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Chapter Text

Bakugo Katsuki, age 23 and number eight hero, was known for his temper. He wouldn’t be the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight without that fiery attitude to go along with it. His relationship with the press was strained at best and gossip magazines constantly loved to rag on his “unheroic” personality.  But Katsuki didn’t care much about his reputation. Even as his PR team scolded him, the only thing he cared about was his placement on the hero rankings and proving the fuckers who doubted him back in high school wrong. Lately, though, climbing the rankings had been a bit of a drag.

Katsuki gritted his teeth, his hands clenched into fists in his lap as he sat at a long, walnut-brown table, watching his assistant, Fukumoto, speak for him, answering the press’s questions with ease like they weren’t being nosey bastards. Her lavender hair was pulled into a loose braid over her shoulder, thin-framed glasses perched on her nose making her look far older and wiser than she was. The two were in similarly stuffy three-piece suits, the white collar far too tight for Katsuki’s liking. The sounds of camera shutters and journalists shouting over each other to get a question in made his eyes twitch. The press conference had been going on for what had felt like a lifetime, though a quick glance at his watch told him it had only been an hour or so. He stifled a groan before his assistant nudged his ankle with a heeled toe, signaling for him to zone back into the conversation. Katsuki managed not to snap at her for the contact and turned to the journalist.

The man, wearing a turtleneck sweater on a summer night like a dumbass, was sweating buckets and visibly anxious, pushing his thick glasses up now and then as they threatened to slide off. 

“As we’ve already gotten the many witnesses’ testimonies, could we get your account of the events that took place on Monday night?” he rambled. Katsuki clenched his hands tighter to discourage any detonations from his palms. He cleared his throat.

“As many of you know, there was a fire in a downtown apartment building the other day. Since authorities weren’t clear on how many residents were still inside and were focused on putting out the fire before it spread further, they sent some heroes in to help with the rescue.” Katsuki felt an itch at the back of his neck as more cameras and microphones were turned on to capture his retelling. He continued, refusing to let his resolve falter. “When trying to get a group of civilians out of the building, the floor began to collapse, and I was forced to use my quirk to aid in the escape. A gas line was damaged, and the building exploded.”

The horde of hungry journalists became even louder, sharp teeth snapping in delight as they caught the scent of a story they could twist. A woman with an asymmetrical brown bob raised her microphone, accompanied by an eager cameraman who was practically bouncing on his toes behind her. “So you admit that it was your actions which caused the apartment complex to explode?”

“Yes.”

“And you admit that it was your actions that caused the severe burns of the victims?”

“Yes, but it is because of my actions that they were able to escape alive.” Katsuki breathed in and out. He knew the games these reporters were trying to play– say something accusing enough to drag out a reaction. He’d fallen for it before, but he wasn’t about to give them such easy material again.

“Dynamight Agencies has already financially compensated all affected victims,” Fukumoto noted beside him. The brunette reporter nodded coldly before opening her stupid mouth again.

“And are you planning on paying for the damages to the building you irresponsibly caused?”

“Houses and residential areas are damaged because of incidents like these all the time. What’s important is that the people inside got out safe, even if the building didn’t.” 

“And why were you chosen for this rescue mission, knowing you have such a destructive quirk?”

Katsuki ground his teeth together. “Ask the police.”

Fukomoto stood, her chair scraping against the floor. “This is all the time we have for questions today,” she nudged Katsuki again, signaling for him to stand up. “Thank you for your time and patience. Once again we would like to extend our sincerest condolences to those injured by the fire.” they bowed in sync. Katsuki glared at his feet. 

Before the mob could surge forward and demand more, the hero and his assistant were guided out of the room by two broad-shouldered men in suits. Fukumoto moved to open the door of a sleek black car for him, but Katsuki simply shouldered past her and slid into the back seat himself, being sure to take up as much room as possible so she didn’t think to sit next to him. She dared to sigh in annoyance at him, like she wasn’t the one bothering him and took her place in the passenger seat. One of the suited men took the driver’s seat and started the car.

“...Admittedly, that could have gone better,” Fukumoto spoke up, drumming her fingers against her knees.

“Shut the fuck up. It’s not my fault we didn’t have time to write a script.” Katsuki defended and watched the streetlights pass the window as they drove. 

“In cases like these, it’s better to ‘speak from the heart’, so to speak. Your audience will be able to tell if you’re genuine or not.”

“Genuine my ass. If you really wanted me to be genuine, I’d have told them all to go fuck themsel–”

“We’re here,” the driver said in a gruff voice, audibly uncomfortable. Fukumoto sighed again and pushed open the door. Katsuki followed a beat after, stepping out onto the street and letting the cold air sweep against his stuffy suit.

“Just a moment, please,” Fukumoto told the driver before she closed the car door. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked over to Katsuki. He huffed, turning his nose up at her.

“What now?”

“I think it would be best if you laid low for a while and let this whole scandal blow over.”

“The hell? Why?”

“You’re under fire by the media for your irresponsible actions. If you return to hero work so soon after, they will simply get angrier.

“I’ll show you fucking ‘irresponsible’, you–”

“If you wait it out, they’ll move on from the incident. The media will lose interest quickly, and you’ll be able to go back to business as usual right away.”

“So you’re saying I just fuck off to the shadows and let someone else take the spotlight? Dynamight doesn’t run away.”

“You wouldn’t be running away, sir. This is simply a tactical retreat. It would be a month at most.”

“Tch,” Katsuki wracked his brain for any sort of retort or argument, but his head was clouded with exhaust. He had hardly slept since Monday, having to deal with the aftermath of the gas explosion and the backlash that came with it. Legality cases were a nightmare, even if Fukumoto dealt with the brunt of the paperwork. “Fine. One month.”

Fukumoto nodded, seemingly satisfied. “One month. Goodnight, sir.” He ignored her and stomped into the lobby of his condo, not even bothering to give her a grunt of acknowledgment.

+++

The media was, as expected, ruthless. After the press conference that Dynamight Agencies held, the case exploded in coverage. It seemed as if every shitty gossip rag, late-night television show, tabloid, and news outlet couldn’t shut up about Katsuki’s mistake. Scrolling online for even two seconds would bombard him with debates and clickbait news articles crying about ‘Dynamight’s Disaster’ or ‘Great Explosion Murder God Murders Property Value’ and shit like that. It left a foul taste in his mouth, and an even stronger desire to head out of his house and blow some villains up. However, the image of Fukumoto’s disappointed face was practically burned into his retinas. 

