Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The classroom, now marked with 3A on the door, is an intense atmosphere of excitement. Everyone is leant over desks, sharing stories of summer, laughing and embracing the friends they hadn't seen in weeks. Momo explained her summer in Europe, and Denki recited how many times he watched his favourite movie back-to-back. It's a little intimidating as Katsuki walked through the door, and he's not expecting the rush of excitement the class has over seeing him.

"Baku-bro!" Kirishima gleamed as he hopped off his desk. He rushed over to Katsuki's side and instantly overwhelmed him with a plethora of questions.

"Enough," Katsuki waved his hand dismissively. "Give me a second to breathe." He walked to his designated desk and slung his back from his shoulder. The classroom didn't waver in it's noise and Katsuki could already feel his headache washing over him. But despite it all, he couldn't deny the familiarity that soothed him as he glanced over faces he knew too-well, and felt his seat stiffen his back in the way it always did. UA might not be pleasant all the time, but it was more of a home than his own.

The buzz, that was pushing 120 decibels, fell flat as soon as Aizawa opened the door. Students slowly found their seats before Aizawa could even ask them to, and the class died down into normalcy. There was a moment of trepidation as Aizawa eyed the room, and for the first time in a long time, he looked rested.

"Morning 3A." He began, monotonous as always, but slightly more positive. "As you will probably know, this is the first day of your last year at UA. For most, that might be bittersweet - but really, it's quite exciting." Aizawa trailed on, and it was quite a shock to hear him publicly express excitement at anything. "This year, however, the pressure is on. It will be more stressful, more tiring, and more painful than any year of schooling you've ever endured."

Katsuki groaned in his back-of-the-class seat. He found himself instinctively sliding down and slouching in his chair. The idea of stress and torture didn't fill his empty stomach with much joy. Empty, yes, as Katsuki couldn't stomach a breakfast so early in the morning. He had spent most of his morning wheeling in his old stuff for his dorm, all to save him the pain of it later. But now he was hungry, tired, and drowning out any bad news facing him.

"Today, I'd like to spend the morning going over the structure of your year. It will be a useful thing to look back on, as it's important to understand what you're up against." Aizawa turned with a piece of chalk to the board. "So if you could all take notes..."

Combat training was no simple breeze. When Aizawa said he wanted to go right back into things, the general consensus was that combat would pick up after a few days. Wrong - for the students of 3A never caught a break. On day four of the third year, 3A was in action.

Katsuki, perhaps the most out of everyone, was radically excited for this. He had sparred in the gaps where he and one of the class members were free, and spent the rest of the time punching holes in the walls and exhausting the gym of all its facilities. But practicing punching, and practicing how to blow up a building are wildly different, and he had been yearning for the freedom to use his quirk all summer.

Aizawa, accompanied by Present Mic, tattered through the general assessment of the day. Capture the flag. It was a simple and yet invigorating game the class had grown to love. One end of Ground Beta had a tittering blue flag, and the other a red one. The mission was simple - grab the flag and bring it to your side of the facility. The class was split in two, and they made their way to their respective ends.

Katsuki, as well as the two that followed like simple ducklings (that being Kirishima and Kaminari) were on the red team, and they sifted through buildings to make it to their base. They had others on the team, and while they discussed methods of defense and attack, Katsuki watched over the high-roofed buildings - over the familiar expanse. He would miss UA when he graduated, but there is nothing more fulfilling than becoming a Hero.

Eventually, (to which Katsuki only discovered through Kirishima repeating it) half the team decided to be on offense, while the rest stayed back and protected the flag as defense. Of course, as Katsuki would not have it any other way, he was playing offense.

When Mic’s voice sounded through the facility signalling the beginning of the game, Katsuki flew off to capture the flag. His blasts fizzled behind him as he soared through building tops. It was liberating, being in his most powerful state. He missed it.

Katsuki spotted Iida on the floor of the facility, speeding to capture his flag. Part of him wanted to thrash Iida for the sake of it, but the other and more sensible part knew Iida was a talented Hero-in-training, and had a worthy chance at actually stealing Katsuki's red flag. So he jumped, flittering down to stop the human engine. As his boots marked the floor, and Iida began to slowly shrink into the distance, Katsuki knew he needed to act fast. He lifted his arm into the air, hand on the little toggle that would let his gauntlets burst open flames into the air. He pulled - and then - nothing. The pin fell to the ground with a charming click, and Katsuki watched it roll until it found it's stable stop. And Iida was gone, flashing through the buildings.

Katsuki rolled his arm in the air, half-expecting the gauntlet to blow and knock him into the glass of a shop window. So he popped it off and chucked it. It bounced on the ground and skipped over the stones before blowing up and smashing all surrounding glass. Katsuki, used to the blasts, let the hot air and thick smoke pass over him. "Are you fucking kidding me." He mumbled to himself, sound fusing into the ashen mess. His gauntlets, part of his flash and success, weren't working?

