Archive of Our Own ^beta

Izuku felt more than saw Kacchan sit down beside him.

He wasn’t careful about it. His elbow knocked into Izuku, shoulder shoving him a bit as he settled on the ledge. When he stilled, there wasn’t an inch of space left between them. From calves to shoulders, they were pressed together, as if trying to merge.

Izuku relished the thought for a little.

“They're all looking for you,” Kacchan finally said, quiet and abrupt.

Izuku hummed.

He knew that. His in-piece was still connected to the main channel. Not that there was much use, but he hadn’t been able to turn it off. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t quite squash down that hopeful part of him.

The one that wanted to hear his hero name called, not to be summoned back to the headquarters, but to be just that. A hero.

There was a beat of silence. Izuku continued to gaze down on the city.

From so high up, it was gorgeous. The buildings were sparkling, emitting their own light or reflecting that of others. The cars looked like glowing ants crawling through the streets, painstakingly making their way home and painting the streets in streaks of white and red. He couldn’t make out pedestrians, but the wind still brought the buzzing of life.

It was all so bright. So distant.

Despite being in one of the highest points of the city, Izuku had never felt so small.

“He didn’t mean it like that.”

Izuku slowly closed his eyes.

“I know.”

“He’s just looking out for you.”

“I know.”

“It’s a Friday, people always get fucking stupid right before the weekend–”

“Kacchan.”

Silence.

Izuku sighed.

“I know. I’m not mad. I just… needed a minute.”

He felt Kacchan turn to look at him. Izuku kept his eyes closed.

Feeling Kacchan’s gaze was enough. It was enough.

A snort. “You're such a shit liar. I can’t believe everyone falls for your bullshit.”

Despite himself, Izuku smiled. “Not everyone. Kacchan never believes me.”

Where Izuku expected a quip, a huff, a muttered ‘damn right, shitty nerd’, he only got another bout of silence. When Kacchan spoke, his voice had softened, quiet enough to be stolen by the wind.

“I know better.”

Izuku’s smile slipped.

Kacchan did know better. Even if Izuku was the best liar in the world, he could hardly hide anything from someone who had seen him wake up heaving and sobbing, clawing at his chest and begging for the fading warmth in its cavity to hold on just a bit longer.

“Guess so.”

Kacchan sighed, but let it go.

“Hawks wants you to do the midday patrol tomorrow.”

A notoriously quiet patrol time.

Izuku gritted his teeth.

“Is that so.”

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Izuku chuckled, finally opening his eyes to look at Kacchan.

For a moment, he put everything else aside. His world narrowed down to Kacchan, scowling and beautiful. The lights of the city were bright, highlighting each of his sharp features. His downturned mouth, the line of his nose, the arch of his furrowed eyebrows.

But the stronger the light, the darker the shadows. There was no missing the eyebags hidden under concealer, the slight hollow of his cheeks, the sharper cheekbones.

Kacchan’s sleep was as good as Izuku’s nowadays. Sleeping together when they couldn’t even get through a full night on their own may not be the brightest idea. But Izuku would rather have a faceful of a startled, haggard Kacchan in the dead of the night, than deal with the image of a cold, still Kacchan playing behind his eyelids.

Izuku looked away, but slumped more heavily into Kacchan’s warm side.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. We aren’t about to just accept the shittiest patrols while they get all the action. Those geezers better move over before I make ‘em.”

We. As if there wasn’t even a hint of doubt that where Izuku went, Kacchan would follow.

Izuku looked down. Kacchan’s dirty, rumpled costume next to Izuku’s pristine one told a different story.

“Plus,” Kacchan continued, “we aren’t available tomorrow.”

Izuku blinked, looking back up. That was news to him. “We aren’t?”

“Nope.”

Izuku let a moment pass. Kacchan continued to glare down at the city, but even with the unconventional lighting, there was no missing how his ears seemed dark and hot to the touch. Izuku wanted to touch them, rub the lobe between his fingers, tuck a few errands strands of hair behind them.

When the silence only stretched, Izuku prompted, “And where might we be?”

Kacchan didn’t move. “In the car.”

“In the car,” Izuku repeated. Kacchan sharply nodded, still stubbornly avoiding his gaze. “To go where, exactly?”

The way Kacchan sharply inhaled would have been discreet if Izuku wasn’t pressed against his ribcage.

“Kagoshima.”

The blush extended to his cheeks. Izuku could only stare, brain momentarily coming up blank when he attempted to make sense of the information he was given.

Then, unable to hide his confusion, “Kacchan, what on earth are we going to do in Kagoshima?”

Kacchan pursed his lips in what he would call a ‘dignified expression of discontent’ but was nothing more than a pout.

“There’s plenty to fucking do in Kagoshima, you elitist fuck, your hometown and Tokyo aren’t the only cities existing in the whole wide world–”

“Kacchan–”

“We're going to take a ferry to Okinawa to watch the stupid fireworks show they do every summer, and eat all their dumb food, and wear ugly yukatas.”

Izuku froze.

Even Kacchan’s neck was red at this point, his embarrassment making him squirm, though he didn’t actually try to get away from Izuku. If anything, he gave him a sidelong glance, before immediately looking away when their eyes met.

In a much smaller voice, he added, “We're leaving tomorrow morning to catch the night ferry. It’s a fifteen hour long drive, but if we take turns, we can make it on time. They accept cars onboard so we won’t have to bother with renting one. But it’s not like we are going to need it all that much, the festival is mostly around the port. It’s a two-day thing so I booked a hotel already. The fireworks is on the second day, but on the first day there's…”

Kacchan kept talking, probably more than Izuku had ever heard him.

When Izuku was six years old, his mom brought him and Kacchan to the local summer festival. It was nothing big, just a few stalls and family-friendly activities taking place in a clearing near the forest. But for young children who were brimming with energy, it had been paradise.

Especially for Izuku. Because on that day Kacchan forgot all about quirkless, useless Deku. When he took off, it was Izuku he called. It was Izuku he shared all his food with. It was Izuku he sat next to when they set off the fireworks.

And Izuku had grinned all day, happy like he could rarely remember being, all because he had his best friend back.

Sure, it had been a short-lived hope. The next day, Kacchan had pushed him into a puddle for asking if he wanted to share the leftover Karaage his mom had packed for him. But as Izuku went home, soaked and shivering, he had the memory of Kacchan cupping his hands and creating sparks that outshone any firework show to warm him up.

It was the last time Izuku went to a summer festival. Because during that day, he and Kacchan had sworn that next time, they wouldn’t settle for Musutafu. They would go far and see even bigger fireworks, eat even more food, win even more games.

‘I wanna go to the best festival!’ young Kacchan has exclaimed, accidentally smacking Izuku in the face with his wide gestures. Izuku hadn’t minded. At least, this time, it wasn’t on purpose. ‘We'll go all the way to… uh…’ Izuku had watched Kacchan trail off for a second, his nose scrunching up like it always did when he was thinking about something very hard. He never lost the habit.

‘Okinawa!’ he finally exclaimed, eyes landing on a stall that was selling Okinawan champuru dishes. ‘It’s super far, and there're beaches and really good ice cream! That’s where we're going next time, stupid Izuku, you better remember it or I’m leaving without ya!’

The following summer, Katsuki refused to hang out with anyone because he wanted to focus on his quirk. The one after, he laughed in Izuku’s face for daring to propose that they spend any time together. The time after that, Izuku didn’t even bother to ask.

In the end, Musutafu summer festival became the only one he ever visited. He hadn’t exactly planned on changing that.

But he should have known that Kacchan wasn’t the type to forget his promises.

“Okay,” he blurted out, interrupting Kacchan’s endless flow of words.

Kacchan stopped talking, finally looking at him. Under all the disbelief and clear anxiety, Izuku could spot the hope swirling in his eyes, shining the city below them.

“Yeah?”

Izuku took a second to think about it.

Normally, he wouldn’t ever consider skipping out on hero work for something as frivolous as a festival.

But…

Hawks wants you to do the midday patrol tomorrow.

His fingers curled into fists.

I told him to go fuck himself.

Izuku smiled.

“Yeah.”

The one thing Izuku had severely overlooked when he agreed to be ready by four in the morning is that he could be up and running at any hour of the day.

Kacchan, however, was only functional during very specific times of the day. From noon to six, generally, then maybe from eight to ten if the stars aligned like last night. Before noon, however? Hell, before sunrise?

Izuku might as well be carrying around a boulder.

A very warm, very grumpy, very clingy boulder.

After basically puppeteering Kacchan through his morning routine – and dealing with his very betrayed look when Izuku dared remind him this was his idea – he half-carried him to the passenger seat of the car with very minimal help from Kacchan.

Pulling the car door open while Kacchan monopolized one of his arms sure wasn’t ideal, but after a bit of maneuvering, he managed to lower him in the seat. Kacchan went easily, curling up almost instantly.

“Are you cold?” Izuku asked, unsurprised when he got little more than a grunt in answer.

Of course he was. Kacchan may run warmer than normal, but he was particularly sensitive to cold. With no sun and the cool night temperatures, Izuku was surprised he had yet to throw a fit. He was probably too sleepy for that.

After a bit of rummaging, he dug up two blankets from one of their bags and threw them over Kacchan.

“There. Should be more comfortable now,” he whispered, resisting the urge to coo when Kacchan hummed contently, then softly closed the door.

By the time Izuku shoved their bags in the trunk and slipped in the driver seat, Kacchan had wrapped himself in blankets burrito-style, barely leaving the upper half of his face visible.

Izuku chuckled while fiddling with the GPS. Guess he was on driving shift, then.

Slowly pulling out of the parking lot, Izuku couldn’t help glancing back every so often towards the dark, looming buildings of UA. Height Alliance, Ground Beta, the main building… all standing tall and still in the night, barely a few lights on at this hour. All of them seemed pointed at him, tracking his every movement, reading his thoughts and judging him for them.

How dare you run away?

How dare you leave everyone behind?

How dare you be so selfish?

How dare you waste the little time you have left?

Barely a few meters away from the exit, Izuku slammed on the brakes. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel made the leather creak.

Fuck, what was he doing? What if they were needed during a villain attack? What if the shift he was skipping ended up in civilians getting hurt? What if the embers decided to run out today, right now, before he even got to prove to them, to prove to Kacchan that–

“Hey.”

Izuku startled, head swiveling around.

Two red eyes were peering at him from over the blankets. Half-lidded, clearly wanting to close again, but sharp.

Grounding.

“For once in your life, think about yourself, Izuku,” Kacchan murmured, voice slightly muffled by the blankets, but clear enough to catch Izuku’s attention. “Whole world isn’t gonna burn down if we take a few days off. We did our part. Let 'em put in some work too.”

Izuku swallowed, glancing back at UA. There wasn’t a single light on in Height Alliance. None of their classmates were awake. There was nobody to stand guard, nobody to react fast enough to prevent a surprise attack.

“But what if something happens?”

“But what if nothing happens?” Kacchan fired back, not even raising his voice. “What if everything is fine? What if the extras are bored out of their minds and blow up our phones because we didn’t invite them? What if they complain about boring shifts and too hot weather? What if everything's okay?”

Izuku sighed, resting his forehead on the wheel.

The smell of leather and nitroglycerin hit his nose, soothing the wild beast in his chest that was trying to claw its way out. Izuku pictured it gnawing at his flesh, his bones, feeding on his blood and marrow. How long until it consumed him entirely? How long until all that was left to tear apart was his skin, his will?

How long until it showed its ugly head to the world? How long until it proved that hero Deku had well and truly been nothing more than a persona? A character Izuku incarnated in a sick fantasy where he was worthy of standing beside his own heroes, as an equal?

How long until all that was left was Midoriya Izuku, empty and frail and useless?

A hand threaded through his curls, fingernails raking his scalp like they were forcefully scraping out all his thoughts. But these fingernails weren’t sharp. They didn’t mean to maul, and rip, and shred. They didn’t mean to break Izuku.

If anything, they seemed to slowly put him together with every pass.

When the static in his brain faded away, taking with it the cloud of doom that seemed to always be lurking in the back of his mind, Izuku straightened.

Kacchan lightly pulled on his hair before taking back his hand.

“I can drive,” he said softly, though he made no move to get out of his cocoon.

“It’s fine,” he breathed, darting him a shaky smile. Then, voice firmer, “Okay. Let’s go.”

And without a glance back, Izuku pulled out of the parking lot.

“Izuku, if you don’t stop that car in the next ten minutes, I’m blowing it up.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow.

“Unless you want me to slam the breaks in the middle of the highway, you might want to look up the closest rest stop.” Two fingers came to pinch his cheek, making him yelp. “Kacchan!”

“Don’t get cheeky with me!”

After some huffing, complaining about Izuku being useless, then huffing some more, Kacchan ripped out the GPS from its stand and did exactly that.

Izuku snorted. That earned him a flick on the forehead and a grumbled ‘dumbass’.

Kacchan had been awake for a grand total of thirty minutes, and had gone from criticizing Izuku’s driving skill, to criticizing other people’s driving skill, to calling the scenery boring, to now demanding that they stop.

There had been no break in between. Just a continuous flow of words that filled the previously quiet space.

Izuku didn’t mind.

Kacchan had fallen back asleep the second they got on the highway. For a while, it felt like the world paused.

The early hour meant the road was basically empty. Just smooth concrete for kilometers on end, bordered by green, lush trees and the occasional mountain peeking through. The sun was just starting to rise, bathing the world in a soft, almost otherworldly light.

It had been quiet. It had been peaceful.

Izuku hated every second of it.

But waking up Kacchan and begging him to just talk, to fill the air with his presence, to suffocate every other thought Izuku could possibly have– it had felt selfish. More than he usually was when it comes to Kacchan, that is.

And so, Izuku had spent hours fully immersed in driving. He constantly checked his rearview mirrors, cleaned the windshield whenever there was so much as a speck on it, listened in for any strange noise. And when that wasn’t enough of a distraction, he counted the cars he saw, the houses, the birds.

When Kacchan finally started wiggling in his cocoon, cracking one eye open and glaring at Izuku as if the lack of bed was his fault, he finally felt like he could breathe again.

And here they were, one hour later, just about to reach Osaka, and finally parking in a rest stop.

Kacchan quite literally jumped out of the car, groaning in relief.

“Finally some fucking fresh air. Your stench was 'bout to kill me.”

“Your sweat stained the blankets, by the way.”

“It didn't!”

Izuku threw his head back and laughed when Kacchan immediately checked the blankets, cheeks red in embarrassment. His screeches about Izuku’s lying ass made him turn redder, Izuku’s laugh even louder.

After an attempted brawl they very quickly decided against considering the filthy ground, Izuku accepted his punishment of having to wait to use the bathroom.

This rest stop was a pretty small and ancient one. There weren’t any stores, just a few vending machines and a single toilet stall. Izuku watched Kacchan until he disappeared with a disgusted grimace behind the door.

He waited for one, two seconds, debated how pathetic it would be to sit beside the door and talk to Kacchan through it, before deciding to find a distraction.

There was a wooden map close to the vending machines. The GPS already told them all they needed to know, but Izuku still found himself peering at it as he bought two sweet teas.

It focused on the southern part of Honshu. Roads, cities, forests and mountains were all indicated, but what caught Izuku’s attention were the points of interest marked by flashy red arrows. A lot of them were focused in the cities, but there was one near the road they were supposed to take next that made Izuku cock his head.

“Huh.”

He pulled out his phone and busied himself with it until stomping footsteps stopped beside him.

“Fuck you looking at this old map for? We aren’t lost, I just checked.”

Turning his phone to show the screen to Kacchan, Izuku asked, “Up for some hiking, Kacchan?”

Kacchan’s eyes immediately lit up.

