Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes, you really do wonder what the point of living is.  

It’s a pessimistic take, you know. Certainly not one that a sixteen-year-old should have, but it’s not your fault that you feel this way. You’ve been conditioned to. It’s been instilled deep inside of you, after many years of being treated like dirt, being told you’re worthless, and being denied any love.  

Your parents are abusive. In fact, that’s putting it lightly. They are evil, degenerate scum; monsters clothed in human skin. You’ve never understood why some people choose to have children, despite not wanting them. Being a parent is probably much harder than you can imagine, but even so. It isn’t fair. Other kids look forward to going home after school, and seek comfort in their families. Meanwhile, yours causes you nothing but fear.  

Nobody will help you. You’re too scared to speak up, and everyone constantly turns a blind eye to your abuse. Even when you deliberately show up to school with your sleeves rolled up, so that your bruises are in plain view, the teachers refuse to acknowledge it. Your classmates make no effort to interact with you either. Probably because you’re so anxious, constantly nibbling on your fingernails, eyes bloodshot and fearful. You flinch whenever anyone gets too close. Just like how you’ve been conditioned towards dark, morbid thoughts, the kids in your school have become conditioned to avoid you. You suppose you can’t really blame them. You don’t know how to be friendly. You don’t know how to act normal.  

Still. 

It hurts that nobody even bothers to try.  

The moment the last bell of the day rings, everyone is in a hurry to leave. Students filter out of the building, eager to be off school grounds as soon as possible. Apart from the obvious exceptions, such as some that are sometimes stuck on classroom duty, or those that have clubs to attend, it usually doesn’t take long for the rooms and hallways to quiet down. You’re the obvious exception to this rule. You remain seated at your desk, long after everyone has already left.  

“Let’s not do this today, [Name],” your teacher sighs irritably. “Come on. I have an appointment to get to, and I can’t afford to be late. I want to be able to lock up behind me.”  

As expected. It’s always the same tiresome routine. You keep waiting and waiting for someone to take action. For someone to save you. But it never happens, because the world is full of cowards. You know this all too well, because you’re also a coward. If only you had the nerve to go to the police. If only you were strong enough to see past your fear of the future, of how your parents might retaliate against you.  

You wish you were brave enough to do something like that. You wish you were brave enough to face your problems instead of always running from them.  

But of course, you’re not.  

The teacher ushers you outside, while you drag your feet in resignation. You don’t want to go home. You’ll get in trouble if you stay out too late, but if you head back right now, you’re well aware of what’s waiting for you. Regardless of what choice you make, the outcome is ultimately the same. At the very least, you’d like to delay your suffering as much as possible.  

It goes without saying that your parents never give you money for anything. You can feel your stomach grumbling as you walk through town. You can’t stop by a restaurant, because you need to be a paying customer. You can’t afford to go to an internet cafe either, so you end up in the same place as always—the library.  

Here, internet is free, as long as you get lucky enough to snag an unused computer. It just so happens that the universe feels like being merciful today. You hurriedly take a seat, pull out your cheap earbuds that are just barely hanging on by a thread, and drown out the world by playing your favorite anime. 

My Hero Academia. A world in which most people have wondrous, unique powers. It’s a superhero concept, and obviously not grounded in reality, but maybe that’s why you like it so much. You like the idea of people devoting themselves to others. You like the idea of people being kind and selfless, but above all else—you like the idea of such qualities being recognized as morally and objectively good.  

There’s nobody like that in your life. That’s why you find comfort in fiction, fantasy, a world that will never be your own. It’s silly, of course. You already know that, even without being told.  

But maybe someday… someday, you might be able to escape. Maybe someone will finally save you, and cherish you, just like you’ve always dreamed of.  

“Excuse me. We’re closing up now. You need to get ready to leave.”  

One of the library attendants narrows her eyes at you, and when she casts a glance towards your screen and sees what you’re watching, she seems rather exasperated by your childishness. 

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your studies?” she frowns. “You’re a high-schooler. If you keep wasting your days like this, you won’t be able to get into a good college.”  

“...I’m sorry.”  

It’s all you know how to say. Having repeated the words over and over again for many years, you suppose it’s become something akin to a reflex. Even if the words that spill from your lips aren’t genuine. Even if you have no reason to apologize.  

You leave the library. The sky is dark, practically pitch black by now. You’re tempted to stay out even later, but it’s cold, and you’re exhausted. Nowhere else is even open this late anyway. Nowhere you can loiter around without any money, that is. Maybe your parents will have already fallen asleep. It’s unlikely, but… the least you can do is hope.  

Feet dragging behind you, you begin the trek home. Already, your stomach is clenching apprehensively. You do your best not to imagine what will happen once you step through those doors, but as expected, it’s impossible.  

Life, however, is cruel. As if it wasn’t bad enough being treated miserably by your own parents, there are other dangers that you need to be wary of as well. Cruelty runs rampant in many forms. Your parents have never taken their abuse far enough to actually put your life at risk, but some people don’t bother to restrain themselves.  

You realize it far too late. The footsteps approaching from behind were so deliberately quiet that you only manage to turn once there’s nowhere left to go.  

By that point, the knife has already been plunged into your chest.  

It hurts. It hurts unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, which is a harrowing reminder that however much a person has suffered, it can always be worse.  

Just as suddenly as you were stabbed, the blade is forcefully torn from your flesh, blood spraying from the open wound. You collapse to your knees, frantically palming at your chest, but to no avail. Every breath is barely a wheeze, and there’s a sheen of tears across your cheeks, damp and warm, much like the crimson fluid pouring onto the ground.  

You barely even got to look at your attacker’s face. You have no idea who they are, or what they have against you. Odds are that they couldn’t even care less. They probably just wanted to kill someone, anyone, and you were unfortunate enough to cross their path.  

Stillness overtakes you. The criminal has already run away, leaving you facedown against the concrete, as your body becomes infinitely colder than you ever thought it could be.  

So, this is death. You’re afraid. Terrified, even. Not that it’s going to change anything, no matter how hard you try to fight it. You’re right on the cusp of crossing over, and it’s clear that you have no choice but to come to terms with your reality.  

You’re going to die—right here, right now. Your only solace is that at least this will be the last time you suffer. Once this moment comes to pass, you will simply cease to exist. Everything will be over, just like that.  

Your despair may be tinged with relief, but even so, you can’t say this is what you wanted. In fact, you know exactly what you wanted, all this time, and it was for someone to care about you.   

That’s it. Just that.  

You’re really going to die… without ever knowing what it feels like to be loved.  

A few more tears spill down your cheeks, and your eyes slowly flutter shut, for the very last time. 

“...look at her! Oh my goodness, isn’t she the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen?”  

Light filters into view. It’s gradual at first, just a bunch of blurred images that you can’t make sense of, but eventually, it all takes form. You see people. Two people, to be precise. A man and a woman, and for some reason, they’re staring down at you with warm, beaming expressions.  

They’re so close. And they look so happy. What is there to be happy about? You don’t understand. The last thing you remember is succumbing to death, at long last, but you doubt they’d be all that thrilled at the sight of a dead body.  

Maybe this is the afterlife. Some people don’t believe that the afterlife even exists, but you’ve speculated about it from time to time. Your fear prevented you from ever following through with your morbid thoughts, but already, it seems like a much better place to be. You feel all bundled up and comfortable, like someone wrapped you in ribbons of the sun. The people staring down at you seem kind, too. Maybe they’re thankful to have some company, wherever this is. Also, there’s the sound of a baby cooing in adoration, which brings you a strange sense of peace.  

…wait. Babies? In the afterlife? It’s possible, of course, and the thought alone is heartbreaking, but somehow, you feel like you’ve wildly misconstrued the situation.  

“Oh,” the woman blinks. “She stopped all of a sudden. And she’s making a pretty serious face. What’s wrong, darling? This is all so new to you, isn’t it?”  

She smiles again, then leans in closer. Hardly a second later, you feel something. You feel her soft lips pressing against your forehead, in what can only be described as a gentle, loving kiss.  

Immediately, you understand what happened.  

This isn’t the afterlife. You’re lying flat on your back, incapable of rolling over, but you can still direct your gaze all around. What presents itself to you is nothing more than an ordinary bedroom. More specifically, a nursery. Which means that the woman who just kissed you, along with the man standing next to her, must be your parents.  

Without a doubt, you died. You remember the pain all too vividly. You remember what it felt like to bleed out, hopelessly, as everything faded into nothingness. At first, you were terrified, but then you simply welcomed it. You were too tired to keep fighting anymore. You just wanted to close your eyes once and for all.  

Perhaps you would have found peace in eternal rest, but no. It seems your story is far from over. Instead of dying permanently, you’ve been reborn—into a family that actually loves you this time. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, but you could only ever dream of it coming true.  

Happiness has evaded you for so long, but finally, it seems like it’s willing to shine down upon you.  

Your mother covers her mouth and gasps. “Honey, look! She’s smiling! She’s actually smiling, isn’t she??”  

“Do newborns usually smile?” your father asks, tilting his head inquisitively.  

“Well, I don’t know how common it is, but just look at her! She’s smiling! She’s really, really smiling!”  

“You’re right. Haha. When she smiles, her cheeks puff out and look even squishier than normal.” 

Your father carefully picks you up and takes you into his arms. Sure enough, you’re being lifted as if you’re weightless. You’re a baby in every sense of the word, and perhaps most people in your position would be frustrated by their lack of freedom, but truly, you’ve never felt more serene.  

This is what it’s supposed to be like. This is what a family should be.  

You close your eyes and melt into his embrace, and you nearly break into tears knowing that from now on, your life will be every bit as peaceful as you always hoped.  

To some extent, you’re right. You finally have loving parents now. You have parents that will put your wellbeing first. Parents that would never even think of harming you. The time spent with your family is destined to be peaceful, sure, but as for the rest of your life… 

What awaits you is chaotic, unpredictable, and completely beyond fathom.  

For a few days, everything is normal. It’s actually kind of interesting having awareness as a newborn. Children develop infantile amnesia, so these memories almost always fade away. You don’t really mind it, though. It’s really nice being taken care of. All you do is eat and sleep, and the affection that your parents shower you with is something you doubt you’ll ever get tired of.  

Then, inevitably, comes the fateful moment. The turning point in what you assumed to be a relaxing, happy, mundane life.  

You hear the sound of someone ringing your doorbell. Your mother rushes to the front of the house, while your father carries you in his arms and walks you over. It seems like your neighbors have stopped by to visit. Apparently they called earlier, but you were down for a nap, so you didn’t hear it. 

“Welcome!” your mother happily greets, swinging the door open in one fluid motion. There are two people standing outside, although you can’t quite get a good look at them from where you are, and you start fussing in your father’s arms, trying to signal him to move closer. “Aw, you brought your baby!” you hear your mother giggle excitedly. “I was hoping I’d get to meet him today. He’s so adorable! He really is the spitting image of you, Mitsuki.”  

All things considered, Mitsuki is a fairly common Japanese name. You’ve lived in Japan all your life, even before dying and being reborn. Naturally, you assumed that you’d been reborn into the same time period, just shortly after your death. You’re a newborn baby, so you haven’t exactly gotten to see much of the world within just a few short days. Perhaps that’s why you don’t think much of it at first.  

However, it starts getting really weird, really fast.  

Your father has moved close enough for you to see your two neighbors in full. They’re a couple, man and woman, and just like your mother said, it appears that they have a baby of their own. The father has spiky brown hair, a gentle expression, and wears glasses, and the mother looks incredibly youthful, even as far as new mothers go, with flawless pale skin, equally spiky blonde hair, and when she opens her mouth, well— 

Put simply, she’s loud.  

“Thanks so much for having us!” Mitsuki exclaims, with a wide, infectious grin. “I kept telling Masaru I could hardly wait to see your little girl, but I didn’t want to overwhelm her by showing up too soon. But wow, she really does look just like a princess! She’s a little angel. Meanwhile, this guy here keeps screaming and throwing a fit every chance he gets.”  

“What’s his name?” your mother eagerly asks.  

“Katsuki,” Mitsuki replies, and just like that, you feel your entire world flip upside down.  

Mitsuki. Masaru. Katsuki. Those are all names you’ve heard before, and not in the real world. Their appearances are a dead giveaway too. You’ve seen the anime so many times by now that the resemblance is uncanny.  

But isn’t that… impossible?  

You never expected that your love for My Hero Academia would allow you to awaken in the very world that you once used as escapism. Even now, you still remain somewhat unconvinced. Maybe the names are just extremely coincidental. The names, appearances, and personalities. Maybe this is a perfectly ordinary situation, and your brain is making connections as you see fit.  

You really don’t know what to believe, however, right as you’re deep in thought and more confused than you’ve ever been, Katsuki shifts slightly and directs his crimson gaze towards you.  

“Ba,” he simply says. The grunt is sharp and rather decisive-sounding, as far as infants go. He’s frowning at you too. His little eyebrows are knit together in a perpetual scowl—which reminds you even more of Bakugou Katsuki.  

There’s only one way to figure out if this is actually real, and as more time passes, you know the answer will become clear. Still, as ridiculous as the whole thing sounds, you secretly hope that you’re right. You find yourself yearning for a fantastical life, to wash away the bad memories of the past. 

It can happen. Here, in this brand-new life, you’ll have a reason to smile. And you’ll make something of yourself, too. You won’t question the meaning of life anymore. You’ll just accept it—enjoy it.  

Then again, perhaps you’re wrong.  

Perhaps the cost of having acquired a new life is greater than you could ever have imagined.  

Chapter Text

Your neighbors are the Bakugous.  

As difficult as it is to believe, it’s true. You had your doubts at first. However, several weeks have passed since then, and by now, it’s become impossible to deny.  

This is the world of My Hero Academia. It doesn’t make any sense, honestly. You wouldn’t be surprised if you really are dead, and if this is some kind of endless dream, but the fact remains that the world you find yourself in is, truly, the very same fictional one you’ve admired all this time.  

Several instances helped affirm your theory, like when your parents were sitting on the couch and holding you in their arms, and you saw the channel was open to the news. A group of robbers was recently apprehended, and the one responsible for it was—surprise, surprise—a hero.  

Of course, television alone is nowhere near enough proof. That was only the prelude, though. A little sneak peek as to what was still to come. Not long after, your parents began taking you outside on a regular basis, so that you could get fresh air, sunlight, and also just because new parents tend to be incredibly busy. On the days that they need to go shopping together, you’re right there with them, experiencing the world around you in real time.  

You certainly aren’t in modern-day Japan anymore. Instead, you find yourself in an alternate plane of reality, where superpowers known as Quirks are the norm, and police aren’t the only ones responsible for fighting crime. You have yet to actually see a hero in person, but sure enough, they’re everywhere on TV, on the covers of books, merchandise, and some food stalls even sell products that are supposedly based on popular heroes’ favorite meals. 

Not to mention that you can just see this isn’t the regular world. Some people hardly look like, well, people. Mutant-based Quirks allow for vastly different appearances, and sure, anyone can dress up in a costume, but these are hyper-realistic, and go beyond the limits of special effects makeup.  

Which brings you back to your original point. You’re now more sure than ever that your neighbors are Bakugou Mitsuki and Bakugou Masaru, along with their newly-born son, Bakugou Katsuki. Even the dates align. Katsuki’s birthday is April 20th, and based on the fact that he’s only a few weeks old and you’re entering the summer season right now, there’s virtually no ambiguity left.  

Plus, he’s kind of a little brat. And that’s exactly what you would expect from the notorious Bakugou Katsuki.  

A wave of violent sobs fills the room, as Mitsuki desperately rocks Katsuki in her arms and tries to get him to quiet down. You’re really not sure what he’s crying about, considering she literally just fed him and changed his diaper. He’s screaming so loud that you’re worried your tiny baby eardrums might pop.  

“Oh, please calm down,” Mitsuki sighs, swaying him back and forth while she nuzzles her nose against his cheeks. “Come on, Katsuki. It’s okay. Please just cut me some slack. I’m so tired…”  

She sighs for what is probably the hundredth time in less than ten minutes. Meanwhile, your mother watches with an empathetic expression. She must secretly feel both guilty and relieved, because you almost never cry. The only times you actually do cry is when you’re doing it to maintain appearances, otherwise you’d be suspiciously quiet, and you don’t want your parents to worry. 

Your parents have it easy, that’s for sure. Poor Mitsuki. It’s no wonder she always yells all the time. Her blood pressure must be through the roof because of her son. And this is supposed to be him at his best. Pre-character development, at least.  