Mina, who was on the offense with him, slid down building railing and perched beside him. "Any special reason why you're staring at the floor?" She teased.

"No." He answered. Katsuki, who naturally felt the need to defend himself always, had grown to accept the support of the people around him. For the first time, he was actually nice to the people in his class. It was a wonderful turnaround, and people felt comfortable talking to him (instead of preparing for unarmed beating on saying hello).

"Why'd you chuck the gauntlet away?"

"It broke."

"What?" Mina puzzled. She stepped out of the mucus mess she was making on the floor, conscience of how it was melting the tar.

Katsuki frowned. "It just... broke."

"Guess Support will have to fix you a new one." She shrugged. "But we got a game to win, Bakugo! Stop whining!" She giggled, urging Katsuki to follow her. And really, after a breath of deliberation, Katsuki realized he was whining, and followed her.

He'd fix his problem later. Success waits for no one, and Katsuki can fight bare fisted if he needed to win.

Over dinner, the dinner which Momo and Tokoyami had made for the class, Kirishima pestered Katsuki over his suit issues. "It didn't work? I bet you're bummed."

Katsuki swallowed a mouthful of food and scoffed. "No, I'll just have to request more."

Kirishima shrugged. "Surely you should redesign them? I mean, when we tried them in the training hall they looked really scuffed. You've had the same design for like two years." He tattered on, moving the rice around on his pate with the tip of his fork. "Maybe some fresh ideas wouldn't hurt."

"I am not waiting around for some chick like Hatsume to suit me up with some technical-trash." Katsuki complained, hearing the irritating squeals of Hatsume in the back of his mind. "I'd rather request a new one and not have to wait."

"It's not so bad! Plus, Hatsume is not the only Support student. There's like - hundreds. Or something." Kirishima squinted at his estimate, sipping the green tea Momo likes to share out.

Katsuki frowned. "It's such a mess in there."

Kirishima, suddenly much more lively and defensive of his point, straightened his back. "No, they have a whole department for third years, and it's so nice in there. I went there the other day to see if they'd fix my boots, and this guy there keeps it so clean." Kirishima suddenly sighed. "Damn, I forgot his name. But he's really nice. We can ask him about your gauntlets. He spent like... three or something years in the US and now he's super amazing at all that stuff. Honestly, you gotta see his drawings."

Katsuki didn't seem remotely impressed. "The US is hardly as advanced as Japan." He said flatly.

"I don't know man, they do some amazing stuff over there. They are super modern. And anyway, no one else in Support has that kind of hands-on experience." Kirishima pleased. "Give it a shot? I'll come with you."

Katsuki groaned. "As long as I don't see that pink haired energy-bomb."

"Deal!"

The Support building was chaotic as you’d might expect. The counters and tables, when stripped of their various embellishments of junk and half-finished projects, are cool and clean. Modern. In fact, everything is a shade of grey, making the building feel industrial. Like things could really happen there.

There was, however, an overcrowding issue. The counters were littered and the walls were marked. Everything (every surface, space, and wall) was being used to its full potential. There were students in every corner, who had grown to wearing mostly what they wanted. It was hard to build, afterall, in the sleek and smart uniform of UA. Katsuki and Kirishima entered the room with marginal trepidation. Although Kirishima knew what to expect physically, you could never anticipate what experiments people were going to get up to.

And, it was loud. People yelled like they were in the back of a kitchen, demanding things from each end of the room. There was the harsh bashing of metal by either a hammer or one's own head, the buzz of stress and irritation, and the loud screeching of machinery.

“This place is hell.” Katsuki said flatly.

“It’s…” Kirishima paused, eyes searching for a compliment. “Charming.”

The main room fragmented into much smaller rooms, and one had a large Third Year written in big letters overhanging the door. “This is where they help us.” Kirishima indicated, and led Katsuki through the third year door.

Inside, it was actually much cleaner. Although it was still intensely full, everything looked organised and proportionate. The counters had been cleaned, regularly it seemed, and everything had a sparkle to it. The room, being for more concentrated affairs, was smaller, and yet the activity inside was much more grand. Large tech suits, impressive displays of intricate support items, plans and sketches pinned to large corkboards. It was actually a wonderful sight to see.

“More my fashion,” Katsuki muttered, eyes dancing over the projects in progress. There was still a buzz of noise from outside, but it was muffled through the thick walls. All you could hear in the third year space was the sizzling of welding, and the soft clanking of metal.

“It's nice, right?” Kirishima gleamed, dashing down the small steps into the main body of the room. “There’s lots of sections for different needs, but I think for now you should just get someone to look over your gauntlets to see what needs fixing.”

Just then, before Katsuki could groan at the long process before him, a girl slipped out from behind a desk. It was Hatsume - and Katsuki knew her well. “Hey! Class 3A!” She shrilled in her far too ecstatic tone. Katsuki knew her well, well enough to know he hated her. “What can I do for ya?”