“We're on a schedule, idiot, and we don’t have any hiking gear,” Kacchan grumbled, just as he eagerly grabbed the phone and scrolled back to the top of the page. He threw Izuku a glance. “Waterfalls?”

Izuku shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “They look really cool, and they're close to Hiroshima. That’s where you said we should stop next, right? The map says there is a rest stop just at the beginning of the trek. It’s not a difficult or long one at all, we can be done in an hour and a half top if we hurry a bit.”

Kacchan went through the website Izuku found, nose scrunching up a bit. It took a lot of will to not coo at the sight.

“Guess we can make that work,” Kacchan finally decided, giving Izuku his phone back. Then, with an all too familiar glint in his eyes, “But only if we make it back in an hour.”

Izuku knew that wasn’t true. They had left really early, they weren’t in a hurry to get to the ferry. If they really stretched it, even two hours off the roads shouldn’t put them too much behind schedule.

But Izuku would not be caught dead turning down a challenge. Not when Kacchan was looking at him like that, all smug and determined. As if there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Izuku would take him up on his word, that he would give Kacchan the thrill he was looking for.

As if Izuku was still worthy of competing with him.

“Bet,” Izuku grinned, ignoring the countdown in his head.

Kacchan drove from Osaka to the waterfalls, confiscating Izuku’s phone and prohibiting any access to the radio until he rested.

“Kacchan, I've never been able to sleep in a car,” he whined for the nth time, glaring at the stubborn set of Kacchan’s jaw. He wasn’t about to relent any time soon.

“There’s a first for everything, nerd. You aren’t touching that wheel until you've slept, and I’m not driving all the way to Kagoshima, so get the fuck on with it.”

Izuku grumbled some more, but from that point on, Kacchan refused to entertain him.

Rude.

Sighing, Izuku gave up. With some more complaining that only earned him a mean snort, he lowered the seat and grabbed the blankets Kacchan had kicked into the backseat. With the sun high in the sky and summer temperatures truly setting in, he had no use for them. Still, he took the time to expertly fold them before throwing them over his face.

The main purpose was to block the light. It was.

But the added bonus of getting a faceful of Kacchan’s scent, all musky and sweet at the same time, well. He was just a boy.

“Freak,” Kacchan murmured when Izuku inhaled just a bit too loud, but he didn’t do anything more than that, so Izuku took it as a silent permission.

In the end, he managed to drift off a little, enough that when Kacchan shook him awake, they had arrived.

Pushing off the blankets, Izuku looked around until his eyes settled on Kacchan’s judgmental and slightly red face.

“Done sniffing my panties?”

“Panties?” Izuku asked, half gone but still forcing himself to sit up and look around.

“You really are a pervert,” Kacchan scoffed, shoving Izuku’s face until he fell back onto his seat and whined a sleepy ‘Kacchan…’ “Come on, you freak, we gotta be back here in an hour.”

It took Izuku a second to get his bearings, long enough that by the time he emerged from the car, Kacchan had already put on shoes more fit for their activities.

“You've one minute to get ready before I leave without you,” Kacchan said, arms crossed.

Izuku raised an eyebrow, rummaging through his bag. It was much less organized than Kacchan’s, he would spend that minute looking for the shoes. “And what happens if I take longer?”

Kacchan leaned forward and grinned.

For a moment, everything else ceased to exist. The other visitors, the distant sound of the highway, the wind rustling the leaves– they all faded in the background, outshone by how beautiful Kacchan looked like that. Smug, excited, impatient. Eyes shining like a thousand gems under the bright sunlight, smile taunting but so very genuine.

Izuku wanted to tattoo that image under his eyelids. He wanted Kacchan to always look at him in that way.

“It gives me a head start,” Kacchan said, grin widening. The words just vaguely registered in Izuku’s still distracted brain. That is, until he added, “Which I don’t even need to beat your slow ass to the top of that trail.”

Izuku’s mind cleared immediately, body instinctively reacting. Adrenaline flooded his veins, and it was all he could to not start grinning like a maniac.

Glancing at Kacchan’s hands, he couldn’t help but ask, “You planning to fly there?”

Kacchan scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets for even more emphasis. “What, you think my two feet aren’t enough? I could be hopping up there on one fucking leg that you'd still be biting the dust.” Then, making a show of checking his watch. “Twenty seconds left, fucker.”

In the end, Kacchan had exactly two seconds and a half of advance.

Izuku caught up with him in less than one.

In retrospect, this was stupid. They barely had any idea of where they were going, the ground was muddy and slippery from morning rain, and they startled more than once innocent hiker.

But even when they took a wrong turn and barreled straight into a ditch, even when they landed head first in a deceptively deep pool of mud, even when they pushed and tripped each other– they never stopped laughing.

Kacchan never stopped laughing. He never relented either, never so much as gave Izuku a single opening. And yet, Izuku was right by his side the whole time. Never one step behind or ahead. Their shoulders were pressed together, feet beating the ground in synch. For a moment, Izuku could even fool himself into believing that the deafening heartbeat in his ears was Kacchan’s, strong and fast. Tuning in to match Izuku’s, merging with it.

Back in UA, they often trained without quirks. Kacchan always said he just wanted to improve his raw strength, and Izuku believed him. Kacchan had never been a liar.

But they both knew it wasn’t the only reason. They both knew that Izuku had to save the embers for real fights, real villains. His quirks had a timer attached to them, and he couldn’t waste a second.

And so, no matter how fulfilling their spars could be, all hard fists and well placed kicks, Izuku couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied. Guilty.

He was slowing Kacchan down , stunting his progress, dragging him down to his level rather than rising up to his–

He wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

But in this moment, running within an inch of his life, never giving Kacchan so much as an inch as they finally reached their destination, tumbling into one of the many natural pools at the exact same time– He could almost pretend that it wasn’t true.

He almost believed that he could keep up, that he could run alongside Kacchan rather than cheer him on from the sidelines.

When they swam up to the surface, their laughs breaking through the air sooner than the rest of their bodies did, Izuku could almost believe that it was where he belonged. Side pressed against Kacchan’s, close enough to watch the brownish water trickle down his face as he threw his head back and hollered with laughter.

“You fucker!” Kacchan screamed, breathless and eyes crinkled up in a rare display of unbridled joy. “You could've killed us with a jump like that! What if it was shallow?!”

“You refused to slow down!” Pushing his hair back, Izuku grimaced when he felt more mud than hair. “And we definitely need the bath.”

Kacchan snorted before taking a deep breath and plunging his head underwater. Izuku laughed when the water turned a deep brown immediately, before following him.

After a really perfunctory wash up, they slowly dragged their bodies out of the pool. There weren’t many other visitors, but the few present threw them dirty looks, mumbling about disrespectful youth. Izuku really tried to feel guilty, aware of their booming arrival and highly discouraged behavior.

He didn’t manage to.

Kacchan flopped onto his back, groaning as he closed his eyes.

“We definitely should've stretched before pulling that bullshit. 'M so fucking sore.”

Izuku groaned in assent, dropping face down next to Kacchan. He turned his head, a reply on the tip of his tongue, but he promptly forgot about it.

Kacchan’s face was still red from exertion, lips parted and chest rising faster than normal. His usual spiky bangs were plastered on his forehead, the rest of his hair falling flat on the stone they were lying on, like a halo. He was completely relaxed, the way he always was after a good fight or a good meal.

And because Izuku’s brain was his biggest enemy, his imagination took that image and ran with it. The parted, red lips, the panting breaths, the way his wet clothes clung to his skin in a downright sinful way–

Quickly cutting off that train of thought, Izuku whipped his head around and decided to finally take in the surroundings.

Thankfully, the distraction worked, because the instant his eyes settled on the view, he gasped.

The waterfalls were gorgeous.

They weren’t particularly tall, the biggest one standing at about five meters, but there were so many of them. They cut their way through rocks and greenery, filling the air with the sound of rushing water. Most of the pools had formed directly under the waterfalls, while some seemed to have originally been simple holes in the ground, but humidity filled them up with water overtime. He and Kacchan had landed in one of them.

The wet, cold breeze created by the waterfalls caressed his face, then the rest of his body, making him shiver.

Izuku was just about to laugh and point out that jumping in a freezing cold pool while fully dressed may not have been their brightest idea, when an unnaturally warm hand settled on his nape.

Izuku startled, turning to find Kacchan watching him.

“Can’t have you falling sick on me before we even set foot in Okinawa,” he said, voice so low it was nearly swallowed by the sound of water.

Izuku nearly melted under the touch, cushioning his head on his arms while Kacchan’s hand went up and down his back, warm and comforting.

It wouldn’t dry him or actually prevent him from catching a cold, but like hell Izuku was going to point that out. Instead, he relaxed, half-lidded eyes watching as Kacchan also admired the view. His face was schooled into something bored, but his gaze was bright and curious, darting all over the place.

They stayed silent for a while. Izuku’s eyes eventually slipped shut, but his hearing sharpened, catching every little sound. The song of birds passing by, the idle or excited chatter of the other visitors, the rhythmic sound of Kacchan’s breathing.

He drank it all in, feeling a bit more of that weight falling off his shoulders.

In this moment, Izuku was at peace.

“You know, I…”

Izuku slowly blinked his eyes open when the silence stretched on, curious. He found Kacchan frowning, lips pursed as he was clearly working through his words. Izuku patiently waited for him.

For Kacchan, he had all the time in the world.

“There's this book I read last year,” he said slowly, voice quiet and oh so careful. There was a slight strain in it that raised Izuku’s alarms. “It was… It was written by a quirkless guy.”

Izuku stiffened. Kacchan’s hand stilled on his back, and he rushed to add, “That’s not what the book was about. It was on geology and stuff.” Kacchan’s eyes darted to his face, before quickly looking away, cheeks reddening under the weight of Izuku’s stare. He cleared his throat. “It was all pretty factual shit. I mean, it was about rocks, hard to have any sort of bias. But there was this part, towards the end, where he spoke from a more personal point of view, and…”

Kacchan swallowed, hand closing into a fist on Izuku’s back, but never leaving it.

“He went on about how nature had produced some pretty insane things with no intervention from men, whether before or after the advent of the extraordinary. How quirks makes us think that we rule nature, that human beings are all fucking powerful, some sort of architects of the world, you know. And how that’s bullshit, because nature never needed us to create– well, stuff like that.”

Kacchan waved towards the waterfalls, gorgeous and older than both of them combined. The sound of rushing water was nearly loud enough to drown his words, but Izuku caught every single one of them.

“Quirks are great and all, but they don’t define what the world is about. It existed long before them, and it will continue existing long after. And by only caring about what quirks make possible, we forget what was there before. What nature or even humans were capable of doing without quirks.”

Kacchan peered at him before shrugging, movement robotic. “Dunno, it may not have been the best book to talk about that, but it made it pretty fucking memorable.”

Izuku stayed silent, staring at Kacchan without a single clue of what look he had on his face. Whatever it was, it made Kacchan avoid looking at him.

Then, voice so quiet he was convinced he wouldn’t be heard, he asked, “Why're you telling me that?”

But Kacchan did hear him. And this time, he looked Izuku dead in the eye as he spoke. “World's still spinning with or without quirks. Water still flows, trees still grow, rocks still break.” Shrugging again, Kacchan started to stand up. “Felt like you needed to hear that.”

And with that, he left Izuku to his thoughts.

Izuku watched him walk closer to the waterfall, pulling out his – waterproof – phone and starting to snap pictures.

For a moment, his head was filled with static and a constant replay of Kacchan’s words.

After the hundredth loop, only a few bits and pieces were still unintelligible.

By the thousandth loop, a single word stood out.

Quirkless.

It drowned out everything else, distorted itself until it didn’t sound anything like Kacchan anymore. Izuku couldn’t describe how it sounded. All he knew was that it evoked the same feeling as nails on a chalkboard.

Quirkless.

Right.

That’s what he was, wasn’t it? He may still have the embers, but they were nothing more than the shadows of something much greater; an actual quirk. One that Izuku had sworn to make his, only to give it away as soon as he figured it out. Because that’s what One For All had always been about: giving. Not keeping.

Quirkless.

Everything Kacchan wasn’t. Kacchan, with his amazing quirk he had had years to hone. Kacchan, whose quirk had defined for so long who he was. Kacchan, who had purposely been ignoring his quirk for Izuku. Kacchan, who had ran here and fell in the mud with Izuku, instead of soaring through the air, bright and unsoiled.

Kacchan, who had looked at Izuku getting lost in his delusions, and saw him for what he was.

Quirkless.

Izuku clenched his fists, cold creeping up on him without a warm hand to keep it at bay.

He looked up, finding Kacchan crouched down in front of a steep wall of stone a few meters away.

Climbing to his feet, he slowly made his way to him, dropping in a crouch and making sure to press their legs together.

Kacchan didn’t look at him before starting to talk. Izuku listened to every word without grasping the meaning of a single one of them. He let Kacchan’s words wash over him, filling his head with his quiet, slightly rough voice. Everything else faded away, and he let his eyes fall close.

By the time Kacchan nudged him, Izuku’s thoughts had faded back in a low humming easy to ignore.

“Hour's almost up,” Kacchan said, glancing at his watch. “Ready to go?”

No.

“Sure.”

They started making their way back to the trail. Kacchan spun around, taking in the view one last time and snapping up a few more pictures. Izuku trailed behind him.

By the time they got on the trail, Kacchan was one step ahead of him.

Izuku stilled.

“Kacchan.”

Kacchan looked back. Izuku’s hands curled into fists.

“Stay beside me.”

All the will in the world didn’t hide the tremor in his voice.

“Please.”

Kacchan didn’t comment on it. Instead, he came to stand next to Izuku, bumping their shoulders together.

“I ain’t going nowhere, nerd.”

Izuku stared at him. There was a word on the tip of his tongue, one that begged to come out, to drop between them like a boulder.

Izuku swallowed it back. He nodded, then looked away, starting the walk back.

Kacchan never left his side.

And all throughout, Izuku turned that word over and over in his mind.

Promise?

Izuku barely remembered the drive to Kagoshima. He solely focused on Kacchan’s voice, the occasional song from the radio, and his surroundings.

Kacchan tried to take over driving at some point, but whatever words left Izuku’s mouth seemed to deter him. He was silent for a long moment, eyes boring holes in Izuku’s head until the sound of leather creaking startled them both.

Izuku looked down to find his own hands gripping the wheel, grasp strong enough to leave an imprint.

He stared at his hands – scarred, crooked, soon to be useless – until Kacchan started to rant about something he couldn’t remember.

Izuku didn’t talk once.

By the time they pulled onto the terminal, then onto the ship, the sun had long set. The long drive and impromptu excursion finally took their toll on them, and it’s with grunts and sore bodies that they made their way into the room.

Kacchan had thankfully booked a double, sparing them the stress of sharing a cabin with people who may recognize them. Nowadays, they didn’t get stopped and gawked at nearly as much as before, but it was still nice to remove that possibility altogether.

Stretching, Kacchan groaned when his body cracked in too many places. Izuku’s eyes caught onto the sliver of exposed skin, flashing a scar he was all too familiar with.

He averted his gaze.

“I need a fucking bath,” Kacchan grumbled, rummaging through his bag. “I feel like I have mud in my ass crack.”

Izuku snorted, sitting cross-legged on the ground. Kacchan would have his head if he dared to sit on the bed with his day clothes.

“That wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t push me in that puddle,” Izuku noted quietly, still wincing when his voice seemed so much louder than he intended. He didn’t want to hear himself. He just wanted to hear Kacchan’s voice.

Thankfully, Kacchan’s offense was loud enough to drown out everything else.

Izuku didn’t even try to decipher the flow of insults, he just closed his eyes and let it wash over him as Kacchan stomped around the room, fuming. Danger Sense didn’t bother warning him about the towel, and the clothes, and the pillow thrown his way, which just amused him further.