Either way, you can’t help but feel bad—and thus, you make a noble attempt to communicate with Katsuki in the only language he knows.  

Baby talk.  

“Ba,” you say, mimicking the same syllable Katsuki enunciated at you, upon your very first meeting. You honestly doubt he can even hear you because of how loud he’s screaming, but maybe he really does understand you. Somehow. In the same way that babies think they’re able to talk to people, despite only knowing gibberish.  

Whatever the case, his eyes drift towards you, just like they did when you first met, and he suddenly falls silent. 

Mitsuki blinks. “Oh. Y-You’re done now, right? Please. Please tell me you’re done. Look at how happy and relaxed [Name] is. She must be helping you calm down.” 

It’s a nice thought, you have to admit. Just imagine if you could actually appease Bakugou Katsuki of all people. He’s a baby right now—granted, a restless, wailing baby—but all things considered, he’ll be much more of a handful later on. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself by acting like you’ll magically be able to fix all of his flaws and insecurities.  

You can be his friend, though. That, at the very least, is something you’d really like to do.  

And perhaps it’s just a coincidence, but the second you have that thought, Katsuki’s furrowed brows momentarily uncross, and he flashes you a wide, gummy smile.  

You smile back at him without even realizing it.  

“Vroom! Vroom!”  

Currently, Katsuki is playing with a toy car. His pudgy little hands grip onto the car to the best of their ability as he drags it across the ground—rather ungraciously, you might add. In fact, you would actually go as far as to call the motions straight-up violent.  

…not that you’re all that surprised.  

Most kids would probably play with a toy car by making it drive in circles, around a race track or something, but no, not this guy. Both of you are roughly nine months old, and you have to give credit where it’s due. He has pretty amazing spatial awareness for someone his age. Everyone always hails him as a prodigy, but clearly, for good reason. He has his bright eyes affixed on the stack of wooden blocks in front of him, and instead of veering around it, he deliberately drives the toy car into the blocks, causing them to crash down.  

Then he starts clapping his hands excitedly and giggling, as if causing destruction was exactly what he wanted to do. It’s kind of giving Stitch, to be honest.   

You stare at him for a few good seconds, then resume fidgeting with the most recent batch of puzzles your parents bought you. Considering these are intended for literal babies, it’s safe to say that you have a 100% accuracy rate. The most difficult part is exerting control over your own limbs. Your mind may be advanced, but your body can’t really keep up with it yet. You move much more slowly and clumsily than you’re used to. 

Still, practice makes perfect, and you obviously know how to problem-solve way better than an infant. Even your coordination must seem extremely advanced for someone your age. You constantly hear your parents gushing about how smart you are. They compliment you at practically every turn. You honestly haven’t gotten used to it yet, because the difference between your current family, and your old one, is like night and day.  

Yeah. You’re definitely not used to it.  

However, it makes you happier than you ever imagined you could be.  

“Vroom!” Katsuki suddenly exclaims, and he proceeds to drive his toy car in a sharp upward arc, accidentally hitting you in the face with it. Needless to say, your parents and Katsuki’s parents cry out in alarm, immediately fussing over you.  

“I’m so sorry,” Mitsuki apologizes, hurriedly pulling Katsuki away. “Is she alright??”  

“It’s okay. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” your father reassures, but when he looks at you, there’s no denying the way his bottom lip trembles, as if his heart aches at the thought that you might start crying. Yet another expression that you’ve never seen directed your way before. Someone worrying on your behalf. Someone who actually cares about your pain.  

Your reaction clearly catches everyone off guard. Although, of course it does.  

Instead of crying, you just smile.  

But then Katsuki starts wailing loud enough for the both of you.  

“Oh, Katsuki!” Mitsuki cries out in exasperation. “Why are you the one crying, you silly little boy?”  

“Maybe he’s upset that he hurt [Name],” Masaru offers.  

“Really? Do you think this brat is actually capable of that kind of empathy?”  

Masaru sighs, hanging his head tiredly. He probably wanted to correct Mitsuki over her choice of words just then, but decided it probably wasn’t worth the effort. Which, to be fair, it wouldn’t have been.  

Anyway, Katsuki keeps crying and crying, with no end in sight. You’re not quite sure what possesses you, but you’re suddenly imbued with a surge of strength, and upon huffing determinedly, you rise to your feet. 

“Oh my god,” your mother gasps. “Honey, look! [Name]’s walking! Quick, pull out your phone! We need to film this!”  

The process is slow, and rather torturous, if you’re being honest. Your brows are completely scrunched together as you direct one foot in front of the other. It really does feel like you’ve forgotten how to walk, even though you have more than fifteen years’ worth of experience. These squishy little limbs of yours refuse to cooperate most of the time, but despite the fact that it’s much more difficult than it should be, you manage to pull it off somehow.  

You’re now standing right in front of Katsuki, and you slowly wrap your arms around him.  

He stops crying immediately.  

In fact, he actually starts pawing his way out of Mitsuki’s grasp so that he can lean his head against you. He even tries to stand up, but ends up falling onto his butt quite a few times. It’s cute, and kind of funny, although he obviously doesn’t realize you’re resisting the urge to laugh.  

Since Katsuki can’t stand alongside you, within a few moments, you plop back down on the ground. You’re still hugging him, though—and by the looks of things, everyone watching is downright amazed.  

Countless pictures are being snapped, several videos are rolling, and there are too many squeals of delight to even keep track of. They all seem to be in unanimous agreement that this is probably the cutest thing they’ve ever seen. More praise is being hurled your way, too. They keep marveling as to how unbelievably clever and emotionally mature you are. Obviously, they don’t know the half of it, but it’s still nice to hear. 

You feel so warm and fuzzy. Honestly, you wish this moment would never end. It’s not even the fact that you've been reborn in the world of My Hero Academia that has you so elated. You just can’t get over how happy you are to be surrounded by kind, loving people. And Katsuki might cry and scream a lot, but even by baby standards, he’s unbelievably adorable.  

So, so adorable. You just want to pinch his chubby cheeks, and—ah.  

Nevermind. He just sneezed all over you, the little bastard.  

“Ah, we need tissues!” Masaru says, eyes darting to and fro in a panic. He stands up and starts rummaging through drawers until he finds an unopened tissue box, and meanwhile, you stare down at the layer of mucus that has since collected upon your shirt.  

Ew.  

You fully let out a sigh just then, but thankfully, nobody notices. Apart from Masaru, who’s now wiping you clean, everyone else is still gushing about how you not only walked on your own earlier, but deliberately hugged Katsuki as well. As far as babies go, those are both fairly impressive feats. Or so their reactions would imply.  

“Vroom, vroom,” Katsuki says happily. At some point, he must have placed his hand on your back, and he might not be fully aware of what’s happening around him, like you are, but he definitely seems content in your arms. You’re willing to bet that if you pulled away right now, he’d probably start crying again.  

Not that you have any intention of doing that, of course. He’s a little cutie. You still can’t believe you actually get to see him like this, during his formative years, well before the canon part of the series is set to begin.  

You really are lucky, huh? It almost feels too good to be true.  

Which is probably why, a few seconds later, Katsuki sneezes on you again. Extra snotty this time. Then he even laughs, as if to add insult to injury.  

And yet, you continue hugging him regardless.  

In this new life of yours, time seems to pass in the blink of an eye. Before, you used to dread every single day, and each minute felt comparable to an eternity. You had nothing to look forward to. Only a multitude of things to avoid. You can’t think of a single moment when you were genuinely happy or at ease. You wish you could say that your former parents weren’t always cruel, but the horrific memories date back as far as you can recall.  

Obviously, that’s not the case anymore. Your trauma runs deep, so you doubt you’ll ever be able to forget about all those miserable experiences. Maybe at some point you’ll be able to, but not anytime soon. Still, you know you shouldn’t sour your mood by willingly revisiting those moments. It’s just that sometimes, you can’t help but compare. It makes you all the more grateful for your new life.  

You’re two years old now. Actually, a bit older than that, but not quite old enough to proudly call yourself two-and-a-half. Since your birthday and Katsuki’s birthday are so close together, and your families are on such good terms, you’ve celebrated both instances by his side. This time, he deliberately smushed a handful of cake on your face. He really is a little bastard. But since you already know he’s capable of so much worse, it doesn’t faze you all that much.  

More importantly, your body finally listens to you now. You can roam around freely, no longer held back by the frustration of baby-ism. Not that your toddler body is much to write home about, but all in all, it’s definitely an improvement.  

“Katsuki, my turn with the stick,” one of the neighbor kids whines. Now that you’re a bit older, your parents let you go to the playground and hang with the other children who are around the same age as you. Your parents are here to supervise, of course. Just look. Your mom is sitting on a lawn chair and drinking beer with Mitsuki. They sure seem like they’re having a great time. Although they could probably afford to slow down a little.  

“It’s my stick,” Katsuki says, and he makes sure to hold onto the stick firmly, with no intention of letting it go. He even flashes the boy a smug grin. “Find your own stick. This one’s mine!”  

“But Katsuki, my mom said you need to share!”  

“Nuh-uh.”  

“Yeah, she did!”  

“Nuh-uh!”  

Well. He makes a compelling argument, that’s for sure. Toddlers are notoriously stubborn to begin with, and adding Katsuki’s personality into the mix… there’s really no chance he’ll back down.  

“Katsuki, it’s just a stick,” you say, shaking your head disappointedly. “I’m not even sure what’s so amazing about it, but you should give other people a turn too. Sharing is caring. It’s the nice thing to do.”  

He stares at you for a little while. Up until now, he wasn’t willing to give anyone the time of day, but you’ve since learned that you’re the exception to that rule. You’ve been stuck to each other’s side like glue, ever since you both came into this world. He instinctively feels comforted by your presence, because you’re the closest person to him, apart from his own parents.  

At the end of the day, though, he’s definitely still a little brat.  

“My stick,” Katsuki repeats, and he grins all the way up to his ears. “It’s okay. I’ll let you play with it later. Just don’t tell anyone else.”  

“Katsuki, we can hear you!” another kid fumes.  

A full-on brawl ensues. Okay, fine, you’re exaggerating. They’re mostly just yelling at each other, and are now in the process of playing tug-of-war with the stick (you still don’t get what’s so great about it), but you suppose it’s nice that Katsuki was willing to lend it to you. It’s the thought that counts. You just wish he could extend that same generosity to everyone else around him, too.  

Actually, now that you stop to think about it… should you be worried? This version of My Hero Academia has clearly been altered to include you in it. It seems far more than coincidental that you ended up being neighbors with the second most important character in the whole series. Already, you’ve ingrained yourself in Katsuki’s life. You’ve forged a connection with him from a young age. However, something’s missing. Or rather, someone.  

The protagonist of this world has yet to make his appearance.  

A nauseating feeling starts building in the pit of your stomach. You’re really getting nervous now. What if you completely threw off the plot by being reborn here? Naturally, you have no complaints, because you absolutely adore this new life of yours, but you’re worried that a lot won’t go according to plan anymore. Certain things are supposed to unfold a certain way. By becoming so close to Katsuki, what if you’ve accidentally taken the main character’s place?  

“...u-um. Sorry. Can I please… play too?”  

It seems that your worries were completely unfounded. To think that he’d appear now, right when you were starting to spiral, too. You can’t even begin to describe your relief as you lock eyes with a trembling, curly-haired boy, whose cheeks are dusted with freckles, and who is timidly holding onto his mother’s hand.  

Midoriya Izuku. Katsuki’s childhood friend, soon-to-be rival, and of course… 

The reason My Hero Academia exists in the first place.  

“Go ahead, Izuku,” his mother, Inko, says with a gentle smile. “I’m sure they won’t mind. You were saying you wanted to make some friends, right?”  

Izuku nods furiously, and the wobbly smile on his lips is enough to make your heart melt. He comes running over in a hurry, looking as happy as can possibly be— 

—and promptly ends up tripping over his own feet and falling flat to the ground.  

Oh no.  

He’s kneeling in the grass now, tears welling up in his big green eyes. Izuku is well-known for being a crybaby, even as a teenager. You’re afraid that the waterworks are imminent, but also, you’d really hate for him to cry when he was so excited about meeting all of you, just a few moments ago.   

That’s why, before his tears spill over, you reach out your hand to him.  

“You can play with us,” you say, grasping his fingers in the same breath. He stares at you in bewilderment, but within a few seconds, you’ve already helped pull him to his feet. “I’m [Name]. Your mom said your name is… Izuku, right?”  

“R-Right.”  

He sniffles a few times, but luckily, it doesn’t seem like he’s about to start crying. Inko didn’t even have to step in, because you took the initiative and rushed to him first. A smile is quick to return to his face, even brighter than before. Kids move on easily, after all. Give them a few minutes and they probably won’t even remember what they were upset about.  

So now, here they are. Katsuki and Izuku. Ill-fated childhood friends, who were destined to suffer at each other’s expense, before eventually reconciling later on. Their characters were deliberately set up that way, and you understand why, but the thing is, they’re not just characters anymore.  

This is your new life. A real, proper life, and both of them are part of it. Maybe the fact that you’re here actually means something. Maybe you can change a few things along the way, while allowing fate to run its course with others. Wouldn’t it be better if Katsuki and Izuku didn’t hate each other so viscerally? Maybe you can make a difference. Maybe you can help them support each other, at least so they don’t carry so much resentment throughout the years.  

It’s probably wishful thinking, and you know that, but it’d be nice. You can’t help but envision a world in which it becomes reality. For all you know, this could be that world. You should at least try. There’s no point in not giving it an honest shot. It either works out for the better, or it stays the same. 

How could you possibly make it any worse?  

Chapter Text

“I’m the leader! Follow me!”  

As ridiculous as it probably sounds, hanging out with a bunch of toddlers is actually pretty fun.  

Maybe it’s because you can’t even remember what this period of your life was like, back in the real world. You find it interesting to have full awareness of your surroundings, while most of these memories will end up being forgotten by the other kids as they grow up. Or maybe it’s just that being surrounded by so many people—good people—both children and adults alike, makes you feel like you finally belong somewhere. You feel accepted, and loved, and you never have to live in fear of what atrocities tomorrow may bring.  

Plus, the reality is that you’re much older than all of these kids. Which is probably why they all seem so cute to you.  

Regardless if one of them likes to be a little brat.  

“My turn with the stick!” a neighbor kid furiously insists again, but Katsuki merely side-steps him, moving awfully fast by toddler standards, and the little boy ends up falling onto his butt.  

This situation continues for quite some time. It’s funny watching tiny humans chase each other around, despite having such limited control over their limbs. However, even here, Katsuki’s natural intellect and athleticism clearly shows. He has good reflexes, all things considered. None of the other kids can even keep up with him. His stamina is impressive, too.  

Still a little brat, though.  

“Are you okay, Izuku?” you ask. He’s been stumbling along like the rest of the kids, tripping every so often. Honestly, though, you’re not really sure why you even asked. His eyes are wide, brimming with excitement, and he hasn’t stopped smiling since you reached out your hand to him earlier. 

These are the years of his life when he was happy, innocent, and completely unaware of what fate had in store for him.  

“Yeah!” he beams at you. “I’m having fun!”  

Aw. What a precious little baby boy. Not much changes in that regard, once he gets older, too. He’s a sweetheart through and through, and you feel guilty knowing that he’ll have to suffer for several years—even if what awaits him later on is the greatest honor he could ever have imagined.  

That is, of course, assuming everything unfolds the same way it did in canon. But you’re here now, and you certainly have no intention of allowing Izuku to end up all on his own, outcasted and miserable. No, you can’t change the fact that he’ll be Quirkless, but at the very least, he won’t have to be alone.  

You’ll make sure of it.  

Some more time passes, and by this point, some of the kids are starting to go home, and others are getting tired. More and more parents grab their children by the hand and lead them along, and eventually, only you, Katsuki, and Izuku are left.  

“You play with it,” Katsuki says, and he suddenly—and rather forcefully—shoves his beloved stick into your hands. Then, he grins all the way up to his ears. “Now, thank me!”  

This guy really is a piece of work.  

He’s lucky he’s so cute. He’s also lucky that you know how nasty his personality really can be, which makes his toddler self practically an angel by comparison. 

“Thank you, Katsuki,” you say, thanking him despite his budding ego. It’s important to model good manners. Maybe if you’re always careful to be nice and respectful to others, he’ll pick up on it too.  

Maybe. Not that you’re going to get your hopes up, though.  

