Work Text:
Out of the four-hundred and fifty students from various schools that apply to Ground Zero’s agency for the propulsion internships, only seven are selected to fill the twelve spaces promised.
Matsuda Akio, to his sheer disbelief and complete shock, is one of them.
Despite having read the letter top to tail approximately fifteen times during class, the news is no less intangible. Perched precariously on the edge of a strange dream, this is not part of any reality Matsuda can say with certainty he belongs in.
Because things like this - extraordinary things, that is - don’t happen to him.
To be honest, nothing really does.
Consistency to remain average is a skill nobody else will ever envy or yearn for, but this is a skill Matsuda has come to depend on. At the very least, it gives him great room for improvement and there’s virtually no room to regress.
To be blunt - he could get better, but not much worse.
For an aspiring hero sat amongst handfuls of undeniable stars starting to shine and scatter their light across horizons, an underwhelming revelation like that is a real comfort.
So whilst on the surface mediocrity is overlooked and even feared, beneath it is a realm of unlikely opportunities overshadowed by meagre expectations.
That’s where it all starts, unlikely opportunities. Just like the one he’s somehow landed.
Matsuda looks down again to sneak a peek at the letter, the drone of Aizawa’s voice drifts away into the background. Tuning out a few minutes of class isn’t a big deal, Matsuda is already maintaining an expected, and average, average so far.
Pinned to the top corner of the page is the most unfortunate and unflattering photograph. A brown-eyed, brown-haired boy with rosy cheeks is smiling. Only, the smile is unconvincing and lacklustre, skewed at unusual angles.
Matsuda really hadn’t been ready when the camera clicked, had thought speeding up the seconds leading up to it would help.
Spoiler alert: it didn’t help.
Right now, however, Matsuda can overlook all of this because Ground Zero seemed to be able to as well. Or at least, the person who sifted through the intern applications could, which is definitely close enough.
Applicant : #345
Name : Matsuda Akio
Quirk : TIME WARP. Can slow down or fast forward the current moment of time for up to two minutes. A total of twelve minutes overall can be manipulated per day.
Congratulations!
Your application for the propulsion internship for the Ground Zero Hero Agency has been accepted. Please read through the information below to prepare-
“Matsuda.”
Attention snaps up to the shadow looming over him. A heaviness sits in those dark eyes, something bordering the kind of perpetual exasperation and exhaustion that only his homeroom teacher can conjure.
Matsuda immediately understands the cause of it. Around him, the chairs are neatly tucked in - nobody is sat in them.
Class is apparently over, but for how long Matsuda can’t say. He decides against checking the clock on the wall. There’s every possibility his quirk activated to relish the news in a slow unravelling of time.
That’s just so many levels of embarrassing.
“Sorry Aizawa-sensei. I just can’t believe it.”
Aizawa blinks slow, and that has nothing to do with warped time.
“How so? You worked very hard on that application.”
It’s true.
Matsuda had drafted the blasted thing more times than he will ever admit to, and Aizawa knows that because he had been subjected to each version.
Twenty years from now, he could probably still recite the answers word by word - whether his life depended on it or not.
None of that changes the serrated teeth of truth. Matsuda had been doing his best to avoid the bite.
He hadn’t even been close to getting draft nomination from Ground Zero after the Sports Festival. Or well, anybody really.
Unlike the obligatory internships offered by agencies throughout the year to students, propulsion internships are voluntary. It’s an extra chance for students to gain more experience at a place of their choice - depending on the strength of their application, of course.
So to make it in on the propulsion internships, which is even more competitive, is really something.
“My quirk isn’t anything flashy or powerful,” he admits with finality.
Out of four-hundred and fifty students that dreamed of getting the position, Matsuda is one of the seven selected.
Why exactly, he has no idea.
“There must’ve been a lot of people stronger than me who went for it.”
And smarter, and with more exciting quirks - the list of comparatives are endless.
Aizawa’s eyes sharpen, holding a bite of their own with perhaps more potency than truth itself. As he speaks, Matsuda listens with rapt attention and finds the words don’t sting.
They’re not supposed to.
“I’d advise against that kind of talk during your time there. You got in on your own merit, don’t give Ground Zero a reason to kick you back out.”
The paper in Matsuda’s hands quivers, his breath hitching. Aizawa walks back to his desk.
Around them, the room is parcelled up into a contemplative quiet Matsuda is unsure how to breach. It has weight, but it’s not heavy in a bad way.
“Might I remind you that it’s lunchtime, Matsuda.”
With a weak nod, Matsuda shoves the letter into his bag and sails through the sea of students.
Sure, alright - so he isn’t a chosen one destined for greatness.
But, against all odds, he had been chosen.
On the first day of his internship, Matsuda is awake and up before all twelve of the alarms he had set.
He fast forwards the mundane tasks of making breakfast, showering, getting dressed, brushing his teeth and leaves U.A campus with over an hour to spare for a twenty minute journey.
Every great hero should prepare themselves for the possibility of facing a problem - even one as meagre as public transport delays.