Without being able to go out to do active hero work and feeling almost like he was on house arrest, Katsuki felt desperate to escape his stuffy office. Even the most mundane of tasks would be better than this, he thought as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his knuckles with a satisfying pop. Katsuki's back felt agonizingly stiff from being hunched over his desk for hours, writing letters and signing an endless stream of official-looking documents he couldn’t bring himself to give two shits about. Finally, he capped his ballpoint pen and set it down, idly rolling it across the desk as he reviewed the last paper for potential mistakes. Once his eyes finished scrutinizing the contents, he stood and massaged his sore writing hand before pressing a button on his intercom. 

He leaned in to announce brashly to his secretary, “I’m heading out. I need to grab some shit from the grocery store before I go home, so you’re locking up tonight.” 

“Hold on, what about the press? Didn’t we agree to stay on the down-low?” Fukumoto’s response was warped by the shitty speakers, though Katsuki could still make out her agitation. He rolled his eyes.

“I agreed to stay away from hero work for a while, not to stay inside all the damned time like some sorta hermit. ‘sides, hardly anyone’s gonna be there since the store closes in…” he glanced at his phone. “...twenty minutes.”

Fukumoto sighed audibly, and he could hear her rapidly typing on a keyboard on the other end. “Fine, but at least cover your face. Have a safe night, sir.” The intercom clicked to signal that she had hung up. He glared at the intercom for a moment, irritated that she had ended the conversation before him. He dug his car keys out of his pocket and pulled up his grocery list to examine while he walked to his car.

While he had hoped to get away without wearing a disguise like Fukumoto had urged him to, the press was nothing if not persistent, and he had immediately been bombarded by a bout of questions and demanding microphones shoved in his face as soon as he stepped out of the agency doors. 

“Dynamight, sir! Would you spare a comment about–”

“Is it true that–”

“Dynamight, were you–”

Katsuki glared at the interviewers and shouldered his way through the crowd, barely managing to make it to his car. He slammed the door shut and stuffed his keys into the ignition like he couldn’t get out of his agency parking lot fast enough, veering off onto the road and almost hitting some poor pedestrian in the process. Thankfully he had left a pair of sunglasses and a facial mask in his glovebox, which he put on while stopped at a red light. He didn’t want to deal with anyone else recognizing him tonight.

Parking was easy to find since most normal people didn’t go grocery shopping at eleven at night, and he was one of the only three cars in front of the store. Stepping out of his black Mercedes-Benz, Katsuki snorted at the offensively bright red pickup truck a few spaces across from him. Maybe some other poor schmuck got held up at work long enough to warrant such a late-night grocery trip. He strolled into the store and grabbed a basket, making a beeline for the fresh produce section, intending to get out as fast as possible. He was sure that if he ran into a single other shopper, he would blow them sky-high, and that wasn’t the best for mending his reputation. 

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans for him, and a grocery cart rammed into his side, nearly knocking him over with the force put behind it. Katsuki stumbled backward while he regained his balance and looked up with the most vicious glare he could muster. Behind the handles of the cart was a man similar to his age, with jet-black hair brushing the tops of his shoulders, sharp teeth peeking out of his partially opened mouth, and guilty-looking red eyes. The man was perched on the space between the wheels and the basket like a child going for a joyride, making him look fairly taller than Katsuki, but he shrunk under the hero’s gaze nonetheless.

“Oh, shit– sorry, man, I wasn’t paying attention! You alright?”

His concerned tone only served to make Katsuki’s glare deepen as he grabbed the moron by the collar of his white button-up shirt and forced him to step down from the cart. 

“Watch where the hell you’re going, jackass. I’m in a rush.” he seethed. The stranger frowned, more from confusion than fear.

“Dude, I said I was sorry. No need to get so upset.”

Katsuki’s hands balled into a fist as he stifled the irritated pops and sparks from his palms. Exploding a civilian was not good for mending his reputation. The man’s eyes widened and he put up his hands in surrender, seeming to think Katsuki was about to sock him in the face. Shit. He lowered his fist and released his collar. Punching a civilian was also bad for mending his reputation. 

“Pay attention next time then, asshole! You could’ve hurt someone.”

“Hey, the only one being an asshole here is you. It was a simple mistake, and you’re getting so worked up over it.”

Katsuki’s palms burned, itching to blow the prick’s face off for acting all high and mighty. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are?” the stranger shot back, his voice confident, though his tight shoulders betrayed his unease. “You’re talking down to someone you don’t even know!” Katsuki’s hand shot out and snagged his shirt collar again, the other forming a fist once more. He had about had it with this asshole and his damned attitude; but before he could throw a punch like he so desperately wanted to, the lights above shut off with a loud slamming sound. His hand faltered, stopping in the air before it could connect, and the two men looked up in confusion.

The store shouldn’t have closed for another ten minutes, and it wasn’t like the employees would just up and leave while there were still customers inside (as much as they might want to). Katsuki squinted as he let his eyes adjust to the unexpected darkness, scouring the shadowed grocery store until his gaze caught on a lone figure perched atop the giant Fresh Produce sign hanging from the ceiling. Even without the lights, he could make out the long, fiery orange curls rolling down from her scalp, the mean grin plastered on her face, and the large burn mark stretching from the corner of her right eye to her jaw. 

“Damnit,” he swore under his breath, dropping the stranger once more and reaching for his wrists to adjust his gauntlets, only to remember he was out of costume. The villain’s head swiveled at the sound, her grin only seeming to widen as she made eye contact, the smile stretching her face in an almost unnatural-looking way. The whites of her manic eyes seemed to glint gleefully before she suddenly swept a hand up through the air. Next to Katsuki, the half-shelf stocked with bananas lifted from the floor, the bolts holding it in place snapping with ease. The woman’s raised hand came down through the air, along with the shelf.

Katsuki’s instincts jumped into action and he grabbed the other customer by the forearm, tugging him out of the way and narrowly dodging as the shelf slammed into the ground, the linoleum cracking and splitting around it, the bananas tumbling and rolling across the floor. 