With one last ‘shitty nerd’, Kacchan disappeared into the attached bathroom.

Izuku kept his eyes closed, straining his ears to catch the sounds coming from the bathroom. The ruffling of clothes, the water pouring in the tub, Kacchan’s new muttering habit that he had definitely picked off Izuku and had yet to notice.

He would have stayed there, listening to Kacchan simply exist for eternity if his phone didn’t start ringing.

Izuku blinked, eyes darting to his watch.

Nearly midnight. There was no good reason for anyone to call him at this hour if nothing serious was happening.

Fetching his phone, he peered at the screen.

Hawks.

His heart dropped.

Barely thinking to close the door, Izuku quickly went outside and picked up right before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?” he said, voice rough, but all traces of tiredness gone.

“Midoriya,” Hawks greeted, way too chirp for the hour. “How are you? Sorry for the late call, but I figured you'd be awake.”

Izuku narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t the voice of someone dealing with a crisis, but Hawks had the ability to sound calm while standing next to a ticking bomb.

“I am. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, everything's fine. I’m not calling you in or anything.”

Bitterness rose in Izuku much faster than relief did.

I bet you aren’t.

“I see.”

If Hawks picked up on the cool tone, he didn’t say anything about it.

“How's that honeymoon treating you? Bakugou was very cagey about the details.”

Had it been any other day – hell, any other hour – Izuku would have given him a better reaction. He would have flushed, he would flailed, he would have denied it.

But it was the dead of the night, they had driven all day, he was hungry, he was sore, Kacchan wasn’t in his immediate line of sight– all in all, he wasn’t in the mood.

“Hawks, did you need something?”

“Mmh, now I’m really going to start thinking you two eloped.” He chuckled, but thankfully moved on before Izuku hung up on him. “I do, actually. Would you perhaps be free on Wednesday?”

“Wednesday?” Izuku repeated, thinking back on the timeline Kacchan had given him. “I should be. What for?”

“Great. There’s someone I would like you to meet.”

Izuku waited for the rest, but Hawks remained quiet. Swallowing back a frustrated sigh, Izuku asked with forced calm, “Can I get a few more details?”

“Sure thing. Name is Yashida Takanibu.” Izuku’s eyebrows flew up in his hair. As if sensing his shock, Hawks added with an audible smile, “Rings a bell?”

Izuku stared at the sea without seeing it, heart beating rabbit-fast.

“That’s the… he’s the commissioner general of the National Police Agency,” he said, blinking.

As mocked as the police was in a world full of heroes, commissioner general was still a position that commandeered respect. Especially nowadays, with the HPSC still going through important internal changes – and working on regaining people’s trust.

Yashida Takanibu became the commissioner general shortly after the end of the war, and he had been working hard to improve the image of the police. Izuku couldn’t even begin to understand the significance of all he had done, but he knew Takanibu had earned the respect of many people, civilians and heroes alike.

Most importantly, though, he was quirkless.

Izuku tensed just as Hawks started talking again.

“That’s the guy. I met with him earlier this week, and there’s this project he has that I'd like to discuss again with you there.”

“What kind of project?” Izuku asked – demanded.

“Not really the type of stuff I should talk about on the phone,” Hawks said pointedly. “But if you must know, here's the base idea: he wants the HSPC and the NPA to create a unit that'd fall under both of our authority. A quirkless unit. One that could be dispatched on missions where flashy quirks and well-known heroes may be an issue. Well, your face is definitely well-known, but…”

If Hawks said anything after ‘quirkless unit’, Izuku didn’t hear it.

Quirkless.

He was hearing this word a lot today.

World is still spinning with or without quirks.

Felt like you needed to hear that.

Hand clenching around his phone until he heard a small crack, Izuku cut off whatever Hawks was saying. “Why would you want me there to talk about that?”

There was a pause. Izuku’s breathing was more and more difficult to keep under control the longer it lasted.

“Look, Midoriya,” Hawks started, tone much quieter than before. The fake cheer was gone, leaving place to a seriousness that made Izuku’s skin crawl. “I know it’s not really nice to think about, but I won’t beat around the bush. We both know you are on borrowed time.”

The world went very quiet.

The sound of the waves gently rocking the ferry, the soft midnight breeze, the creaks of metal. All of it faded away.

There was just the sound of Hawks’ voice, and the strange buzzing in Izuku’s ears that kept getting louder and louder.

“Losing your quirk… it kind of feels like the whole world keeps moving, but you're left reeling, right? All your plans, this future you carefully built– all gone, just like that. It’s… disorienting, to put it mildly. But it doesn’t mean all is lost. Pro heroes aren’t the only useful people in this world. You've many other possibilities, and what Takanibu is planning is big, Midoriya. That’s a game changer. Don’t let your emotions get in the way of that opportunity. Being quirkless isn’t the end of the world, far from it. You can still do great things, you can still make a difference.”

Had Hawks stopped, maybe a few deep breaths would have been enough to swallow back the words on the tip of his tongue. Had Hawks worded it differently, maybe Izuku would have politely shut him down before hanging up. Had this whole conversation happened any other time, maybe Izuku would have even been open to it.

But that didn’t matter, because Hawks just had to keep talking and–

“But you have to be realistic about your options, kid.”

For a moment, Izuku wasn’t on the ferry anymore. He wasn’t in his last year at UA, he wasn’t Kacchan’s best friend, he wasn’t the Ninth user of One For All.

He was fifteen, shaking, watching his hero stumble towards the roof door after shattering his heart and dream.

Izuku saw red.

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me to be realistic about shit, Hawks,” he snarled, all the more incensed when he caught a quick flash of green in the corner of his eye. What a fucking waste. “Don’t you dare act as if you've any idea what you're talking about.”

Hawks’ snort didn’t carry an ounce of humor. “Agree to disagree there, buddy.”

That didn’t help the wave of fury washing over Izuku, snuffing out any rational thought. “We won’t agree to anything. You know what? Fuck you.”

“Midoriya, I know it’s not what you want to hear–”

“No, shut up. You've ran your mouth long enough. My fucking turn.” Unsticking the phone from his ear, Izuku brought it to his mouth to make sure every single one of his word would be heard. “I don’t give a fuck about this project or anything related to it. I don’t care about what you think I can or can’t do. None of this is any of your business, and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t try and pretend otherwise around me ever again. Don’t call me if it’s not related to patrols or missions.”

And with that, Izuku hung up and promptly threw his phone across the walkway. The sound it made when it landed wherever it did assured him that nobody else would be calling him any time soon.

Izuku buried his face in his hands, trying – and failing – to get his breathing under control. He was shaking all over, and with the summer breeze cooling the sweat coating his body, the sense of deja-vu was just that much stronger.

Fucking Hawks and his stupid patronizing speech–

“Izuku?”

Izuku’s head whipped around.

Kacchan was standing in the doorway of the room, watching him with furrowed brows and a downturned mouth. It was that same concerned look he had on every time Izuku used the embers, right before he asked him if they were still there.

Right before he made sure Izuku still had a quirk, that he was still worth keeping around.

That he wasn’t back to old, quirkless, useless Deku.

“I need a minute,” was all Izuku took the time to choke out before spinning around and nearly breaking into a run. Kacchan swore and called after him, but he didn’t slow down.

Izuku didn’t have a clue where he was going. The ferry was big but not that big. But he needed somewhere open, somewhere with air, somewhere where he could breathe and think and–

He nearly tripped on the last stair that led him to the roof.

It was thankfully empty, everyone else either enjoying a late dinner or sleeping in their room.

Grabbing the railing, Izuku hung his head between his arms and forced himself to breathe.

Five things you can see.

His muddy shoes. The rusting floor. His shirt fluttering in the wind. The smiley face drawn on the railing. His scarred hands.

Four things you can touch.

The cold metal. The bumps of the flaking paint. A faded All Might sticker. Droplets of water.

Three things you can hear.

The waves parting before the ship. The machinery. The nearing sound of footsteps.

Two things you can smell.

The salty breeze. Cinnamon soap.

One thing you can taste.

Blood.

Izuku closed his eyes.

“Izuku, what the–”

“Stop.”

The footsteps stilled.

Izuku exhaled, trying to work through this, to make all those ugly emotions disappear. But remembering Hawks’ words, remembering Kacchan’s–

It was all too much.

“Izuku, what happened? Who called you?”

Of course Kacchan had heard his phone ring. Izuku peered at him, trying to figure out if he had actually listened in and was just pretending for Izuku’s sake.

A distant part of him knew how ridiculous it was. The worry and confusion swimming in Kacchan’s eyes couldn’t possibly be faked. Hell, Kacchan couldn’t fake anything to save his life. He was always so painfully honest, so sincere in everything he did and said.

Izuku couldn’t fathom that.

“Hawks,” he finally replied, looking at the infinite expense of the sea. Then, with more bitterness that he had ever felt in his life, “He wanted to talk to me about my options.”

He sensed more than saw Kacchan come closer. “He couldn’t do that at a decent fucking hour?” he grumbled under his breath, managing to get a humorless chuckle out of Izuku. “What options?”

“For my future,” Izuku said. “Since I’m basically quirkless,” Kacchan flinched at the amount of vitriol behind the word. Or maybe the word itself bothered him. Izuku’s muddled mind didn’t care to know which one. Then, anger renewing, Izuku turned to stare at Kacchan. “Did you two talk or something? Is this an intervention? That’s what this whole thing at the waterfalls was about?”

The flash of hurt that crossed Kacchan’s face, quickly disguised as anger, felt like being stabbed a thousand times over.

“What the fuck are you on about?”

Izuku threw his hands up. “What, can you blame me? Am I supposed to guess that everyone woke up today and decided to remind me that as soon as the embers fizzle out, I’m done? That I’m back to a quirkless loser who has to be reminded every five minute that I’m not that useless? Are you going to constantly tell me things that you ‘feel like I need to hear’?”

Working his jaw, Kacchan abruptly turned away from him and defensively said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

And Izuku wanted to laugh and go on about how what he meant didn’t matter. But when he turned and properly looked at Kacchan, some cold water was poured on the wildfire that was his anger.

Kacchan’s posture was hunched in. Defensive but not combative. He wasn’t making himself small – Izuku doubted Kacchan was capable of that – but he wasn’t facing Izuku head-on like he usually would. Izuku had seen him stand like that exactly once, and it was when All Might talked to him after their fight at Ground Beta.

Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, Izuku forced himself to calm down.

“I know,” he said, voice tight. Then, because clarity was slowly returning, he added. “And I know Hawks didn’t mean anything bad either. But it’s just– I don’t–”

Biting off a frustrated yell, Izuku turned, putting some distance between them. For a moment, he let the burst of colors distract him from the roiling mess of anger and something else in his chest. Things he didn’t want to take a close look at, things he didn’t need to know about.

“You don’t what?” Kacchan quietly prompted. Izuku’s state didn’t allow him to properly make out his tone, and it only served to anger him more. He always knew what Kacchan was thinking, what he was feeling. Being left in the dark about the only constant in his life didn’t help the feeling of drowning with no lifeline to hold onto.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Izuku finally bit out, voice breaking on the last words. “I don’t want to hear about being quirkless again and how fucking fantastic it is, and how I can do so many great things, or whatever the fuck everyone else thinks will make me feel better. It won’t. So please, just spare both of us the trouble, because I don’t wanna hear it.”

In this moment, Izuku wasn’t sure he was even talking to Kacchan anymore.

In his mind, it was an amalgamation of all his friends, his teachers, his heroes, his mom, everyone. All of them looking at him with pity and sorrow, as if they knew the first thing about how he felt.

He didn’t. He didn’t want to. What right did they have in pretending to know better than him? What right did they have spewing out all these empty words, and waiting for him to slap a smile on his face and thank them for it?

Exhaling sharply, Izuku let his hands fall off his face. God, he was suddenly so tired.

With no amount of grace whatsoever, Izuku let himself fall on his ass, then on his back. The floor was as uncomfortable as it looked, but the coolness of the metal helped soothe the last of his ardor.

Looking up, Izuku let himself be sucked in by the endless sky stretching above his head, brimming with stars now that they were away from any major cities.

When Izuku was little and had trouble sleeping, he would climb out of his window and look at the night sky. He couldn’t see as many of them back in Musutafu, but the few bright enough to pierce through light pollution had been enough for him to cuddle up in a blanket and let hours go by with his head craned up.

Funny how the stars he glared at now were the same ones he marveled at night after night all those years ago. He remembered how he would gape at them from all the way down there, believing that if he wished hard enough, he would get the power to reach them.

Now, they looked farther away than ever. And within a few more weeks, they would go back to being unreachable. Just a distant, childish dream he should have let go of years ago.

Izuku sighed, deflating, just as Kacchan quietly came to sit next to him. What point was there in getting mad when there was no one to be mad at? His only enemy was his own inadequacy. Projecting that on the people around him would only further isolate him from a world he had fought tooth and nail to at least leave his mark on.

Not looking at Kacchan, Izuku opened his mouth. “I’m–”

“Don’t,” Kacchan interrupted, whipping his head around to silence Izuku with a glare. “Don’t you dare apologize. Not for this. Not for finally fucking talking to me.”

There was a long silence. Izuku observed Kacchan for a moment before turning back to the sky.

They let themselves be gently rocked by the boat, the cool, salty air soothing the heat that had seemed just about ready to consume Izuku. He sighed again, letting his eyes drift shut. The stars weren’t for him to look at anymore.

It took a little while before Kacchan finally said, “Okay.”

Izuku cracked one eye open, enough to see Kacchan staring determinedly straight ahead, gears in his head turning a thousand miles a minute. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Kacchan repeated, before looking back at him. His gaze was steady, his words sure. “I won’t bring it up again. Your quirk, I mean. We won’t talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m… I’m sorry for not respecting that before.”

Izuku blinked, brain taking a moment to kick up to speed. When it did, he was momentarily tempted to pinch himself.

Kacchan had apologized to him before – there was hardly forgetting the first time he did – but every time the words came out of his mouth, still rough, still awkward– it always unwound something in Izuku. Not the apology itself, he had never needed one from Kacchan. But the show of trust and vulnerability it implied. Because for Kacchan to apologize, he had to bare a part of himself. A sensitive, fragile part that he could only entrust to someone he trusted not to use it against him.

Being that person to Kacchan would always make him feel a bit heady.

Softening, Izuku propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s fine, Kacchan. You couldn’t have known. I know this whole trip is about the embers fading. I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that, not when you went through all that trouble just for me.”

But Kacchan shook his head. “The trip's about changing your mind and wiping that kicked puppy look off your face. We can do that without talking about shit you don’t wanna hear about.”

The last of Izuku’s anger was drained out of him, replaced by a mushiness that was becoming all too familiar around Kacchan. He took in his furrowed brows, the slightly distant look in his eyes as he thought hard about something, the way he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. As if Izuku losing his cool once was reason enough to reconsider his plans.

As if Izuku’s feelings mattered enough that they had to be immediately taken into account, and not dismissed for being unfair.

For a moment, Izuku could almost believe that he had any legitimacy feeling like he did. Angry, bitter, resentful. He didn’t take pride in it, he never would, and as soon as he was able to, he would snuff out those ugly emotions into nothingness. But right now, under the quiet, gentle gaze of the moon, showered in Kacchan’s care and consideration, Izuku could almost taste peace. Acceptance.

Sitting up, Izuku wrapped his arm around Kacchan’s shoulders. Then, without warning, he fell back, taking Kacchan’s flailing self with him until they landed harshly on the metal floor.

“Oof,” Kacchan groaned. Before he could recover and start cursing Izuku’s entire family, Izuku brought him closer and buried his face in Kacchan’s hair.

He smiled when Kacchan completely stilled, whatever vitriol he had been about to unleash turning into a strangled, high-pitched sound.