You’re now holding the stick that everyone was dying to get their hands on earlier, and still, you don’t get what all the fuss is. It might just be a toddler thing. Mentally speaking, you lived up to the age of a sixteen-year-old, so this is probably a realm you’re too mature to appreciate in all its simplicity.  

Or, sticks really are cool, and you’re the odd one out. Who knows, really.  

Either way, you’re not even sure what you’re supposed to do with this thing, so instead, you decide the best course of action would be to hand it over to the little boy who keeps oohing and awing at the sight before him.  

“You can have it, Izuku,” you say, and predictably, his eyes widen even more.  

“Really?!” he squeaks.  

“Mhm. I can tell you like it more than me, so it’s okay.”  

Your words make him quite literally vibrate with excitement, and he starts excitedly slashing through the air with the stick, even adding in little sound effects here and there.  

He seems happy. It’d be nice if he could always be happy. You’ll do your best to make it happen, but you’ll also try not to set unrealistic expectations and get too ahead of yourself. The most important thing is that Izuku will actually have some support during the darkest period of his life. You won’t make him doubt his dream. You’ll believe in him, even if no one else is willing to.  

“I’m the leader now!” Izuku exclaims gleefully, and you smile while watching him, feeling a bit like a proud mother hen, until someone grabs onto your arm.  

You turn towards Katsuki, only to find that he’s pouting at you for some reason.  

“I gave you the stick,” he feels compelled to point out. “Not him.”  

“I know. But sharing is caring, remember?”  

He knits his brows together, pouting even deeper. “I only share with you. I don’t want to share with anyone else. I don’t want to!” 

“Katsuki, be nice,” you urge, and you grab his tiny hand in yours, hoping to appease him.  

It must be working, because he forgets his frustration right away (perfect timing, too; he was probably about to start screaming like usual), and a carefree smile returns to his face.  

“Okay!” he hums. “But I’m the leader all the time!”  

He starts chasing Izuku around, and although the curly-haired boy relents and acknowledges that Katsuki is, in fact, still the leader, Katsuki makes no attempts to grab the stick from him.  

They’re so cute, just playing together like this. You can’t believe you get to watch it all unfold. Actually, even more than that—you get to be part of it while it unfolds. You get to be part of their lives, every step of the way.  

In this life, you’re finally going to be happy. This must be what all of your suffering was leading up to. This must be the salvation you were denied for so long.  

You step forward, smiling wide, and feeling more optimistic than ever before. 

Since the day you first met Izuku, the three of you have become inseparable.  

It’s not like you didn’t expect this. For a while, you were worried that you had completely thrown the plot off-course, but prior to their whole toxic feud, Katsuki and Izuku were really good friends. They were small, and still inexperienced in the ways of life, but there was undoubtedly a connection between them.  

With some people, you can just tell.  

You can tell that their friendship will last a lifetime.  

…or so it must have seemed at first. Back when he was younger, Izuku probably thought he’d be good friends with Katsuki forever. And in the end, they did remain friends, but only after dealing with all their emotional baggage first. Regardless, he probably never expected that the person he idolized the most—apart from All Might himself—would end up not only turning his back on him, but ridiculing him for many years to come.  

The catalyst is obvious. Even people who’ve never seen My Hero Academia have probably still heard what the cause of Katsuki’s bully arc was.  

In this world, as unfortunate as it is, someone’s worth is largely determined by what kind of Quirk they have. It sounds absurd, because it’s not like just any person can be a hero, and Quirks are regulated by the law anyway, but it’s similar to social and financial status, in a sense. If you were to compare it to the real world, essentially, it’s like wearing designer clothes, or having a really expensive car, or being at the top of your career. People with an impressive Quirk are naturally regarded more highly than those who don’t.  

And the lowest of the low, the people scorned by society simply for being different, are those who are Quirkless.  

You’ve thought about it. Even though it’s unlikely, there’s a chance you might end up Quirkless as well. To be honest, though, it doesn’t really bother you that much. You’ve already been blessed with an amazing new life, and even if you can’t become a hero, so what? You’ll still be friends with Katsuki and Izuku. You might not be able to make that big of an impact in this world, but as long as you’re surrounded by people who genuinely love you, and you’re met with kindness instead of cruelty, already, that’s more than enough.  

So, it’s not yourself that you’re worried about. You don’t need a Quirk to be happy. Not even by a long shot.  

But the same can’t be said for everyone.  

Especially Izuku.  

More than a year has passed since that fateful day at the playground. Not that you’re impatient or anything, but it’s nice to get older. Mostly so that you can grow into a teenage body again. Kids are cute, no doubt about it, but you’re tired of running so much slower than you’re used to, not being able to reach on top of shelves, and feeling less coordinated than what you consider normal.  

Being a kid does come with its fair share of advantages too, though. Your parents love to spoil you, after all. But considering how nice they are, you have a feeling that won’t change much even as you age.  

“Bakugou Adventure Team, roll out!” Katsuki announces, happily waving his little flag as he leads everyone in a neat little line through the neighborhood.  

“Don’t go too far,” Mitsuki reminds him. “Only to the end of the street and back, okay? I need to be able to still see you.”  

He stares at her for a few seconds, without even blinking, then, just like that, he turns away.  

And ignores her.  

“Let’s go, team!” Katsuki exclaims. He even pumps his fist in the air, determinedly. “I heard there’s a super cool store that sells hero merch! Follow me so that we can find it!”  

“Katsuki, you little brat! I just told you not to go where I can’t see you!”  

Too bad. He’s already walking away, with his dutiful supporters—including Izuku, of course—following closely behind.  

You’re the only one who doesn’t leave immediately. You reach over, grabbing onto the fabric of Mitsuki’s skirt, and you give it a generous tug, causing her to direct her gaze downwards.  

“Don’t worry,” you reassure. “I’ll keep an eye on Katsuki so that he doesn’t go too far.”  

Mitsuki chuckles softly. “You really are mature for your age, huh? I feel a bit silly relying on such a tiny little girl. But thank you for always looking after Katsuki. Even though he’s a handful, I’m sure he appreciates how much you care about him.”  

You nod your cute, cherubic head before running up to the others. Katsuki seems to have some grandiose plans about going into town, just the group of you kids by yourselves, but you’re obviously not going to let that happen. He’s not even four years old yet. His family already gives him a hell of a lot of freedom, in the grand scheme of things.  

At the sound of your footsteps rapidly approaching, Katsuki turns from his spot at the front of the line, and the flag in his hand droops down. 

“Where’d you go?” he frowns at you. “I’m the leader, and you follow right behind me, remember? Those are the rules. We’re going into town, so you have to make sure you don’t get lost.”  

“We can’t go that far by ourselves, Katsuki. We have to stay in the neighborhood. It’s not safe for us to be all on our own.”  

“Who told you that? My mom? That old hag?”  

You decide not to correct him on his choice of words for describing his own mother, but rather, you opt to grab his hand and smile warmly.  

“I don’t feel comfortable going into town,” you say, deciding that it’s as good an argument as any. “I think we should have adults nearby. At least until we get a bit older. But we can still have fun here, right? That way, our parents can watch over us.”  

“Ugh,” he grimaces.  

“What’s ugh?”  

“I wanted to go to the hero merch store!”  

“Me too,” Izuku chimes in, shoulders slumping disappointedly. “I-I really wanted to see what new All Might figurines they might have…”  

“We’ll go when we’re older,” you try to reason. “Or maybe you can ask your mom to take you soon, Izuku. It’s not like we even have money to buy anything ourselves. There are dangerous people out there. I want us to be safe.” 

The worst part is, you’re not even saying that to exaggerate. There are awful people in the world of My Hero Academia, just like in the real world. In fact, you would argue that it’s even more dangerous here. Unless you have a powerful Quirk with which to defend yourself, there’s no telling what kind of villains you might encounter at any turn. You’re nowhere near reckless or stupid enough to risk dealing with them in a frail little toddler body.  

“What, really?” one of the neighbor kids whines. “Don’t listen to her, Katsuki. Let’s go to the store! We should run away before anyone can catch us!”  

Everyone starts rallying together, chanting cheers of agreement. Peer pressure is a very real phenomenon, especially when someone is too young to know any better. Not to mention that little kids don’t exactly have great decision-making skills to begin with.  

However, instead of immediately puffing out his chest pridefully and being stubbornly insistent, like you expected him to, Katsuki cautiously glances over at you from the corner of his eye.  

He sees you shake your head in firm refusal. At first, he doesn’t react, but then… 

“We’ll go another day,” he mumbles, and your brows skyrocket—which naturally means that everyone else’s do, too.  

“Katsuki, that’s not fair! You said we were going today!”  

“Well, I changed my mind! Today’s no good. I’m tired.”  

“You’re just backing out because [Name] doesn’t want to! You always listen to everything she says. Because you liiiike her.”  

Oh, boy. You had a feeling something along these lines might happen soon. Considering how docile Katsuki gets when he’s around you, it was really only a matter of time. Some of the boys in your group are a little bit older and have already decided that girls are gross and have cooties. They’ve actually tried to make it an all-boys club on more than one occasion. Obviously, Katsuki never agreed to it.  

“Shut up, stupid!” Katsuki snaps at him, cheeks glowing red. “You’re so annoying! And ugly! And smelly!”  

“Yeah? Well, you’re smellier! And [Name]’s the smelliest!”  

“No, she’s not!”  

You probably could’ve predicted that they’d start shoving each other around right about now, but man, it seriously doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. Luckily, Mitsuki can still see your little group from afar, and she comes rushing over when she realizes that a fight has broken out. If you can even call it that.  

…actually, Katsuki just punched one of the boys in the face, so it’s definitely a fight.  

The boy who got punched breaks out into an exaggerated, full-blown sob. You’re almost positive there wasn’t much force behind Katsuki’s tiny fist, but kids will cry from the mere act itself, even if they don’t feel that much pain. Also, you can’t really side with Katsuki in this instance. He shouldn’t be punching anyone, whether or not he even hit them that hard. 

“Katsuki!” Mitsuki gasps, pulling him back as quickly as possible. “You can’t hurt people like that! It’s not okay!”  

“Let go,” Katsuki grimaces. He keeps trying to wrangle free of Mitsuki’s grip, but to no avail. His little brows are tightly-knit, and he’s glaring viciously. He still looks super cute, though. “He was being mean to [Name]! I’m going to kick his butt!”  

“It’s not a big deal,” you reassure. “He just called me smelly, which isn’t even true, so it doesn’t upset me. You shouldn’t have punched him, Katsuki. I never want you to punch anyone because of me.”  

Oftentimes, your attempts to calm Katsuki down work, but at the end of the day, he’s still a rambunctious little kid. When he’s as riled up as he is right now, there’s virtually no reasoning with him. He keeps violently kicking and punching the air. And the other boy is still crying.  

It takes a while for the situation to be resolved. And by that you mean that Mitsuki is forced to drag a disorderly Katsuki home, while the rest of the parents are called to collect their kids.  

It’s just me and Izuku now.  

You look over at him. “Are you going home too? Or do you want to stay out with me and play a bit longer?”  

“Um, I still want to play,” he says meekly, bobbing his curly head of hair in agreement. 

“Cool,” you smile. “So do I. And I’m sorry. I know you wanted to go to the hero store, but I promise we’ll go together someday. By then, they’ll probably have even more All Might merch! Just think of how many options there will be.”  

A wide grin splits across Izuku’s lips. 

“Okay!”  

You didn’t want Katsuki to be forcibly taken home (he’s probably in time-out right now, come to think of it), but it gives you the rare opportunity to spend time with Izuku alone. Izuku tends to get overshadowed by Katsuki’s big personality and doesn’t always have the chance to properly express how he feels, or what he wants to do. He lacks confidence. At least when it’s just the two of you, you’d like for him to be fully and unapologetically himself.  

“[Name], look what I found!” Izuku beams, excitedly running up to you, while holding a rubber ball in his hands. It must belong to one of the other kids. They probably forgot it while they were out earlier. 

“Do you know whose it is?” you ask.  

“No, I don’t.” He pauses for a moment, guilt flashing through his big green eyes. “Sh-Should we not play with it? Because it’s not ours…?”  

“I think it’s fine. As long as we don’t ruin it. We can just put it back where we found it, and then whoever it belongs to can pick it up later.”  

Izuku’s smile instantly returns. It’s sweet that he’s already worried about doing the right thing, even at such a young age. Not that it’s really surprising. He’s quite literally the embodiment of what a hero should be.  

You start throwing the ball around and catching it between the two of you. It’s fun, you have to admit. The fact that your body is still so small and relatively uncoordinated makes it more challenging, and thus, more rewarding. This is like a toddler workout. You’re fine-tuning your motor senses, one catch at a time.  

Until, of course, it happens.  

You crane your neck upwards so that you can see the ball clearly as it descends. Already, you’ve stretched your arms out wide, and you quickly position yourself underneath it so that it’ll fall right into place.  

And it does. Perfectly so. In fact, it’s such a seamless, beautiful catch that Izuku applauds you for your athleticism. You can’t help but feel a twinge of pride. Like, yeah, I just did that.   

The rubber ball is resting within the palms of your hands now. You adjust your hold on it a bit, pressing your fingertips against it a bit more firmly. Then you wind up, preparing to throw it back to Izuku.  

And that’s when you realize you’re not holding a rubber ball anymore.  

You’re holding a spherical clump of dirt.  

…huh?  

Just as soon as you glance down, the dirt scatters, losing its form, and slips through the cracks of your fingers before spilling onto the ground.  

Damn. So much for returning the ball to its owner.  

“W-Whoa!” Izuku exclaims. “What… just happened? [Name], did you do that? You did, right? It was definitely you!”  

He’s not wrong. It was you. It had to have been you. After all, for a split second, you felt something strange. It was almost like a spark, some strange electric shock that shot through all of your nerves. Something changed at that moment. You changed.  

You’ve just obtained your very own Quirk.  

Chapter Text

“Wow, wow, wow! You’re so lucky, [Name]! You got your Quirk!”  

Since the moment the ball turned to dirt in your hands, Izuku has been gushing over you nonstop. You’re not surprised by how he’s reacting, but you are confused. Mainly because you still don’t get what happened. You still don’t understand exactly what your Quirk is.  

The ability to turn objects into dirt? That’s your immediate conclusion, but something tells you it’s probably not the full picture. Honestly, you’re not quite sure how to explain how you feel. Call it gut instinct, or whatever. Given how many different, unique Quirks there are in the world, and seeing as how some of them are rather complex, it’s a reasonable conclusion to assume that each individual naturally has some idea of how to use their abilities when they first manifest. They aren’t necessarily able to control it easily—that comes with practice—but otherwise, most people probably would never have discovered the finer details of their Quirks. 

That’s how you know. You feel like there’s something more to it, much more. But unfortunately, it’s the only epiphany you’ve had thus far. The rest is still foggy. It still remains to be discovered.  

To Izuku, it must look strange. Seeing how calm and relatively unfazed you are, when most kids this age would have been losing their minds right about now.  

Good thing his excitement is more than enough for the both of you.  

“Wowww!” he exclaims once again, and he rushes over to you, trips once, gets back up, then eagerly latches his hand onto your arm. “That was so cool! How did you do that?? Do you know what kind of Quirk you have? Hey, do you know?”  

“Um, not really,” you admit.  

You figured your lackluster response would dull his enthusiasm a bit, but after a few moments of staring at you in silence, his grin just widens.  

“That’s okay!” he hums. “I think it’s normal not to know right away. You just need to use it a lot and practice! Then it’ll all make sense.”  

Well, that’s what you’re hoping, at least. There’s always bound to be some initial confusion, where the individual themselves doesn’t have a full understanding of their powers. That’s why people can update their Quirk Registry records as many times as necessary, until they’ve completely grasped what their abilities entail.  

Practice, huh?  

You stare down at the palms of your hands, which are still speckled with little clumps of dirt, and you lightly shake them off. He’s not wrong. You need to adopt an investigative approach and get to the bottom of what your Quirk really is. Initially, you didn't have any pretentious goals like becoming a hero, but if by some chance you can become a hero, you certainly won’t dismiss the idea. 

It’s a nice, comforting thought, and it makes you feel warm from the inside out. Just imagine if you could actually help those in need. People who are suffering. People who keep waiting and waiting for someone to save them.  

People like you.  

A fierce glint, clear and determined, lights up your gaze. Yeah. It would be really nice. It would be something to take pride in, and after living the entirety of your past life in sheer terror, you daresay that there are few things that actually scare you anymore.  

Maybe this time, you can finally be brave, just like you’ve always yearned to become.  