“Holy shit!” the black-haired man yelped in alarm, frantically glancing between the villain, Katsuki, and the bananas. Across the store, a scream rang out, most likely the cashier. Katsuki gritted his teeth as he attempted to formulate a strategy. Normally he could take out the crazy bitch easily but with both the restrictions on hero work set by his nagging secretary and the lack of his hero commission-mandated support items, he was at a loss.

There only seemed to be two civilians in the store, with one at the opposite end, and the villain blocked any path he might take to get there. If he could grab both civilians and escape the store without using his quirk, he could bring all three of them to safety and wait for another hero to arrive. However, with the villain blocking his path, there wasn’t a completely safe way to get past her without his quirk. 

His planning was unceremoniously interrupted as the entire store detonated and he was sent flying back into a shelf. His head slammed against the metal and a painful ringing noise rose around him– though he couldn’t tell if it was from an alarm within the store or inside his brain. He groaned in pain, bringing a hand up to touch the back of his skull, cringing when his fingers came away stained with blood. The emergency lights slammed back on. The bright flames rampaging around the store and the fluorescent ceiling lights made his head throb even harder. Katsuki had a concussion, but it was the least of his worries as he forced his eyes to stay open and search the dense smoke for the other man.

Right on cue, the black-haired man seemed to appear out of the smoke, crawling on all fours with a hand to his mouth. His shirt was singed and torn in many areas, but he seemed mostly unharmed, despite being close to the explosion. Katsuki could only pray the cashier was in a similar state. 

“H-ha! Oh my god, that was so scary! Are you okay?” he wheezed, though it sounded more like surprised laughter than someone who had inhaled too much smoke. Katsuki could only grunt in affirmation, his head still pounding agonizingly. “You probably have a concussion or something, so don’t fall asleep! I’m gonna get us out of here.” the black-haired man promised, tearing off one of his sleeves and wrapping the white fabric around Katsuki’s face to keep him from breathing in too much smoke. He guessed his face mask had been scorched to oblivion in the blast. He could tell by the painfully bright lights that his sunglasses had also been knocked off.

“I fuckin’-” he coughed, shoving uselessly at the other’s shoulder. “I fuckin’ know, asshole. Don’ baby me,” Katsuki’s words were slurred, and his vision was blurry around the edges as he slipped further into unconsciousness, losing the battle with his concussion. The days of late nights spent filling out paperwork and dealing with the aftermath of his mistake weighed heavy on his eyelids, tempting him to drift off. 

Katsuki felt himself go weightless and the ground disappeared underneath him, but it wasn’t from a dream state. The other man lifted him into a bridal carry, struggling to hold him up while also staying under the layer of smoke. 

“What’re you doin’? Stop it, I can save m’self,” Katsuki swatted at him ineffectively. Who did this guy think he was, some kinda hero? Katsuki was the hero here, he didn’t need help from any stupid civilian! He wriggled in his arms, trying to escape.

“Dude, hold still! I’m trying to save you!” his captor hissed, his grip tightening. Katsuki’s arms felt weak, proving his escape attempts fruitless.

“Can’t leave,” Katsuki slurred. “Gotta save the… other one.” There was another one? Who was it? Where were they? The brightness surrounding them made it hard to think.

“The other one?” the man looked down at him, confused. Katsuki blinked back up at him blearily, barely registering the small scar across his right eye. “Shit, the cashier, right. I’ve got it, just stay awake for a little longer.”

“I do what I want, ” Katsuki yelled, or was it a whisper? Fuck, his head hurt. He didn’t realize they had moved until the man adjusted his hold on Katsuki as he crouched down in front of the cashier, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck and lay across his back. She looked barely older than 17. Freckles dotted her face, framed by dark hair pulled into a ponytail, which seemed to have come loose from all the commotion. She looked terrified.

Katsuki fought to keep his eyes open amidst the flickering flames licking at the food displays around them. The torn sleeve covering his mouth and nose smelled like burnt coffee and smoke, the former of which almost helped him to stay conscious. Finally, the sweltering heat was replaced by a cool breeze on his sweaty skin as the three emerged from the burning grocery store. 

Red and blue lights painted the skin of the black-haired man. The cacophony of wailing sirens clawed at Katsuki’s ears. His skull felt as if it were about to split into two, even as he was handed off to paramedics and placed on a stretcher. Someone put a respiration mask over his face after removing the sleeve, carting him into the back of an ambulance. 

Katsuki drifted off, not quite asleep but not quite awake, to a lullaby made of ambulance sirens and murmuring doctors. Behind his drooping eyelids, he dreamed of sharp teeth and tiny scars.

Chapter Text

Katsuki was not a stranger to hospitals. The white walls, the buzzing fluorescent lights, the stifling smell of antiseptic– he was all too familiar with being bound to a shitty hospital bed and being fed shitty hospital food. It came with the territory of being a hero. Even so, the experience never became less of a pain in the ass.

Katsuki shifted underneath the thin, itchy blanket, glaring daggers at the nurse that was currently checking his vitals. She seemed to be a new hire, judging by the way she flinched underneath his harsh tone; most of the staff had gotten used to his attitude at this point. Katsuki snarled at her as she went to readjust his pillow, sending her scampering out of his room.

A brief moment after the skittish nurse left, a tall man in a lab coat entered in her place, holding a clipboard. The doctor gave Katsuki a quick rundown of his situation and the prior events that had led to his hospitalization; grocery store, villain attack, concussion, yadda yadda. Katsuki zoned out through most of it, only catching the tail end of the doctor’s spiel as he told him to take it easy for a few days while he healed. Katsuki barely managed to suppress an eyeroll– it was like his assistant was lecturing him all over again.

He checked out at the front desk, impatiently clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides as he listed off his phone number to the secretary, who seemed to be purposely typing as slowly as humanly possible on her laptop, loudly chewing bubblegum and drumming her acrylic nails against the desk.

Once she finally gave him the all-clear, he reached into his pocket for his phone, intending to call an Uber and spend the rest of the day in blissful isolation in his apartment. He walked through the automatic sliding doors, keeping his head ducked to avoid any civilians recognizing him and demanding an autograph or, god forbid, a photo, when–

“Bakugo!”