“Bakugo was just wondering if someone could take a look at his gauntlets? Maybe offer some ideas for a redesign?” Kirishima spoke for him, feeling the way Katsuki wanted to blow the room with rage. He hated pesky tasks. He hated analysing and discovering. He just wanted to do, and let people do stuff for him.

“No problem!” Hatsume pulled her gloves off and threw them onto an unsuspecting counter. Clearly, whoever was keeping this room so clean wasn’t her. “What’s the problem? Do you want something cooler? Maybe mega-gauntlets that light up and shoot explosive lazars!”

“No,” Katsuki snarled. “I just want them fixed.”

“Why fix when you can adapt.” She beamed. “We could make you the coolest suit the world has ever seen!” She was already too excited, and Katsuki was already too bored.

Hatsume ran over to a counter and swiped off the junk from it like a terrible magician trying to convince you it all just disappeared. Perhaps she thought it did, as the clanking of the metal bashing on the ground, and the mess it made didn’t seem to bother her. She pulled out a large sheet of paper and pulled a pen from somewhere behind her ear. “Okay - let’s plan!”

“I want it to be normal.” Katsuki groaned, not bothering to move from his central position in the room. Kirishima had long pulled up a chair on one of the empty desks, fiddling with something he should have probably left alone.

“Normal is boring.” Hatsume called over her shoulder, pencil miraculously gliding over the paper with elaborate (and off theme) illustrations.

“Can you just do what you’re told!” Katsuki began to grow frustrated. “I don’t want mega lazars, I want something normal.”

Hatsume didn’t reply, dancing over the mess of machinery she had left on the floor. She spun around suddenly, slipping on a circular object and falling to the floor. It made a horrible crash as metal bashed to metal, and Katsuki finally lost it.

“What are you doing?” He groaned. “Just sit and fix my shit - don’t hurl to the ground like some kind of infant!”

However, it seemed, all at once and too quickly, that Katsuki was not the most irritated in the room. A door to the left of the mess swung open, and a second Support student walked in, hand over his head and sighing. “Hatsume - how many times do I have to tell you to behave? I’m sick of you making such a mess!” The boy complained, reaching down to collect the various scraps of metal she previously disregarded to the floor. “I love your enthusiasm, but it’s causing problems. I can’t work in an environment where you’re making so much noise. Please, could you calm down?” He ushered, and though he sounded annoyed, there was still a degree of politeness in his tone.

Hatsume sighed, jumping to her feet. “I know, I’m sorry.” She blurted dramatically. “I’ll sit and make my inventions quietly.”

“Thank you.” The boy replied, laughing a little to ease the tension. There wasn’t much, really. Hatsume was wonderful at taking criticism. “Hey - you can sit with Kirishima! Are you needing some help?” The student asked Kirishima. Casually, playfully, like they knew each other already.

“No, not for me. Your adjustments have already helped me so much!” Kirishima praised, getting up from the table and greeting the student. “Having the studded shoes have really helped me stay in place in combat, so thanks for that.”

“No problem!” He smiled. “I’m happy to help. Are you just visiting?”

Kirishima jumped back into the situation and turned to look at Katsuki. “No, my friend here needs some new gauntlets - do you know Bakugo?”

The man of the hour, the one the three of them were looking at, stood frozen in pale shock. It was unlike Katsuki to be frightened of anything, and Kirishima puzzled over his blank expression, saving the image for later mockery.

Katsuki, however, clenched his balmy fists by his sides and resisted the urge to set a nuclear-akin explosion off in the centre of the room. And yet, he couldn’t, even if he wanted to. His legs were stuck in place, and his blood began to run cold. It was as if someone had stolen the life from him there in that very room. Kirishima looked around to find the culprit.

“Oh,” The student, who now upon further glancing looked just as shocked, cleared his throat dryly. “Yeah, actually, we’ve met.”

“That’s… good, then.” Kirishima squinted between the two. “Is it?” He second-guessed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Katsuki finally spoke, and his voice came out surprisingly angry. It didn’t match his expression of cold fear, and the more he spoke, the more he came back to life, reincarnated into white rage.

“Oh, well, I don’t know. I thought--” The student stammered.

Katsuki finally moved, putting his hands over his eyes and rubbing the shock from them. Much in the way you would if you saw a ghost before you. “I don’t have time for your freaky games. What the hell are you doing in a uniform that doesn’t belong to you?”

Although the student was wearing only half of the required clothing (favouring a t-shirt over the UA blazer) he was dressed accordingly for somebody on the Support course. “Kacchan, calm down. I was going to talk to you sometime…” He mumbled, hands in the air defensively.

“Sometime? When? Were you just planning on slinking around like some dirty snake until we ran into each other?”

This, unsurprisingly, made the student laugh. “Dirty snake? No, actually, I was going for more of a bullshark kind-of approach. I thought it would be cooler.” He let out through short bursts of laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Deku!” Katsuki cursed. “What on earth are you here for?!”