It could happen to anyone, after all.
Keychains of Pro Heroes dance in sync to the rhythm of his racing heart, attached to the Ground Zero backpack.
All around him, people make their way through their morning routines. Above him, the sun pokes through the clouds. Ahead of him, the path still wet from rainfall glistens as if illuminated in gold.
The city is bustling, and Matsuda bounds along with it. Starry-eyed and unable to school the giddy smile on his face into something more sensible. There’s a spring in his step, the soles of his feet barely even touch the ground.
Much like the keychains, he’s dancing through the morning too.
A group of younger kids posing with a Deku cutout by the subway steps, shouting ‘SMASH’ as parents fawn over how adorable it is. Across the road, a food stall is selling lollipops with the faces of popular heroes on them.
Despite the appeal, Matsuda resists the temptation of sour candy. For starters, the Hero Shouto one is sold out and that’s causing quite an uproar. But also, a sugar rush combined with his quirk is an extremely bad idea.
He learnt that one unfortunate night in the dorms and definitely does not want to relive that experience in Ground Zero’s agency.
God. That is where he’s going. Right now. For an entire week.
Alongside six others, Matsuda will venture deep into the heart of a place shielded from the public eye. Because he had been chosen. Out of hundreds upon hundreds of hopeful applicants.
It’s almost too much to take in - even when he approaches the front doors. Excitement veers into a swirling mass of uncertainty without his permission.
The longer he looks, the bigger the space between himself and the door becomes until its shadow towers over him in the distance.
Less of a door, more of a wall he could never hope to climb.
“I’m a little nervous too,” says someone from beside him.
The voice is hushed and quiet, as if trying not to startle him too much. It’s considerate. Matsuda glimpses hair the colour of fresh strawberries in his peripheral. He turns to meet hazel eyes that house more warmth than he ever expected from a stranger.
“We can go in together, if you want?”
Her name is Imada Moe. She’s a student at the Gein Academy a few hours from Musutafu, and one of the seven chosen to intern at Ground Zero’s agency.
As they walk through the front door, pushing it open together, Imada tells him more about herself. Compared to before, her voice is much louder and teeming with enviable confidence.
It stays that way, until the inevitable subject of quirks come up.
Reluctance strikes, and it’s far too familiar for Matsuda to pretend he didn’t notice. Her expression shifts from an easy smile to a strained one.
She explains her quirk is empath-related, that she can sense emotions and even project them onto others. As much as Matsuda strives to convince her that is not only impressive but very cool, Imada’s attention wanders elsewhere. Her eyes trail across the lobby, distractedly.
Matsuda knows from that point on they will be fast friends, possibly even lifelong ones.
On their way to the debriefing room, Matsuda bumps into a friend who is in fact already lifelong. Well, for as long as he’s been alive so far, that is. Childhood friend is probably a better fit.
That doesn’t seem to matter much to Sakuma Hideo, who waltzes over as if just yesterday they had been playing heroes and villains in the sandpit.
Hardly surprising. Not much ever fazed him, even as a toddler.
“Hey, man. Fancy seeing you here.” Sakuma gives a casual wave, exuding levels of cool Matsuda has never felt and will probably never feel.
It’s fine. He’s used to it, gradually getting over it. Living the life of peak mediocrity demands that much.
Imada reaches out a hand to introduce herself. Maybe she doesn’t mean to activate her quirk, but the kindness spills out of her skin and ripples over them. It’s nice, relaxes Matsuda enough to finally cough up words wedged into his throat.
“You’re taller,” is what he says, which is stupid considering they haven’t seen each other since pre-school.
Sakuma gives him a bemused look, which haunts Matsuda all the way to the debriefing room.
All of that dissolves into oblivion as Ground Zero makes his entrance. In his presence, there’s no room for anything else to existence. And immediately, every single person in the room is at his mercy.
Broad shouldered and fierce, defined by rough and hard lines. He’s a little shorter than Matsuda realised, but he would never dare say such things out loud.
He wants to actually live through this.
Ground Zero struts to the front, eyes scanning the room. The interns are all quiet, watching him in mild disbelief. Some hold their breath, others grit their teeth in anticipation.
Sakuma has a fist clenched by his side, a smile wobbling on his lips.
For a moment, Matsuda isn’t sure what’s more fascinating - Ground Zero or Sakuma’s starstruck expression.
When a voice he has never heard in person before booms over them, he promptly decides the former.
“Alright, I ain’t got many rules around here but here are the ones that count - so listen up!”
Matsuda reaches for a notebook in his backpack, and something about that seems to make Ground Zero twitch in either annoyance or amusement. It’s hard to tell, with the black mask around his eyes.
Either way, Matsuda decides not to take chances and get fired on his first day by one of the world’s most prominent heroes.
He put the notebook away and sits up straighter instead.
“Don’t half-ass anything. You got a job then you do it. Sometimes you gotta do things you don’t wanna do to get to the top, but that’s life.”
Matsuda isn’t really reaching for the top, but he still has to do things he doesn’t want to do just to exist - things like homework. It makes sense.