For a moment, he remained tense as a board, silent and probably wondering if Izuku had lost his mind. But eventually, he loosened up, until he turned into jelly against Izuku’s side.

“You stink,” Kacchan muttered after a minute.

Izuku hummed. “And you smell like a cinnamon roll. Kinda clashes with your bad boy persona.”

Kacchan elbowed him again, and Izuku muffled his laugh in his hair.

Then, even quieter than before, “You swear a fucking lot when you're angry.”

“Yeah? Wonder who I got that from.”

Kacchan huffed but didn’t try to defend himself either.

They stayed like that for a long while, enjoying the peace. With the whole boat quiet, it almost felt like they were alone, lying on their own little raft and in search of adventures on the other side of the sea. Fulfilling yet another dream of their younger selves.

Quietly, making sure that the words were for Kacchan’s ears alone, Izuku said, “Thank you, Kacchan.”

Kacchan didn’t reply. But he didn’t need to. Because for the rest of the night, even when they went back to the room to try and grab a few hours of sleep, not even trying to pretend they would sleep in separate beds, he laced their fingers together and didn’t let go.

By the time the ferry docked and they arrived at the hotel, Kacchan gave them exactly fifteen minutes to check in, drop off their bags and be on their way to the festival. By foot. He completely ignored Izuku’s plea for at least a short nap.

“You run on four hours of sleep every other day at best, why's that suddenly a fucking problem?” Kacchan said, rolling his eyes as he pulled up a map on his phone.

“Four hours of sleep in a comfy bed isn’t the same as four hours of sleep on a mattress as thin as paper, Kacchan,” Izuku moaned, following Kacchan like a puppy. He rolled his neck, wincing when it cracked a bit too loudly. He glared sullenly when all he got in response was a snort. “Kacchan's so mean to me.”

The walk was thankfully a short one, even if the sun made every step feel like they were being cooked alive. Kacchan had lathered them in sunscreen before leaving, but Izuku could already see the top of his exposed shoulders reddening. For someone so dependent on heat for his quirk, Kacchan’s skin sure didn’t like the sun a lot.

Izuku smiled, gently nudging Kacchan into the small shadowed space on the sidewalk.

When they finally reached the port, Izuku couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face.

The festival was in full swing. Colorful stalls dotted the area, attracting people with delicious-smelling food and items sold at twice their usual price. It was absolutely packed, from young children trying to run away from their parents to elderly carefully weaving their way through the crowd. Music and animated chatter filled the air, drowning the sound of waves gently crashing against the docks.

It was nothing like Musutafu, so much bigger and better; and yet, Izuku suddenly felt like he was six again. The urge to run in and look at everything was overwhelming, making him bounce on his feet.

He turned to Kacchan, bringing his fists up to emphasize his point. “Kacchan, we have to try out real champuru dishes. I barely remember the one we tried out back then, but we can’t leave without actually–”

Izuku cut himself off, taken aback by the way Kacchan was smiling at him.

Kacchan’s genuine smile was a rare thing. He constantly bared his teeth, smirked and sneered, but Izuku could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Kacchan actually smile.

It was a cute, lopsided thing, almost child-like. It changed Kacchan’s entire face, erasing any sign of grumpiness or anger. If anything, it was the most relaxed and happy Izuku had seen him in literal years.

And that happiness, that gentle gaze– it was directed at Izuku.

Izuku swallowed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

There was a voice in the back of his mind that kept screeching about how he didn’t deserve that, especially after last night, especially after being so unfair to Kacchan.

Before he could decide whether to squash it down or let it serve as a voice of reasons, Kacchan snapped his fingers in front of Izuku’s face. “Earth to the shitty nerd? Fuck is up with you? The idea of eating got you so worked up, your brain checked out?”

Izuku blinked several times, before physically shaking out the many thoughts that crossed his mind – none that he looked at too closely.

“Y-Yeah! I’m hungry!” He abruptly turned away, walking to the entrance. “The ferry breakfast was a bit too light, don’t you think? Those portions were so small, I was really shocked. Or maybe they're normal portions and we're just used to eating a lot? I was talking with Sato last week and did you know that Lunch Rush…”

Izuku continued talking all the way to the gates, jumping from one topic to the other. Only when they finally reached the heart of the festival – and Kacchan finally directed his gentle gaze at something other than Izuku – did he finally shut up.

“Okay, where to first?” Kacchan asked, peering at all the stalls selling pretty much the same things.

Izuku looked around, and he was just about to point to a random one when he noticed something that made him pause.

“Kacchan?”

“What?”

“Did you pack a yukata?”

Kacchan looked at him quizzically for all of two seconds before realization dawned on him. They both slowly spun around, properly looking at the crowd for the first time.

A vast majority of the people strolling around were dressed traditionally, even the foreigners Izuku could spot here and there. Some of the yukatas seemed a bit worn down, while other appeared brand new, probably bought for the occasion. They participated to the colorfulness of the festival, coming in all types of colors, from the dullest to flashiest ones.

With their black shorts and sleeveless tops, Izuku and Kacchan were standing out a little.

“Damn it, I forgot,” Kacchan swore, crossing his arms. “I've a shit ton of them laying around at home because of the hag’s obsession with traditional clothes.”

“I've just one, I think,” Izuku mused, cocking his head to the side. “My mom bought it a few years ago.” He thought back to the light blue yukata his mom had proudly shown him a few days before summer break in middle school.

‘You'll be able to go the festival with your friends and blend in!’ she had happily said, showing off a light blue yukata a few days before summer break in middle school. She hadn’t noticed the strain in Izuku’s smile, or the forced cheer in his voice.

The day of the festival, Izuku stayed out in the forest, writing notes about a recently debuted hero. If his mom noticed that he never threw out the packaging, she didn’t say a word about it.

Shrugging off the memory, Izuku added, “Not that it'd fit me now, though.”

It was an off-handed thought, nothing to linger on. But the way Kacchan turned to look at him, slowly dragging his eyes down his form, made him acutely aware of himself. When his eyes returned to Izuku’s face, he was ready to bet he was beet-red.

“I bet,” was all Kacchan said before suddenly turning away.

Izuku spluttered before quickly catching up with him, trying to will away the heat coursing his body. “Where's Kacchan going?”

“Some of these yukatas are creased like they were just unfolded. Unless these extras don’t know what an iron is, it means they bought them close by and just shrugged them on.”

Even while looking attentively, it still took Izuku a solid minute to see what Kacchan was talking about. A lot of those brand new yukatas Izuku had noticed earlier were actually slightly creased. Some people had even threw them over their regular clothes, barely closing them properly.

Izuku turned back, impressed. “Wow, Kacchan's really observant!”

Kacchan huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Or maybe you're just fuckin' blind and don’t know how to dress properly.”

“Bold words coming from someone who has a vendetta against ties,” Izuku muttered under his breath, walking much faster when Kacchan swiped at him.

After going around in circles for a good half an hour – and getting distracted by a really amazing eisa performance for just as long – they finally found what they were looking for just at the edge of the festival.

It looked more like a small, temporary shop than a stall. It was filled with a good hundred yukatas, all in different colors. They were mostly organized by designs, from the simplest to most intricate ones. Izuku was just about to wave Kacchan over – this one’s motifs looked like small explosions – when a shadow fell over him.

Izuku looked up from his crouch to see Kacchan looking… constipated?

“Turn the other way,” he demanded, firmly standing in front of Izuku.

“Uh? Why?”

“Because I said so, shitty nerd.” Kacchan dragged him to his feet and tried to usher him away. “Come on, who cares about shitty yukatas, let’s go buy some food.”

Izuku grabbed onto Kacchan’s forearms, pouting.

“But why? I really wanted–”

And then, Kacchan made the mistake of slightly moving out of the way, allowing Izuku to glimpse at what he was originally standing in front of.

The second his eyes landed on it, he gasped.

Distantly, he heard Kacchan groan.

Izuku’s hands shot out before he even realized, grabbing Kacchan’s shoulders and slightly shaking him. “KACCHAN!” he exclaimed, voice loud enough to attract the attention of everyone passing by. He couldn’t care less. Kacchan let himself be jostled, looking defeated. “THERE ARE ALL MIGHT THEMED YUKATAS!”

It was all the warning Izuku gave him before dragging them over to the – oh my God – hero-themed section.

There was mostly All Might merch, but Izuku also spotted Mirko, Gang Orca, Mt. Lady, Fat Gum, Best Jeanist, Kamui Woods…

Izuku was on the verge of tears. This was heaven.

Turning to Kacchan – who looked like he was checking the exists to make a run for it – Izuku grabbed his arms and looked at him solemnly.

“Kacchan.”

“Fuck no.”

“This is fate.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Kacchan, I will die if we don’t.”

“Then die.”

“Kacchan.”

“I'll not fucking wear a yukata with small All Might heads on it, Izuku.”

Izuku stared at him.

“Look at me all you want, this isn’t fucking happening.”

And stared.

“Drop the puppy eyes, you look dumb as hell.”

And stared.

“…Stop that.”

And stared.

“Fucking fine!”

Izuku’s smile was blinding, and he quickly let go of a very red Kacchan to look at the options.

“Okay, which one do you want? Oh, look there’s a green one! That one's definitely for me. Hold on, I swear I saw an orange one earlier…”

It took a bit of digging, but soon enough, Izuku resurfaced with two matching All Might yukatas. They were fairly similar – All Might heads had been printed at regular intervals, along with his catchphrase ‘I’m here!’ – if only for the background color.

Kacchan looked like he had smelled something foul.

Izuku pursed his lips, glancing back at the display.

“Do you prefer the Best Jeanist one?”

Kacchan looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Denim Head would never talk to me again if he saw me wearing that thing.”

And with that, he snatched the yukatas and marched to the very amused clerk.

Izuku was too elated to even protest when Kacchan paid for both, and as soon as the payment went through, he rushed to find a spot where they could change. Thankfully, the shop had a small cabin attached to it for this exact purpose.

Turning to a still disgruntled Kacchan, Izuku bounced up and down, trying to burn off the extra energy. “You go first!”

Kacchan immediately scowled. “Why the fuck–”

Izuku didn’t let him finish. Carefully setting his precious yukata on the side, Izuku grabbed Kacchan, lifted him up, and put him inside the cabin. All the while, he ignored the hissy fit Kacchan was throwing. Something about his ‘shitty habit of manhandling him around’ with some death threats sprinkled in. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

“Kacchan'll run off and explode the yukata if he leaves my sight,” Izuku said simply.

“And you think four stupid wooden walls can stop me? Who the fuck do you take me for?”

Kacchan continued to complain, but Izuku soon heard the shuffling of clothes.

A minute later, Kacchan violently shoved aside the curtain.

Izuku just about fainted.

Not only were there a hundred All Might printed on the entirety of the fabric, but what Izuku hadn’t seen before was the belt. Where he had been expecting more heads and ‘I’m here!’ in a highly questionable font, he was actually faced with an imitation of All Might’s actual belt. And not only that, it was the belt design from his bronze age costume, which just so happened to be Izuku’s favorite era.

Blurry spots appeared in his vision from hyperventilating.

“Can’t you be normal for one fucking second?” he heard Kacchan mutter before he forced him to do a breathing exercise.

Soon enough, they were back in the middle of the festival, docked in matching All Might yukatas and queueing for food. Izuku was in the middle of explaining why the fact that All Might added a thin black outline along the red stripes of his costume was revolutionary, when a girl approached them.

“Hello there,” she greeted, wide smile showing off two rows of sharp teeth. From the way Izuku could spot a thin layer of denticles on her skin, he guessed her quirk had something to do with sharks. “Could I interest you in some disposable cameras? If you buy one, it’s half off, if you buy two, we develop the film for free!”

Izuku peered into the basket, trying to make out the brand while Kacchan asked, “Who’s ‘we’?”

“My grandpa, my parents and I,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest a little. “We have a photography shop about a street over. We do really great deals during the festival, you should definitely drop by.”

“I’m not the photography nerd, here,” Kacchan said, looking at Izuku with a small curl of his lips.

Izuku quickly averted his eyes when the girl spun around, eyes shining.

“You do photography?!” she excitedly asked, jumping up and nearly dropping her basket.

Steadying her, Izuku quickly shook his head, feeling his cheeks warm up. In the corner of his vision, he could see Kacchan smugly watching the exchange. “N-Not seriously! I just dabble here and there, and I’m really not that good at it!”

“Bullshit!” she said, lifting her nose. “My photographer senses are tingling. Okay, new deal: you take this camera and drop by before we close tonight. If the photos are shit, you pay for everything; if they are good, you get everything for free.”

Izuku’s fragile ego wanted to refuse, not quite ready to be told that something he took enjoyment in was mediocre. But what his brain registered was that he was just challenged, and God knew it was the most efficient way to get him to agree to anything.

“You're shit at this salesperson thing,” Kacchan interrupted before Izuku could reply, nose scrunching up. “What if we just run off with the camera altogether? Or what if the pics are good and we don’t pay? Two out of the three options make you lose money.”

The girl seemed to consider his point for all of two seconds before waving him off. “Hush, layman, the professionals are talking.”

While the tone was light and clearly unserious, Izuku watched with amusement as a vein immediately popped on Kacchan’s forehead, eyes sharpening.

“Who the hell are you calling a layman, Jaws?!”

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, voice strangled. “Don’t call her that! I’m so sorry–”

Thankfully, the girl threw her head and back loudly laughed, not offended in the least.

Ignoring them both, Kacchan reached into the basket and snatched a camera. “Gimme that! I will show you good fucking pictures! I'll put your whole family outta business, just you fucking wait!”

Eyes gleaming, the girl raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so? Let’s see it, then. Actually, new rules!” Picking up a camera, she shoved it into Izuku’s hands. “Whichever one of you takes the worst pictures today has to pay for everything! You aren’t allowed to use your quirks if they somehow can help you get better photos. How does that sound?” Then, turning to Kacchan with a smug smile. “Am I still a terrible salesperson?”

However, Kacchan didn’t seem to register the taunt, eyes narrowing on Izuku in an overly familiar way. A way that Izuku knew he was mirroring.

Getting challenged was one thing, but getting challenged to beat Kacchan? He simply had no other choice.

“Deal,” they both said, staring at each other with growing grins.

“Oooh, I can see the sparks in the air! Okay, lovebirds, you are on! The shop address is written on the camera box, along with our opening hours. See you later!”

And with that, the girl – Jaws, his mind unhelpfully supplied – disappeared.

Within the next second, they were both tearing at the packaging, pulling out the camera. Just as Izuku was taking a look at the extra film roll in the box, he was startled by a flash right in his face.

He looked up to find Kacchan with his camera still raised, smirking at him. “You'll be my first and only ugly picture of the day, shitty nerd. You better thank me for risking the integrity of my lens to give you a chance to beat me.”

“Ha, ha,” Izuku deadpanned, eyebrow raised. “You're a comedian, Kacchan.”

“And don’t you forget it–”

Click.

Izuku smiled, lowering the camera. “It’s only fair we both start off disadvantaged, don’t you think?”

And before Kacchan processed what he had said, Izuku took off.

“YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!”

Kacchan chased him through the entire festival, yelling profanities that made teenagers laugh and parents cover their children’s ears. All the while, Izuku kept turning around just long enough to snap a picture of Kacchan, laughing and screaming.

By the time Izuku ran out of breath and let himself fall down in a less populated area, Kacchan was hot on his heels. As soon as Izuku rolled on his back, face hot and panting, Kacchan bent over him. Shoving his camera in Izuku’s face, he started taking pictures from the worst possible angle.

Resigned to his fate, Izuku stuck out his tongue.

Once satisfied, Kacchan straightened up.

“I'll sell these pictures to the media and have them plastered on every billboard.”