Katsuki’s eye twitched, the only sign that he had heard his name being called as he pointedly kept walking, desperate to ignore one of the last people he wanted to see at that moment.

“Bakugo, wait up!” exclaimed the voice again, this time closer. He inhaled sharply through his nose, weighing the pros and cons of blowing up the hospital parking lot until, to his annoyance, someone grabbed his wrist.

With a long suffering sigh, he turned around, only needing to raise his head a little to make eye contact with a short brunette woman with chubby cheeks and big, round eyes. 

“Pancake Face.” he grunted in acknowledgement, which only seemed to make Uraraka smile even wider. “What do you want?”

“Don’t be rude! I’m here to pick you up.”

“Hard pass.”

“Oh come on, I took a day off to check up on you.”

“Don’t care,” Katsuki continued walking, only for Uraraka to quickly jump to stand in his path again. He frowned at her. 

“I’ll buy you lunch?” she offered.

“Why would I ever agree to spending an afternoon with you?”

“Well, it’s either that or hospital food.”

Katsuki glanced back at his phone– it had run out of battery before he could press ‘confirm’ on his ride home. He shoved it back into his pocket and grit his teeth. “Fine. But I’m picking the place.”

Uraraka clapped her hands together. “Yay!! Works for me! Let’s go.”

Katsuki groaned internally, thinking mournfully of his couch back home that he so desperately wanted to return to.

+++

That was how Katsuki found himself walking to his usual lunch spot with perhaps the fifth most annoying person he knew, hands buried deep in his pockets as Uraraka chattered away next to him. “...and this girl, she obviously didn’t know how to control her quirk yet, because just when I managed to coax her down from the tree, she teleported to the top of this phone pole across the street. Obviously her parents are freaking out, because she might fall, but the whole situation reminded me of when I first learned how to float myself and I got stuck on top of the roof.” 

Katsuki snorted, coming to a stop at a crosswalk. “Seriously? That’s stupid.” 

Uraraka bumped their shoulders together (well, more like she bumped her shoulder against his elbow). “What, like you didn’t have any ‘accidents’ when you were little?”

“First, don’t ever phrase it like that again. Second, hell no. I’ve had impeccable control my entire fucking life.”

The conversation was light and playful, rather fitting for the almost irritatingly pleasant scene around them. The sun was out, the sky bright blue, pedestrians out walking their dogs and enjoying the weather. Cyclists came rolling past, ringing their bells, while children ran giggling down the sidewalk. It all gave Katsuki a headache.
Uraraka laughed a bit. “Sure. But on a more serious note, I wanted to ask you about–”

“The shit with the apartment building?” he finished for her, already regretting agreeing to her lunch invitation.

“Yeah. It’s been all over the news.”

“I know.”

“I mean, you already had a bad relationship with the media, but this is something else entirely.”

“I know.”

“They really hate you.” 

“I know!” 

“Anyways, I wanted to check in. I know it’s hard, dealing with backlash like that,” she sighed, ”Remember when I threw that ambulance at that crocodile mutant last year?”

“Tch. Whatever,” Katsuki shrugged dismissively. “It’s not like this is the first time they’ve gotten up in my shit like this.”

Uraraka paused on the small bridge overlooking a glittering lake. She crossed her arms and placed them on the railing, frowning at him. Katsuki leaned back against the railing next to her, closing his eyes as the wind rustled his hair. “What are you planning on doing? A few years ago it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but with all the legal cases lately, I don’t think they’ll be letting this go very easily.” 

“Ungrateful fucks. They’re talking shit like I didn’t save their sorry asses. Would they have preferred if I just left them to die in that fucking building?” Katsuki seethed, grinding his teeth together. “Fukumoto suspended me from hero work for a month.”

Uraraka gasped, leaning forward like this was the most interesting news she had heard in weeks. “Seriously? That’s awful!”

Katsuki nodded. “She thinks if I’m out of the field for long enough, they’ll get bored or whatever and move on.”

“That’s smart.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is! I’m being punished for doing my fuckin’ job!” 

“I’m kind of surprised, though. You’re really agreeing to this? I mean, it’s good that you are, but I would’ve thought…”

Katsuki shrugged. “It’s not…a terrible idea. There are enough other heroes in the area to cover for me, anyways. I’m still not gonna be happy about it, th–”

A commotion a few feet away from the two heroes made their conversation come to a stop. A woman, about thirty years old, with incredibly long black hair falling just below her waist, had climbed atop the bridge’s railing, balancing precariously over a dangerously long drop into the water below. Many pedestrians that were passing by stopped, murmuring amongst themselves with concern. Uraraka stiffened for a split second before going to walk over to the woman, Katsuki behind her, a determined expression passing over her face. She opened her mouth, preparing to summon whatever words she could to talk the woman down when suddenly–

The woman atop the railing looked over her shoulder, seeming to look through Uraraka, and smiled softly. 

And then, she dove headfirst off the bridge.

The crowd around them screamed in alarm. Wordlessly, Uraraka nodded to Katsuki, rolling up her sleeves and diving after the woman. Katsuki, as well as many of the spectators, rushed to the edge, scanning the waters below for either person.

Was she dead? Was Uraraka too late? The spectators muttered nervously among themselves. Katsuki squinted down into the lake. The water remained undisturbed– unnaturally so. There was no sign that anyone had breached the surface. No ripples, no splashes, nothing. It was as if someone had frozen the lake in time. He looked closer. 

The lake began to move, but it was not flowing like water should, nor reacting to the breeze. No, the water was lowering. Like someone was draining the lake entirely.

A column of water rose from the lake’s surface. A woman was perched upon it, her long black hair flowing around her like it, too, was liquid. One of her arms was raised, seeming to be controlling the column she stood upon. She lifted her other arm and a second column rose up like a tree growing. Uraraka stood on this second column, crouched low and ready to fight. 

“I am the Lady of the Lake,” the strange woman announced, her voice seeming to echo, “And it is my duty to deliver justice upon those who have sinned.” 