“I’m happy for you, [Name],” Izuku beams. He pauses for a moment, then chuckles sheepishly. “But I’m really jealous too! I hope I also get my Quirk soon. And I hope it’s a super strong, super awesome power, like All Might’s!”  

You know what the future holds in store for him, and although there’s a twinge of guilt—since it’ll be a very long wait—Izuku himself probably wouldn’t have had it any other way. His bravery, dedication, and selflessness is the whole reason why All Might chose him. His heroism stood out that much more because he was Quirkless. He, who was the most powerless of them all, still didn’t hesitate to try and save the person right in front of him. 

My Hero Academia is a story about rising above adversity and holding true to your values. It has a truly beautiful message—that anyone can be a hero, as long as they genuinely want to be. It’s about the mindset. The desire to bring good into the world.  

Of course you don’t want Izuku to suffer, but at the same time, you know that he’ll persevere, no matter what.  

Because that’s exactly what a hero does.  

“One day, Izuku,” you reassure, gently wrapping your arms around him. “One day, I promise you’ll have your own Quirk.”  

His cheeks redden a bit. You can tell he’s getting flustered, but instead of acting all timid and casting his head down, he just hugs you back. With the brightest, most blinding smile you’ve ever seen.  

“Yeah!” 

“...and then, she said I’m not allowed to go play outside with everyone else until I apologize for punching that ugly guy in the face,” Katsuki huffs. “She’s stupid. I can do whatever I want. We can just sneak out later without telling her.” 

For context, the so-called “ugly” guy he’s referring to is the neighbor kid he attacked the other day. The same one who called you smelly—even though you have impeccable hygiene. You’ve very diligent with cleaning up after yourself, and never need to be told to do so. Which should be expected of someone who’s mentally sixteen years old, but when you have the physical appearance of a toddler, you suppose it must seem fairly impressive.  

“I don’t think we should do that,” you answer calmly.  

“Why not?” Katsuki asks, brows furrowed. “I’m not scared of my stupid mom. She even took away some of my toys. She’s evil!”  

“It’s fine, Katsuki. We don’t need to play outside right now anyway. And your mom’s not evil. She just wants to make sure that you treat other people nicely and don’t get in trouble. She looks out for you because she loves you so much.”  

Katsuki’s obviously too young to fully appreciate his parents, but it’s not just his age that prevents him from understanding where you’re coming from. Back in your previous life, you would have done just about anything for your family to care about you. Getting beaten black and blue wasn’t even the worst part of it, to be honest. It wasn’t just the pain, or the fear, or even the never-ending state of agitation.  

It was the feeling of being completely and utterly unwanted.  

But it’s a good thing that Katsuki can’t relate to what you once felt. You never want him to have to experience that, not in a million years. Also, again, he’s just an immature little kid. Some of your perspectives on certain things must seem incomprehensible by his standards.  

Which is probably why he’s pouting right now.  

“[Name], you’re mean,” he whines. “How come you never take my side? My mom is stupid! Why can’t you agree that she’s stupid? You never agree with me, and it makes me angry.”  

To show you just how angry he is, Katsuki crosses his arms, adjusting his posture to make himself look a bit bigger and more imposing.  

…it doesn’t actually work, but it’s cute that he tried.  

You smile gently. “That’s because I also care about you, just like your parents do. I can’t agree with you all the time, otherwise I’d be letting you get yourself into trouble. Why would I want you to be in trouble? You’re my friend. Friends are supposed to look out for each other, even if that means I have to say some things that might sound a bit annoying.” 

Katsuki takes a while to form his response. You can practically see the gears in his head turning as he struggles to process your much more sophisticated and mature line of thought. It’s hard for him to come to terms with why you’re saying and doing all these things.  

But it’s also hard for him to stay mad at you. Partly because he has the attention span of a toddler. And mostly because he tends to be very biased whenever you’re involved.  

“You’re weird,” he eventually settles on, which, fair enough. You are weird. You’re a teenager who died and got reborn with all the knowledge of their previous life, now living in the body of a young child. That’s not exactly a normal occurrence. At least, you’re pretty sure it isn’t. But you’d rather not get into any freaky, mind-bending theories.  

“If you say so,” you shrug. A few moments later, and a smile graces your lips. “More importantly, I wanted to show you something. Is there something in this room you don’t really care about? Maybe like… oh. Can I borrow one of those crumpled pieces of paper from the trash?”  

Katsuki’s looking at you as if you’re acting extra weird right now, but all it takes is a disgruntled sigh—and a mildly judgmental shake of his head—for him to walk over to the trash bin and fish out one of the pieces of paper.  

“Why do you want garbage?” Katsuki asks, a hint of concern in his voice. “There’s a reason it’s in the trash. When you throw something in the trash, it’s because it isn’t important.”  

“Yes, I know that,” you nod patiently.  

“So, why do you want it?”  

“Just wait a second, and you’ll understand.” 

You grab the crumpled piece of paper from Katsuki. The first thing you do is unfold it as best you can, then you rip off a fairly large segment and place it down on the floor. The last segment remains in the palms of your hands, and you make sure that all of your fingers are pressing against it as you close your eyes and focus.  

Just as you predicted, the paper completely turns to dirt—which you place onto the ripped piece on the ground, into a neat little pile.  

“There,” you say, feeling a bit proud that you were able to successfully pull it off, but also, still quite confused about how it works. “Did you see that, Katsuki? I’m really sorry for bringing dirt into your room, but since we can’t go outside, I thought I might as well show you—”  

“YOU GOT YOUR QUIRK?!”  

The outcry is loud enough that it nearly makes your eardrums burst. You wince, almost certain that just shaved a few years off your brand-new life, but Katsuki doesn’t even give you the chance to collect yourself. He’s already grabbed onto your shoulders and is eagerly shaking you back and forth.  

“No way!” he cries out, every bit as excited as Izuku was—if not more.  

“Um, please stop shaking me,” you wince again. “My head’s spinning. I’m getting dizzy and I’m worried I might throw up.”  

Thankfully, he actually listens, but it turns out that your relief is short-lived, because a few seconds later, he screams again.  

“Katsuki, you crazy little boy! What’s wrong now??”  

Mitsuki bursts into the room, and she outright gasps when she spots the pile of dirt sitting on top of the paper. She must think Katsuki brought it into the house or something. Which he probably would do, but this time, the fault doesn’t lie with him.  

Other than the screaming part, that is.  

“[Name] got her Quirk!” he announces, and unless you’re imagining it, he sounds awfully proud on your behalf. His tiny index finger points towards the offensive pile of dirt, not that Mitsuki didn’t have her eyes on it already. “See? She was holding paper a second ago, but I watched it turn into dirt! So cool, right??”  

“Oh, [Name]’s the one who did it,” Mitsuki says, calming down within a heartbeat. Definitely a bit biased there, but you can’t say you’re complaining.  

“So cool!” Katsuki exclaims again. He starts insistently pulling on your arm, crimson eyes glistening like rubies. “Hey, do it again! Make more paper turn into dirt! Or, or—you can make my mom’s shoes turn into dirt! She has a pair she really likes! Let’s quickly go ruin them! It’ll be payback for how she’s not letting me play outside!” 

Mitsuki grinds her jaw, and you imagine asking herself: why me? Or something along those lines. Not that you have any intention of going along with Katsuki’s schemes, of course. He’s in demon mode right now.  

“Katsuki, stop screaming so loudly,” Mitsuki merely sighs. She walks over towards the center of the room and carefully picks up the paper topped with dirt, but when she glances over at you, her expression softens. “Congratulations on getting your Quirk, sweetheart. You must be really excited.” 

You nod vibrantly, and she leaves the room soon enough—although not before flashing Katsuki a stern look. Naturally, he ignores it, like the little brat he is.  

“So, you can turn anything into dirt?” Katsuki marvels. “That’s awesome! That means you can become a hero and turn villains into dirt too! You can win all your fights against them!”  

“I’m still not sure if my Quirk is that simple,” you say, however, his words give you pause.  

So far, you've only used your Quirk on non-living things, such as a rubber ball or a piece of paper. You never stopped to consider the effect it might have on, say, an actual human being.  

The good thing is that you have full, conscious control over your powers. It won't activate automatically through touch, like Shigaraki’s Decay. The first time it happened was your Quirk manifestation, but this time, you had to channel your focus and actively will it into existence. Plus, you would have turned a lot more things into dirt by now—without meaning to—if your powers just did what they wanted.  

Katsuki has a point, though. There is a chance that your Quirk might work on people. The thought of someone potentially crumbling away because of you… it's genuinely horrifying.  

“Anyway, I still need to figure things out,” you say, trying to steer away from the topic of turning people into dirt. “The same thing happened yesterday when I was with Izuku, but my gut keeps telling me my Quirk is actually more complicated than this. I need to keep practicing with it for a while. Until I understand better.”  

“You were with Izuku?” Katsuki blinks.  

“Yeah. We played together after you had to go home.”  

“No fair! How come he got to be there when you got your Quirk for the first time? I wanted to be there too!”  

“Well, that’s what happens when you punch people,” you point out calmly. “When you get in trouble, you miss out on fun things. But, to be honest, you didn’t actually miss much. I just ended up accidentally turning a ball into dirt. I’m not sure whose it was, but I feel kind of bad about ruining it.” 

Katsuki turns away from you in frustration. Making sure to actively avoid eye contact, he grabs a crayon and starts angrily scribbling something onto a fresh piece of paper. He’s drawing a bunch of unflattering pictures of you. Or, that’s probably what they’re supposed to be. Most of them are just a bunch of squiggles, so it’s hard to tell.  

“I’m your best friend, not Izuku,” you hear Katsuki mutter under his breath.  

At the time, you merely chuckled, thinking it was rather cute how attached he was to you. You interpreted it as a case of childish clinginess, and nothing more. Which, for the most part, it was.  

And yet, years from now, you’ll look back on this moment and wonder if this is where it all began. 

You spend the days following your Quirk’s manifestation by doing exactly what you said you would—a whole lot of trial and error.  

First off, a simple trip to the doctor was able to confirm that your Quirk factor is, in fact, located in your hands. That means that your hands are the source of your powers, and if you lose the ability to touch something with them, your Quirk will lose all effectiveness as well.  

Actually, you should be more specific. Your Quirk factor is located in your fingers, not the entirety of your hand itself. You tested it a bunch and realized, rather grimly, that it functions exactly how Shigaraki’s Quirk does. You need all of the fingers on one hand to be touching an object in order for you to use your powers. Any fewer than five fingers, and it won’t work.  

It’s good that you’re slowly discovering the requirements and limitations of your Quirk, but a whole week has passed since that very first day, and you still feel like you’re missing something.  

You stare down at the small plant resting within the palm of your hand. It seems that organic compounds, such as flowers, leaves, branches, and so on, aren’t immune to the effects of your Quirk. Your powers have worked on all of them, without fail. If you extend that line of thinking to other living beings, like people, it follows that you could probably use your Quirk on them as well, just like Katsuki immediately assumed you’d be able to.  

Once again, a horrifying image comes to mind, but you’re comforted by the fact that you get to decide when and how to use your Quirk. Even if so far, it seems like a rather destructive and ugly power.  

You’re honestly not sure how you can become a hero with a Quirk like this. You’re terrified by the notion of accidentally killing someone. Heroes are supposed to win against villains, but avoid killing them unless absolutely necessary. You don’t have it in you to end someone’s life. And as far as you can tell, once you’ve turned something into dirt, there’s no turning it back.  

Perhaps your disappointment is what gives you that final nudge. It pushes you further, just over the edge, so that when you close all five fingers around the plant, it happens again. That strange, wondrous sensation you got upon activating your Quirk for the first time ever.  

The plant doesn’t crumble and turn to dirt. This time, it turns to water.  

You blink repeatedly. The water has splashed onto the ground by now, soaking into some of the flowers you were standing above, in your mother’s little backyard garden. There’s no trace of the plant you were holding just a few seconds ago. It changed form so fast that you could hardly keep up with it.  

Wait a second. Wait just a second.  

It changed… form?  

Ah. It all makes sense now. That’s why you felt like constantly turning things into dirt was only a component of your full ability. Something deep inside your own body kept signaling you, trying to give you hints, but it felt like it was right on the tip of your tongue and you couldn’t make sense of it. Finally, your body has connected all the pieces. It instinctively knows what just happened.  

Your Quirk doesn’t just allow you to turn things into dirt. Your Quirk allows you to take one material and turn it into a different material entirely.  

Transmutation.  

Alchemy.  

You’re shaking a bit, overwhelmed with excitement. Now, this—this is a Quirk fit for a hero. If you master this power, then truly, the possibilities are endless. So many situations can be adapted as you see fit. You’ll have infinite resources to draw from. Regardless of where you find yourself, there will always be matter, in some shape or form, for you to manipulate. You’ll never be left powerless. Not like you were in your old life.  

Even someone like you, who used to be such a weak, pitiful coward, can actually help people.  

It’s safe to say that you can hardly contain yourself for the rest of the day. You immediately tell your parents, who naturally praise you in every possible way, although they think it’s a bit strange. Children usually inherit Quirks that are some kind of combination of their parents’ Quirks. There are obvious exceptions to this rule, though. Plus, you’re from a different world to begin with, so you never really expected normalcy in that regard.  

All that matters is that you have an amazing ability to call your own. At first, you never really bothered with any of the fuss surrounding Quirks, but now you understand why everyone loves them so much. It’s different watching them through the lens of an anime and actually having one yourself. Let alone one that’s so incredibly versatile.  

You just can’t help yourself. The very next day, when Katsuki is finally allowed to go outside and play with his friends again, you run over to the park, prepared to share the news with everyone.  

Only to realize that they’re already gushing over someone else.  

“Kacchan, that’s so awesome!” Izuku squeals, bouncing in place as Katsuki proudly shows off his newly-discovered Quirk, Explosion.  

All of the neighbor kids are gathered around in a circle, watching as he creates tiny little explosions within the palms of his hands. You expected this would happen, of course. Both you and Katsuki are nearly four years old. It was only a matter of time until his Quirk manifested, but you’ve been so caught up with your own Quirk that it honestly slipped your mind.  

“I’m gonna be the Number One Hero,” Katsuki declares, no hesitation in his voice whatsoever. “All Might is the strongest for now, but one day, I’ll beat him! I’ll be the best hero there ever was!” 

Katsuki may be quick to yell and throw punches, but practically all of the kids in the neighborhood idolize him. Maybe it’s because they instinctively recognize his drive and determination, or maybe it’s his fearlessness, and confidence in himself. Whatever the case, it seems obvious to assume that he’d end up with a powerful Quirk. It’s simply nature running its course.  

Your shoulders slump a bit. Not because you’re not happy for Katsuki—you are, of course. He’s your close friend, and you’re glad to see him so excited about something. You just wish you had a bit more time. The moment Katsuki obtained his Quirk was the moment his personality took a turn for the worse. You’re worried that the sweet, rambunctious little boy you’ve now become used to is about to change right before your eyes.  

Still, you’re holding onto the hope that maybe things can be different because you’re here. Maybe Katsuki won’t end up exactly like he was in canon. Maybe he’ll be a milder, more muted version.  

You’re not sure what’s going to happen, but— 

“[Name]!” Katsuki exclaims, expression lighting up even more once he sees you. “Look! I got my Quirk too! Isn’t it cool?? Tell me how cool it is! Go on, tell me!”  

“It’s super cool,” you smile, and the second the words leave your lips, Katsuki stops creating tiny explosions and throws his arms around you.  

He hugs you tight, in front of everyone. Some of the kids are gagging in disgust. They don’t seem all that crazy about Katsuki’s open displays of affection with you. But fortunately for him, Katsuki doesn’t care what they think. He just keeps hugging you, with one of his cheeks pressed into yours.  

“Now we’re matching,” he hums. “We both have our Quirks. We got them around the same time, too!”  

You don’t notice it, because you’re too busy patting Katsuki’s head, but his gaze shifts ever-so-slightly.  

For a split second, he grins in Izuku’s direction.  

As if he’s taunting him.  

Chapter Text

July 15th, the day of Izuku’s birth, is rapidly approaching.  

He’s almost four years old. All Quirks are either present from the moment a baby enters this world, or must manifest before the age of four. Everyone knows this. It’s been researched and scientifically proven, which is why Izuku has been brimming with excitement these days. The poor boy thinks it’s only a matter of time until he obtains a unique power to call his own. He doesn’t have the faintest clue as to the storm that awaits him.  