“No photos. There’s a reason the public don’t know what the hell agencies look like inside. This ain’t a regular office.”
The villain raid of a hero agency last year looms unspoken but is acknowledged amongst them all. Even before the bold unexpected attack, Ground Zero had instilled the highest security measures in his agency. Clearly, for good reason.
A hero ahead of their time.
Ground Zero gestures to the paper on the desk.
“All casefiles and documents are classified. So before you go anywhere you need to sign and confirm you’re not going to be a shithead.”
Ah. There it is, the uncensored language Ground Zero had been strangely lacking.
“Yes sir!” the interns chorus.
Lips twisting, Ground Zero grunts.
“I don’t think he likes us calling him that,” Imada whispers.
Having a newfound friend with an empath-related quirk is quite helpful. Matsuda hums in consideration.
“From this point onwards, you rookies address me as King. Got it?”
Maybe he's joking - but nobody risks it.
“Yes, King,” the majority mumble.
Matsuda is not one of them, because the universe has a vendetta against him.
“Yes sir- I mean, King, sir. I mean, just King not King sir! King!”
Amidst the stifled laughter of the interns, Matsuda is sure he almost comes close to mastering spontaneous human combustion.
Almost.
“As you wish, your majesty,” a familiar impossible voice calls from the doorway.
Ground Zero snaps his head towards the audacious source, as do the rest of the students. Tension builds in the room. For dramatic effect, Matsuda slows the seconds down just a fraction.
It’s enough to catch the fading rather unprofessional smirk hanging on Hero Shouto’s lips as he leans against the door in a way that is equally as hot and as cool as both his quirks.
The universe has no mercy, apparently. On any of them.
“Class dismissed, go make yourselves useful while I handle this bastard!”
The interns disperse, scurrying around Hero Shouto who saunters into the room. He shows no signs of being offended by the insult, if anything it seems to encourage him further.
A few doe-eyed interns walk around him not once but twice, as if caught in his orbit and are unsure how exactly to set themselves free.
Or perhaps they just don’t want to. It wouldn’t be so hard to believe, honestly.
Todoroki Shouto is so much more ethereal in person. No photograph does him justice. It’s almost criminal.
“The hell you doing here?” Unfazed by his frazzled interns, Ground Zero stalks forwards.
Hero Shouto seems oblivious to the enraptured ritualistic dance the interns devise around him, yet still he waltzes between them with ease.
“My patrol just ended, thought I’d come and see how Lord Explosion Murder is treating his new disciples.”
Lord Explosion Murder…
“You think you’re funny.”
Hero Shouto shrugs. “Moderately.”
Imada’s eyes shamelessly drop a little lower than they should and she is definitely not looking at the floor anymore oh my god. Scandalous.
For a brief moment, Matsuda considers indulging in the benefits of his quirk.
The most ethereal person on the planet is right here in this room. An arm’s width away. He is virtually in the presence of a god.
It would be so irresponsible, even if he’s certain Hero Shouto would look magnificent pushing the hair back off his face whilst angling his chin upwards as he laughs breathlessly in slow motion at Ground Zero’s remark.
It’s just so god damn cinematic.
Instead, Matsuda exits the room with even less grace than the others.
He spins on his heel, fully aware he is the final elephant - or rather buffoon - in the room, and that’s when it happens.
He trips and falls, directly into Hero Shouto’s chest.
“I’m so sorry!!” he stutters against the blue suit, words muffled because he’s too stunned to move.
Hero Shouto steadies him with a strong firm grip on his shoulders. Matsuda wonders what he ever did in all his seventeen years of life on earth to deserve this.
“Are you alright?”
It takes a moment for Matsuda to realise that Todoroki Shouto, that’s Hero Shouto, is talking to him, that he is pretty much dangling off his arm.
With a hasty nod, Matsuda rushes out the door. He takes no shame in forwarding time to hasten his leave.
At least it’s a little less embarrassing that way.
He makes it a few steps before realisation sinks in.
He’s forgotten his backpack. The Ground Zero one. The Ground Zero one with Hero Shouto merchandise tacked all over it.
When he gets to the doorway, Ground Zero is leaning against the desk with an unusually flushed face and Hero Shouto is craning forwards.
There’s a small playful smile dangling on his lips that Matsuda is never going to forget even if this is obviously private.
He should walk away.
He should just walk away.
They’re too fixated on each other to ever notice his ridiculous fanboy backpack. But just the possibility of them seeing it, identifying who it belongs to, is just too much. He should have never brought it here.
But heroes correct their mistakes - they don’t run from them.
So without much thought to the situation, he rushes into the room and dives for his bag.
“Excuse me! Sorry! I’m so sorry I forgot my bag!!”
Hero Shouto doesn’t move an inch, eyes flicking over to Matsuda briefly with a level of casual disinterest that is earth-shattering before revolving back Ground Zero. The smile is still there.
In contrast, Ground Zero jolts away from the desk to level Matsuda with quite frankly a terrifying look. It’s not a glare, not remotely aggressive or explosive. But the intensity of the scowl is enough.