“Aw, Kacchan wants to see me everywhere he goes? So cute.”

Izuku yelped when that earned him a light kick in the ribs.

“Get up, you bag of shit, I’m fucking starving.”

Giggling, Izuku grabbed the hand extended towards him and got back to his feet.

The rest of the afternoon passed in much of the same fashion. They visited every stall, ate way too much food under the guise of ‘we have to try out the local cuisine, Kacchan!’, stopped to enjoy some live bands, and argued about the ethics of taking part in games meant for children to pulverize an arrogant five year old’s record.

Kacchan was particularly enthralled by the eisa performances, fingers subconsciously following along the drums rhythm as different groups paraded.

It brought Izuku’s attention to his hands.

In the beginning of second year, Kacchan had asked to see Izuku’s ‘Hero Analysis’ notes on him. Something about putting his stalker habits to good use. Despite the insults, Izuku hadn’t minded at all, happily pulling out his notebooks and ranting for hours at a time about Kacchan’s quirk, Kacchan’s fighting style, Kacchan’s workout routines, Kacchan’s costume, Kacchan’s diet, Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan–

However, there was one notebook that Izuku had not let him see. One notebook that was not shelved with the rest of them. One notebook that was dedicated to Kacchan’s body.

At first, it had just been about getting a better understanding of how Kacchan fought, how he trained, how he was so good when he was put on the field. Which muscles he focused on, how flexible he was, what were his weak spots, all these very important things.

But over time, it took another direction. Izuku started writing down his thoughts, his more meaningless observations.

Kacchan’s feet were really sensitive.

Kacchan’s left leg can go up higher than his right.

Kacchan’s waist has remained the same size since he was fourteen.

Kacchan’s ring finger was fourteen millimeters wide.

Meaningless, thoughtless observations. But precise observations, accurate enough that they would reveal more than he was willing to admit to quite yet.

But the simple existence of this notebook spoke of how much Izuku loved watching Kacchan, whether he saw the whole of him or only focused on a small part.

His hands, particularly, were Izuku’s favorite part of him.

Considering how his quirk worked, one would expect his hands to be big, strong, maybe a bit scarred or at least calloused.

That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Kacchan had long, straight, delicate-looking fingers. They curved with an inherent grace, each movement appearing measured. His palm was as soft as the rest of his skin, if just a bit warmer and more sensitive. It was often moist, but not in an unpleasant way. If anything, when Izuku was feeling thirsty, there was always the stray thought of licking up Kacchan’s hands.

Back in middle school, Izuku couldn’t count how many times he had watched those beautiful, dainty hands, curl into fists and make him see stars. There was always a beauty to the movement, an order. Kacchan curled his pinky first, then the rest of his fingers followed. His nails were always trimmed, never biting into the skin when they pressed into his palm. Then he curled his thumb on top of them, carefully settled on his middle and ring finger.

Only then would he pull his arm back, keeping Izuku in place with the other. The rest was history.

But what mattered to Izuku was how much power hid behind such gentle looking hands. How Kacchan had the power to destroy, to hurt, to kill, and had chosen to do none of those. How he saved and won with those hands, how he offered them to Izuku after sending him flying in sparring sessions, how he was tapping them along the rhythm of the music.

Izuku loved Kacchan’s hands. Even more so since he had earned the privilege of getting to reach out and grab them, of only receiving a surprised and slightly shy look in return, of feeling them squeeze his own and start to thread their fingers–

A sharp buzzing sound.

Sparks.

Metal bending under its own weight.

Screams.

Izuku whipped his head around, time slowing down as he jumped to his feet, looking for the issue, the villain, the threat–

The giant screen. The one showing an aerial view of the parade and supported by metallic truss frames.

It was collapsing, sparks of electricity showering the crowd below as it loudly detached itself from the crumpling metallic structure.

People were running, trying to leave the zone of impact. But this was the final show of the day, the one that everyone gathered to watch before finding a spot to enjoy the fireworks. There were too many people, not enough space, too many risks–

Izuku didn’t remember moving.

What he did remember was activating Float and One For All to shoot up into the sky, stopping right above the screen.

What he did remember was calling onto Blackwhip, sending what felt like hundreds of tendrils to wrap around whatever bits of the truss frames and screen they could reach.

What he did remember was charging up Fa Jin all throughout, and using both that and One For All to jump back and drag up the entire structure with him.

Izuku groaned, feeling like his entire body was being pulled apart. He didn’t have his costume to help relieve the strain of Blackwhip being pulled taut, nor the pull on his arms from holding back so much weight.

But like hell that would stop him.

There were still screams below, panicked shouts and running footsteps coming from every direction. But among all this noise, he could spot the distinctive sound of explosions, and the loud, authoritative voice not of Kacchan, but of Pro Hero Dynamight directing people away from the area.

Despite the burning in his arms, and the absolute focus it took to maintain all quirks and make sure the screen didn’t go tumbling down, Izuku still found the strength to feel pride.

From getting zero rescue points in the entrance exam to handling an evacuation like he was born for it, Kacchan sure had come a long way.

It felt like a second and a year had passed before the explosions came closer, and Kacchan’s voice lost that professional quality.

“Fucking MOVE,” Kacchan yelled, landing on a nearby building and making sure he was heard. “Do you want to die? A damn fucking video isn’t gonna save your pathetic lives!”

Izuku chuckled, the sound breathless but genuine. As much as Kacchan had improved, some things never changed.

“Stupid fucking extras,” Kacchan swore before directing his words at Izuku. “I can't properly evacuate the stupid risk zone on my own, but the possibility of casualties should be real fucking low. Called both the police and local heroes. ETA five minutes. Can you hold on for that long?”

A bit of the truss frame detached itself from the rest of the structure. It would have landed right on a shaking teenager holding up his phone if it wasn’t for Izuku sending yet another tendril, and stopping its fall.

Gently lowering it to the ground, away from the gathering crowd – who wasn’t fearing Kacchan’s fury nearly enough – Izuku gritted out, “Who the hell do you take me for?”

Kacchan’s sharp laugh was all the answer Izuku needed.

Eyes focused on the still short-circuiting screen, Izuku let the sound of Kacchan’s yells and explosions wash over him. The smell of ozone filled his nose, bright flashes of green dancing in the corner of his vision. Pain was growing in his joints, muscles seconds away from cramping.

All of this was familiar. The noise, the pain, the power.

Deeply inhaling through his nose, Izuku let everything else fade away.

The hero, Magnetic, took less than five minutes to arrive, or so Kacchan told him later.

“All right there, Deku?” he asked from somewhere below, voice nearly drowned out by the nearing sirens.

“Just fine,” Izuku replied, voice as strained as his body. Float had nearly failed him twice, making him drop a couple centimeters. “What do you need me to do?”

Thankfully, with the arrival of the police, who relieved Kacchan from his herding duties, and with the help of Magnetic – whose quirk was unsurprisingly related to manipulating metal – the situation became much more manageable.

Magnetic undid the truss frames bit by bit, entrusting Izuku with keeping the screen up and making sure everything doesn’t collapse too abruptly. Slowly but surely, he retracted more and more of Blackwhip tendrils until only the ones wrapped around the screen remained. That left him enough energy to maintain Float just that much longer.

“Okay, everything is down,” Magnetic said, like one would announce salvation. “You can put down the screen, Deku. Lower it slowly.”

It took every last ounce of strength Izuku had left to not just let it crash down. But thankfully, soon enough, the screen joined the rest of the trusses. Izuku breathed out as summoned back the last of Blackwhip.

Deactivating Float, he let himself fall down the couple of feet that separated him from the ground, ready to catch himself–

Only to fall to his knees the second his feet touched the concrete.

Later, when Izuku would try to put into words what it felt like, the only word that would come to his mind was ‘cold’.

An icy, bone-deep cold that seemed to freeze over his body, his heart, his very soul.

Izuku gasped, ending on all fours as he shook.

From exhaustion, from the cold, from realization– he didn’t know.

But he shook, and shook, and shook, until he was convinced that he would shatter, never to be put back together.

There was movement around him, voices, calls, people.

But none of it reached him. He felt leagues under the sea, miles above the earth, floating in the middle of nothingness as the cold creeped up on him, stealing his breath.

He was so cold.

Warm hands touched his face, pushed his hair back, but Izuku couldn’t feel them because he was so cold.

His face was suddenly forced up, and through his blurry vision – when did that happen – Izuku recognized Kacchan.

There were shadows behind him, moving hands and bodies, but he couldn’t see them.

There was only Kacchan, and the cold, cold hand of dread.

“They're gone,” he whispered.

He couldn’t hear Kacchan’s voice, couldn’t make out the words his mouth was shaping around. But he could sense his confusion, his panic. His warm hands continued to dance across his face, his shoulders.

Izuku couldn’t feel them.

Lifting his eyes, Izuku made sure to catch Kacchan’s eyes. He stared into the warm, fire-bright red that would never know the cold Izuku was experiencing.

He didn’t know whether he was glad or jealous.

“They're gone,” Izuku repeated. “The embers. One For All.”

Kacchan’s mouth stilled, hands freezing on Izuku’s face.

“It’s gone.”

Static was filling his head, with only one thought managing to break through.

“I lost my quirk.”

They didn’t talk about it.

Not when the police asked for a report, not when they walked back to the hotel, not when Izuku spent nearly an hour under the hot spray of the shower.

When he came out, skin red and on the edge of scalded, Kacchan had called room service.

They ate in silence.

As they got ready for bed, Izuku watched Kacchan hesitate between the two beds, hands twitching.

A wave of dread pulled him out of his head long enough to shoot a hand out and grab Kacchan’s wrist. He startled, looking at him with wide and searching eyes.

Izuku fixed his gaze on the floor, but there was no missing the way his hand shook.

Kacchan slipped into bed with him.

They didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

When Izuku woke up, he didn’t open his eyes right away.

In his dream, he had been flying. The details were fuzzy and incoherent, but he distinctly remembered the feeling of being weightless, wind loud in his ears and watching the world below blur.

He had felt powerful. He had felt whole. He had felt right.

Right now, he felt cold. His body hurt.

He didn’t move for a while.

They got dressed silently.

Izuku didn’t know where they were going. Yesterday, he had heard the police talk about closing the festival until everything was checked over.

Still, he didn’t ask.

Even when Kacchan grabbed the car keys and walked down to the parking.

When Kacchan traveled, he liked walking. He liked taking the time to enjoy his surroundings without making sure he wasn’t running anyone over. He liked the feeling of sore legs after exploring every inch of the city, or trekking through whatever paths he found.

Izuku hadn’t thought they would touch a wheel until they drove back home.

He didn’t ask.

When they stopped in front of a photography shop, Izuku didn’t ask. But this time, it was because he didn’t have to.

“Oh,” he breathed, watching Kacchan retrieve two cameras from his backpack. “I forgot about that.”

“Me too,” Kacchan snorted. “But I ain’t no thief. Gimme a minute.”

Izuku nodded, something in his shoulders unwinding at not having to step out of the car.

Even without asking, he was starting to understand why Kacchan had decided to drive today.

Shame and gratefulness warred in his – empty, cold, hurting – chest until Kacchan stepped back in, a fierce scowl on his face.

“That girl is a fucking nightmare,” he grumbled, aggressively putting on his seatbelt. Izuku tried to smile. He didn’t know if he was successful. “She said to drop by right before closing to pick up the pictures. Something about needing time to determine the winner or whatever.”

Izuku nodded.

“Was she mad that we didn’t show up last night?”

Kacchan’s mouth twisted down, gaze focusing on the road ahead.

“No.”

He didn’t elaborate. Izuku didn’t ask.

They didn’t speak, but Kacchan turned on the radio as soon as he didn’t need the GPS to guide him out of the city.

Izuku couldn’t remember a single song that played.

Kacchan took them to the aquarium.

Izuku looked at the façade for a long time.

‘Okinawa?’ six-year-old Izuku had repeated, eyes growing wide as he watched six-year-old Kacchan nod, proud of his idea. ‘Kacchan, when we go, could we visit the aquarium too? Mommy told me about it once! It’s suuuuper big, and there're lots of really cool fish!’

Kacchan had frowned, wrinkling his nose in thought. Izuku had immediately shrunk in on himself, certain that his idea was too boring compared to what Kacchan had been envisioning for their grand summer trip. However, before he could take it back, Kacchan shrugged. ‘Sure, whatever. We can go to the super cool festival, then to the super cool aquarium. It'll make it a double super cool trip!’

Izuku had giggled, happiness blooming in his chest as Kacchan turned away and started marching towards a fun looking game. ‘Come on, Deku, let’s go win the biggest plushie!’

‘Coming!’

“You remembered,” the Izuku from the present whispered.

Kacchan took a long time to reply.

“Yeah.”

When they got to the entrance, a boy barely older than them came forward, giving them maps in the most disinterested way possible.

“Welcome,” he said, eyes seeming to look through them for a moment. “The aquarium is open twenty-four seven and completely free for the duration of the festival. However, I still need to check– Deku?”

Izuku froze.

The boy's eyes sharpened all at once, properly taking in who stood in front of him. All at once, his attitude shifted, energy returning to his slumped form.

“And Dynamight! Oh my God, I can't believe you two are here!” He gripped the maps, eyes wildly bouncing between he and Kacchan. “I was there yesterday, and I was hoping I could get an autograph, but you two ran off so fast! You're my favorite upcoming heroes, I can already tell you will take that ranking by storm and…” He patted himself down as he rambled, frowning and cutting himself off when he came up to empty. “Fuck, I don't have a pen. Just give me a minute, I'll be right back!”

“Hold on–” Kacchan started, but the boy was already gone. “Fuck. Look, we can just go in, or leave altogether–”

“It’s fine,” Izuku interrupted, forcing a smile on his face. Ignoring Kacchan’s dubious look, he continued, voice low, “He doesn't know. I don’t mind pretending.”

Kacchan stared at him, gaze hardening.

“Remember when you said I'm the one who never falls for your bullshit?”

Before Izuku could answer that – not that he had the first idea how – the boy came back.

He wasn't alone.

“I don't remember agreeing to a fucking meet and greet,” Kacchan barked, glaring at the ten or so people who were peering at them with wonder and caution, paper and phone in hands.

They all winced, the boy from earlier shrinking a bit. “Sorry, I got a bit excited.”

Kacchan sharply exhaled, glaring at them, then at Izuku.

Izuku offered him a wobbly smile, before turning to their audience. “Who wants to go first?”

By the time they finally passed the door and entered the aquarium, their hands were cramping. Every person that entered the aquarium seemed to know them. From the sports festival, from the war, from last night– they all knew who Dynamight and Deku were.

Izuku wondered how they would react if they knew that only Dynamight still existed. He wondered if they would delete the picture they took with him, if they knew that it wasn’t Deku they had posed with. It was Midoriya Izuku, quirkless and unimportant.

He wouldn’t climb any chart, he wouldn’t have merch they could buy, he wouldn’t do any more great things.

He wouldn’t be a pro hero. In years from now, they would look at this piece of paper he signed, frown in confusion, and throw it in the trash.

The aquarium was big and a bit crowded. With the festival closed, it seemed that everyone had the same idea, and came to enjoy the shadow and wildlife.

Social battery exhausted, Kacchan immediately stirred him away from the main areas.

For a while, they walked around aimlessly, stopping every so often when a particularly colorful or weird looking fish passed by. They didn’t talk much, enjoying the quiet. Surrounded by glass and water, it was like the rest of the world was muffled, distant. As if they were in the depths of the ocean, hiding away from the sun’s glare.

There were no bright lights, no city life. Just the quiet humming of machinery and the soft blue glow of the water.

Neither of them had ever been particularly big on marine life, even Izuku. When he was little, the only reason he had wanted to come here was because of one specific room, if it could even be called that. A room that had made his eyes shine, and his young self obsess over aquariums for about a month.