Deku, who was more appropriately and commonly named Izuku, waved a dismissive hand. “Look, you’re being rash and crazy. It’s no big deal. I always told you I had dreams of UA one way or another.”

Kirishima, who was now abandoned in confusion by Hatsume, who got bored of watching the drama, butted in before Katsuki could explode. “Hold on, I’m lost.”

Izuku smiled sheepishly, almost like he was afraid that if he explained, Katsuki would shoot him for doing so. “Kacchan and I are old friends.”

“We’re not friends.” Katsuki said bluntly, like he was offended. “I hate you.”

Kirishima almost laughed. “Kacchan? Friends? This is-- this is the craziest thing I’ve seen in my three years of UA.”

There was an eerie silence as Kirishima looked between the face of white rage, and the dismissive and small smile on Izuku’s face. In fact, the silence lingered as each part didn’t know what to play. Should Izuku apologise? For what? Should Kirishima leave them to it? Should Katsuki set fire to everything precious in the room?

Eventually, tension snapped as Katsuki walked for the door. “I hate you, Deku.” He said with a hand hovering over the doorknob. Izuku didn’t flinch, didn’t expect that Katsuki would have said anything different. “I hate you.” He whispered. To himself, maybe. Really, he was the only one who heard it. The only one that felt his voice quiver, and saw his face contort.

The door slammed with a resounding thud, and Katsuki was gone.

Chapter Text

Sleep did not come easy for Katsuki. Despite the hours he spent in the gym exhausting his energy on an innocent punching bag, and the lengths he ran to escape any possibility of a thought, he couldn’t sleep. His body ached from training too far, and stomach groaned from having no dinner. He was a mess - a weakened, ruined version of the greatness he woke up as.

Katsuki couldn’t quite place what he was feeling, and the dim light of his dorm room felt like the perfect place to explore that. The digital clock sat above his bedframe and read thirty-seven minutes past twelve. Usually, he’d be out cold by nine. This was unusual, everything was unusual.

He couldn’t see anything other than the outline of his old friend. It had been three years since the last time he laid eyes on him, and he had changed. Really, changed.

Izuku was taller. In his final year of Middle School, he was small and scrawny. His limbs never fit quite right in the uniform, and he always looked as though his body wasn’t made for it. But now he filled out his clothes like they were made for him. His arms, the portion of them Katsuki could see through his t-shirt, were thicker and more defined. Like he’d been working. Physically. As if he spent his days grafting and grinding. And his skin, contrast to the sickly colour it was before, was more tanned and even. He looked, one might sum up, healthy.

Katsuki could see, in the dark part of his mind that sunk into his pillow, the rich glow of Izuku’s cheeks. The tumbling and shining coils of hair that lightened since Middle School. Izuku used to have dark hair that never really looked green until the summer sun was belting down on it. It used to be stringy and static - but now it framed his face in pine coloured locks that brought out the shine in his eye.

And his eyes. He looked happy. He looked fulfilled, like he had done something with his life. The kind of radiance one collects in ones soul after darting over the wonders of the world. It’s not the glow you get from Middle School. Not the glow from being trapped in your own town. It’s the glow from searching the world and finding yourself.

“What’s that bastard been doing without me?” Katsuki mumbled to himself, half certain (looking back) that he’d spoken out loud.

Without me. Katsuki scrunched his eyebrows and scoffed. Such a stupid thought, but not completely unwarranted. Izuku followed Katsuki everywhere. Really, one would think he’d follow him off the face of the planet. It wasn’t until the last day of Middle School, where the excitement and sorrow of leaving your days behind you blended together, and people were saying their goodbyes, that Katsuki realised Izuku probably would have a life outside of him. He let his mind wander to his final memory of school.

It was a mostly silent walk home, and Katsuki figured that since it was the last time he’d do such a thing, he’d let the leech he called Deku follow him home. Izuku usually spoke on walks like these. He usually spoke a lot. But today, as the chants and songs of students let free died down the further they walked, Izuku said nothing.

“Something on your mind?” Katsuki suggested. Not asked, because Katsuki never asked things like that.

“Oh, no. I don’t know.” Izuku shrugged, but his knuckles went pale as he gripped the straps of his back.

“Well, you would know. It’s your brain - thank God.” Katsuki scoffed. “Who knows what someone would do if they had to suffer a mind like yours.”

Izuku giggled. He always did in the face of an insult. It was… admirable.

“Well?” Katsuki prompted again.

Izuku bit his bottom lip, somehow deep in thought. “I’m so glad you got into UA.” He began, and the tone of the conversation shifted. “I knew you would, of course. But I’m just so proud.”

Katsuki flinched like he’d eaten something sour. When things got too… emotional, he usually did. “Thanks, freak.”

Izuku smiled. “I think you’re going to have so much fun. And you’re going to be so successful.” He nodded. “I know it.”

Katsuki, who had actually never taken the time to ask, thought suddenly of what on earth Izuku was going to be doing. “Where did you apply?”

Izuku flinched a little, as if he’d dreaded the question since the moment he had to think about it. “A few places. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “I won’t.”