“That was rude of you,” Matsuda hears Hero Shouto say once he’s out the door, sounding a little less serious than he probably should have.
“You’re one to talk.”
Matsuda tries very hard to forget all about what just happened.
According to google, Hero Shouto and Ground Zero have been rivals since their days of U.A. Their relationship is somewhat amicable but also strained as they are frequently side by side in the official rankings.
Fans on twitter speculate which one of them has the better quirk with continuous polls and petty contests.
And according to one of the deepest corners of youtube, everytime they touch they get this feeling and everytime they kiss they swear they could fly.
Matsuda closes his browser as Imada sets her lunch down opposite him.
That’s quite enough of that.
“I can’t believe we saw Hero Shouto this morning!”
The excitement in her voice transcends, billowing outwards with enough force to make the chair shake beneath her. Even from this distance, Matsuda’s skin tingles in the aftershocks of her emotion. Perhaps it’s the amplification of her quirk, or just the fact they’re interning at one of the best agencies in the country, that makes it impossible to hold back a smile.
Imada ducks her head, cheeks flushed. The tingling stops.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Don’t worry. It’s fine. But you’re right - it was a surprise.” One I literally stumbled into - face first.
To keep his response succinct is beyond difficult. In school, Matsuda has made his sweeping admiration of Todoroki Shouto abundantly clear. But this isn’t school, and he wonders how much he should reveal to his childhood and newfound friend.
Theoretically, if Midoriya Izuku - the number one hero - can fanboy and gush about heroes in public without shame and still be loved by pretty much everyone then so can Matsuda Akio.
Who cares if his awe extends past professional, that he has a little celebrity crush.
Okay. So maybe the posters on his bedroom wall and keychains on his backpack suggest it’s bigger-than-little but there’s not a single person on the planet who doesn’t have a crush when it comes to Todoroki Shouto.
That is an undeniable fact.
He has been rated the world’s most attractive hero for five years straight.
And Matsuda had ran smack into his chest.
Across the table, Imada gasps.
“Matsuda-kun, your face is turning blue!”
Oh dear.
Matsuda releases the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, leaning on the table for support. The way he gasps for air is completely undignified but speeding time along here that would help his case at all.
This moment is beyond saving. He only has five minutes left of time to warp.
Earlier had been different, he really was about to die.
Now he’s made his proverbial bed, he might as well lay in it.
Matsuda sucks in air and out barrels a frantic spiel of praise.
“Hero Shouto is just so cool, isn’t he? I never thought I’d see him in person or up close. It was amazing! And when he talked to me I just couldn’t think of a single thing to say despite having so many things I wanted to ask!! I-”
Imada squeaks, leaning across the table.
“Wait - he spoke to you?”
“He did.”
Right after Matsuda fell face first into his arms like a fool then fast-forwarded time to escape.
“Wow, I wish I had the courage to say something to him.” Rather than just oogle him on the way out , goes unsaid.
“I wonder what he was doing here...” Sakuma hums, prodding his food. He had been far too quiet for far too long. “Hey, Matsuda, did you catch anything interesting on the way out?”
Thankfully, Matsuda is nowhere near his drink so the horrifying possibility of spitting it out in surprise is ruled out. Instead, he bolts upright which is equally as unsubtle.
“No, I… they were just talking.”
Matsuda isn't sure what he interrupted, but he’d definitely interrupted something.
“What about?” this time it's Imada who asks. She must sense he's not being entirely truthful.
He thinks of the fan video with four million hits on youtube set to Cascada’s Everytime We Touch. Somehow, he can still her voice.
“Just stuff. Hero stuff. Stuff heroes talk about.”
After another afternoon confined to office tasks and experiencing the sickening levels of paperwork heroes endure on a daily basis, Matsuda’s turn to patrol with Ground Zero finally arrives.
To his relief, Sakuma and Imada are paired with him. They’re both in their hero costumes. And whilst Matsuda has only seen Sakuma's grey and red costume once, he doesn’t remember it ever having an eye-mask.
“Is that new?” he asks, gesturing to the mask.
"Nah. I've always had it."
"Uh, no...you definitely haven't."
Before Sakuma can try to preserve his dignity, Ground Zero leads them out into the streets. Unsure where to walk, Matsuda stays a few steps behind with Imada. Sakuma is less reserved and practically walks in step with his hero.
Now Matsuda is really looking, they have a suspiciously similar gait. Sakuma never used to strut like that before… At least, he didn’t yesterday.
"What really happened yesterday?" Imada probes without reserve. "I know you're lying."
Fortunately, Ground Zero saves him from having to answer that question.
“Alright now remember - a hero’s job isn’t just to take down the bad guys. We have a responsibility to make people feel safe so even if it sucks ass sometimes patrols with no danger are important - got it?”
“Inspired words…” a familiar voice remarks.
No way.
They are being graced by the presence of the most ethereal person on the planet, for the second time in a week. Maybe miracles really can happen.