Her left hand shot up, and the column Uraraka was standing on burst forth, slamming into the side of the bridge Katsuki and the spectators were standing on. Uraraka managed to jump off in time, floating where her foothold used to be. The bridge, however, did not fare as well. The supports began to crumble, causing many of the civilians to lose their balance. A massive chunk of stone plummeted down, but rather than a splash, it landed with a dull thud into the giant muddy pit where the lake had vanished, now fully drained. Katsuki cursed under his breath, preparing to hurl himself over the side of the bridge and blast this bitch into smithereens, only to pause as Uraraka looked over at him and met his eyes. She shook her head. Katsuki grit his teeth. “Damnit.” he couldn’t fight. 

Uraraka exclaimed as a powerful blast of water hit her chest, spinning her in mid-air. A new column of water shot out a beat later, pressing from above, pushing her down toward the ground. But Katsuki couldn’t keep watching the fight, and he turned around, only to stumble as another large piece of the bridge supports collapsed. The bridge groaned, imbalanced, its left half beginning to dip downward, sending the civilians sliding down with it. Katsuki jammed his fingers into a crack in the stone path, holding tight. A woman shrieked as she slid downward past him, only to be caught by her collar. Katsuki hoisted her up to wrap his arm around her waist, arm straining with the effort of holding both himself and the woman up. 

“Hey, lady! Quit crying and climb up!” he demanded. She continued to sob, but nodded shakily, reaching up to catch a handhold in the lopsided bridge. Katsuki released the crack in the stone, allowing himself to slide to the next person, following a similar formula as the first. He’d stop them from falling, yell at them to jolt them out of their shock, and then boost them up toward solid ground. 

He worked quickly and efficiently until there was only one person left– a young boy in a striped shirt, tears rolling down his cheeks. He clung desperately onto a piece of rebar sticking out the side of the bridge, about three feet lower than Katsuki. Katsuki’s eyes darted around the crumbling bridge, analyzing the best path to get down to the kid. The safest path would take too much time– it was clear the boy couldn’t hold on for much longer. He slid further, bits of gravel rolling downward in his wake as he inched closer. The boy was almost in reach now. Ideally, Katsuki would go all the way down, but he could tell with each shaky movement that too much weight on the edge would spell danger. He wrapped a hand around the railing above him, gripping it hard enough his knuckles turned white, and planted either of his feet on the bridge, which was nearly vertical by now. With his free hand, he reached as far as he could toward the kid, cursing out his assistant in his head.

He could practically hear the news outlets if he were to use his quirk, hounding him for destroying the bridge even more, or making explosions near a kid, or some other stupid shit like that. It didn’t matter. He was still the number eight hero, with or without his quirk. He could do this. He stretched further, gritting his teeth and praying that the railing held long enough for this rescue. The boy, still clinging onto the rebar, looked up at him with teary eyes.

“Come on, dumbass! Reach for me!” Katsuki yelled, not bothering to even try to soften his tone. The boy shakily removed a hand from his support to reach up for him, his stubby little hands straining to reach his. The tips of their fingers brushed for a brief moment, but before Katsuki could do anything– 

The bridge groaned with great effort, metal against metal and stone against stone, tipping down, down, pointing almost fully 90 degrees upward, and the kid slipped with a strangled cry, falling further out of Katsuki’s reach. Thankfully, the kid managed to grab hold of another piece of metal sticking out of the broken concrete just in time. His legs dangled below him, kicking at the air as he struggled, trying to pull himself up.

He was now about a ten foot drop from the ground– not necessarily too deadly, even for a child, but it would mean getting far too close to the battle for comfort. Additionally, it was far too dangerous for Katsuki to even try using his quirk; with how precariously balanced the bridge was, any sudden blast could jostle the kid and drop him. Uraraka, still ducking beneath geysers and leaping over blasts, surely noticed this. The Lady of the Lake, unfortunately, noticed as well. Her cruel gaze turned to the child, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Water began to condensate around her fingers as she prepared another attack against a helpless target.

Before Katsuki could formulate a plan of some sort, however, he heard a shout above him. He glanced up just in time to see a person plummet past him, feet first, toward the ground. “What the hell?!” he yelled. Was now seriously the time to stage a suicide attempt? 

The water burst forth from the Lady of the Lake’s palm like a cannon, but it suddenly veered off course as she received an impossibly solid elbow to the face, knocking her to the ground. “Go!” the sudden assailant yelled. Barely needing any instruction, Uraraka hurled herself into the air, boosting herself off of a boulder and grabbing the boy, then Katsuki, and dropping them both onto solid ground.

“Get him somewhere safe,” Uraraka said, and jumped back down to re-enter the fray before Katsuki could complain about being ordered around.

Finding the kid’s mom was, thankfully, rather quick, and Katsuki was more than happy to hand off the sniveling brat. The mother started thanking him profusely, but he interrupted her with a firm lecture to ‘keep a better eye on your stupid kid’ and headed back to the lake. 

Down in the giant fucking mud pit, the Lady of the Lake had both Uraraka and the mystery person pinned in place with two powerful geysers of water, steadily pushing Uraraka back further and further, who was unable to withstand the overwhelming pressure. The other, however, didn’t seem to move an inch. In fact, the geyser began to shorten as they closed the distance. In a panic as she saw the stranger coming closer, the Lady of the Lake cut the water from her left hand and turned it to join her right, blasting the stranger with even higher pressure. Behind her, Uraraka lay on the ground, soaking wet. But Katsuki knew better than to think she was defeated. She slowly rose to her feet, pressing her palm against a large boulder, and activated her quirk. Katsuki chuckled under his breath. He recognized this strategy.

The Lady of the Lake, distracted by keeping the new threat as far away as possible, was completely unaware of the hero’s activities until a boulder plummeted down with a thud, pinning her to the muddy floor. The water that was once gushing from her hands fizzled out, and Uraraka had won.

+++

As the Lady of the Lake was escorted away in handcuffs, the news reporters were practically lining up to shake Uraraka’s hand, congratulating her on her victory and her incredible heroics that had resulted in zero injuries. Thankfully, none of them had seen Katsuki on the bridge, and, in their hysterics, all of the victims had just assumed he was another civilian. The news reporters had, however, seen the stranger, which Katsuki could now make out the features of. He had black hair that just brushed the tops of his shoulders, with bright red eyes, and for a reason Katsuki couldn’t quite seem to pin down, he really pissed him off. 