The buzz of a vending machine caught Katsuki’s eye, and he began to fish in his pocket for spare coins. Inside, the mess of drinks disorganised him, and he ended up choosing a simple lemonade instead of branching out to things he wasn’t sure he liked. Izuku watched peacefully, like he was happy just to be there. Really, anywhere that Katsuki was would make him happiest.

The lemonade started to roll from its holding as Katsuki finished sliding the coins in, and Izuku cleared his throat. “Kacchan?”

There was a thud as the lemonade hit the bottom of the vending machine, in tune with the way Katsuki’s heart dropped. Izuku sounded too sad for his next words to be normal.

“What?”

“I’m going away tomorrow.”

Katsuki took the lemonade out of the machine and twisted his face. “Away?”

Izuku nodded.

There was silence, and Katsuki pocketed the lemonade. “The hell does that mean?” He asked, and they began walking again. This time, Katsuki was conscious of the way his shoes bashed against the gravel, and the way his heart beat.

“I’m going abroad. I thought it would be nice.”

“A holiday?"

“I guess so. A holiday, if I come back.”

Katsuki felt his throat close. “If you come back? What kind of ominous game are you playing?”

Izuku shrugged. “I wanted something new.”

“There’s places in Japan you’ve never been.” Katsuki protested, and urged himself to stop sounding so concerned. Stop feeling so concerned.

Izuku frowned. “This shouldn’t bother you.”

“It doesn’t.” Katsuki said too quickly.

But, in the small part of Katsuki’s mind that he never visited, it did. The very idea that Izuku would be living his own life, somewhere else, haunted him. He was so used to Izuku sticking around like some harmless parasite. Izuku was with Katsuki everyday, and although he knew Izuku would go someday, he never could quite imagine it.

“Where are you going?” Katsuki asked, putting forth the coldest tone he could muster.

“The US. Somewhere hot, that’s what I want.”

“The US? That place is awful. You don’t even speak English.”

“I’ll learn it.” Izuku said simply.

“And where are you going to stay? I mean, have you given any thought to this at all? It’s ridiculous. You’re 16.”

Izuku only shrugged. He stopped when they reached the intersection that divided the paths to their two homes. Izuku stepped back in the direction of his own. “It might be stupid,” Izuku sighed. “But I’ll be happier. There’s nothing for me here in Japan. I’m just some quirkless kid with dying dreams. The US is the land of opportunity, according to the movies. And that’s where All Might made himself!” Izuku grinned, suddenly inspired by his all time idol.

“I think it’s dumb. You won’t last out there.” Katsuki scoffed.

“And I won’t last out here. This place isn’t kind to people like me.” Izuku said, suddenly sombre. “I’ll have fun. And, I’ll miss you.”

Katsuki winced, and froze a little as Izuku stepped closer. “Maybe I’m glad you’re going. It might be better without you sucking the life out of me.” Even as the words left his mouth he felt them rot his insides.

“Exactly. I don’t want to hold people back anymore.” Izuku said flatly, as if any of that was true. As if Katsuki ever thought he held him back.

Katsuki felt any form of words die in the back of his throat. He wanted to say he was glad he’d never see Izuku again. He wanted to say Izuku is his biggest inspiration.

Before he could (if he ever would) Izuku wrapped his thin arms around Katsuki’s shoulders. He squeezed, half to avoid Katsuki noticing the way he was shaking, and half because he wanted to. His shoes creased as he reached upward. “Bye, Kacchan. Please, never stop being incredible.” Izuku whispered, his words sticking to Katsuki’s neck.

Katsuki couldn’t say goodbye. He couldn’t say anything at all.

Izuku walked home with a slight bounce in his step, like he was happy. Izuku hadn’t been happy since as far as Katsuki could remember. He got smaller as Katsuki stood, frozen, watching him leave.

That damn idiot. Leaving.

Ever since that day, a part of Katsuki has been missing. Ever since that day, there’s been a hole in his heart he is unable to tend to, scared to face the wound.

Katsuki showed up to training at the USJ with a profound stubbornness one can only master after years of being a brat. He was dressed and ready for combat, only he was gauntlet-less. Katsuki would not, and will not, change his mind. He does not need them.

"Dude," Kirishima snorted. "You're such an idiot." They were walking through the lake side section of the USJ. It was pretty, if you ignored how man-made and fake it was. They were actively finding Villains (that being some selected members of their class) and Katsuki looked often to the lake, waiting for Tsuyu to pop out at any time.

"Call me an idiot again and watch how difficult it is to harden under the water." Katsuki said, stringing together his words with the glue they call rage.

Kirishima disregarded the threat. "I'm serious, just suck up your pride and get some gauntlets."

"The only thing I'm willing to suck up is the urge to beat your ass."

"At least you're willing." Kirishima said flatly, deciding to drop the complaint all-together.