“Ground Zero. What a surprise.”
Hero Shouto does not sound the least bit surprised.
For a moment, Matsuda’s heart somersaults and does an intense series of acrobatics. Beside him Imada is watching the two heroes curiously, as if beginning to piece together a puzzle.
“On a patrol I presume? I just finished mine, I’m on my way to eat soba and then I’m going home to nap with my cats.”
Nobody needs to know that information, nobody. But Hero Shouto provides it graciously anyway.
Matsuda can’t see Ground Zero’s face, but he can see the smoke rising from his fists. It’s enough of a warning, but Hero Shouto doesn’t seem remotely fazed. Not in the slightest.
“Get lost, Icyhot.”
Hero Shouto cocks his head to the side, a small smile strewn over his lips. The entire street swoons. One woman even walks into a window.
“That’s not a very heroic thing to say. Especially in front of your disciples. You should be setting a better example for them to follow.”
“At least I’m with mine. Where the hell are your brats?”
Hero Shouto blinks. Slow and steady, completely disarming. “I’m off-duty. Are you even listening?”
With a wave to the baffled trio, Hero Shouto makes his exit.
“Anyway, it was nice to meet you. I’m going now."
Nice to meet you too… I fell into your arms and died there because it was heaven incarnate and you’re a holy angel unfit for this world. I’m so relieved you don’t seem to remember any of that.
"Ah. I think I understand better now," Imada says with a small smile when Hero Shouto is gone and Ground Zero is far ahead enough to be out of earshot.
Despite persistent badgering, she gives no clues as to what on earth she's talking about.
It's probably just stuff. Hero stuff.
Matsuda’s affinity for leaving things where they’re not supposed to be is admittedly bad. He’s working on it.
But Sakuma has always had a far more potent case of leaving things where they're not supposed to be. Because the places he leaves things are strictly forbidden or off-limits. Or both.
Clearly in Matsuda’s absence, nobody has really kept Sakuma and his habit of snooping around in check. This is just unbelievable.
“What do you mean you can’t find your provisional licence?”
“I mean I can’t find it! I must’ve dropped it somewhere this morning.”
At least they haven’t been on patrol today, so the search radius is limited to the agency.
That’s still an entire building.
Raking a hand through his hair, Sakuma groans. It’s only then Matsuda notices his eyes are red. Not from crying or irritation. The colour of them is red, which is strange because he’s pretty sure that they’ve always been blue.
“Are you wearing contacts?” The same colour as Ground Zero’s eyes.
The question goes ignored.
“Matsuda… you have to help me find it. Please!”
“It could be anywhere,” Matsuda says carefully because he has a sneaking suspicion that no it won’t just be anywhere.
This is Sakuma.
That means it will be somewhere off-limits, somewhere he never should have been.
Somewhere like a private office.
“I uh, I might have dropped it in Ground Zero’s private office.”
Damn it all.
“What in the world were you doing in there?!”
“I just wanted to get inspiration.”
Maybe Matsuda shouldn’t, but he’s irritated and already getting behind on the jobs entrusted to him. So he says it anyway.
“For what?” his eyes rake over Sakuma’s costume that has suspiciously started to change its colour scheme. “Your cosplay?”
Sakuma has the decency to look a little sheepish. But it doesn’t last long.
“Look, Matsuda. You’ve got the most useful quirk for this between us, man.”
What.
“If you’re about to get caught then you can speed up time and escape without anybody seeing you. I can’t exactly shoot down the doors with my quirk. That would be way too obvious!”
What. What.
“So I need you to go back in there and get my licence for me before Ground Zero returns.”
Deku always says a hero’s job is to meddle in business that doesn’t concern them. Hero Shouto has always encouraged people to help their friends in need.
Sakuma is a friend in need and Matsuda for better or worse has decided to meddle.
Surprisingly, the impromptu mission has been going fine so far. Provisional licence is retrieved and pocketed. Until of course the situation takes an ugly turn.
Well, not an ugly one.
More of an explosive one.
“Oi. Quit showing up unannounced in places you ain’t supposed to be!”
Matsuda freezes, eyes blown wide. That voice is far too close to the door to make an escape even with his quirk.
“I’ll call security on you.”
Coming into this room is a huge mistake. Should he survive, Matsuda vows he will never do anything for Sakuma ever again.
Childhood friendship over, new friendship started with Living Life In Peace and Imada Moe because she's lovely.
Matsuda is ready to spew apologies, ramble nervously to Ground Zero about how a series of unfortunate events and mishappenings led him here so very far from the path any sensible intern should take.
It all withers on his tongue when Hero Shouto’s voice cut in.
“That’s a bit dramatic, Katsuki. I thought you’d be pleased to see me.”
Katsuki.
Matsuda does the only logical thing any intern can do when they have messed up this badly.
He slows time, allowing him to climb into the ventilation shaft before being spotted.
Hero Shouto’s voice dips low as he enters the room. His voice is a strain to hear despite the unfurling quiet of the room.
“This is what people in our situation are supposed to do, isn’t it?”