You feel guilty. Of course you do. Unfortunately, just because you’ve been reborn in this world doesn’t mean you can change everything as you see fit. Midoriya Izuku is destined to be Quirkless—so that one day, he can have his fateful meeting with All Might and inherit One For All.  

Still, you’re stuck in what is arguably the most unpleasant phase of all. You know what Izuku will have to deal with soon, but are unable to voice your true thoughts, and have no choice but to strain a smile whenever he talks about how much he can’t wait to get his Quirk.  

Maybe it’s because you’ve been noticeably distracted these days, or maybe it’s just their way of wanting to celebrate your newly-acquired powers, but whatever the case, your parents suddenly approach you and say this:  

“We’ve been thinking about getting a pet,” your mom smiles, leaning over to gently comb her fingers through your hair. “What do you think, sweetheart? Would you like that?”  

A pet. You’ve never had a pet before, although that just goes without saying. Your former parents didn’t even have a desire to take care of you, their own flesh and blood, let alone anyone else. Honestly, you never even stopped to think about having pets or anything like that. It wasn’t exactly what you’d call a priority.  

But that was your old life. This is a new start, a new chance, and here, the possibilities truly are endless.  

You’re already happier than you ever imagined you could be. You have no complaints. Not only are your new parents loving and gentle, but you’re also living in the world of My Hero Academia, surrounded by the people you idolized and adored, even well before actually meeting them.  

You don’t need a pet to be happy. But then again, that was your old mentality. It’s time to stop thinking of things out of necessity.  

The truth is, you want this.  

And you’re finally allowed to have the things that you want.  

“Yes,” you answer, eyes crinkling at the corners, the wider your smile gets. “That would be really nice. Thank you, mom. Thank you, dad.”  

“Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest little girl ever!”  

Your parents waste no time before pulling you into their arms. Being nestled within their embrace always feels so wholly and utterly warm. Sometimes, it almost brings tears to your eyes. 

Now that it’s been officially decided that you’re getting a pet, your parents take you on a little trip to the animal shelter. As far as you’ve been told, there aren’t any restrictions. You’re free to pick out virtually whatever animal you want. It’s quite a lot of freedom for a young child, but then again… you’re not really a child in the first place. 

It doesn’t mean the decision will be any easier, though.  

The animal shelter staff bring you to the back, and although it hurts your heart to see so many poor animals in cages, you’re comforted by the fact that everyone here does their best to take care of them—and soon, one of them will have a forever home.  

Or perhaps you should make that two of them.  

You’re not the only one taking a look at the animals. In fact, there’s another family here as well. Two parents, along with their son. Who, based on his size, appears to be roughly around your age.  

“You really like cats, huh, Hitoshi?” you hear the father chuckle, and instinctively, you turn your head.  

Hitoshi?  

Ever since you learned you were in the world of My Hero Academia, you have to admit, you’ve become rather sensitive to other people’s names. You’re always keeping your ears peeled, wondering if you might run into someone else you know. Realistically, the odds are slim. If you end up being accepted to U.A, then that’s a different story, but for the time being, you shouldn’t expect to just meet canon characters left and right.  

Which is exactly why your eyes widen, as they focus once more on the little boy who just passed by. You only spared a quick glance at him earlier, but now that you’re looking—really looking—you realize just how wild and seemingly untamed his hair is. It flares up, away from his forehead, in a distinct, indigo shade. His eyes are purple, too.  

Is it possible? Or is it just a coincidence this time? Because, assuming you’re right… 

He’s none other than Shinsou Hitoshi.  

You know it’s not polite to stare. It’s also not polite to run up to strangers out of nowhere, so you can’t just go ahead and ask what his Quirk is. Especially since he has mixed feelings about his Quirk to begin with. Maybe it hasn’t even manifested yet. You honestly don’t have a clue. 

His father did just say he loves cats, however, and if that isn’t another giveaway, you’re not sure what is.  

“What’s wrong?” your mother asks, glancing down at you. She must have realized you’re staring at the little boy, because she follows your line of sight, lips immediately pulling into a smile. “Are you looking at that boy over there? Do you want to go say hi?”  

You make a sheepish face. “Um. Is that alright…?”  

“Of course it is. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make friends.”  

She pats you on the head a few times, encouragingly, and although it’s not quite as simple as just wanting to make a new friend, you’re emboldened by the possibility of meeting yet another character you hold near and dear to your heart.  

Your small legs stumble forward. At first, you’re a bit hesitant, but then you work up the nerve and chase after the indigo-haired boy.  

Until you’re standing right in front of him.  

“Hello,” you say, timidly waving your hand. “I’m [Name]. [Last Name] [Name]. What’s your name?”  

He turns towards you. Even though he’s still so young, his eyes already have that glazed, sleepy-like quality to them. But again, this could easily be a case of confirmation bias. The name Hitoshi isn’t incredibly common, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be other people who are referred to the same way.  

It might just be a coincidence. You lucked out big-time by being reborn as Katsuki’s and Izuku’s neighbor. Surely the same thing won’t happen again. You can always dream, but that doesn’t mean it’ll come true— 

“Hitoshi,” the boy replies. He pauses for a moment, then decides to add, just like you did, “Shinsou Hitoshi.”  

Ah.  

Nevermind.  

Apparently, you really are that lucky.  

“C-Cool,” you stammer, admittedly a bit blown away by the present situation. You can’t believe it’s actually happening again. Just how blessed can this new life of yours possibly be?  

It’s clear now that your death was an act of mercy. Everything—all of your suffering and heartache—was leading up to this moment. Your brand-new life. Actually, no.  

The beginning of your real life.  

“What kind of cat do you want?” Hitoshi asks, with a slight tilt of his head.  

“Cat?”  

“Yeah. Isn’t that why you’re here? Because you want a cat?”  

He points to the collection of cages in front of him. Sure enough, you’ve ventured into what appears to be a predominantly feline section. Most of the dogs are further back, closer to where your parents are standing.  

Again, you haven’t really put much thought into it. You were kind of hoping to figure it out as you go. But then you ran into him, and needless to say, you’re feeling pretty distracted right now.  

You don’t get the chance to fangirl much, though. Suddenly, your eyes drift downwards. Just now, you heard something. It was soft, almost too faint to pick up on, but inexplicably, you did. The sound of mewing. Almost as if it was meant for your ears only.  

You’re now looking at a tiny little kitten, with fluffy white fur that’s so fine, it may as well be transparent.  

One of the employees steps closer to you. “She’s cute, isn’t she? Her name’s Bitsy. She’s still a kitten, but she looks even younger than she actually is because she was the runt of her litter. She was born weak, which means she needs to be taken extra special care of.”  

“But it seems like she likes you,” Hitoshi points out, even nudging you gently with his hand. “Look. She keeps calling out to you. She really wants you to take her home.” 

He’s not wrong. Of course, you don’t speak cat, but Bitsy’s been mewing ever since you stopped in front of her cage. She really is a tiny little thing. Her legs are unsteady, and every few seconds, her body is wracked with tremors. She’s frail, and meek, and despite everything, it’s so clear that she just wants to be loved.  

Pain shoots through your heart, because suddenly, you realize why this all seems so familiar to you.  

She’s exactly how you used to be.  

“Do you like that little kitten, [Name]?” your mother asks. Her brows furrow a bit. “She’s very cute, but like you heard, she’s going to need a lot of attention and care. You’ll have to be very gentle with her, too. At least until she gets a bit stronger.”  

“I can take care of her,” you nod firmly.  

“Are you sure? Of course, we'll do our best, but I just don’t want you to be disappointed if something happens to her. She might get sick. Your father and I just don’t want you to end up feeling sad.”  

“That kitten wants a home,” Hitoshi chimes in, offering you a vigorous nod, in show of his support. “I can tell she likes [Name] a lot. If they stay together, everything will be fine.”  

“Oh, my,” your mother chuckles. “You clearly know what you’re talking about. You must be an expert on cats.”  

“Yeah, pretty much,” Hitoshi states. He even puffs out his chest a bit, proudly.  

Hitoshi’s parents gather around him, offering their apologies for how he keeps weighing in on such an important decision. Naturally, your family doesn’t mind. His parents and yours are actually striking up a friendly conversation now. But you aren’t focusing on it too much. Your eyes have already drifted back to Bitsy.  

“It’s okay,” you mumble, kneeling down in front of her. “You don’t have to be scared. I’ll look after you. I’ll give you all the love you deserve.”  

She lets out another soft mew, but it sounds different this time. Less urgent than it was before. Now, it almost sounds… hopeful. 

Hitoshi kneels down as well. “You’re really nice for taking in a cat that needs a lot of help,” he praises, eyes twinkling with admiration. 

“I just want her to feel loved,” you say.  

“Still. That’s really nice.”  

“Is it?”  

“Yeah. You’re cool.”  

Perhaps it’s a bit silly to find so much comfort in his words, but nevertheless, your heartbeat quickens, and warmth spreads throughout your body.  

Not only did you get reborn into a much better life, but you were reborn with the power to do good. And an incredible Quirk, no less. 

You’re just so happy. It almost feels illegal to be this happy. You can’t help but wonder if there’s some kind of twist. 

…the thought is immediately dismissed, however. You’ve already paid the price for your happiness. You endured many years of abuse, loneliness, and emotional deprivation. This is your reward. It has to be.  

“Let’s be friends,” you say, and Hitoshi blinks as you grab him by the hand. You smile with newfound confidence. “Then you can visit Bitsy whenever you want. Right?”  

Hitoshi just stares at you. He’s surprised, at least initially, but as with most kids his age, he doesn’t bother thinking too hard about things.  

Instead, he grins, wide and unrestrained.  

“Okay!” 

You have a kitten now, and predictably, you’ve become the hot topic around the neighborhood.  

Well, not that you weren’t to begin with. People already knew you as Katsuki’s best friend, and since your Quirk manifested recently, it brought on quite a lot of attention as well. Long story short, everyone wants to meet the newest member of your beloved family—Bitsy.  

There are only a select few that actually have the privilege of doing so, however.  

“She’s so tiny!” Izuku gasps, covering his mouth with his hands in amazement. “Wow… and she looks really soft!”  

“She is,” you hum. Bitsy is resting peacefully on your lap, while you gently stroke her fur. Izuku does his best to hold back his squeals. You can tell that he wants to just reach out and pet her himself, but even at this age, he has a remarkable amount of willpower.  

On the other hand, Katsuki has little to no desire to restrain himself. In fact, he goes right ahead and tries to pick Bitsy up.  

Unsurprisingly, she hisses at him.  

“Bad kitty!” Katsuki yells, wagging his index finger at her demeaningly. He then glances towards you in frustration. “[Name], your cat is mean. I don’t like her!”  

You hold Bitsy close to your chest. She’s trembling now, the poor thing. The sound of Katsuki’s voice doesn’t exactly have a calming effect. Quite the opposite, in fact.  

“She’s still just a kitten,” you frown. “Don’t yell at her. Also, she was the runt of her litter. You need to be extra gentle with her while she’s growing.”  

“What’s the runt of the litter?”  

“It means she was born weak. That’s why she needs as much love and support as possible.”  

Katsuki pouts, visibly defiant. He seems rather offended by the notion that you expect him to be nice to Bitsy. Not that he’s ever been the patient type. She’s so small and frail, though. Even he must realize he needs to be somewhat cautious.  

“Do you like that cat more than me?” Katsuki suddenly asks. 

…huh.  

You stare at him, perhaps looking rather stupid with your mouth hanging ajar. Of all the things you expected him to say, that definitely wasn’t one of them.  

“I like both of you,” is the obvious answer.  

Unfortunately, Katsuki doesn’t seem happy with that answer. At all.  

“Stupid cat,” he snaps at Bitsy. Then, with no prior warning whatsoever, his eyes begin to water, and he breaks out in a full-blown wail. 

You sigh.  

Sometimes, this kid can be really annoying.  

“Don’t cry, Katsuki,” you insist, but much to your chagrin, it doesn’t work. Now Izuku is crying too. You’re not really sure why. Probably because being a crybaby is his default state. Or maybe Katsuki’s tears have some kind of domino effect.  

Your first meet-and-greet with Bitsy ends up being a complete failure. You have to hand Bitsy over to your mother and separate her from the two sobbing boys.  

Funnily enough, the second she’s no longer in the same room as you, Katsuki’s tears slow to a stop.  

He wipes a hand across his eyes, sniffles, then smiles. “Okay, let’s play heroes now! Izuku, you’re the villain! I’m the top hero, and [Name]’s my sidekick!”  

“No fair, Kacchan,” Izuku whines. “I want to be the hero this time!”  

“Too bad. I’m the leader of the Bakugou Adventure Team, so I get to pick.”  

“Let’s all be heroes,” you suggest. “My dad can be the villain. He’ll play with us if I ask him. Isn’t that way more fun?”  

Izuku nods insistently. Katsuki seems opposed to the idea at first, but after you tug on his hand a few times, he eventually gives in.  

The rest of the day proceeds about the same as usual. You, Katsuki, and Izuku end up chasing your father around the house, pretending to put his villainous crimes to rest. He’s a good sport and always goes along with silly requests like these. In his eyes, you are a toddler, after all. Just imagine if he knew you were actually a teenager.  

Actually, now that you stop to think about it… you’re sure he’d still love you, no matter what.  

Some time passes, and by this point, the three of you have sufficiently tired yourselves out. Katsuki and Izuku follow you back to your bedroom. You’re too exhausted to do anything else, so you drop to your knees, reach under your bed, and slowly withdraw the book you tucked away earlier.  

Katsuki offers you a curious look. “What’s that?”  

“A book on chemistry,” you answer simply.  

“What’s chemistry?”  

“It’s too complicated to explain. I found it in my dad’s bookshelf. He likes science, so he has a lot of books about this kind of stuff.”  

Your father happens to be a laboratory assistant, which works out perfectly for you, considering what kind of Quirk you have.  

At first, you didn’t really understand it. You instinctively realized that you had the ability to convert materials into different forms, but so far, you’ve only been able to turn them into dirt, or water. The dirt thing feels like some kind of gimmick. Like that’s what happens when your transmutation is unsuccessful, because you didn’t have a clear target in mind. It’s the default state, so to speak. When you succeeded in turning something into water, however, that was a different story.  

It’s logical to assume that certain materials are more difficult to obtain through transmutation. The reason water probably worked is because you have a clear visual of its chemical structure. Water is just H2O. You can visualize it across various diagrams, including three-dimensional form. It has a distinctly bent shape, and is polar. You have preexisting knowledge of this. That must be why you’ve been able to recreate it on numerous occasions.  

Thus, the solution is simple.  

You need to study your ass off and become a bonafide chemistry expert.  

Which shouldn’t be too hard. Probably. Certainly not as hard as it would be for an actual toddler, at least.  

“I need to learn a bunch of things so that I can get better at using my Quirk,” you explain.  

Katsuki gapes at you. “Huh? How is learning going to make you stronger? And since when do you know how to read?”  

“Um… I’ve known for a little while. But please don’t tell my parents. I don’t want them to know how smart I actually am. I’m worried it might stress them out if I start maturing too fast.” 

Katsuki and Izuku exchange disbelieving looks. You can’t blame them. Their toddler brains must be going into overdrive right now. As far as they know, chemistry may very well be a fictitious term that you made up on the spot.  

You trust them to keep your secret, though. Neither of them would ever betray you like that. They also seem rather curious about whether or not you can actually read (spoiler: you can), so they both seat themselves on opposite sides of you and lean in close while you recite everything aloud.  

“I think I should be able to transmute most elements,” you say, tracing your finger over the periodic table. “Instead of going straight for chemical compounds, I mean. I wonder if I can make gold? That would be really cool. Ah, but some elements are bound to be more complicated than others. I’m assuming.”  

…yep. They’re still looking at each other in disbelief.  

But perhaps they feel comforted by the sound of you reading to them—even if it’s a chemistry book, of all things—because neither of them tells you to stop, or tries to switch over to a different activity. They just sit there, pressed closely against you, as their eyes flit across the pages despite not understanding a single word.  

“You’re a genius, [Name],” Izuku eventually says. He squeezes your hand, shyly, eyes gleaming with what you can only assume is pride. That’s just how much he adores you. That’s how happy he is to be your friend. 

“I’m not a genius,” you chuckle softly.  

“No, you are! None of the other kids are as smart as you! Even the older kids don’t know anything about chemistry, I bet!”  

He keeps gushing over you left and right, and even though his praise is hardly deserved, as always, you can’t deny the warmth it brings you.  