It had been three weeks since Katsuki visited the Support department, and three weeks since he had a full nights sleep. It was, he found, impossible to sleep knowing Izuku was somewhere on campus. The thought alone made his stomach turn. He had been fighting these three weeks without his gauntlets. This didn't make such an affect on his ability, but it was noticeable. The gauntlets allowed his ability to be pushed to the max, and it's clear he hasn't been able to reach that feat in his own strength.

The water in the lake bubbled beside them, and Katsuki put his arms out ready. Tsuyu rose out of the water, ready to attack the two and win her side a victory. Katsuki put his best arm forward and reached for the pin he usually grabbed - only, of course. He had no gauntlets. Instead, he grabbed thin air and made a fool of himself. The momentary hesitation gave Tsuyu enough time to wrap her frog-like tongue around Katsuki and launch him across the lake. Katsuki plunged into the cold water and sunk like a failure. Even under water, fighting the dark abyss, he had time to chide himself.

Kirishima had little skills against Tsuyu, and chose to run away rather than fight. He saw Sero, anyway, fighting the play-Villain Ochako and felt he would rather help him than save Katsuki from a fate he already warned him about.

Katsuki rose from the water, wet hair sticking to his face. He made a loud and inhumane sound of pent up rage and frustration, feeling the weightlessness on his arms more than ever. The water thrashed around him as he swam for shore, and he didn't forget to watch his surroundings as he made a break for it.

When Katsuki rose from the water, he mumbled curses between steps. His shoes made the mud squelch, and he felt the cold of the air stick to his wet skin. Katsuki hated being cold - it made him practically useless on the battle field. When he saw Jiro approaching him (another member of the Villain team) he didn't move. He didn't flinch or frown or make a break for it. He just watched her - watched her walk over, plug her jacks into the ground, ready to unearth the ground beneath him.

And then, she stopped. Katsuki, who looked like the victim of a rainstorm, who was standing like the life had been pulled from him, didn't seem at all alarmed by her presence. In fact, if you looked hard enough, he looked a little pleased to see her. Or someone - or anyone.

"Aren't you going to defend yourself?" Jiro called, keeping a distance incase Katsuki was tricking her.

Katsuki shrugged. "I don't care." He muttered, and walked right by her. Weird.

Jiro spun instantly, stalking on behind Katsuki as he walked to - where was he walking? "What happened? Did Tsu drop you in the lake?"

Katsuki carried on. Over the second year of UA, him and Jiro grew surprisingly close. It was sometime in the summer of the first year that they realised they loved the same kind of music. The two of them hung out in the free moments of the second year, practicing songs and instruments. It was a nice thing to break up the stresses of school, and it let both of their minds rest when things got too much. Because of that, Jiro learnt to notice when Katsuki wasn't himself. And right now, he was not himself.

"Where are you going?" Jiro asked, keeping Katsuki's pace.

"You have a job to do, you know." Katsuki muttered.

"Yeah, and I'm doin' it. I'm chasing you."

Katsuki frowned. "Whatever." He carried on through the terrain, feeling his shoes tear up the grass, and when he got far enough, felt them scrape against the stone. He waded through buildings in the city expanse of the USJ. Somewhere in the distance Dark Shadow rose above the rooftops. It reminded Katsuki that he had a lesson to tend to, but he couldn't help himself. He needed out. He needed peace.

"Come on, Bakugo." Jiro complained from behind. "Where are you even going?"

Katsuki spun around all of a sudden, face contorting in irritation. "Just drop it, lobes." Katsuki said sourly. "I don't want you following me around like some idiot when you have work to do. Mind your own damn business and leave me alone."

It was hard to take Katsuki seriously when his hair was sticking to his temples and his skin was littered with tiny pieces of dirt from the lake. But his face warranted enough reason to leave him alone. He stared with cold intensity - like it didn't matter that he was freezing and useless, like he'd punch Jiro in the face if she didn't walk away.

"Whatever, loser." She shrugged. "Don't get lost in the swamp." 

Katsuki shivered as he walked away. His wet clothes stuck to his skin, permanent reminders of how he'd messed up. Failed. Katsuki Bakugo does not fail.

Katsuki spent the last fleeting moments of sun on a run. He liked to run in the mornings, clear his head before school started and get his muscles working before any unwarranted training, but tonight he ran along the beachside in the settling sun. Katsuki felt his trainers dig into the sand as he exhausted any energy he had left in him. The sea, although hard to hear through Katsuki's heart thudding in his chest, sloshed against the sand in rhythmic and soothing waves. It was nice to run along the sand, as Katsuki could see the pieces of sun scattered over the ocean. The world turned pink for a while, and when he ran, it felt like it was him and only him - alone in the world.

Katsuki spent most of his time running thinking about strategy and combat. It was a useful time to review his skills and think of ways to improve. His head, today, pounded with every step he took. Perhaps he hadn't had enough to drink, or maybe he was thinking too much. Every time he thought back to his disaster in the USJ, he saw his hand reaching for a pin of a gauntlet that was not there. He felt sick, appalled that he would make such a stupid mistake. He felt the empty reach to nothing, he felt empty.