What situation?!
Matsuda swallows down the frantic burning question with great difficulty. Hero Shouto’s face remains masked from view from the vents. In contrast, he can see Ground Zero. The fire smouldering in those eyes is a different breed to what devours villains whole, but there’s no disputing its intensity.
In any case, Matsuda definitely should not be here eavesdropping on two pro heroes in the ventilation shaft.
But he is, because this is his life and he is really fantastic friend.
“I know what you’re doing. It’s not fucking funny. I’ll kill you.”
The general consensus is that Hero Shouto has a nondescript sense of humour that is almost as enigmatic and elusive as his public image.
“How will you kill me?”
In this moment, Matsuda realises that everybody in the world is wrong.
To prove it, something terrible happens. A startled laugh topples out between Matsuda’s pursed lips. He smacks a hand to his mouth but it’s too late.
Some of the noise still makes it out.
“What the hell was that?”
“Sounds to me like you didn’t get the radiator fixed in here when I told you to, Katsuki.”
There it is again. Katsuki.
Matsuda once again does the only thing any normal person could do in a moment like this.
He crawls further into the vents and backs out of the room.
Being caught unintentionally spying on his two favourite heroes is not exactly on his internship bucket list. Or any bucket list in fact.
Ten minutes later, an intruder alarm goes off. The agency is prepared to go into lockdown and engage in emergency procedures.
Matsuda Akio crawls out of the ventilation system, absolutely mortified.
Lockdown is averted.
“Care to explain what the hell you were doing in the vents?”
“I’m sorry, Ground Zero sir - King. I mean King, not King sir. Just King, sir - King!”
The humiliation is not.
What’s important to understand about Sakuma is that whilst he acts like the influencer of a group he is far too easily influenced by those he looks up to. Ground Zero has always been one of his icons, and proof of that is continuing to show in more absurd ways.
For example, Sakuma has now dyed his hair blond. The curly hair is backcombed it into oblivion.
He’s also still wearing red contacts.
“That Icyhot bastard...” Sakuma hisses between mouthfuls of food as if scorned somehow somewhere by something.
Gosh.
Matsuda is unsure if Sakuma is aware he’s no longer an imitation and avid fan. He is seconds away from becoming a very bad parody of Ground Zero.
Across the table, Imada makes the smart decision to focus solely on her lunch.
The worst things seem to be happening at lunch this week.
Sakuma has a gleam in his eyes, and it’s not a good one. Definitely not a good one. A good gleam would be the kind that is put there by the natural sunlight or an ingenious idea.
But Matsuda knows better. Sakuma has not changed at all, besides growing taller of course.
“I think you mean Hero Shouto,” Matsuda offers with as much tact as possible.
Sakuma shrugs, not at all bothered to correct himself.
That is the catalyst for Imada, who turns sharply to Sakuma as if he's trodden on quite a big nerve.
“What about him?” The waves of irritation roll over the table. "Why do you have a problem with him?"
“Ground Zero does, and it's clear why."
Imada appears conflicted, but says nothing. It definitely has something to do with whatever she suddenly understands now. She stares into the camera like in the office, only the camera isn't there. There are no cameras here. Matsuda doesn't know what any of this means.
"It’s just, he’s you know,” Sakuma prods his rice harder than necessary.
When he twirls the chopsticks, that’s when Matsuda realises they’re on a freight train that’s about to crash.
“Well, a bit of a dick.”
No, no.
Matsuda tries his best to prevent the oncoming chaos, he honestly does because that’s what friends and budding heroes are supposed to do.
There is only so much that can be done, however, in such a situation.
When Sakuma’s bravado manifests in public, it is both an immovable object and unstoppable force. Something like that just cannot be contained, even for the greater good and all things holy on this earth.
“Did you just call the number two hero in Japan a…” Imada balks, scandalised. “An inappropriate appendage?”
Just say dick, Imada. Please just say dick.
“So what if I did? I’ll say it again too. Watch me.”
It happens in slow motion, which ironically has nothing to do with Matsuda’s quirk. Sakuma Hideo opens his mouth and sucks in a breath just as Ground Zero walks past their table.
Tragic, absolutely tragic.
Time is a vehicle Matsuda wants to ride off into the sunset away from all of this. He could travel far into the future where this is nothing but a distant memory forgotten about forever.
His quirk unfortunately is not that convenient.
And suddenly, nothing is in slow motion and nothing is okay and nothing may ever be okay again.
“Todoroki Shouto is a dick!”
He cannot believe his eyes. Oh how he cannot believe his eyes. He just cannot believe his eyes.
Or his ears. Or this reality he is currently enduring.
Ground Zero is stood right behind Sakuma.
He does not look very happy, to say the very least.
It’s too much, just too much.
Ground Zero - Katsuki to Hero Shouto when they’re alone - smiles in a way that screams terrifying passive-aggression.
“What did you just say?”
Matsuda blinks, and when he opens his eyes again the world around him fades to black.