It’s so nice. This is what it feels like to be loved. Between your parents, your amazing friends, and this wondrous new life, you’re just so, so— 

“Izuku.”  

Katsuki’s voice. You turn towards him, and for some reason, he looks a bit grumpy all of a sudden. Not as if he’s ready to cry, but still. There’s frustration building beneath the surface. You didn’t even realize it was possible for such a young kid to look so quietly enraged.  

Izuku blinks innocently. “Yes?”  

“Your birthday is coming up,” Katsuki says.  

“Oh, right. I know! I’m really excited! It’s going to be lots of fun!”  

For a while, Katsuki is silent. He continues staring at Izuku, still with that strange, vaguely unsettling look in his eyes. You don’t even realize that while you were turned away from him and talking to Izuku, off in your own little world, his expression had already begun to change.  

He’s just a kid. Even if he has temper tantrums sometimes, they’re not a big deal. Not really.  

But that’s where you’re wrong. Every story has a beginning. Everything has to start somewhere, and every person—no matter who they are—can be led astray if their behavior isn’t addressed early on.  

“You’re almost four years old,” Katsuki continues. Izuku stares at him, a bit confused by the obvious statement, still, he vigorously nods his head in agreement, not realizing that the tone of Katsuki’s voice has changed. “You’re almost four years old, and your birthday is coming up really soon. Everyone is supposed to get their Quirk by the age of four.”  

Katsuki’s crimson eyes briefly flicker downwards, towards the spot where Izuku is still holding your hand. His nose crinkles in distaste. However, when he utters his next words, he finds himself smiling. 

“If it doesn’t happen in the next few days, won’t that mean… that you’re Quirkless?”  

Chapter Text

“What? No way!”  

“He’s actually Quirkless?”  

“Apparently, he even went to the doctor. I heard there’s no chance he’ll ever get his Quirk!”  

Your eyes scan the room, heavy with disappointment. You obviously knew this would happen, but it still doesn’t make the reality any less painful. A few days ago, Izuku had his fourth birthday, and as expected, his Quirk still didn’t manifest. You remember how he bawled that day, and you also remember having to wrap him in your arms to try and calm him down.  

He managed to regain his senses fairly quickly. Inko is the one who suggested going to the doctor to figure things out. Not all Quirks are easy to pinpoint, after all. There’s always the possibility that his abilities actually do exist, but are lying unseen, because he doesn’t know how to use them yet.  

…well, that was her theory, at least. Unfortunately, that too has been disproven now. You weren’t there to bear witness yourself, but Izuku must have gone to meet with Dr. Garaki, just like he did in canon. That’s where he found out the bitter truth. The extra, vestigial joint he has in his body is what doctors have come to discover is commonly associated with the lack of a Quirk.  

There’s no way for his powers to manifest.  

A four-year-old boy has essentially just been told to give up on his dream.  

You’re seeing the aftermath of it now, as the kids at your local daycare point their fingers and make fun of Izuku, bearing no remorse. As much as you hate to admit it, little kids can be assholes sometimes. They have yet to refine their empathy. Although for some people, that never changes, even as adults.  

Izuku just sits there, gaze blank and disbelieving. He’s been in shock ever since he received his diagnosis. He doesn’t even have the strength to cry anymore. That’s just how much his world has been shaken.  

Katsuki, on the other hand, appears to be in a remarkably good mood.  

“[Name], come play,” he insists, eagerly tugging on your hand. His crimson eyes shine so brightly, they almost make you squint. “Everyone’s going to play heroes with us. I have lots of people who agreed to be villains, so we can chase them down! You get to be my sidekick again.”  

“In a bit,” you say.  

“What? Why not now?”  

“Just… in a bit.”  

Before Katsuki can ask again, you tear your fingers away from his, and his bottom lip quivers, like he’s getting ready to cry.  

He doesn’t, though.  

Because soon enough, his sadness turns to anger—as he watches you approach Izuku instead.  

“It’ll be okay, Izuku,” you try, squeezing his arm gently. “I’m really sorry. But you can still be a hero. I believe in you.”  

Izuku twitches a bit. For the first time, he manages to turn his head a bit, until you’re staring right into his emerald eyes. Already, they’re brimming with tears. The shock must finally be about to clear, because he can’t seem to hold it in any longer.  

“[N-Name],” he chokes out, and he barely slumps his head against your shoulder before he starts wailing. “It’s just… it’s not fair! I-I wanted a Quirk too!”  

Over and over again, he cries, just like he did on his birthday. All of the other kids are staring. They point rudely at him again, despite the daycare staff’s best attempts to get them to stop. 

The only one who doesn’t point or laugh is Katsuki, but he’s frowning nevertheless. You’ve noticed that he tends to get jealous rather easily. He tries to hog you all to himself, at any given moment. Obviously, that’s something he’ll grow out of over time. It’s just his childish nature at play.  

Or so you think.  

Much to your relief, however, Katsuki hasn’t made fun of Izuku yet. Granted, he was just as shocked as everyone else when he discovered Izuku is, in fact, Quirkless, but beyond that, he hasn’t done much. Maybe your presence in this world really has helped to pacify him a bit. You’re not sure. But you can hope.  

The day eventually comes to an end, and everyone’s parents stop by to pick them up. You, Izuku, and Katsuki ended up in the same daycare because of how close it is to your neighborhood. Eventually, you’ll start school together. Since you doubt your parents have plans to move anytime soon, you expect to be with these two all the way up until the end of middle school. Or even longer, assuming you pass U.A’s entrance exam.  

The point is, it’d be nice if Katsuki didn’t bully Izuku this time around. They don’t necessarily have to be best friends or anything. They’ll both have plenty of time to develop and mature, and later, they can reignite their friendship.  

You just don’t want them to hate each other, if possible. Imagine how much heartache they’d both be spared.  

“Bye-bye, Izuku,” you say, giving him a hug before Inko takes him in the opposite direction. You gently place your palm against his cheek and smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you become a hero, no matter what. As long as you don’t give up, it’ll happen.”  

“O-Okay. Thank you, [Name]. Thank you…”  

He sniffles one last time, then shyly returns the hug, cheeks tinged a pretty little shade of pink. You know that your words can’t magically mend his wounded heart, but if nothing else, at least he’s not alone this time. If he ever starts to doubt himself, you’ll be right here to remind him that he can be a hero. So that he doesn’t have to wait ten full years for someone to finally acknowledge him.  

You wave goodbye to Izuku, then continue the walk home with your family, alongside Katsuki’s. Izuku lives close by as well, but you and Katsuki are quite literally next-door neighbors. Sometimes, you can even hear him screeching on the other side of the walls.  

Up until now, your mother and father have each been holding one of your hands in theirs, but all too suddenly, Katsuki inserts himself and shoves his little body against yours.  

Then he glares at you.  

“You barely played with me today,” he mutters accusingly.  

“I did play with you,” you frown.  

“No. You just stayed with Izuku the whole time.”  

“That wasn’t the whole time.”  

“It was a lot of the time.”  

He flashes you one last glare, then stomps away, even kicking a stray twig that happens to stand in his path. Mitsuki shakes her head disappointedly, and Masaru turns towards you, mouthing an apology.  

Still, you don’t think much of it, because again, he’s just a kid. And he hasn’t even made fun of Izuku yet. Perhaps things really can change.  

And so, you smile.  

For now, ignorance is bliss. 

You’re having a playdate with Hitoshi.  

There was no guarantee that you’d be able to see him again, before entering U.A, at least. Sure, you asked him to be your friend and all, but you’re a kid. You can’t schedule meet-ups like this on your own. It’s a good thing your parents are so friendly. They’ll do just about anything if it means you’ll be happy.  

Plus, you have Bitsy on your side. And there’s no way a cat-lover like Hitoshi could ever resist such a tiny little ball of fur.  

“She looks really happy now,” Hitoshi says, smiling as he gently runs his hand along the fur on Bitsy’s back. As always, she’s resting on your lap, even purring contentedly. She may be a runt, but so far, you haven’t had any issues with her. She’s been eating properly, and she’s very approachable, too.  

Well, other than with Katsuki.  

But you can’t really blame her for that one.  

You take your turn petting Bitsy, then you smile. “You were right. She wanted to come home with me. Now that she’s here, everything’s okay. I think she just needed someone to love her.”  

“Yep,” Hitoshi hums, and if left to his own devices, you’re positive that he’d just keep petting Bitsy, on a never-ending loop. Which is fair, because sometimes, you’re tempted to do the same.  

By this point, he’s certainly older than four years old, which means that he’s obtained his Quirk. You haven’t bothered to ask what it is, though. Obviously, you already know, but it’s a complicated ability, and people often have a bad first impression of it. If he wants to tell you himself, he can, but otherwise— 

“By the way, what’s your Quirk?”  

“...”  

Okay, well, you weren’t expecting that.  

Hitoshi stares at you, eyes wide and innocent. Maybe it’s because he’s still young, so people haven’t really started to avoid him because of his powers. Over time, they’ll become more sensitive to what his brainwashing entails, but little kids get excited over pretty much any Quirk.  

“Alchemy,” you respond simply.  

He scrunches up his nose a bit, and you chuckle, briefly picturing smoke coming out of his brain.  

“I can turn some things into different things,” you explain. “Like… if I have paper, I can turn it into gold. I think. I’ve never actually been able to do it, though. I’m still learning.”  

“You can turn things into gold??” he marvels.  

“I should be able to. At least, I think it’s possible. So far, I’ve only been able to turn things into dirt or water. I need to keep practicing.”  

The remark comes off with a shrug, which makes Hitoshi’s jaw drop even lower than before. You suppose it is pretty amazing. The thought of being able to turn anything into gold.  

Hopefully you’ll actually be able to do it someday, otherwise you’re going to look back on this moment and cringe at yourself.  

You and Hitoshi spend a lot of time playing with Bitsy. It’s easy to get swept along, with how unbelievably adorable she is. She doesn’t seem to have any issues with Hitoshi picking her up and taking her into his arms. Animals are awfully perceptive when it comes to this sort of thing. They instinctively know when they’re loved.  

Of course, that also means they know when they’re not.  

Someone raps their knuckles against the front door. Over and over again, which makes Bitsy mewl anxiously. You vaguely hear some shouting coming from outside, and then the sound of one of your parents opening the door.  

After that, well— 

“[Name], I’m here to play!”  

You recognize that voice all too well. Mitsuki cries out in protest, but by that point, Katsuki has already raced over to your bedroom, swinging the door open so fast that it bounces against the wall.  

“I’m here… to play?”  

He trails off near the end of his sentence, growing awfully quiet, with a hint of perplexion in his eyes. He obviously doesn’t recognize Hitoshi—and why would he? Their interactions in canon were minimal at best. He only met him at U.A, and for the longest time, you doubt Katsuki even remembered his name.  

Your heartbeat quickens just then, because you realize that you’ve already begun changing things, far more than you ever expected. In fact, maybe Katsuki and Hitoshi can be friends! That would be so, so cute— 

“Who’s that guy?” Katsuki glares, wasting no time in jabbing his index finger out, pointedly.  

“This is Shinsou Hitoshi,” you introduce. There’s a pause, a glance towards the sleepy-eyed boy beside you, and a smile rises to your lips. “I met him a little while ago. He’s my friend.”  

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say, because Katsuki balls his little hands into fists, already looking like he’s about to scream.  

“I don’t like him,” he snaps. “He’s ugly.”  

Dude.  

You’re about to apologize on Katsuki’s behalf, but before you can even form the words, Hitoshi merely shrugs, visibly unbothered.  

“No, you,” he says.  

Like… damn. He really didn’t have to go for him that hard. 

“I’m not ugly!” Katsuki screeches, and he lunges right at Hitoshi, most likely to initiate another kiddie fight.  

Except he’s not quite able to, because you step in between the two of them and grab Katsuki by the wrist.  

“Stop it,” you frown. “You’re being mean, Katsuki. I don’t like it when you’re mean. You know that.”  

You wait a few moments before letting go of his wrist, just until you see his anger start to die down. Unfortunately, the frustration still remains, long after the fact. He really does have anger issues.  

…not that you didn’t already know that.  

“The three of us should play together,” you insist. “No name-calling or being rude. Okay?”  

Katsuki crosses his arms and pouts. It’s kind of funny because of how cute he is, but just because he’s got a baby face right now doesn’t mean you should excuse his behavior. You need to be a role model. You need to be the one that guides him down a better path.  

“Fine,” Katsuki reluctantly agrees. He must realize that Hitoshi isn't going anywhere. Not anytime soon, at least. “What’s your Quirk?”  

A subtle flinch. You’re not entirely sure what Hitoshi is feeling right now, whether he’s just surprised by the sudden question, or if he really is reluctant to divulge the truth. But in the end, it doesn’t seem to make a difference.  

“I’m not telling,” Hitoshi refuses, and just like that, he turns his attention back to Bitsy.  

Katsuki’s tiny little fists are even more clenched now.  

“Ugh!” he fumes. “At least get that stupid cat out of the room! I hate her! I hate her!”  

To no one’s surprise, Bitsy hisses at him just like she did last time, so you reluctantly hand her off to your parents again—while Mitsuki storms into the room and gives Katsuki a stern talking to. Although it’s not so much talking, but yelling.  

Thankfully, after that, tensions begin to simmer. Again, kids are quick to forgive. Well, for the most part. Hitoshi seems to have already forgotten about how Katsuki called him ugly (completely unprompted) a few minutes ago. They’re both just babbling on about the heroes they like, and while they do, their expressions sparkle.  

“[Name], sweetie,” you eventually hear your mother call out. “Hitoshi’s parents are here to pick him up. And Katsuki needs to go home too.”  

“I’m not leaving,” Hitoshi firmly denies.  

“Me neither,” Katsuki insists.  

Both of them reach out and grab onto you, as if they’re trying to tether themselves in place. It really is ridiculously cute, but unfortunately for them, it’s not going to work.  

Cue a whole lot of kicking, punching, and screaming. Like, a lot of it. But only coming from one tiny little human, which is kind of impressive, honestly.  

As always, Katsuki makes a fuss when his mother picks him up and forcibly peels him away from you. Lately, you’ve been starting to feel a little guilty, because you wonder if he’s throwing even more tantrums than he was originally supposed to. Because of you.  

But he also hasn’t been bullying Izuku because of you, so surely the tradeoff is worth it, right…? 

“NOOOOO!”  

That’s the last thing you hear as Katsuki is finally dragged out of the house. Hitoshi needs to leave too, but compared to that dramatic display, he’s as cool as a cucumber. He even turns to look at you, in visible disbelief.  

Apparently, Katsuki’s behavior is so appalling that even other four-year-olds are offended by it.  

Hitoshi’s mother awkwardly clears her throat. “Um. A-Anyway. We need to go home now too, Hitoshi. It’s getting late.”  

“It’s fine,” you reassure, smiling at the indigo-haired boy. “We can hang out more soon. And Bitsy’s not going anywhere, so don’t worry. You can come play with her whenever you want.”  

Hitoshi’s face lights up, and he nods eagerly, no longer opposed to the idea of leaving. He even reaches up to grab his mother’s hand, however, at the last second, he turns back towards you.  

“I never told you what my Quirk is,” he realizes.  

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”  

Hitoshi briefly looks down at his feet, expression a touch conflicted. He goes silent for a few moments, but then, perhaps reassured by the gentleness of your words, he leans closer to you and whispers in your ear.  

“I can control people,” he tells you. “If I say something to someone and they answer me, then they have to listen to what I tell them to do.”  

Your brows lift. Oh, wow. You weren’t expecting him to be so upfront about it, but then again, he is a kid. His newly-acquired Quirk must fill him with excitement and wonder. Probably because nobody has given him reason to think any differently.  

In that case, you’d better make sure his excitement doesn’t fade.  

“That’s amazing,” you beam. “If you become a hero, you’ll be able to take down so many villains! You’ll help a lot of people. It’s a really, really cool Quirk.”  

A vivid, dark shade of red colors Hitoshi’s cheeks. He’s aflush with pride, which is probably why he pulls you into a hug all of a sudden. You can feel him shaking against you, barely able to contain his joy.  

“Your Quirk is really cool too,” he gushes. “Maybe we can both be heroes together…?”  

“That would be nice,” you hum.  

He doesn’t say anything else. He just hugs you for as long as the moment will allow, and even once his mother guides him to leave, his smile is nowhere near ready to disappear.  

“Did you guys know that you can also read Izuku’s name as Deku?”  

Ah. It’s happening.  