Flashes of green clouded his vision and he tried not to think of Izuku and his toothy smile, and the soft dimples that blend into his freckle dusted cheeks. He felt sick. He thought about combat and his quirk. He thought about a lot and nothing, and he thought, finally, that he couldn't do this anymore.

The beach was turning blue when he left.

The common room of the dorm, at twelve minutes past nine, was as busy as you'd expect it to be. Hagakure and Ochako were in the kitchen, baking something that resembled a cake. Iida and Shoto were playing cards, something they liked to do to stimulate the brain or whatever nerdy phrase they used. And Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina were watching the latest episode of their favourite show. The one that released episodes every Monday, and for some reason has convinced them that a week is more akin to a year.

"Oh," Mina spoke when she caught Katsuki's attention. "Some kid from Support was asking for you. Had a gift from Hatsume." Mina muttered evasively, using every break in on-screen dialogue to talk rather than speaking coherently.

"A gift?" Katsuki said with an unusual amount of anxiety. Knowing Hatsume - Katsuki could be opening a bomb.

"I left it by your door." She said, eyes glued to the screen.

Katsuki frowned. There wasn't much more, it seemed, he could pull out of Mina, and he decided he'd see the present for himself. He wandered up the wooden stairs, hearing the muffled excitement from late night whimsy fade into the background. A gift, from Support, from Hatsume. Katsuki's stomach knotted.

And as the story told, a large box (a very large box) was sitting by Katsuki's door. It was black and unlabeled, and didn't show a clear opening. Really, it could be a bomb. Katsuki wiped his forehead with the towel he'd strung over his shoulders and opened his dorm door. With his legs, that ached from running too far, he pushed the box into the room before him. It was heavy, really heavy.

He flicked on a light, threw his belongings on his desk, and pulled off his sweaty shirt. Katsuki eyed the box with trepidation, like a fly ready to dart in the face of a swatter. After a breath, he tore the box open with a thick pair of scissors.

Inside the box was mountains of paper. Old paper that you'd use to light a fire. Perhaps a cheap form of insulation. Before Katsuki had a moment to piece anything together, he saw a small note resting atop the rubble. It was paper pulled badly from a notebook, and some of the corners were dusted in ink and pencil lead. Dirty paper, then, pulled from a well used notebook. It read:

I know you did not put in a formal request for a new set of support items,
but I thought you'd struggle without it.
Try these on for size! I think you'll like them.
- Hatsume.

The handwriting was surprisingly neat for Hatsume, who Katsuki imagined to have messy and halfway illegible handwriting. He squinted at the note for some time, not able to fully process what he was reading. There was something about the note that made Katsuki's chest heavy, and he couldn't quite place what was causing his reaction. He tossed the note, letting it flit and fly down to the floor. Next, was tackling the insides. Katsuki slowly (very slowly, with a sour face) pulled the paper apart. Before he knew it, his eyes were scanning across the skin of two very finely detailed support items.

Gauntlets, more specifically.

He felt his mind ticking, asking question over question. They were, honestly, beautiful. Their outer layer was a jet black, the kind of black that makes you think you can see something in them if you look long enough. And really, you could, only it was your own marvelled face staring back at you in the reflection of it's shiny coat. Each and every inch was accounted for, and Katsuki could see the tiny welding, polishing, refining in every surface. It felt wrong to pull them from their enclosure. Katsuki swallowed the thick lump in his throat. Would Hatsume really do something like this for him?

Katsuki eventually took them out of the box, and they were, miraculously, lighter than his original ones. Katsuki found that the gauntlets were always a little heavy, and took getting used to in order to use them properly. But these were lighter than before. Incredible craftsmanship. He spun them over in his hands, watching the light flicker over the surface.

He'd need the right gear to test them, but he could already tell they were going to serve him right. It was always a gamble, however, with trying anything Hatsume made. Whether or not they had some ulterior design flaw that she saw as peak creativity was uncertain. "Damn fruit-loop." Katsuki mumbled. "There's no way."

Eventually, there was a sudden knock at the door. Katsuki almost dropped the gauntlets in surprise - his classmates knew not to knock on his door after dark. They'd never be granted a friendly response. Katsuki put the metal-artwork back in it's makeshift casing and went to open the door. Creaking open, a simple Kirishima watched the light on the ceiling. "Bakugo!" He smiled when the door opened all the way. "You busy?"

"I thought you were watching your dumbass show."

"Nah," Kirishima shrugged. "I can watch it tomorrow."

Katsuki squinted. "Then what is it?"

"I wanted to see Hatsume's gift before you fell asleep!" Kirishima said excitedly. Out of all the people Katsuki let into his dorm room from time to time (which was, really, no one) Kirishima was surprisingly welcome. Katsuki grew to like it, anyway. Company.

"Whatever, shitty hair." Katsuki rolled his eyes, walking back from the door to let the guy in.