When Matsuda stirs, because yes it turns out he did pass out like an ultimate loser in the cafeteria, it’s to voices talking with hushed intensity. Well, one is hushed the other is several decibels louder.
“This kid just passed out over lunch! I have no idea what happened.”
“You must’ve done something, Katsuki.” Pause. “Why do I have a hand-written apology letter? I don’t understand.”
Matsuda dares to blink one eye open as discreetly as he can. Hero Shouto is stood in the doorway as he seems to enjoy doing around here. Ground Zero is perched in one of the chairs opposite the infirmary bed.
Oh my god.
Did one of them carry him here? Has Ground Zero been watching over him?
...
Why does Hero Shouto have a hand-written apology letter?
What the blazes is going on.
Matsuda squeezes his eyes shut, tight. He can’t blow his cover, and he isn’t ready to face his own reality yet. Rolling over could be deemed perfectly natural but it also could be Suspicious.
He continues to feign sleep for now.
“His friend called you a dick!”
Oh my god. They’re talking about Sakuma.
“So you made him write a letter of apology to me? How sweet.”
“He called you a dick,” Ground Zero repeats and Matsuda will never know for sure but he sounds embarrassed.
“Only because you did first and for some reason he looks up to you.”
“What are you trying to say? I’m a fucking amazing role model.”
“Okay. I’ll ask your intern if that’s true when they’re not writing letters expressing their apologies.”
“I can’t believe you. Why don’t you put this much effort into other shit like cleaning your apartment?”
“Because nobody does it better than you.”
That’s the closest to flirtation Matsuda has ever heard in Hero Shouto’s voice.
“Why the fuck am I even dating you?”
Matsuda rolls over then because his eyes snap wide open automatically. Dating.
Dating.
“Maybe I’ll remind you later.”
There’s the unmistakable sound of a chaste kiss, lips smacking together.
Then the talking completely stops.
On the outside, it’s quiet. So quiet. But inside, Matsuda’s mind is spiralling. The Cascada video is right-
“Oi. Don’t pretend you’re still asleep. Rolling over ain’t subtle.”
Well, damn.
Matsuda accepts his fate. He rolls back over slowly and blinks open an eye. Ground Zero is still perched in the corner. Only now, his eyes are locked on him.
It’s official, his cover is blown. But Ground Zero seems more concerned about other things.
“Not a word to anyone about this, got it?”
Oh.
Matsuda nods. It’s understandable and a reasonable request. Heroes seldom get any privacy, and their relationships are assaulted by the press and media constantly.
But privacy harbours secrets and secrets are power in the wrong hands.
Ground Zero shuffles in his seat. Something about all of this has made him uncomfortable. It’s an unusual sight, one Matsuda can't process because Ground Zero is confident, assertive. He's strong.
There’s an edge of panic in the corners of his eyes. It’s cause for Matsuda to jolt upright in the bed and almost fall off it.
He can’t be the person to put such a look there, that’s impossible and just the worst plot twist ever.
“I - I won’t tell anyone - I swear! You don’t have to worry.”
Ducking his head, Matsuda bites his lip.
“And I understand if you want me to leave. I mean, I get anxious sometimes about little things. I fainted because I was so embarrassed for my friend and I can’t really do anything helpful anyway. I'm really sorry for wasting your time. To be honest, I was really surprised you even chose me.”
He’s said far too much. Matsuda buries his face into the pillow, tension churning in his stomach. Pathetic, he is absolutely pathetic.
Footsteps inch closer. A firm steady hand pats Matsuda’s hair once then twice before retreating. He risks a glance over his shoulder to Ground Zero, who stands a little rigid.
They’re both a little out of their comfort zones.
“You’re a good kid. Stop selling yourself short and thinking you’re nothing special. That ain’t true.”
Ground Zero keeps his eyes on the window. They’re glazed over, as if he’s seeing something else from another time.
“I know it seems you gotta have all your shit together right now and have everything figured out, but you’ve still got time. Hell, you’ve even got the power to use time, that’s damn impressive.”
Power. Power.
Ground Zero thinks his quirk is powerful and impressive.
The words lift the heaviness pressing down on his chest. With a shaky breath, Matsuda blinks back the moisture prickling his eyes. He isn’t going to cry in front of Ground Zero. Absolutely not. He cannot do that. But those words are ones he hadn't realised he has been yearning to hear for so long. Maybe he isn't doomed to mediocrity. Maybe he really could be an above average hero.
A few stray tears trickle down his cheeks. Matsuda wipes at them with his sleeve.
To his relief, Ground Zero diverts his attention elsewhere.
“Have you tried using your quirk in direct combat?”
Matsuda sniffles, then shakes his head.
“I tried to do it once but I accidentally sped time up too much. So I lost my balance and fell over.”
The honest admission isn’t received with laughter or mockery. Instead, Ground Zero hums.
“That ain't failure. You think I nailed Detonation Zone the first time?”
Yes. Matsuda could and would believe that because Ground Zero is a phenomenal hero.
Apparently he said that out loud because Ground Zero does laugh this time. It isn’t unkind, despite the roughness of it.