“Wow, Katsuki!” one of the neighbor kids exclaims. “You already know how to read?”  

“It’s easy,” Katsuki merely shrugs, and you notice his gaze panning towards you, because there’s no way he’s forgotten that you learned to read ages ago. And not just any kind of reading, but highly complex scientific terminology.  

He doesn’t tell anyone, though. You appreciate that even now, he’s still keeping your secret. 

However, you don’t appreciate where this is going.  

“Deku means someone who’s useless,” Katsuki then says, eyes lighting up in a way that makes your stomach turn. “Right? You hear it, don’t you? The words sound really similar. Izuku’s Quirkless, so it makes sense that—”  

“Katsuki,” you interject, voice sharp. Your eyes narrow into a glare. “Stop it. I hate it when you do this. Don’t be mean to Izuku.”  

Izuku sniffles, but you manage to pat him on the back before his tears spill over. He takes comfort in your presence, because even though Katsuki never outright bullied him until now, he wasn’t exactly being nice to him either.  

But you—you are the only one who’s always stood by his side. Through thick or thin, without fail, you’re always there. That’s why he’s able to stop himself from crying. All he needs to do is squeeze your hand, and suddenly, the world doesn’t seem so cruel anymore.  

Katsuki stares at you. Your gaze may as well be piercing, with how unwilling you are to back down. That’s why he doesn’t say anything. He takes his time to actually think his words through.  

“Okay,” he finally says.  

You blink. “Okay…?”  

“I won’t call him that anymore.” Katsuki lightly kicks the small soccer ball at his feet, turning away from you as he does. “Whatever. Nevermind, I guess.”  

Blood rushes to your cheeks. Could it really be? Have you gotten one step closer to preventing their toxic, hateful relationship? You know you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, but… there’s hope, at least. With you here, things might actually change for the better.  

You smile brightly, then rush over to give Katsuki a big hug, as thanks for his compliance. He blushes all the way up to the tips of his ears, but makes no attempt to push you away.  

Now it’s Izuku’s turn to gaze over at you with longing. Katsuki was so quick to insult him just a second ago, but for some reason, you’re hugging him. You’re hugging the same boy who cursed him in the first place. Katsuki was the first person to ever say that word to him—Quirkless—even before it all happened.  

It’s almost like he’s the one who made it come true. He’s the one who jinxed him. And to be honest, Katsuki never even treated him that well to begin with. Still, you’re hugging him. 

Why?  

Chapter Text

Over a year has passed since Izuku discovered that he’s Quirkless. 

During that time, much to your immense bewilderment—and joy—Katsuki has never referred to him as Deku again. Not even once. It's strange, honestly. He’s still cold, still brash, and he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to defend Izuku when other kids taunt him. But for once, he’s no longer the source of that cruelty. He's no longer the one throwing the first stone. 

You can’t say they’re close friends—they're not. Not really. At least, nowhere near as much as you’d like them to be. But they’re not enemies either. Certainly not bitter, resentful rivals like they were in canon. And every time Katsuki ignores an insult, every time he doesn’t laugh when someone mocks Izuku, you feel a cautious sort of hope swell in your chest. Maybe he can change. Maybe the future you remember doesn’t have to play out the same way. 

You hold onto that hope, with all the strength you can muster. You wish for it to become true. You really, really do.  

It’s possible, right? Surely. It has to be. Canonically, they were able to see past their differences and rekindle their friendship. Yes, it took some time to get to that point, but that was only because their relationship was so broken to begin with.  

This time, it might happen sooner rather than later.  

And this time, they’ll both be better off because of it.  

Probably.  

Anyway, back to present matters. Today is a perfect summer day. The sun is high in the sky, the cicadas hum lazily from the trees, and you can feel the warmth radiating off the pavement beneath your feet. Your parents decided to take you to the zoo as a fun little trip. It’s not that you did anything special to warrant being treated, but your parents have always been like this. Loving, warm, and just about everything parents should be.  

You’re probably better off not dwelling on the thought too much though, because you might just start tearing up.  

But, yeah—the zoo. Despite the fact that you're mentally a teenager, you had the time of your life. You squealed at the sight of a baby elephant, gawked at the lions napping lazily under a tree, and you even got to feed some of the animals in the petting enclosure. You found yourself smiling so much your cheeks started to hurt. Happiness like this still feels foreign. Unreal, even. Still, day by day, you're learning to accept it. Because this is undeniably the life you deserve.  

You're walking with your parents now, still full of energy. Your mind may be mentally advanced, but your body is still that of a child, so when excitement reaches its peak, it’s hard to come down from it. It’s kind of like a sugar high. Except you’re not high on sugar. Just the act of existing, you suppose.  

Admittedly, it’s an amazing feeling.  

Since the sun is really beating down now, your parents decide to stop at a small ice cream stand just outside the park gates. The scent of waffle cones and chilled sweetness fills the air, making your mouth water. 

"Why don’t you sit down for a bit while we pay, sweetheart?" your mother suggests, pointing to a shaded bench beneath a tree. 

You nod and skip over, settling on the bench with a happy sigh. You swing your legs back and forth and hum softly, completely content. 

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see him. 

At first, you think you must be imagining it. A boy with a black hoodie pulled low over his head. Pale, bluish-gray hair sticks out from underneath in messy tufts. He walks with a hunched posture, almost like he’s trying to disappear into himself. Most importantly, though, there’s something covering his face. Not a mask, not fabric—but a hand. 

One that is discolored and rather unpleasant to look at, and knowing what you know from the canon series, it’s almost certainly embalmed.  

Your heart seizes in your chest. 

You know those features. Given how distinct they are, it’d be impossible not to.  

You stand up so fast the bench creaks slightly beneath you. You glance back at your parents, who are still distracted at the stand.  

Then, without even thinking twice, you take off. 

"U-Um!" you call out. 

You haven’t been running for very long. Just long enough to close the distance, and far enough that the ice cream stand has faded into the distance. Nevertheless, you did catch up. Your voice carried, too. Which is probably why the boy just halted in his tracks. 

He turns his head slightly, almost reluctantly, you’d say. Not that it really matters. The fact that he turned all but confirms it. There, underneath the hand covering his face, you managed to pick out his eyes, which are dark red in color. Actually, no. Not just any red.  

Blood red. 

The boy scowls beneath the grotesque hand. "What?" 

His voice is gravelly, rough, and raspy. Like he hasn’t had a proper conversation in days. Maybe weeks. There’s a venom in it that doesn't belong on a child's tongue.  

But he is a child. Only a few years older than you, at best. He’s only a few years older, but… 

He’s seen more blood than anyone should. He’s already killed. Already felt the weight of a life crumble beneath his fingers. 

You know who he is. You’d be stupid not to make the connection.  

Shigaraki Tomura. 

You freeze, suddenly unsure of what to say. Why did you even call out to him? What were you hoping to accomplish? He’s dangerous. Even now, even this young. He could disintegrate you, not even intentionally, but by accident, perhaps. And yet— 

And yet he still hasn’t walked away. 

Maybe it gives you hope. Maybe the fact that he hasn’t ignored you or immediately threatened you with violence instills some false sense of courage inside of you. Honestly, you’re not sure. But whatever the case, you urge yourself to press on. To not let your fear show. To smile.  

"Um,” you say again, keeping your voice much steadier this time. “Hello. I’m [Name]. Do you want to eat ice cream together?" 

He stares at you like you’re batshit insane.  

…although considering what you’re trying to do right now, you kind of are.  

"What?” Tomura asks, and you see him blink between the gaps of the embalmed hand’s fingers. “Why?" 

"Just because," you say with forced lightness. "It's hot out. And you're all alone. If you come with me, my parents will buy both of us ice cream. Do you want some?" 

There’s a long silence. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. He doesn’t trust you. Of course he doesn’t. He probably hasn’t trusted anyone in a long time, and he’s not the one to blame for it.  

But then, to your complete shock, he mutters, "Fine." 

Uh… 

Okay, wow. You weren’t expecting this. Seriously, he actually agreed? Every time you think this new life of yours can’t possibly get any more surprising, it’s like the universe finds new ways to catch you off guard.  

You’re not complaining, though. Not even a little bit.  

“R-Really?” you stammer, visibly excited.  

Tomura shrugs. “Sure, I guess. I like ice cream." 

Oh, boy.  

You’re grinning like an absolute lunatic right now.  

You turn and walk back towards the bench, heart hammering in your chest, as you gesture for Tomura to follow you. You can hear his footsteps behind you, soft and uncertain. You reach the bench just in time for someone to grab hold of your shoulders and shake you firmly.  

"There you are!" your mother exclaims, relief flooding her features. "Where did you run off to? We were worried!" 

She’s about to fuss over you some more, but she stops short when her gaze pans, and she sees Tomura. 

Your father, who’s holding onto your ice cream cone for you, reacts similarly. Both of your parents have now shifted their attention onto him. They notice the hand on his face. The ragged clothes. The unwashed appearance. 

For obvious reasons, they’re concerned.  

You jump in quickly. "He was walking by himself, and I invited him for ice cream. I thought he looked lonely." 

Your mother and father exchange a glance. Then your mother kneels in front of him, expression softening. "Oh, honey. Are you okay? Did you get separated from your family?" 

Tomura glares at her, but doesn’t answer. 

It’s a good thing your parents never take things personally. They’re also just really loving and considerate. Tomura is hardly the approachable type, but in their eyes, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s an unattended child. A child who might very well be neglected.  

Your mother frowns slightly, but doesn’t press Tomura for any more answers. Instead, she turns to your father. "[Name] was saying she invited him for ice cream. Let’s get him a cone, too." 

Your father nods and quietly orders a second one. It takes another minute, but when he hands it to Tomura, the boy reaches out and accepts it with visible suspicion, like it might be a trick. You inadvertently hold your breath as one of Tomura’s fingers comes dangerously close to your father’s hand. Thankfully, it doesn’t make contact, but even if it did, it wouldn’t have worked unless all five of Tomura’s fingers were bearing down.  

The reality is that now that Tomura knows how his Quirk works, he probably wouldn’t kill anyone by mistake. Not anymore. Not again.  

If he uses his Quirk to decay either you or your family, it means that he made the choice to do so.  

Consciously.  

But he definitely wouldn’t do that to a nice family who just bought him ice cream. 

…right?  

You’re still fighting tooth and nail to keep your fear from showing, but fortunately, it doesn’t seem like Tomura has noticed. Instead, he removes the embalmed hand from his face, carefully sets it on his lap, and stares down at the ice cream cone with a sort of wondrous awe. 

Meanwhile, you grab a seat beside him on the bench, accept your own ice cream cone your father just passed you, while keeping a safe distance from Tomura’s hands. 

And then you just watch. 

It’s hard to tear your gaze away from him. As expected, he can only be Shigaraki Tomura. There’s a mole under his lip, just like his grandmother, Shimura Nana had. He also has a few distinct scars. One across his lip, opposite from where his mole is placed, and one that cuts from the top of his right eye, all the way down to the dark circles beneath it.  

Tomura doesn’t say anything. You’re not even sure if he notices you watching him, but you quickly start licking at your own ice cream cone, just so he doesn’t pick up on how intently you’re staring.  

He eats rather fast. Maybe he was hungry. Your brow scrunches together, because you wonder, briefly, if All For One is even taking care of him properly. More than likely, he’s not. Enough to keep him alive, obviously, but beyond that, you know he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is manipulating Tomura and using him. He’s warped Tomura’s mind so much that in this poor boy’s eyes, he really believes that All For One is the only one who cares about him.  

It makes you fucking sick.  

You inhale, taking an angry bite of your ice cream (which you really shouldn’t have done, because your teeth are aching now), and at the same time, your mother shuffles a bit closer to Tomura. 

"So," she tries again, "do you know where your parents are? Or someone else you might have been with? A relative? A legal guardian, maybe?" 

There’s still no answer while he’s eating, but he ends up finishing the last of his ice cream soon enough, then he licks his fingers clean. 

Finally, he raises his head and meets your mother’s gaze.  

“Yeah. I know where they are.”  

"That’s good," she says gently. "But it’s dangerous to walk off on your own. It’s always best to stay with a trusted adult.” 

Tomura just stares at her. He stares more than long enough for it to be unsettling, but your mother doesn’t back down, because as far as she knows, the child in front of her might be in need of help. 

Not everyone wants to be helped, though.  

Especially those who’ve suffered so much that they’ve begun to resent the whole world.  

"It’s fine," Tomura says coldly. 

There’s something in his tone that kills the conversation. It’s so harsh, so chilling, that you almost withdraw further away from him—but you catch yourself at the last second and root yourself in place. 

Tomura’s eyes wander over to you. He leans in, so close that you can feel the panic rising, but he doesn’t try to touch you. Not with his hands, at least. His lips, however, very nearly brush against the shell of your ear as he whispers so that only you can make out his voice.  

"Make sure your parents don’t follow me,” he mutters. “Distract them. I’ll get mad if you don’t.” 

You nod automatically. You try to tell yourself that it’s not a threat. But deep down, or perhaps even on the surface, really, you know it is.  

Your pulse quickens. You can feel your skin prickle, and at this rate, you’re honestly not sure how much longer you’ll last. He’s so close to you. What if your parents are being too nosy for their own good? What if they chase after him and try to help, only for him to get angry and violent?  

You know that Tomura isn’t a monster. He’s just the victim of extremely unfortunate circumstances. Still, the anger he carries in his chest is dangerous. You need to remind yourself that it’s dangerous, so that you don’t take this lightly.  

Tomura wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, then he reaches for the embalmed hand again.  

But before he places it back on his face, he pauses.  

"Thanks," he says, eyes looking a touch gentler now. "For the ice cream. It was good." 

You barely manage another nod. 

Then you pretend to stand up too abruptly, twisting your ankle in the process, as you allow yourself to fall from the bench—right onto your face.  

Shit. That was a much harder landing than you’d been planning on. You’re fully embracing the pavement right now. A weak groan spills from your lips, and speaking of your lips… they really hurt. Probably because you fell on your face and didn’t even throw out your hands to catch you. Your mouth is throbbing and aching, and you taste something metallic in your mouth. It’s disgusting. Also, everything hurts. But that’s exactly what you intended.  

Moments later, the tears come. You’ve never actually cried on command before, but it turns out that you’re pretty good at it. Maybe it’s because your body is so conditioned to crying. You have the endless abuse from your past life to thank for that. Haha. Lucky you.  

Either way, your little stunt seems to work. The whole thing is messy and loud. Attention-grabbing.  

"[Name]?!" your mother gasps, immediately pulling you up into her arms. “Oh my god, are you okay??” 

Your father doesn’t waste a beat before crouching beside you. He’s doing his best to calm you down, gently stroking your hair, speaking with soft, hushed words, and all the while, you wail out as loud as you can possibly manage.  

You keep crying and crying, relentlessly. You don’t look back. You don’t have to. 

Tomura must already be gone. 

Once enough time has passed, and the people around you have become sufficiently worried, you finally sniffle, allowing your tears to slow. Your parents hug you once more in relief, promising that they’ll buy you another ice cream cone—since you dropped yours earlier, for extra dramatic effect—but eventually, they’re able to affirm that you’re okay.  

And that’s when they look around, realization setting in.  

"Where did your friend go?" your mother asks. “That little boy who was with you just now?”  

"I-I don’t know,” you mumble, sniffling once more.  

It’s the truth, after all. You have no idea where Tomura disappeared to. You may have covered for him while he ran off, but that doesn’t mean you know where he went. If only you did. You really wish you could find him and save him from that rotten, evil bastard controlling him. 

Disappointment begins to weigh you down. To think that this could have been your one chance at setting Tomura free. You’re worried that by the next time you meet, if you do in fact end up at U.A, it’ll already be too late. He won’t be a child then anymore. His crimes will no longer go overlooked or excused. You wasted it. You wasted your one opportunity at making a significant change.  

Maybe… I’ll get to try again.  

You thought your tears were all dried up, but it seems like you’re crying for real now. It’s just so frustrating. It hurts to have ruined what could have been something incredible, if only you’d tried harder.  

But maybe you’re being too hard on yourself. The universe already gave you a do-over, right? That’s why you’re alive right now, living in this world. Maybe Tomura will come back to you before he reaches adulthood.  

In that moment, you wish for the chance to mend a broken boy’s broken heart. You wish to be there for him. To become someone important to him.  

…you never should have made that wish.  

Chapter Text

Ever since you ran into Tomura, he hasn’t left your mind. Not even once. 

