of them scrams, with Katsuki chasing after them like a wild boar, shouts and screams and explosions echoing down the halls until Deku and Eri are left alone in the classroom in (relative) silence.

Deku removes his hands from Eri's ears. "So, Eri. Did you still have your drawing?"

"Uh-huh! Oh. Um, do you think Katsu-nii will mind if I take one of his croquettes?"

"Not if it's you, he won't. Show me your drawing?"

"Okay!"