It was just a distant memory, and for a moment, he was convinced he had imagined it, idealized it.

That is until, at the turn of a dark corridor, they found it.

It was circular, low, dark, and not as big as little Izuku thought it was. But it wasn’t the size that mattered.

It was the fact that they weren’t just looking into a tank. They were standing in a glass case in the middle of a tank. There were no walls, no ceiling to speak of. Wherever they looked, they saw corals, sand, and stingrays.

Sitting on a bench, Izuku lifted his head. There was a stingray laying on the glass right above his head, seemingly looking at him. He had always found the smiley face under their belly funny.

Kacchan found it disturbing. If the way he grumbled as he dropped next to Izuku was anything to go by, that didn’t change.

“I hate those things,” he said, watching as one suddenly emerged from the sand covering the bottom of the tank. “Slimy, flat-looking bastards. It looks like someone stepped on them.”

Izuku huffed out a soft laugh. “Maybe that’s why they get so mad when people actually do step on them. Generational trauma.”

Kacchan snorted, knocking their shoulders together.

“Good one, nerd,” he said softly, not moving away.

For a while, they just sat, watching the stingrays lazily move around. The information panel said that there were five species cohabiting in there, bringing up their number to a good dozen of individuals.

Because of how deep into the aquarium this room was, not a lot of people came through. It was a peculiar experience to be on their own. The light was low, the movements of the stingrays silent though the water and glass. It was like stepping in a bubble of space created just for them.

Izuku watched as a stingray swam by.

“Kacchan.”

“Mmh?”

“How did it feel like when you got your quirk?”

He could feel Kacchan turn to look at him, but Izuku continued to stare into the tank. The stingray swam around the whole tank before Kacchan spoke.

“Scary.”

Izuku blinked, turning to look at Kacchan. He was grimacing a little, shifting in a way that told Izuku the confession took a lot out of him. Which made sense.

In all the years Izuku had known him, Kacchan had never once admitted to being scared.

It didn’t mean he didn’t get scared. Izuku would never forget the look in his eyes when their gaze met during the Sludge Villain incident. A bone-deep, mind-numbing terror at the prospect that if nobody intervened, he would die.

He had never said anything about it. Never talked about how he felt. But Izuku knew that to this day, Kacchan was very careful to never get his airways obstructed in any situation.

“Scary?” Izuku repeated, dumbfounded. “You always say it was the best day of your life.”

“It was. It only lasted for a minute before I got real fucking excited. But the first, instinctual thing I felt was fear.” He shrugged, looking down at his fists. “Thought my hands were gonna explode or something. The feeling's weird when you’ve never experienced it.”

Izuku slowly nodded.

When Kacchan came into school the day he got his quirk, he said it’s what woke him up. He had looked so proud, so happy back then. Izuku hadn’t taken the time to imagine how it would feel to wake up to your hands burning bright, crackles loud in your ears. A child’s reflex when something scares them is to put their hands over their eyes, but Kacchan couldn’t even do that.

Now that Izuku thought about it, he didn’t remember Kacchan touching a lot of things the days after he got his quirk. Whenever he looked at him, all he saw was Kacchan cupping his hands and looking at them with wonder.

He hadn’t felt jealousy, then, not even a twinge of envy. He had been happy, excited. Happy for Kacchan, excited for himself, hoping his quirk was half as cool.

“When I got One For All, I…” The stingray swam close to another, bigger one, that curiously followed it out of where it had been hiding. “I thought I was dreaming. That everything that happened from meeting All Might to making it into UA was a dream. Because who gets everything they have ever wanted just– handed to them like that?”

“It wasn’t just handed to you,” Kacchan corrected, frowning. “You proved yourself. You worked for it. That shit would've killed you if you didn’t learn to control it.”

But Izuku was already shaking his head. “That’s not what I mean. Having to train is a given, but– I was just walking home, Kacchan. I wasn’t doing some grand activity. What started everything was that I was walking home later than usual and suddenly, I meet my hero, and you get attacked, and I get handed over a quirk, and–” He laughed. A disbelieving, small sound. “I got it all. Just like that. That sort of thing doesn’t happen in real life, right?”

Then, turning to look at Kacchan, “I shouldn’t be so angry for losing something that should've never happened, right?”

Izuku could almost watch Kacchan’s heart break in real time, eyes turning sad and dim. The stingray passed before a spotlight, obscuring his face for a second. “Izuku…”

“I waited for fifteen years,” Izuku said, voice shaking. He curled his hands into fists and stared at them. “Every night, I prayed for a miracle, a blessing. And I got it. I got everything. And now…” He dug his nails into his palm, hard enough to feel them bite into the skin. “Now, I have to let it go. I know I made that choice, I know it was necessary, I know, but I just…”

I just wanted a bit more time.

I just wanted to keep this quirk, my quirk.

I just wanted to make All Might proud.

But as true as these were, he knew, in the depths of this heart, that this wasn’t what he meant to say. None of these were the first thought that crossed his mind last night, when he realized that this was the end.

“I just wanted to catch up to you,” Izuku whispered, voice breaking on the last word. Looking up, he watched Kacchan’s face crumble. “Now, I don’t even know if I can keep running at all. I don’t want to fall behind, Kacchan, I don’t want you to leave me behind. I want to stay by your side, I want to be a hero–”

“Hey, hey, breathe for me.” Kacchan cupped his face, thumbs wiping tears Izuku didn't even remember spilling. Izuku’s hands wrapped around his wrists, eyes closing as he pressed into the warmth of Kacchan’s hold. Listening, he tried to match the deep breaths Kacchan took.

Last night, just for a moment, when the moon was high and Kacchan’s breaths puffed against his cheek in a slow rhythm, Izuku had almost believed he could do it. He had thought back on the festival, at the way he and Kacchan had been so happy despite no quirk being involved. He had thought about all the laughter he had heard, all the smiles he had seen.

None of these people were heroes, and yet, they were happy. They had found a place for themselves in this world, one where they didn’t have to risk their lives every day, one where quirks didn’t necessarily matter.

If they could do it, there was no reason Izuku couldn’t, right?

He could find himself a job, watch heroes at work through a screen, and live a peaceful life.

But then, they came into the aquarium. And he saw the way all these people’s eyes shone as they looked at them, as they looked at Kacchan.

While they had no problem coming to Izuku, they all naturally kept a safe distance from Kacchan, something nearly reverent in the way they moved around him. Izuku knew it was most likely because of the scowl and fierce glare he kept on the whole time, but he could sense that it also came from a place of respect and admiration.

For the past two years, Kacchan had made a name for himself. His attitude and rough manners went from being off-putting to endearing. People liked the rough exterior, the honesty. They liked that he didn’t fake anything in front of the camera, that he didn’t care about people liking him.

A true hero, people had started to say. Izuku couldn’t agree more.

But where he used to take that as a challenge to improve, to try and catch up– now, it was terrifying. A true hero kept moving forward, leaving everyone who couldn’t keep up in the dust. A true hero was busy, burdened by responsibilities he couldn’t share with just anyone, much less a quirkless nobody.

A true hero didn’t have room in his life for a failed one.

“Izuku, look at me,” Kacchan said, tapping his eyelids until he opened his eyes. When he did, Kacchan caught his gaze, eyes burning with the need to be heard, to be understood. “You are a hero, you hear me? You have been a hero since you were five years old and jumped into an ice-cold river to help my sorry ass. You have been a hero every day from then to now, and you will continue to be a hero, quirk or not, because that’s who you are. Do you understand that?”

Izuku sniffled, a lump forming in his throat.

“Yes, but…”

You are my favorite upcoming heroes, I can already tell you will take that ranking by storm!

“But I don’t want to be a hero,” Izuku whispered, voice shaking. “I want to be a pro hero.”

And with that, Izuku broke. His sobs filled the small, quiet space, body crumpling into Kacchan’s hold.

Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? Anyone could be hero.

Someone who runs into a burning building to save strangers is a hero.

Someone who wakes up every morning to distribute warm meals to the homeless people in their area is a hero.

Someone who helps a lost child find their way home is a hero.

Izuku had never been the type to think heroic acts could only be done by people with a license.

But what he had wanted since the day he discovered All Might was to make it his job. He wanted to save people, not because he was at the right place at the right time, but because that’s what he was meant to do. He wanted people to see him arrive and heave a sigh of relief because they knew he was going to save them.

There was no putting their faith in the hands of a stranger. It was about believing – without fail – in someone whose life was dedicated to saving and winning.

That’s what Izuku had wanted, what he had pictured himself doing for the rest of his life.

But now… now he had to be realistic. And that hurt more than getting his arms broken a hundred times over.

And so, Izuku laid his head on Kacchan’s shoulder, watched the stingray bury itself in the sand, and cried.

“Dynamight, Deku!”

Izuku winced, not intervening when Kacchan turned around with a fierce glare and a harsh rebuttal on the tip of his tongue.

“Not going to ask for another picture,” the boy from earlier – Izo, Izuku recalled – hurried to say, raising his hands.

Kacchan narrowed his eyes, relaxing the tiniest bit. Before he could speak, Izo continued, “I just wanted to tell you about a spot for the fireworks tonight. My friends and I were supposed to go, but change of plans. Nobody else knows about that place, so you won’t get bothered and it has a great view! Take it as my way of apologizing for basically jumping you earlier.”

He rubbed the back of his head, looking down guiltily. Izuku wanted to reassure him, but considering his eyes were still puffed and voice still rough from crying, he chose to keep quiet, not quite facing him.

“They're doing the fireworks?” Kacchan asked, frowning.

Izo enthusiastically nodded. “Yeah! They still have to check a bunch of things before they reopen the festival, but everything's fine with the fireworks. Apparently, they're going to be even more immpressive this year to compensate for everything else.”

Kacchan hummed, looking at Izuku. “You up for it?”

Izuku took a moment to think about it.

He still felt raw, as if his body had been cracked open and peered into. The prospect of holing himself up in their hotel room and sleeping the feelings away was tempting. Very much so.

But Kacchan hadn’t organized this whole trip for them to spend it in bed. Even if things had gone… unexpectedly, he couldn’t bear to completely derail their plans. Especially when he knew how much Kacchan loved fireworks.

That small kid who cupped his hands, and created sparks in rhythm with the overhead explosions had never left Izuku’s mind.

Izuku nodded. “I could use the distraction,” he said lowly, chest warming up at the way Kacchan’s gaze softened.

Nodding once, he turned back to Izo. “Spill.”

As convoluted as Izo’s directions were, Izuku was still half certain none of them were supposed to take them back downtown.

Probably sensing his confusion, Kacchan rolled his eyes. “I shoulda left you at the aquarium, you’d fit right in with that goldfish memory of yours.”

Izuku pouted, inwardly glad Kacchan had switched back to normal. There was no missing Izuku’s lack of energy or the quiet tone of his voice, but Kacchan seemed determined to power through it. He had never been the type to let Izuku wallow in his misery for long.

In the end, Kacchan didn’t tell him where they were going. It was only when he parked in front of a photography shop that Izuku remembered. Turning to Kacchan, he was just about to speak when he was faced with a smug, cocky smile that immediately awakened some primal part of his brain.

“What?” he asked, wary.

“Gimme your credit card, nerd,” Kacchan demanded, smile widening.

Izuku’s brain took two seconds to get up to speed. As soon as it did, he narrowed his eyes.

“What makes you think I lost? Before yesterday, you held a camera, like, twice in your entire life.”

“And yet, I’m still better than you.” Kacchan didn’t even try to argue beyond that, which made it all the more infuriating. Sticking out a hand, he made grabby motions. “Hand it over, idiot, I'll bring mine too in the off chance you somehow took a single decent picture.”

Izuku crossed his arms, undeterred. “I can just go in with you. She can tell us both the results face to face.”

Kacchan snorted. “You look like you were stung by a hundred bees less than five minutes ago. I’m not being seen with you.”

“I do not!” Izuku exclaimed in offense, hurriedly pulling down the sun visor. Before he could take a proper look at himself, though, Kacchan used his distraction to snatch his wallet from his pockets. “Kacchan!”

The only response he got was a loud cackle and a car door slammed in his face.

Izuku huffed, watching Kacchan disappear into the shop. He wanted to be annoyed at the antics, but instead, warmth bloomed in his chest. He reveled in the feeling more than ever, hoping that this warmth would never leave him. That it would seep into his bones, his blood, spread through his body, etch itself onto his skin.

For the first time in nearly twenty four hours, Izuku felt like he could breathe just a bit easier.

When Kacchan emerged from the shop a mere minute later, he didn’t look triumphant, nor did he look sulky. There was a deep furrow to his brows as he slipped back into the car, looking down at two small books.

“So?” Izuku eagerly asked, before looking more closely at the books. A good look told him these were photo albums. “Oh, did she put the pictures into these? It’s nice. Must've cost extra, though.”

“Probably would've if I paid for a damn thing,” Kacchan grouched, glaring down at the photo albums before turning it on Izuku, as if it was his fault.

“Uh?” It was Izuku’s turn to frown. “Didn’t she say the loser has to pay?”

“Pretty fucking sure she did, but she wasn’t there to confirm shit. It was her old man who gave me that. She apparently told him she was just ‘doing friends a service’ or something.”

Izuku blinked, torn between confusion and disappointment. Even if circumstances had made him kind of forget about this whole thing, he had been looking forward to winning this little game – because of course he would win.

“He said she left some messages in there, though,” Kacchan added just as he threw the albums in the backseat. Izuku’s head whipped around, and he was just about to reach for the album, curiosity getting the best of him when Kacchan slapped his hands away.

“Ow! Kacchan! What was that for?”

“We're looking at it when we get to the fucking spot,” he decided, tone brooking no room for argument. “We've one hour to kill before the fireworks.”

Izuku sighed, mournfully looking at the photo albums as Kacchan started the car.

They got lost a total of four times before finally finding the steep and hidden dirt path Izo had told them about. Despite Izuku mostly keeping quiet, Kacchan managed to blame all four times on him.

Once the car was parked, they walked the rest of the way, following along the markers they were given. An upturned rock, a faded green scarf, a bottle of beer full of seashells.

“This looks like a fucking treasure hunt,” Kacchan muttered, just as they passed a tree with a black X painted on the trunk.

Izuku huffed out a soft laugh.

Thankfully, the walk was short. Within a few minutes, they pushed through one last barrier of foliage before the view revealed itself to them.

They both stopped short.

While Izuku hadn’t doubted that Izo’s spot was a good one, he hadn’t set his expectations too high. He had experienced enough disappointment to last him a lifetime, he didn’t exactly need one more, no matter how benign.

Clearly, he hadn’t needed to worry.

The view wasn’t just good. It was absolutely gorgeous.

They were atop a small cliff overlooking the city. Close enough that they could easily make out the stalls and other festival-related constructions, but high enough that they had a full view of the city and bay. There were no trees or skyscrapers standing in the way, no matter where they looked. They could hear a few voices close by, probably from people having found similar spots around, but nobody they could see.

It was perfect.

“I guess it’s decent,” Kacchan said, tone begrudgingly impressed.

Izuku snorted, shaking his head. In Kacchan language, that meant it was mind blowing.

“Come on, let’s use the last of the daylight to check out those pictures,” Izuku said, knocking their shoulders together before walking to the flat, smooth stone that seemed to serve as a large seat.

As Kacchan retrieved the photo albums from his bag, Izuku watched the sun slowly make its way towards the horizon. It was low enough in the sky to bath the world in a soft, golden glow, making the water shine like a sea of diamonds. It was blinding, making his eyes tear up, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from such a beautiful spectacle.

Would there be a green flash when the sun dipped below the horizon line? He had seen it exactly once, years ago, after staying out watching sunsets for weeks on end. In the end, the sight hadn’t been particularly breath-taking, but there had been satisfaction in managing to witness something so rare, so ephemeral.