“Well, I didn’t. But that didn’t stop me from trying again. So - keep at it.”
Matsuda struggles to keep his smile from consuming his entire face.
“I- I will!”
Right at that moment, Hero Shouto strolls back into the room. His eyes are glued to the phone he’s idly scrolling through, a small bag tucked under his arm.
“I’d like to file a formal complaint to this hero agency,” he starts in what is absolutely a playful reprimand despite the monotone. “Your vending machines don’t have the juice I like anymore. I think you did it on purpose.”
Ground Zero coughs pointedly, eyes gleaming with excessive amounts of amusement. The words ebb away as Hero Shouto looks up. He’s clearly caught off-guard, which is rare.
Matsuda purses his lips, unsure how exactly to handle a moment like this. He is the obvious anomaly here.
“Oh,” Hero Shouto breathes. He blinks slow, as if considering the situation. Realisation dawns but the hero doesn’t seem embarrassed about it. “You’re awake.”
“No actually… I think I’m still dreaming. There’s no way I’m here talking with my two favourite heroes,” Matsuda admits to his absolute horror.
Self-annihilation, betrayal in the worst possible form. Despite how tempting it is to fast-forward time, he doesn’t. He's not sure he'll ever get the chance to be sat amongst two pro-heroes like this again.
Hero Shouto and Ground Zero exchange a glance, expressions unreadable. Then Hero Shouto sets the bag on the table and takes out three cans. Three.
Matsuda can’t stop staring.
He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, he shouldn’t. But there are three cans, and three people in the room. Maybe Hero Shouto is just really thirsty. Maybe Ground Zero wanted one drink now and one later. It doesn't mean anything.
Conclusions are jumped to as Hero Shouto holds out one of the cans towards him.
“I passed out once,” he explains as if that isn’t the most enigmatic and strangest consolation ever.
Ground Zero throws his head back and laughs in a raw reckless way Matsuda has never seen before.
“What the hell was that?” he sputters between gasps of air. Then, voice dropping lower in a poor imitation, Ground Zero snorts. “ I passed out once .”
Hero Shouto pouts, of all things. “It’s true, I did. I thought it might help.”
“When?” Matsuda asks because he can’t help himself.
He probably isn’t even invited to this conversation, a mere observer lingering on the outskirts of a world he doesn’t really belong in.
Hero Shouto doesn’t seem to mind, recounting a story of his younger days in U.A. It turns out he has passed out more than once, in fact. That soon devolves into Matsuda giving his own anecdotes, told far more frenziedly and with less finesse.
Despite the clumsy storytelling, neither hero seems bored of listening to the many meanderings. They sit on the chairs beside the infirmary bed, hands laced together in a way they probably think is discreet but isn’t.
By the time the soda cans are empty, Matsuda has a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest.
That is until Hero Shouto asks a dangerous question.
“Which one of us is your favourite?”
Ground Zero huffs. “Me, obviously.”
Unfazed at the chaos he has started, Hero Shouto continues.
“Are you sure?”
“He chose my agency for his internship.”
“Maybe you were his second choice.”
Oh my god.
“Oi!” Ground Zero snaps his gaze from Hero Shouto towards Matsuda. “Was I your second choice?”
Beside him, Hero Shouto gasps and it’s nothing short of dramatic.
“You can’t ask him that. It’s rude.”
Lips twitching, Hero Shouto leans back in his seat. Nobody as cool and as snarky and as brilliant as this has ever existed before. Matsuda is sure of it.
“Whatever choice Matsuda made, it’s his own and we should be mature enough to respect it.”
Matsuda is so pleased he has finished his drink otherwise he would’ve spat it out at that exact moment. Holy mother of everything holy. Ground Zero narrows his eyes, slides all of his attention back to Hero Shouto.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t start this!”
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Suddenly, Matsuda is no longer amongst two of the world’s best heroes. He is sat amongst a bickering couple trying to one-up each other.
It’s the most surreal end to the most surreal week of his entire life.
“Aizawa-sensei!” Matsuda calls out when the first class of the morning is over. Breath hitching, he walks up to the front desk and steels himself. “I’d like to try using my quirk in combat again.”
Aizawa regards him quietly, not giving any immediate indication of his thoughts.
“I take it the week was beneficial for you,” he states.
It’s not a question.
Matsuda bites down on a bashful smile. He had made a new friend and been reunited with another, walked face-first into Hero Shouto’s chest, snuck into a private office then climbed through the ventilation shaft and almost caused an accidental lockdown, passed out during lunch, discovered Hero Shouto and Ground Zero are dating and then drank soda with them in the infirmary room.
“Yeah. It was far from average,” Matsuda manages.
It’s not until hours later, when the orange sun is falling over the horizon, that Matsuda is struck by the gravity of those words. Far from average. What is nestled inside them, tucked between his bones, is so much more than he ever expected to find or learn.
Never meet your heroes - that’s what people always say.
Cascada videos and all other incidents aside, Matsuda begs to differ.