Kirishima waltz into the room, hands behind his back like an art critic pondering around an exhibit. He lost his mature act when the light sparkled on the brand new support items. "There's no way!" He beamed. "These are amazing!" He didn't dare touch them, but craned over the box in awe.

"They are, actually, nice." Katsuki said plainly, but he couldn't help the small sound of praise in his tone.

"She made these? I've never seen her make something so... professional." Kirishima said seriously, putting a finger over his chin. Suddenly, he gained energy again. "Wow, and she nailed your style! Who'd have thought Hatsume would know you so well?" 

"I don't know." Katsuki shrugged. "I guess they're just black."

"When did you put a request in? I mean, you said today you didn't want to." Kirishima asked, cocking his head over at Katsuki.

"I didn't." He shrugged, leaning down to grab the note. "She left this."

Kirishima read silently, eyebrows furrowing at something strange Katsuki didn't pick up on. "Who wrote it for her? Do you know?"

Katsuki scoffed. "Why would she have someone write it for her?"

"Oh, I don't know, but it's not her writing. Trust me, I know that girl's scribbles. She litters all of her work in these messy, incoherent sentences that you'd need a scribe to translate." Kirishima begins to laugh a little. "She would have had someone to write it for her. Maybe..." Kirishima paused, biting his lip with a stupid grin on his face. "Maybe someone like, Midoriya?" He let out, hoping the word alone didn't set Katsuki on fire.

Katsuki frowned. "That nerd knows better than to do anything for me."

"But they're super close, they're practically the only two in there." Kirishima suggested. "Maybe he did! But that's fine, it's just a note..."

Katsuki groaned. "Burn it, then. I don't want the thing to corrupt my sleep. Might be haunted." He said pathetically, like a child's simple petulance.

Kirishima set the note on Katsuki's desk, taking an uninvited seat on the edge of his bed. He thought for a while, mostly deciding how best to word his questions. "What," he started. "What actually... is it about Midoriya that makes you so angry?"

"What is it about anyone who makes me so angry." Katsuki scoffed, but he was deflecting. His nervous hands decided to put any loose paper back into the black box, and spend a while moving the whole thing around.

"But it's different. I mean, he said you were friends."

"We're not really friends."

Kirishima frowned. "Then what are you."

Katsuki paused in his motion of folding a piece of loose paper over and over again. He coughed, "I don't know - mortal enemies." He said sarcastically.

"I'm serious, man."

Katsuki sighed. Actually sighed. And he never sighed. He found a stubborn seat on his desk chair and swivelled around slowly, keeping his body in motion before he blew up from the inside. "We were... childhood friends, I guess. But I mean, at that age, anyone is your friend. It was only Deku that felt like being my friend in Middle School. He wasn't my friend."

Kirishima nodded slowly. He had this talent for seeming like he was listening and caring, simultaneously. Only, it wasn't a talent - Katsuki just never opened up to anyone else. "Why not? You don't like him?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Katsuki said defensively, but relaxed when Kirishima only gave him a flat looking glare. "I don't know. He's... weird. He likes me a lot, but he's not... well, he's not talented enough to... He's like, useless. I don't- Why would I surround myself with useless people?" He slowly let the words out, halfway abandoning the care about how bad they sounded. "I don't want people to drag me down. And I don't want Deku haunting me with his quirk-lessness."

Kirishima, although used to Katsuki's arrogant and selfish manners, never showed any sort of judgement for the way Katsuki behaved about people. "He's quirkless?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. That's... kind of impressive, actually. To get into UA quirkless. And he's so talented too-"

It felt like nails on a chalk board. "Shut up. He's mediocre."

Kirishima gulped when he felt he'd hit a nerve. "Okay, well... have you ever thought about... being civil? Like, friendly?"

"What?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what friendly mea-"

"I know, idiot. What's it got to do with anything?"

Kirishima blanked. "Well, maybe you could like, not hate him. And you don't have to be friends, you can just be normal."

Katsuki, for some reason, felt his chest tighten. He felt misunderstood, but the more he thought about it, the more irrational he sounded. The thought of Izuku made him sick. Sick in the way a fever weakens your body, and nausea makes you dizzy. There was so much emotion, so much feeling toward Izuku that Katsuki couldn't possibly be normal about it. He hated Izuku with every cell belonging to him. He felt his heart throb in his chest. This was too much.

Katsuki stood with tension. "You don't get it." He said coldly. So devoid of warmth Kirishima couldn't process it.

"What?"

"Go. Go to sleep. Get lost." Katsuki delivered, and went to open the door for him.

Kirishima, watching Katsuki at the door, suddenly felt the same way he did when Katsuki left the Support room all those weeks ago. He watched the cold lack of empathy rise and fall in Katsuki's chest. Watched his face darken in something unnameable.

"Okay, man." Kirishima whispered, heading out the door. "Get some sleep!" He smiled with half-effort, waving goodbye.

Katsuki closed the door in his face.