He had felt privileged. He had felt lucky. He had felt blessed.

A bitter taste filled his mouth.

Before Izuku could dwell on it, something was shoved in his face.

“Stop zoning out,” Kacchan barked, flicking his forehead as soon as Izuku took the album from his hands, making him yelp.

Rubbing the sore spot with a pout, he sent Kacchan a half-hearted glare that went completely ignored. Refocusing on the task at hand, he took a proper look at the album in his hand, twisting it around.

It was pretty simple, a uniform matte color with no decoration to speak off. The only notable thing on the outside was a small, handwritten note on the bottom right of the cover.

Blond fanboy’s pictures.

Izuku snorted, glancing at the other album.

Green fanboy’s pictures.

Yeah, that tracked.

“No originality whatsoever,” Kacchan, worldly acclaimed nickname chooser, said, nose scrunched in distaste. Izuku grinned. “Do you wanna switch, or…?”

Izuku shook his head, looking up with a teasing grin. “You don’t want to see how wide the gap between our skills are?”

Kacchan’s eyes sharpened. “Oh, you're fucking on.”

And with the strength he would use in a punch, Kacchan threw the photo album open.

Izuku snorted, turning back to his own.

The first picture was the only one on the page.

It showed Izuku, head bent as he looked at his disposable camera, ripped packaging in one hand. His brows were furrowed in focus, mouth parted as if he was in the middle of talking.

You'll be my first and only ugly picture of the day, shitty nerd.

Izuku smiled, turning the page.

The next double page was covered in pictures. Most of them were blurry, clearly taken while Kacchan was in movement. It was the moment when he had chased Izuku across the festival.

The following page showed the aftermath of that chase, when Izuku was on the ground and defeated. He had been right, the angle was terrible. Not only that, but his hair was a mess, his skin flushed and sweaty, his yukata slightly askew.

But all throughout, Izuku’s smile was easy, eyes bright. Resigned to his fate, but very happy about it.

There was a strange flutter in his chest. He remembered how much they had laughed at the festival. How happy Izuku had felt. Between the yukatas, the contest, the food, Kacchan, his heart had felt light and full. There had been no thought of quirks or heroism in his mind. No foreboding feeling, no sign from the universe of what awaited him.

It hadn’t even been twenty four hours, but he felt like this was a lifetime ago.

Moving to the following pages, Izuku cocked his head.

The pictures were still of him, but this time, he hadn’t noticed Kacchan taking them. On one of them, Izuku was mid-bite, juice starting to spill down his chin. It was moments before disaster, as seconds later, he stained his All Might yukatas. On another, he was crouched down, camera in front of his face as he took a picture of a particularly beautiful stall. The one below showed him with a bright smile on, arm raised as if he was pointing at something.

Izuku turned the page.

Still him.

He was smiling, pouting, talking, laughing. Sometimes, he noticed the camera pointed at him – most of the time, he didn’t.

Izuku started ruffling through the pages faster.

On this one, he had his back turned, a stage visible in the background.

On this one, he was leaning over the railing, looking at the sea.

Izuku’s heart picked up.

On this one, he was posing next to a sign saying ‘Eat your greens!’

On this one, he couldn’t even remember what he was doing–

Izuku reached the last page.

There was one last picture of him. It was a pretty simple one. He was just sitting, looking at what he assumed was a performance. It wasn’t that long before everything went south, but nothing about the picture indicated that. It looked peaceful. His face was relaxed, head resting on his hand.

But it’s not the picture that struck him speechless.

It’s the note written below in an unfamiliar script.

Confess already! – Jaws

Izuku stopped breathing.

He stared at the words for a long time, unable to process the meaning. Then, slowly, he went through the album again.

Kacchan hadn’t taken a single picture that didn’t include him. Hell, there wasn’t a single picture where he wasn’t the main focus.

Izuku knew he had taken a shit load of pictures of Kacchan too. But he had made a conscious effort to intersperse them with other things. A stall, a flower, the sky. Sometimes, Kacchan was just on the edge of the picture, not the main focus but still there.

He had made sure that anyone looking at his pictures wouldn’t realize just how naturally Izuku’s eyes and camera gravitated towards Kacchan. How, if Izuku thought he was allowed to, he would only ever look at Kacchan, his whole world shrinking down until he filled every corner of it with Kacchan.

Kacchan didn’t seem to have this type of drawbacks. He hadn’t even tried to photograph anything else, and if Izuku wasn’t careful, his fragile, delusional heart would take that information and run with it.

Confess already!

He wasn’t the only delusional one, clearly.

“Izuku.”

Startling, Izuku slammed the photo album shut, as if there was something private in there. Something that couldn’t be shared with the world, something that had to be kept hidden.

“Y-Yeah?”

Izuku looked up, only to find Kacchan’s eyes darting around, looking at anything but Izuku. He frowned, concern dampening the mess of overwhelming and incomprehensible feelings in his chest.

“Look, there’s this… this idea I had.”

His jaw was set, hands curled into fists as he swallowed. He had put his – or Izuku’s? – photo album aside, opened halfway through. His mouth silently opened a few times before he groaned, turning his back on Izuku.

“Kacchan?” Izuku called, a flash of panic at the thought that Kacchan was going to leave.

But Kacchan didn’t stand up. He simply turned to grab his bag and drag it closer. Izuku watched him dig inside, before slowly pulling out something.

“I didn’t want to show you yet. It’s just an idea, nothing concrete,” Kacchan said, voice fast and slightly defensive. “But I can feel you getting stuck in your head and trying to convince yourself to just give up, and I won’t fucking let you.”

Turning his head just enough for Izuku to see his glare, Kacchan’s voice became firmer. “I spent years trying to make you give up on your dreams. Back then, you had nothing to fall back on, nothing to make you believe that a quirkless nerd could be a hero. But you still believed it would happen. You believed in yourself and the work you were willing to put into making it a reality. You believed that you could be a hero, and nobody could take that away from you.”

Not even me, his sardonic smile said, a shadow crossing his face. Before Izuku could recognize it as guilt, Kacchan continued talking.

“When I told you earlier that you've always been a hero, I didn’t just mean that you've great morals and shit. You were already a hero back then, because despite all the odds being against you, you continued to believe in the impossible. You had plans and ideas, you thought about how to compensate for what you might be lacking, and you continued to chase after me even when we felt worlds apart.”

Inhaling sharply, Kacchan narrowed his eyes. His gaze was piercing, daring Izuku to look away as he overly enunciated his next words, “If you never got that quirk, you still would've been a pro hero, Izuku. You may've stopped believing that, but I still do.”

Izuku stopped breathing.

Mouth twisting down, Kacchan looked away, voice deeper and much less friendly. “Getting One For All messed with your head. I always fucking hated that quirk and I’m glad it’s gone. You think it gave you everything you wanted, but to me, it just brought you pain and filled your head with stupid thoughts.” Then, sighing, his tone softened. “But I know you cared for it. I know you loved it. So, if I've to somehow bring it back to make you believe in yourself again, then so be it.”

And with that, he dropped a heavy object in Izuku’s lap.

Izuku slowly looked down at it, not able to process what it was for the longest time. He felt like the world had slowed down and was going too fast at the same time, leaving him reeling. His mind was hazy, his hands shaky, and a distant part of himself wondered if that’s what having a stroke felt like.

“Hurry the fuck up before I change my mind,” Kacchan demanded loudly, the volume of his voice trying – and failing – to hide the doubt and fear lurking below.

And while Izuku still didn’t feel able to process even half of what Kacchan had said, it startled him into action.

Taking the object into his hands, he realized that it was a notebook.

And on the cover, Kacchan’s handwriting.

For Izuku.

Izuku choked out a sob when he turned to the first page, then the second, then the third–

Just like the photo album, it was about him. It was all about him.

About his quirks, his fighting style, his costume.

Blackwhip can thin out to get through small openings.

Idiot protects his left a lot more than his right.

Muzzle????

Sprinkled in there were more personal observations, things he didn’t even think Kacchan would bother noticing.

Nerd goes to sleep earlier nowadays, but still looks like a fucking panda in the morning.

Only eats meat that's nearly charred. Won’t explain why.

Right arm scars seem itchy. Gotta ask Recovery Girl to get him a cream.

Along with the notes, Kacchan had added doodles, pictures, graphics– There was no end to it. Every page was filled with Izuku seen through Kacchan’s eyes.

Almost blinded by tears, Izuku was about to look up – probably to bawl his eyes out while forcing Kacchan into a hug – when he reached the last third of the notebook.

The writing in that part was neater, while the doodles turned into full drawings. There were even more graphics and charts, all related to Izuku’s quirks and costume.

Reproducibility:

Blackwhip, Smokescreen, Float: easy

OFA: medium

Fa Jin, Danger Sense: hard

Gearshift: how the fuck does that work

Izuku frowned, wiping his eyes.

Cameras and movement detectors for Danger Sense. But how to detect intent???

…What?

No raw materials work for Blackwhip. It’s gotta be flexible, stretchable, smooth, easy to control. Can’t heat up because of too much friction either, it'd damage the inside of the suit.

There was no way.

Support Department: pink girl (Mei something) = annoying but good ideas

Melissa Shield??? *Ask All Might

Izuku turned one last page, hands shaking.

The world seemed to pause. The distant chatter and crashing waves became silent, drowned out by the rushing blood in his ears. The cool and soft wind dropped. Izuku gripped the notebook, almost crinkling the worn out pages.

Blueprints.

Amateurish, clearly incomplete, but there was no mistaking what it was.

A mech suit.

Based off Izuku’s lost quirks.

“I know it looks like shit right now,” Kacchan said, voice rough and small. Izuku didn’t move. “I didn’t go into support for a damn reason. But I talked with All Might and that girl you had on your team during the first year sports festival, and they said it’s feasible. It’s gonna take years and a shit ton of money, so better keep busy until then, but–”

Izuku didn’t care to hear the rest.

Grabbing either side of Kacchan’s face, Izuku dragged him forward and crashed their lips together, just as the fireworks started.

Kacchan froze for all of two seconds, surprised sound swallowed by Izuku’s greedy mouth, before a fire seemed to light up in him. Hands burying in Izuku’s hair, he brought them impossibly closer, lips parting in permission.

Objectively speaking, it was a terrible kiss. Neither of them had any experience to speak of, and it showed.

The angle was terrible. It was more clashing teeth and spit than anything, and Izuku was certain one of them had a split lip. It was a wet, sloppy thing.

He never wanted it to stop.

Their tongues were caught in a desperate dance, trying to explore, to taste, to take, as if it was their first and last time doing so. Whenever they parted to breathe, there wasn’t so much as a centimeter of space put between them before they went in again.

Bringing one hand up, he tilted Kacchan’s head back, licking into his mouth. The sound he made, all high-pitched and needy, went straight to Izuku’s head, before traveling down to his groin.

Kacchan pulled away first, yanking on Izuku’s hair and ignoring his desperate, panicked sounds.

“Fuck, just–” his voice was breathy, strangled, even more so when Izuku left his mouth alone to attack his jaw. “God, Izuku, give me a fucking second.”

“I can’t,” Izuku whispered, frantic. When his mouth reached the mess of blood and saliva on Kacchan’s skin, he licked it up like a dog being offered a treat. Kacchan swore. “You don’t know how long I have waited for this.”

He felt Kacchan tense up, enough so that he pulled away just enough to look at him, fear seizing his heart. Did he go too far? Did he say too much? Was Kacchan realizing what they were doing – who he was doing it with – and regretting? Had Izuku ruined everything–?

“You… waited for this?” Kacchan asked, voice small and so very cautious. His hands, always so steady and purposeful, kept playing with Izuku’s hair, twisting the curls in a nervous movement.

All at once, the fire coursing through Izuku's veins went from all-consuming to mellow. All the growing tension in his body faded as he brought his hand up. He barely grazed Kacchan’s cheek, the touch light and reverent as he watched him.

“You don’t know, do you?” Izuku whispered, hand traveling down to Kacchan’s jaw, his neck, still feather-light. “How precious you are to me.” Kacchan sharply inhaled, sound matching another explosion. Warm yellow colored the world around them, making Kacchan’s hair shine like gold. People cheered. “How you mean the world to me. How much of a blessing you are.”

His hand was replaced by his mouth, pressing the lightest of kisses to his skin. A tear rolled down Izuku’s face, directly onto Kacchan’s collarbone.

Kacchan started shaking under his hands, his mouth.

“I thought One For All gave me everything I wanted, but Kacchan being in my life at all is more than I could ask for.” Then, looking up into Kacchan’s wide eyed stare, “I've wanted this since I was five years old. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that–”

Izuku barely got to finish his sentence before he was cut off by salty, metallic tasting lips pressed against his own. Kacchan slammed into him, but when that didn’t get him close enough, he threw a leg over Izuku’s and straddled his thighs, never breaking away.

This kiss was even clumsier than the first one. Uncoordinated, more tongue and teeth than anything, but Izuku couldn’t care less. He had Kacchan in his lap, kissing him, letting him slip his hands under his shirt and greedily grab onto every inch of skin available.

If he died right now, he would die a happy death.

When he grabbed Kacchan’s hips and moved him forward, he had only meant to bring him closer, to eliminate the blasphemous space still existing between them.

The fact that it made their crotch press together was an unforeseen, but extremely welcome consequence.

They moaned directly in each other’s mouth, Kacchan’s hands pulling on Izuku’s hair, while Izuku was quite certain he was leaving handprint-shaped bruises on Kacchan’s hips.

Neither of them cared.

Curiously, almost experimentally, Kacchan rolled his hips. Colors burst behind Izuku’s eyelids – fireworks or pleasure, he couldn’t tell. His cock was hard and leaking in his briefs, overly sensitive to the feeling of clothes rubbing against it.

“Fuck,” they swore in unison, a whiny quality to both their voice. And while Izuku couldn’t care less about what he sounded like, something about that breathy, high-pitched moan Kacchan made directly into his mouth flipped a switch in his brain.

This time, when he brought Kacchan closer, there was no hesitation.

Within seconds, they fell into a rhythm. Izuku’s grip on Kacchan’s hips was unrelenting, rubbing their clothed cocks together until nothing existed in his mind but this. The cheers, the fireworks, the waves– nothing mattered compared to the choked, helpless sounds Kacchan kept making, his desperate attempts to rut back against Izuku.

Izuku was nearing the edge fast, barely controlling himself as his mouth left Kacchan’s to travel down. He mouthed at his chin, his neck, his shirt. His tongue traveled over a clothed nipple, relishing in the quickly muffled scream it earned.

But his mind was hazy, unable to focus on anything but Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan–

Before he realized it, his face had migrated from Kacchan’s chest to his shoulder, nosing at his armpit. Within the seconds, the scent of sweat and sweet caramel hit his nose, and Izuku was gone.

His movements became erratic. He humped Kacchan like a dog, mind hazy with pleasure and the need to taste. Barely thinking about it, he poked his tongue out, licking up a long stripe of Kacchan’s damp, smooth armpit.

“What the fuck are you– ngh!”

Immediately, a salty and sweet taste filled his mouth, making him whimper. Kacchan tasted so good. Izuku mouthed at the skin, teasing it with his tongue and teeth, gathering even more of that divine taste on his tongue as the tension in his groin grew tighter, and tighter, and tighter–

“You fuckin’ pervert,” Kacchan breathed directly into his ear, slurring and panting. “You’re so gross.”

Izuku’s orgasm slammed into him with the strength of a jackhammer. His vision whitened as he stilled, keeping Kacchan pressed against his crotch as he painted the inside of his briefs. All the while, and even after he started coming down his high, he kept his face firmly pressed under Kacchan’s arm. Maybe if he didn’t move, Kacchan would forget about pushing him away and he could stay there for the rest of his life.