Katsuki was used to disliking people, but it wasn’t often that he’d immediately want to sock someone in the face before even hearing a word come out of their mouth. This guy, however, seemed familiar. Like they’d met before.

After the news had moved on from their brief interviews of Uraraka and the mystery man (which Katsuki didn’t bother listening to), Uraraka dragged Katsuki behind her to talk to the guy, much to Katsuki’s chagrin.

“Hey! Thanks for stepping in earlier. You totally saved my butt.” Uraraka smiled pleasantly.

“No, no, I hardly did anything. You were incredible!” the man waved her off, grinning back with a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Uravity, right? I’m Kirishima. You were totally manly out there!” 

“My friend Bakugo and I were planning on grabbing some lunch before that villain attacked. You wanna come along? Y’know, like a celebration of our victory?” Uraraka offered.

“Are you serious? I don’t want him tagging along.” Katsuki butt in, crossing his arms and turning to glare at the guy. The black haired man, Kirishima, looked back at him, surprised, as if just realizing he was there.

Now that Katsuki was really getting a good look at this guy, he really looked familiar. He narrowed his eyes. There was a tiny scar just across his right eye, and…

Kirishima’s eyes flickered with recognition, coming to the same realization.

“You’re that asshole from the grocery store!” they both exclaimed simultaneously.

Uraraka looked between the two. “You guys… know each other?”

“No,” Katsuki growled.

“Yes!” Kirishima declared.

Katsuki shot him another glare.

“Well, ah, not personally,” Kirishima scratched the back of his neck. “We’ve just met once before. Sorta.” he turned back to Katsuki. “I’m really glad to see you’re okay, though! Has your concussion healed at all?”

Next to him, Uraraka smiled wider, eyes gleaming with barely-concealed curiosity. Katsuki really, really wanted to go home. 

“I’m fucking fine. Mind your own business, Shitty Hair.”

“Bakugo!!” Uraraka scolded, slapping his shoulder. “I’m sorry about him, Kirishima. He’s just grouchy because he hasn’t eaten yet.” 

Kirishima laughed– fucking laughed, like an asshole. “That’s fine! Oh, and thank you a lot for the invite, but I’ve actually been meaning to start unpacking today. You two have fun, though!”

With an over-enthusiastic hand shake and another exchange of gratitude, he was off, hair still dripping onto his shoulders. Katsuki scowled at his back until he disappeared. 

“Sooo,” Uraraka nudged him. “What’s this about the grocery store?”

Katsuki groaned.

Chapter Text

“I knew he looked familiar!” Uraraka shouted, causing a few other customers to shoot disapproving glares her way. Katsuki sank further in his seat, scowling at her while he took a long sip of his lemonade, willing her to shut up. “I remember seeing the news article covering the attack on the store. I didn’t realize you were one of the victims.”

Katsuki huffed. “Victim, my ass. I was just caught off guard, alright?! I would’ve been fine even if that jackass weren’t there.”

Uraraka rolled her eyes. “Sure. But why are you being so hostile? Kirishima saved you! Is it so hard to show at least a little bit of gratitude?”

“I have nothing to thank him for!”

“God, even after all these years you’re still too stubborn for your own good,” Uraraka grumbled. She swiped further down the page of the article she had pulled up on her phone. Katsuki stilled as he spotted his own name in the ‘related articles’ section of the site. Uraraka pressed it without a word. A ten page opinion piece stared back up at the two heroes, slandering Dynamight’s name and whining about stupid shit that was out of his control! His eyes darted back and forth as he skimmed it, each sentence making him clench his fists tighter.

‘...due to his absurd negligence, the apartment complex was completely ruined…’

‘Many debates have sparked across the internet from hero fans far and wide, discussing at what point a hero should be held accountable for…’

‘...incident leads one to wonder the effect this will have on the hero’s ranking…’

Before Katsuki could pop a blood vessel, the screen turned black. He blinked, taking a rather embarrassingly long moment to realize that Uraraka had shut the phone off. She gave him a half-hearted smile in an attempt to reassure him. “I think that’s enough of that.”

Katsuki leaned back in his seat again. “Fucking whatever. I’ll just climb my way back up again, no matter how far they drop me. I don’t give a damn if they blame me for stupid shit!”

“Really? Because it definitely feels like you give a damn.”

“Shut it, Pancake Face.”

Their food arrived, quickly dropped off by an overly-smiley waitress. Katsuki began to dig into his, snorting as he watched Uraraka snap at least five pictures of her meal beforehand. “It’s gonna go cold if you do that.”

“But it looks so yummy! And my PR manager said I needed to post more, anyways.” She waved him off, tapping away at her phone. Katsuki rolled his eyes. He didn’t post anything to his social media, having long since deemed it a waste of time. 

“But back to Kirishima…” Uraraka began to speak as Katsuki was raising his chopsticks to his mouth. He quirked a brow at her, annoyed already. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! I can’t be the only one to think it’s weird that he’s shown up at two crime scenes to help.” she went to take a bite of her food, only to stop to continue excitedly. “Do you think he’s a vigilante?”

Katsuki scoffed. “I don’t give a shit what he is. As long as I never see him again, I’ll be happy. Now stop talking about it or I’ll order four extra side dishes.”

“Hey, come on! I won't get my paycheck for another month!”

+++

In a twist of bad luck that Katsuki really should be used to by now, the fight at the lake was not the last time he would have to see Kirishima. Far from it; in fact, Kirishima now seemed to show up everywhere he went– and so did villains. Katsuki was used to getting harassed by small-fry villains looking to stir up trouble. He lived in a largely populated area, so crimes were far from uncommon. Even so, it was really starting to feel targeted now. When he went to the bank, a robbery would begin. Out on a morning jog, a crazed man wielding a knife would be screaming at civilians across the street. At his fucking dentist appointment, some jackass was trying to wreak havoc with an army of mud creatures. It was annoying.

But what pissed him off even more than the uptick in crimes around him was the black-haired man that charged onto the scene and helped to take down the threat. Every time, without fail, Kirishima would appear, helping to evacuate civilians or fully knocking out the villain. 