“Izuku.”

Damn it.

“Move the fuck away from my armpit.”

“Dunno what Kacchan’s talking ‘bout,” Izuku muttered, not moving an inch. He whined when Kacchan pulled him back by the hair, but beyond pouting, he didn’t put up a fight. “Kacchan's so mean.”

“And Izuku's a nasty freak,” Kacchan said, tone mocking. He was looking down at him, eyes still clouded over but clearly judgmental. “Sniffing me is one thing, but licking my sweaty armpit? You're disgusting. I should get a restraining order.”

Izuku squirmed, movement subtle and contained. But trying to hide it with Kacchan still firmly planted in his lap was a lost cause. Eyes sharpening, Kacchan looked down between them, shamelessly staring at Izuku’s crotch.

Or more precisely, at the tent in his shorts, flimsy material barely doing anything to hide how his dick was filling up.

“…You better be kidding me,” Kacchan breathed, looking back up with an intensity that made Izuku squirm even more. He attempted to look away, shame and lust warring in his guts, but Kacchan wouldn’t have it. Grabbing his hair, he forced his head back up, giving Izuku a full view of his growing smirk. “You're getting off of this? You like being told that you're just a gross little stalker? A filthy panty-sniffer? That you're so obsessed with me, it’s fucking embarrassing?”

And Izuku really tried to keep it in, to react normally to being unfairly insulted. But between what his brain was telling him to do, and what his body wanted, the choice was quickly made.

Whimpering, Izuku closed his eyes, dick jumping up in his shorts.

“Oh, you sick bastard,” Kacchan said lowly.

Izuku expected more, knew that Kacchan could do much worse than that. But instead of words, what Izuku got was Kacchan abruptly standing up, out of his grasp.

Alarm bells rang in his mind loud enough to nearly deafen him.

“K-Kacchan?” he called, eyes snapping open to see Kacchan collecting the notebook and photo albums, shoving them in his bag.

“Up,” was all he said, before starting to walk down the path they had come from without so much as a backward glance, bag over his shoulder.

And who was Izuku to not immediately obey? Scrambling to his feet, he quickly followed after Kacchan.

Walking with his dick hard as rock pressing against his wet briefs was a humbling experience. He kept stumbling, mind hazy with the need to pounce as Kacchan walked down the path with his back straight, seemingly unaffected.

When they reached the car, he swiftly opened the passenger seat. Without a word, he grabbed the front of Izuku’s shirt and shoved him inside.

Before he could get his bearings, Kacchan threw his bag in the driver seat and bent down. In a move only he could make look graceful in the cramped space of a car, he threw one leg over Izuku, straddling him as he closed the door. Then, just as he caught Izuku’s lips in another mind-numbing kiss, he lowered the seat until they were nearly lying down.

Izuku had never been so hard in his entire life.

Resuming their earlier position, he wrapped his hands around Kacchan’s hips, rutting back when Kacchan pressed down.

“You fucking dog,” he said, breaking away from the kiss, but not without biting Izuku’s lip. He whined, chasing after Kacchan only to be shoved back against the seat. Kacchan looked down at him, rolling his hips again and smirking when Izuku threw his head back, moan punched out of him. “You'd be okay with just humping me until your mind broke, wouldn’t you? Too bad, I’m not about to be left high and dry again.”

“High and–?”

Raising his head, Izuku was about to ask when he saw Kacchan shoot a hand towards his bag.

From the front pocket of his bag, he freed a packet of lube.

Izuku stared.

“Did Kacchan have ulterior motives when he proposed the trip?”

Kacchan faltered, turning bright red. “Fuck off! It’s the shit that old nurse gave us after that sex ed class! I just– kept it in my bag.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow, barely able to contain his smile. “For no reason?”

The blush creeped up his ears, down his chest. For a moment, he stammered through his words before making a frustrated sound. With a glare, he lunged for Izuku’s mouth.

The biting, aggressive kiss did the job of distracting Izuku nicely.

“Fucking nerd. Don’t get cocky with me.”

With that, he pulled back, lifting off Izuku.

All traces of amusement vanished as he desperately made a grab for Kacchan’s waist, trying to keep him in place. Kacchan slapped away his hands.

“Relax, I ain’t going anywhere,” he said, hands flying to his waistband. “Unless you've a way of fucking me through my pants, let me get rid of ‘em.”

Izuku’s brain promptly checked out after the word ‘fucking me’. All that was left was that roaring desire to put his hands, mouth and dick all over Kacchan.

Thankfully, Kacchan made quick work of his clothes, lowering himself back down.

For a moment, Izuku stilled, taking in the view. Despite being entirely naked, flushed cock leaking precum on Izuku’s shirt, Kacchan looked nothing short of regal. Izuku’s hands lifted before he even realized what he was doing, traveling across the wide expanse of skin and hard muscles like a man possessed.

“Kacchan's so gorgeous,” he whispered, thumb rubbing a perked, pink nipple.

Kacchan sharply inhaled, grabbing onto his wrist, but not to pull him away.

“Yeah?” he breathed. “You planning to do something about it, or do I have to do all the work?”

Izuku’s eyes snapped up just in time to see Kacchan dangling the packet of lube in front of him.

“Y-You want me to– You mean I can–”

Kacchan snorted, loud and mean as he watched Izuku stumble through his words. “You think I’m gonna let your dick anywhere near me if you can’t even use your fingers right?”

Izuku moved faster than he thought possible, grabbing the lube with shaking hands and tearing it open.

But as soon as his fingers were sufficiently wet, and he brought his hand behind Kacchan’s back, near his ass– He stopped.

“Um, Kacchan, I've never–” he started, feeling his face burn up. Waving his free hand, he looked down, avoiding Kacchan’s eyes only to land on his dick. His own cock jumped in his pants. “You know.”

Kacchan threaded his hand through his hair, gently forcing his eyes back up. For a moment, he softened, eyes losing that mean edge that had Izuku squirming and begging for more.

“’S okay,” he said, soft and relaxed. “I'll guide you.”

The tension that had started to build up in his shoulders faded all at once, stress vanishing. The whiplash between Kacchan saying things he knew would get Izuku hard, tone harsh and mocking, and giving reassurance when he felt Izuku faltering brought tears to his eyes.

“Kacchan's so perfect,” he murmured, looking at him with something nearly reverent.

His chest warmed when Kacchan blushed even more, looking away as he squirmed in Izuku’s lap.

“Come on, nerd, one finger in.”

Blinking away the tears, Izuku nodded, pushing past Kacchan’s cheeks to find his hole.

Doing this without seeing where he was putting his hand was a challenge, but as soon as his finger caught onto Kacchan’s rim, circling it before slowly pressing in, he realized it was a blessing in disguise.

Because that meant he had a perfect view of Kacchan reacting to his touch.

As soon as Izuku breached into his hole, he splayed a hand on his chest, supporting himself as his eyes fell closed.

“Fuck,” he breathed, just as Izuku continued to push in, nearly coming from the feeling of Kacchan’s tight, warm walls closing around his finger. “Forgot how fucking big your stupid fingers are.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Izuku asked, worried, though he was quite convinced that if Kacchan said yes, he would die.

Thankfully, they seemed to be on the same page. “Don’t you dare.”

Slowly, Izuku worked Kacchan open, attentively watching his every expression, drinking in every sound. Kacchan kept his eyes closed, mouth parted as he kept taking deep breaths. His moans were quiet, high and discreet, but Izuku caught every single one of them, engraving in his memory everything that earned him those sweet sounds.

Soon enough, Kacchan told him to add a second finger, then a third. The air of experimentation started to fade as Izuku got more confident, movements becoming faster. He attempted to crook his finger at some point, and the way Kacchan threw his head back, hand fisting his shirt, encouraged him to do it over and over again.

Within seconds, Kacchan fell against his chest, forearms barely keeping him up as he shook. His breathing turned panting, windows starting to fog up as the temperature kept getting higher. A bead of sweat rolled down Kacchan’s temple, making Izuku salivate.

“Izuku– fuck– you bastard–”

And Izuku could feel him tensing up, hole greedily trying to keep him in as he kept pumping his fingers, going faster and faster until–

Kacchan grabbed his wrist and pulled him out.

Izuku whined, high and protesting. For a second, it felt like it was his own orgasm that had been ruined – and considering how heavy his balls were, just begging for release, he was wondering if it was just an impression.

“Kacchan, please,” he begged, nosing at his hair, his temple, licking up the sweat that had gathered there. “Please.”

He didn’t even know what he was begging for, but Kacchan shut him up with a bruising kiss before he could figure it out. Izuku was really hoping this became Kacchan’s default way of making him quiet.

Izuku barely got the time to lick into Kacchan’s mouth before he pulled away, gaze sharp.

“If you think you're getting away with just a little fingering, you're dead fucking wrong. Lift your ass.”

Izuku obeyed before his brain even understood what he was told.

In one quick movement, Kacchan pulled down his pants and briefs all the way to his knees. His dick sprung free, slapping his stomach and smearing precum on his shirt.

Izuku’s moan was punched out of him as he watched Kacchan look down and lick his lips.

He took Izuku in hand, using the precum and remnant lube to slick him up. Izuku’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, pleasure bursting in his groin.

Kacchan laughed, the sound breathy and short. “You're so easy. I barely graze your dick and you’re seconds away from spilling all over my hand.”

Izuku wanted to argue that Kacchan was doing much more than some light grazing, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a high-pitched cry as Kacchan started giving a lot of attention to his head.

“Shit, shit, shit– Kacchan, I will–”

Kacchan removed his hand. Izuku didn’t know if he sobbed in frustration or relief.

Grabbing his chin, Kacchan forced his precum-covered thumb inside Izuku’s mouth. He immediately started sucking on it, whining at the salty taste of his own cum. Kacchan leaned in, directly whispering in his ear as he lifted himself up and pressed Izuku’s dick against his hole.

“You come inside me or not at all,” he said, tone final before slamming himself down.

Izuku was certain that for a minute there, he passed out.

No matter how thoroughly prepped he was, Kacchan was tight. His walls closed around Izuku, hot and wet and clenching.

But more than the purely physical sensations, it was the idea of how deeply connected they were that made Izuku choke out a sob. No matter how close he held Kacchan, it never felt like it was close enough. There was always space between them, clothes, skin, flesh. He wanted to live inside Kacchan’s ribs, pressed against his heart and impossible to dislodge. He wanted to merge with his bones, make their souls touch and achieve the only type of proximity that felt right.

Complete, absolute, eternal.

This was still a long way off of what Izuku wanted in the deepest parts of his heart. But it was the closest he would ever get, and for that, there were no words to describe how good he felt.

Kacchan stayed still for a long while, face hidden in the crook of Izuku’s neck. He was shaking from head to toe, and soon after, Izuku felt wetness sliding along his skin, dampening his shirt.

Before Izuku could get concerned, Kacchan squirmed in his lap.

“Izuku,” he called, voice unsteady and demanding.

He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to.

Wrapping his hands around his waist, Izuku lifted him up, nearly sobbing from being forced to pull out, before bringing him back down. They moaned in unison, the sounds more resembling sobs than anything.

Quickly, Izuku set a rhythm. He never allowed Kacchan to be too far away, always making them meet with a loud slap as he bucked up to meet each thrust.

Kacchan had completely fallen apart against him. He was sobbing both in pleasure and something else, something raw and intense that made him wrap his arms around Izuku and hold tighter. Something that made Izuku pepper kisses along his hair, his temple, his cheek, everywhere he could reach.

“Kacchan's doing so good,” he whispered into his skin, watching as he shot a hand out and pressed it against the fogged up window, leaving a handprint. His other hand was grabbing onto Izuku for dear life. “You feel so good, Kacchan, you sound so good, you're so perfect, made just for me–”

Izuku picked up the pace, grip turning bruising as he could feel his balls tightening, on the edge of release. The pleasure and relief of having Kacchan so close was making him delirious, head feeling light.

Maybe that was why he didn’t even hesitate as he said, “I love you. I love you so much, please don’t leave me–”

Kacchan bit down on his throat and wailed, tightening like a vice around Izuku. Immediately, Izuku barreled over the edge.

His vision went white, whole body tensing up as he buried himself as deeply as he could inside Kacchan. He was half aware of digging his nails into his back, trying so desperately to keep him still and close.

For a long moment, he felt like he was floating. It reminded him of his dream. He had been flying, soaring above the cloud and feeling light as a feather.

When he woke up, it felt like being grabbed and slammed back into the cold, hard ground.

This time, however, as he slowly came down from his high, it felt like landing on a soft, sun-warmed patch of grass. It felt like choosing to come down.

It felt like he wasn’t running away from the world below anymore.

It felt like he had happily come home.

A soft kiss on his nose dragged him out of his thoughts.

Slowly blinking his eyes open, Izuku focused his gaze on Kacchan. He had pulled out of his hiding place, peering at Izuku with dazed and soft eyes.

“You good?” Izuku nodded, feeling a smile spread on his face. He had never felt that good in his entire life. Kacchan huffed out a laugh. “You look stoned.”

“Kacchan's a really good drug,” Izuku replied nonsensically.

“Idiot.”

Kacchan rested his head on his shoulder, softly playing with Izuku’s hair as they basked in the silence.

“Are you okay?” Izuku asked a moment later, remembering how Kacchan had completely stilled earlier.

He hummed. “Yeah. Just got a bit overwhelmed, ‘s all.” And because Kacchan couldn’t stand sweet and soft moments for top long, “Your dick's fucking huge. Felt like I was being split in half.”

Izuku snorted loudly, before dissolving into giggles. “Thanks? Kacchan's so nice.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

They laughed a little, before letting silence take over again. It wasn’t a bad type of silence. It was soft and light, comforting in the way that it allowed them to bask in each other’s presence, without the pressure of conversation

Still, eventually, Kacchan spoke, voice quiet but firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Izuku. You can try to get rid of me as much as you want, but I’m not leaving you. I’m not giving up on you either. I don’t care how long it takes, we'll crawl our way to the top together.”

Fresh tears gathered in Izuku’s eyes, chest warm and full.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Izuku turned his face just enough to look at Kacchan.

There was so much he wanted to say, so much to thank Kacchan for, but in this moment, words failed him. And so, he poured all his love, all his gratitude into one kiss and pressed it against his mouth.

From the way Kacchan softly smiled when they parted, eyes bright and gleaming, Izuku knew he heard him.

They both looked up at the sounds of loud cheers followed by laughs. It wasn’t anywhere close by, but still audible. A reminder that outside the bubble of space they had created in the car, there was a world waiting for them.

Kacchan nuzzled his cheek, before sharply biting it.

“Ow,” Izuku winced, pouting. “What was that for?”

“You bastard. I didn’t even get to watch the fireworks.”

Izuku thought back to when the show started, when they were still sitting atop that small cliff. He may not have watched a single second of the fireworks, but he remembered the sounds, the lights. Loud bangs followed by an explosion of colors that seemed to paint the whole world.

He remembered how they turned Kacchan into a canvas, painting his skin in red, in green, in gold; highlighting his bright eyes, his flushed cheeks, his shiny lips.

Izuku hadn’t watched the fireworks. But as Kacchan grumbled about being hot and gross, all while cuddling closer to Izuku, he decided that the view he had was much better.

It was years later that Izuku realized Kacchan didn’t say the words back. Not that night, not that week, not that year. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t until they stood face to face, eyes wet and smiles blinding as they passed rings onto each other’s finger that he heard them for the first time. Or, well. Audibly heard them.

But Izuku hadn’t minded.

Because when Kacchan pulled the ‘For Izuku’ notebook out the morning after, silently making room for him as he explained everything he had already thought about for the suit, Izuku heard them like he screamed them from the top of his lungs.

I love you, I love you, I love you.