While working out at his gym, a man with fucking barbells for arms started smashing support beams. Kirishima managed to tie him down with the cable from the lat pulldown machine. When Katsuki swung by his usual coffeeshop on the way to work, a person started using their quirk to bring several parked cars outside to life. Kirishima climbed onto one and baited the rest into ramming into each other. A mugging on the street. A hit-and-run. A fucking cat stuck in a tree. A cat. Stuck in a tree. Like in a goddamn cartoon. Kirishima was always there to save the day, and Katsuki was almost certain he was losing his mind.

He wasn’t the only one to notice this trend, however. The media was having the time of their lives, hailing Kirishima as a ‘promising young upstart’, a ‘vigilante to keep an eye out for’, the ‘next big hero’. They didn’t seem to know the guy’s name yet, however, nor much else; most interview attempts with their new star were short-lived as the man apologized and dismissed himself, proclaiming that he had errands to run.

Katsuki was getting real fucking sick of this guy.

The last straw was when Kirishima threw himself in front of a car to stop it from getting away. Katsuki had just exited the bookstore, a couple new novels in the tote bag slung across his chest, when he heard screaming. Normally this would be slightly alarming, but now, when a crime was being committed in his immediate vicinity almost every day, he was hardly surprised. 

A few blocks down, the bank’s alarms were blaring as a group of villains dashed out. (It was, notably, the same bank that had been robbed just last week. He couldn’t tell if the villains needed to find new material or if the bank needed a better security system.) The group, cackling as they towed giant sacks of cash behind them, leaped into their getaway vehicle parked out front. The driver immediately stepped on the gas and the van peeled off down the road, swerving left and right as it barreled over signs and mailboxes. Katsuki didn’t even bother trying to stop them, quirk or not, because he knew a certain ‘promising young upstart’ was sure to come around the corner at any moment.

Right on cue, the speeding vehicle was forced to a stop with a grating crunch, the back wheels lifting from the ground for a moment due to the inertia. Hugging the hood of the car, feet dug firmly into the asphalt, was Kirishima, effectively stopping their escape with a single move. Once their airbags deflated and the robbers were hauled away by police, Kirishima tried to evacuate the scene of the crime to hide from the news, like usual. He looked around, wiping the sweat from his forehead, before ducking behind a building and entering an alleyway. He let out a sigh, leaning back against the brick wall, letting his guard down. A rookie mistake, thought Katsuki, as he launched himself from behind a dumpster, pinning the man hard against the bricks, barely even giving him time to gasp in surprise.

“Alright, shitface, start talking. What’s your game here?”

“Guh- wuh- B-Bakugo?!” Kirishima stammered, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Huh??”

Katsuki pressed Kirishima harder into the wall, hands firm on his wrists. “Don’t play dumb. Why do you keep showing up everywhere? Are you following me?”

“No??” Kirishima, frustratingly enough, looked more confused than frightened. 

“You some kind of vigilante or something?”

“What?! No!”

“Wh- the fuck you mean, ‘no’?” Katsuki gaped, suddenly just as confused as the person he was interrogating.

“I mean I’m not a vigilante! I thought that was pretty clear!” Kirishima’s voice raised.

“Then what the hell are you?”

“I don’t know! I mean– I do know– I’m just a regular guy that happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!” he paused to think, biting his lip with pointy teeth. “Or, I guess, the right place at the right time?”

“Do you realize how fucking suspicious that sounds?” Katsuki growled. Every word that came out of this moron’s mouth was ticking him off.

“Yeah, okay, I probably could’ve worded that better. But I swear I’m not lying! I work in sales!”

“Like I’m meant to believe that!”

“I swear, man. Check my back pocket, my employee ID is in there.”

“Hah?! Check it yourself!”

“Dude,” Kirishima looked at him flatly, flexing his hands open to show his inability to move while Katsuki had him restrained. 

Katsuki hissed and used his left hand to secure both of Kirishima’s wrists, then used the other to essentially grope around blindly behind Kirishima’s back, searching for the pocket. 

“Bit lower. That’s my belt.” Kirishima said, helpfully. “Nope, other pocket. Actually, wait, I think it might be in the left one? Uh, maybe just check both.”

Katsuki seethed. “I swear to god, if this is you trying some pervy shit–”

Kirishima laughed, because of course this asshole would laugh even though he was literally pinned against a wall by a stranger– until Katsuki finally pulled the ID out of his back pocket.

On it was a photo of the man with wide, almost nervous eyes, as well as his name; Kirishima Eijirou. Sure enough, next to what Katsuki assumed to be the company’s logo; Sales Department.

Katsuki huffed and stepped backward, shoving the employee ID into Kirishima’s chest. Kirishima flinched upon contact. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s fine,” Kirishima waved him off, as if he thought Katsuki was actually worried, “That car was just going faster than I expected. It’s okay, though, my quirk absorbed most of the shock.”

“Your quirk?” Katsuki asked, though he wasn’t actually that curious.

Kirishima rolled up his sleeve and held his arm up in front of his chest, balling his hand into a fist. Ridges formed along his skin like layers of shale. “Hardening. It’s nothing special or flashy but, y’know,” Kirishima shrugged. “It gets the job done.”

Katsuki pressed the pads of his fingers against the jagged edges of Kirishima’s forearm without warning, dragging them down the uneven surface. It was like touching stone, yet it still almost seemed to have the warmth that regular skin would have. He was so distracted in his examination that he didn’t hear Kirishima’s breath hitch. Though Kirishima seemed to think of it as rather mundane, Katsuki wasn’t sure he had ever seen something like it before. It certainly explained how he had survived the jump off the bridge. As his fingers trailed to the bottom of Kirishima’s elbow, he wondered if the quirk could withstand his explosions.

His thumb accidentally grazed over the crook of Kirishima’s elbow where the jagged surface smoothed out to soft skin. Kirishima shivered under the contact, making Katsuki jolt out of whatever haze he had been. He snatched his hands back like he had been burned, stuffing them in his pockets. 

“Fucking whatever,” he grunted. Kirishima wasn’t meeting his eyes, his face tinged pink. 

“Uh. Ah. This was fun, but, like, I kind of have to go?”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Katsuki stepped backward, freeing the man.

“It was nice seeing you again, though!”

Katsuki didn’t answer, walking out of the dark alleyway and starting his trek to the bus stop. His face felt like it was burning. Probably with rage.

What a waste of time.

+++

Just because Kirishima had confirmed that he wasn’t actually a vigilante or a wannabe hero didn’t mean it was any less annoying when he still showed up at every scene. The fact that he wasn’t even trying to be a hero only ticked Katsuki off more– especially since the media was so eager to put this guy in the spotlight. Katsuki’s spotlight. It was the goal, originally, to wait for the news to move on to something that wasn’t his fuckup. Yet now that they had, it seemed like they hadn’t just moved on from his incident, but from Dynamight entirely. Sure, there were hardly any discussions about the damage he had caused, but now there were hardly any discussions about him in general. It was all about Kirishima. Katsuki could hardly even scroll the internet for a moment without hearing about this ‘mystery hero’ or stumbling upon some blogger waxing poetic about how he symbolized the beginning of the ‘new wave of heroes’. It was all complete and utter bullshit.

But finally, the month was over.

“You may return to hero work. However, you need to remember that while the news has moved on to new headlines, there might still be some tension regarding your… incident.” Fukumoto explained in her monotone voice, adjusting her glasses. 

Katsuki hummed in acknowledgement. His hands were already itching with the need to blow something up. This had been the longest month of his life.

“And please, try not to cause too much damage going forward,” she sighed. “With a quirk like yours it’s hard to avoid, but if there’s any way to minimize it–”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Katsuki warned. Fukumoto, to her credit, didn’t show any signs of protest apart from tightening her lips. She nodded her head and retreated to her desk.

Once the door closed, and Katsuki couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore, he pumped his fist in a brief moment of celebration, and then immediately rushed to school his facial expression. Moment of celebration over, he had work to do.

Patrolling had always been one of his least favorite parts of the job. It was, nine times out of ten, agonizingly mundane. Some heroes would consider the lack of activity a blessing. Katsuki would consider it a curse. Patrols meant walking around in public, dealing with annoying fans and, if he was unlucky, reporters. Today, however, some might even describe him as excited as he walked his usual route, gauntlets swinging by his sides. Any sort of hero work was better than none as he returned from what had felt like a year of house arrest. He was in such a good mood, in fact, that he didn’t even yell at the group of middle schoolers that harassed him for his autograph. Mostly.

Alright, fine, he yelled at them a little. But, well. Small victories.

Nothing particularly interesting happened until the last stretch of his patrol, when he heard a shrill scream from down the road. He quickly blasted his way over, sailing over a small crowd that had formed to watch whatever was going down and landing on a lamppost. Perched upon a totaled car, a large man with spiraled horns and tusks held a squirming woman in a chokehold, a knife in the other hand. He was tall enough that the woman’s feet were in the air, kicking as she tried to break free, only to go still as he pressed the blade threateningly close to her throat. 

He was rambling, some typical villain monologue about ‘the war between the just and the unjust’ and ‘the corruption of society by means of false heroics’. Katsuki couldn’t be bothered to listen– he had heard dozens of variations of the same spiel. He blasted himself off of the lamppost, landing in front of the crowd and facing the villain, palms smoking.

“Hey, asshole!” he shouted, fingers tingling as heat began to gather in his hands. “How about you quit blabbering and show me how you really feel? Or are you too scared t–” before he could finish his sentence, someone launched themselves like a rocket out of the crowd, slamming into the villain like a full on football tackle. Caught completely off guard, the villain was bowled over and the woman was released, stumbling off of the car. Katsuki caught her, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was looking at the villain, who was now knocked out cold on the ground. Beside him was Kirishima. Because of course it was Kirishima. Katsuki felt his eye twitch. 

He dropped the woman (gently, of course) to the ground and stomped forward. “Hey, jackass! I was dealing with that!”

Kirishima looked up as Katsuki approached, arms rippling as his skin returned to its normal state. “Oh! Sorry, man.”

The nerve of this guy. “Fuck off! You trying to pull something, Shitty Hair?” Kirishima’s eyes widened, though not in fear. 

“You– wait–” his voice dropped to what seemed like it was meant to be a whisper, but hardly counted– “Bakugo??”

“Fucking what?”

“You’re– I mean– I thought. You’re…?”

“I’m going to beat the shit out of you, I swear to god.”

“You’re Dynamight?!”

“Are you fucking stupid?”

The two began to argue, either oblivious or uncaring to the crowd of people behind them that watched in complete silence and confusion.

“Did you seriously not know? It’s not exactly a secret!”

“Well I guess it would explain a few things but also in my defense I’ve had a lot of other things on my mind!” Kirishima raised his hands like he was surrendering.

Katsuki really, really, wanted to kill this guy. Logically this wasn’t the part he should be mad about, but the man’s sheer stupidity was somehow even worse than stealing his victory.

“You have to be blind. Or deaf, or both, because–”

“-is it more logical to think that there are multiple angry blondes named Bakugo in this city or is it more logical to think that the hot blonde I met is also the number eight hero? Uh, I mean–”

“You make me so fucking mad.”

“Hey, come on, man!”

That was not the last time Kirishima swooped in and stole the glory. Far from it. He would appear during fights, taking down the villain just as Katsuki prepared to deliver his final blow. Sometimes he would even be there before Katsuki, beating him to the scene of the crime. 

The worst part? It didn’t even seem like he was doing it on purpose. 

He clearly wasn’t a trained fighter. Half of his wins were based purely on luck and perfect timing, most of the time only winning because the villain was too distracted by the real hero to notice him gearing up for a sucker punch. Shit, he’d even stopped crimes by accident! Katsuki was struggling to keep up with some petty purse snatcher with a speed quirk and Kirishima just happened to walk out of a store at the perfect time and instinctively activate his quirk right as the thief barreled into him. Once he had bent down to tie his shoe right as a rampaging villain leaped for him, causing them to crash into a wall and knock themselves out. This guy operated on fucking cartoon logic.

Katsuki couldn’t stand the man, but he couldn’t seem to escape him. Even on days when there were no villain attacks, he was still there. If Kirishima wasn’t dumber than a pile of bricks, Katsuki might have thought he was a stalker. 

Of course he couldn’t be so lucky. Even a stalker would be more tolerable than this walking headache.