It’s like his memory has lodged itself into the back of your consciousness, refusing to budge. No matter how many hours pass. No matter how many days. It’s been several weeks now—long enough that most people would have already moved on.  

But not you. You can’t. You won’t. The regret clings to you at practically every given moment, tightening around your ribs like a belt you can’t unbuckle. 

You know you shouldn’t allow it to rile you up to this extent. You tell yourself that all the time. 

Unfortunately, telling yourself and believing it are two entirely different things. 

If only you had acted faster. If only you had come up with a proper plan. Maybe then, you could have changed his fate early on. Before the damage was permanent. Before the decay spread too deep, in every sense of the word.  

But you didn’t. 

It hurts to imagine what could have been. It really, really hurts. Up until now, Tomura was just a fictional character, but now, he’s a living, breathing person, just like everyone else. You relate to him in many ways. Well, not so much in your current life, for obvious reasons, but before. You also used to hate the world with every fiber of your being. You cursed it for its unfairness, its cruelty, and some days, you wished everything would just come to an end.  

That’s why you’re not quite ready to give up yet. Even if you don't end up meeting Tomura until the USJ incident in the future, it might still not be too late. Yes, he'll definitely have committed more crimes by then, but you might be able to change things enough to prevent him from spiraling even further.  

Maybe. Honestly, you don't know how likely it is, but for now, you’ve resolved not to call it quits. It’s really the only thing you can do. So that you don’t risk being consumed by your own regret.  

You’re trying to stay hopeful. You have to stay hopeful. 

So, in the meantime, you throw yourself into training your Quirk.  

Progress is slow, but it’s happening. Just the other day, you succeeded in transmuting a clump of grass into small, jagged chunks of iron. They weren’t particularly pretty or uniform, but they were real. You even handed them off to your father to inspect. With his science background, he was able to confirm that the composition seemed accurate. He even patted you on the head and marveled at how clever you are—which, needless to say, you very much appreciated.  

Day by day, you begin to understand your powers more. It’s not just chemistry, though chemistry helps. It’s not just visualization, though that helps too. It’s both. The science and the symbolism. The precision and the perception. When you attempt a transmutation, it’s as if your mind constantly has to maintain perfect balance at the border beyond logic and imagination. 

Still, whether it’s difficult or not, you have every intention of growing into this Quirk. You have every intention of making it yours.  

Hitoshi has been visiting often lately. More than he used to. At first, you used to think it was because he liked to play with Bitsy, and she’s obviously a big factor, but these days, he seems just as content to hang out with you, whether Bitsy is in the same room or not. You’ve become pretty good friends, much to your immense delight. You had next to no luck in your old life, but in this one, you may as well be swimming in it. 

Although… when it comes to being interrupted while Hitoshi is visiting, you suppose you’re not too lucky in that regard.  

Mostly because of Katsuki, though.  

"Why are you here?" the blond boy sneers, the moment he opens your bedroom door and waltzes in like he owns the place.  

You glance over to find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a scowl plastered on his face. His presence isn’t exactly unexpected. He never really bothers to knock. Usually he’s loud enough that you hear him coming, but it seems like he adopted a stealthy approach today. Maybe he’s practicing being a ninja or something.  

However, you’re not the only one who’s gotten used to Katsuki’s antics. Hitoshi doesn’t even flinch at the sound of the rude, abrasive voice. He just rubs his eyes sleepily, without bothering to turn around.  

"Because I like hanging out with [Name]," he says simply. 

Katsuki stomps further into the room, stopping in front of Hitoshi so that he can glare at him. "Yeah, well, so do I. And she was my friend first, not yours." 

"Who cares if she was friends with you first? The order doesn’t matter. That’s dumb.”  

Katsuki clenches his little fists, and since his patience never lasts long, you make sure to look up from your chemistry book and offer a warm smile.  

"You’re right, Katsuki,” you say. “You were my very first friend. But Hitoshi’s right too. Anyone can be friends with each other. The order shouldn’t matter." 

At first, Katsuki scowls, clearly unsatisfied (while Hitoshi, on the other hand, flashes him a smug look), but after a pause, Katsuki’s face lights up.  

"Yeah," Katsuki says suddenly. His red eyes glint with something sharp and victorious. "I was your first ever friend. And I’m also your best friend. Right?" 

You pause. He looks so sure of himself. So expectant and hopeful.  

And, in all fairness... he’s not wrong. You do spend more time with Katsuki. You share more memories with him. He was the very first person you ever became close to in this world, apart from your parents. And even though he’s brash and stubborn and sometimes rather hard to deal with, he’s always been there. You can’t deny that.  

"Yes, Katsuki," you nod gently. "You’re my best friend." 

The reaction, of course, is immediate. Katsuki beams in response to your words. Not just a smirk. A beam. Like he just won a prize. 

Then he turns to Hitoshi, who’s now doing his best not to frown.  

You heave a sigh.  

Every time Hitoshi comes over, this happens. Every time, Katsuki tries to get under his skin. It isn’t entirely unexpected, although you really wish he’d start maturing soon. The fact that he still hasn’t bullied Izuku makes you feel optimistic, though. It’s already a change for the better.  

After a minute or so, Katsuki’s prideful smile disappears, and he plops down on the ground, crossing one leg over the other. 

"I want to know what your Quirk is,” he insists.  

"Nope,” Hitoshi merely replies.  

"Still no? Why not? Why do you keep hiding it?”  

“I just don’t feel like telling you.”  

Katsuki frowns, but it looks like the gears in his cute little head are turning, because he quickly chuckles. “Oh, I get it. You probably don’t even have a Quirk. You’re embarrassed or something. It’s okay. I understand.”  

“He does have a Quirk,” you sigh again. “But he doesn’t have to tell you, Katsuki. It’s his decision to make.”  

“Wait, so you already know what it is?”  

“Yes. He told me.”  

“And how come I don’t get to know?”  

“Because I don’t like you very much,” Hitoshi shrugs, although he looks pretty amused as he utters the words. Almost like he can predict exactly how much they’ll piss Katsuki off.  

Which they do, no doubt about it. But fortunately, Katsuki seems far too focused on the fact that you just called him your best friend to be mad about it.  

"Okay," you say, snapping your chemistry book shut with a decisive thump. "I’m going to try turning something into gold again." 

Both boys jolt to attention. 

"Whoa, really?!" Hitoshi perks up. 

Even Katsuki’s brows lift. "Gold, as in… gold gold?" 

"Well, that’s the plan," you chuckle. "But I’m not sure if it’ll actually work. I’ve never been able to do it before." 

You head to your little experiment table. You keep it stocked with scraps of paper, plant clippings, and whatever random objects you think might be good test material. You reach for one of the crumpled papers now, holding it between your fingers. 

Gold is hard. Not just scientifically, but psychologically. It represents value, wealth, and for a big chunk of history, was also a huge symbol of status. Even now, that’s still true, although gold nowadays isn’t as much of a rarity as it once was. Still. Its existence holds weight. And that weight makes it difficult to convince your brain that it’s just another material. 

But today—you’re going to push through it. If you can just get through the mental blockage that’s holding you back, that’s adding to the difficulty level, then maybe you can finally pull it off.  

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. You think of gold. You think of its color. Its physical properties. Its atomic number, its general chemical composition, and the configuration in which its electrons are arranged around its nucleus. You search your mind for every bit of information you can possibly draw upon.  

A few seconds pass, and your breathing starts to evens out. You let the energy inside you pool, just like before. You wait for that subtle static, that spark, that vibration just beneath your skin. 

And then… you feel it.  

Slowly but surely, you open your eyes, but even before they’re fully wide, you can already hear Katsuki and Hitoshi cheering.  

This time, you actually succeeded.  

In your palm sits a small lump of metallic orange-yellow. It’s shimmering slightly. And it feels much more solid than the piece of paper you were holding onto a few seconds ago.  

Without a doubt, this is gold.  

“Holy crap!” Katsuki cries out.  

"You did it!" Hitoshi adds, eyes wide. “That’s so, just—wow! Holy crap!”  

Neither of them is even six years old yet, so you’re about to point out that they really shouldn’t be using that kind of language, but they’re so visibly excited that you doubt you’d be able to calm either of them down.  

Predictably, they both rush towards you.  

"Can I touch it?" Hitoshi asks. 

"Me too!" Katsuki echoes. "Lemme see it!" 

“Hey, I asked first!”  

“So what? Earlier you were saying it doesn’t matter who’s first. I’m [Name]’s best friend, so I get to hold it before you!” 

While you understand his line of reasoning (his logic is actually pretty spot-on, you can’t lie), in a situation like this, you think it’s only fair that they take turns in the order they asked. And Hitoshi asked first. Besides, it’s not like they won’t both get the chance to look at it from close up. It’s not going anywhere.  

“Hitoshi can have his turn first, then you can go after him, Katsuki,” you explain calmly. “You can even switch back afterwards. Let’s say Hitoshi gets to have it for two minutes, and then Katsuki can have it for two minutes, and back and forth like that. Sounds fair, right? It’s not something you should be arguing about—”  

Before you can finish, Katsuki shoves Hitoshi aside and grabs the gold nugget from your hand. 

Hitoshi cries out in protest, for more reasons than one, but it’s already too late.  

There was a faint scream just now. Meek and restrained, which is impressive for a child, honestly. Katsuki doesn’t even realize what he’s done. When he grabbed the piece of gold, his elbow hit Hitoshi square in the nose. The poor indigo-haired boy is doing his very best not to start crying right now.  

Hitoshi reels back, mid-gasp, clutching his face. Tears pool in his eyes, even as he grits his teeth to keep them from falling. 

Your brows skyrocket with concern. "Hitoshi! Are you okay?!" 

He nods, still holding his nose and refusing to let himself cry. The tears are trembling upon the surface of his eyes, just barely held together by surface tension and sheer force of will.  

Meanwhile, Katsuki is too absorbed in the gold to notice. Or care.  

"This is so cool!" he grins. 

Ugh. He really is a little brat sometimes. All he had to do was wait a measly two minutes, but apparently, even that was too much to ask. You're about to scold him, to demand that he apologize.  

But then, Hitoshi speaks. 

"Hand it over." 

Katsuki turns, frowning. "Huh? No way. I’m [Name]’s best friend, so I get to—” 

The rest of the words don’t make it out. Not because he’s forgotten what he wanted to say, but because his entire body suddenly freezes. His eyes glaze over, his arms slacken, and his expression just turns… blank.  

"Hand it over," Hitoshi repeats, more sharply than before, and he even lowers his hand from his nose. You can see his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.  

Normally, Katsuki would never do anything another person says, unless that person is you. Even then it’s not like he listens to you a hundred percent of the time. But he certainly doesn’t listen to most other people, including his own parents. And considering he doesn’t even like Hitoshi, there’s no reason he would go along with his sudden demand.  

Except he does.  

Wordlessly, like a puppet, Katsuki reaches out and places the gold nugget in Hitoshi’s outstretched hand. And Hitoshi just watches it happen, looking immeasurably proud of himself.  

He doesn’t need to voice his celebrations aloud. He doesn’t need to walk you through all the details. The answer is obvious.  

Hitoshi just brainwashed Katsuki with his Quirk.  

Your gaze darts between both of the boys. Hitoshi is now smiling softly as he cradles the gold in the palm of his hand. He’s nowhere near close to crying anymore. It’s as if he’s completely forgotten that he was elbowed in the nose less than a minute ago.  

As for Katsuki, there’s a slight delay before he blinks, and his shoulders stiffen up in surprise. “What was I… doing?” 

He’s disoriented. Of course he is. He’s probably having trouble sorting through his thoughts. You can’t even imagine what it feels like to lose control of your own body and bend to the will of someone else. You’ve never once judged Hitoshi for his Quirk, but you also weren’t expecting him to use it like this.  

“Hey, [Name],” Hitoshi suddenly says, still clutching the gold piece close to his heart, as if it’s something precious. Even more so than it already is. “I know I wasn’t your first friend, but can I be your best friend too? You can have more than one best friend, right?”  

“Um, s-sure,” you stammer awkwardly.  

It’s the only response that comes to mind, while you’re still struggling to make sense of everything. You never imagined Hitoshi would use his Quirk for something like that. Obviously, he's still a kid, but you thought he was opposed to using his powers for personal gain. That's why he always hated it when people would say he had a villainous Quirk.  

Maybe it's because he's still young and immature. He hasn’t developed enough maturity to know when he should or shouldn’t use it. Maybe. 

You’re so focused on having witnessed Hitoshi’s powers in action for the very first time, and you’re torn between lightly chastising him or just letting it slide because he’s ultimately still a kid, which is why you don’t notice. You fail to take note of the way Katsuki’s bottom lip quivers in response to what you just told Hitoshi. You don’t even register it at all.  

But you will. 

Later, you will.

News of your latest achievement spreads like wildfire. 

You’re not even sure how it happened. Actually, nevermind, you do know how it happened. Katsuki probably told someone, and that person told another person… and so on and so forth. Either way, it doesn’t take long for the entire neighborhood to find out that you’ve somehow used your Quirk to make gold. Actual gold. 

Long story short, now you’re surrounded. 

Half a dozen kids have cornered you at the park, babbling all at once. Some are in awe. Some are curious. Others are demanding. It’s kind of overwhelming, honestly. 

"C'mon, just make one more!" 

"Can you do it again but bigger this time?" 

"My big brother said he’d pay me if I brought some home!" 

"Make two! No, wait—make five!" 

"Make one for me, not for them!" 

You raise your hands, laughing nervously. "Um, I can’t just keep making gold over and over. It’s not that simple. It takes a lot of focus. It’s really easy to mess it up." 

"But you already did it once," one of the older boys points out, crossing his arms. 

"Yeah," another kid adds, frowning. "Maybe it wasn’t even real." 

That stings a little, even though you have full confidence that you executed everything properly. It wasn’t pyrite, fool’s gold. It was the genuine, authentic article. When you created it for the very first time, that’s what your gut was telling you. Not to mention that it’s pretty easy to distinguish between real gold and fake gold. At least, for you it is.  

You try not to take it personally—they’re just kids, after all. But still, the doubt spreading through the group makes you uncomfortable. It’s obvious that they all want you to make as much gold as possible so that they can take some of it. You didn’t do this to become popular, or rich. You just wanted to get stronger. To understand your Quirk better. 

Still, to prove your point, you crouch down beside a patch of grass, and in front of everyone, you transmute a glimmering little clump of gold. 

"Here," you say, holding it up. It’s tiny, of course, but unmistakably real. The luster, the color, the physical composition—it’s all there. 

But kids being kids, they immediately start arguing again. 

"That still doesn’t prove anything!" 

"It could be fake!" 

"My uncle said real gold always comes in big, heavy bars!" 

"What are you, stupid or something?" Katsuki suddenly snaps, stepping forward. 

His tone is scathing, his brows are furrowed (even more so than usual), and he looks really, really annoyed.  

"[Name] doesn't lie. And I looked up pictures of what gold looks like naturally. It's exactly like what she makes with her Quirk. If you don't know anything, just shut up. You're embarrassing yourself." 

You blink in surprise. Of course Katsuki would defend you. That part doesn’t surprise you. But the sheer ferocity in his voice—the way he practically squares up with a kid twice his size—admittedly takes you aback. You suppose you still haven’t fully gotten used to it yet, even after all this time.  

Having people actually care about you, that is.  

One of the kids scowls at him. "You're just saying that 'cause you think you're better than us. You always act like you're the boss or something." 

"I am better than you," Katsuki glowers. "At everything." 

"K-Kacchan's right," Izuku pipes up, hesitantly stepping closer. 

Everyone turns to look at him. It’s not often that he cuts in the middle of an argument like this. Maybe that’s why they all pick up on his voice, meek and trembling as it may be.  

"[Name] wouldn't lie. She's been working really hard to practice with her Quirk. If she says it's real, then it's definitely real!" 

"Shut up, Deku," one of the boys scoffs. "You're just a Quirkless loser. This doesn’t even have anything to do with you." 

Izuku flinches. His shoulders noticeably droop, and his mouth wobbles like he might start crying.  

You’ve seen it too many times. The way the words cut into him like deep, unforgiving slices. Katsuki may not be the ringleader like he was in canon, but bullies will still be bullies. Some people just always have a mean streak. 

You step forward. 

"Hey," you say sharply, turning to the kid who insulted him. "Don’t talk to him like that. He didn’t say anything wrong. You’re just being mean for no reason." 

The boy glares at you but doesn’t respond. Which you expected, of course, since they never bother to give Izuku the respect—or even the sheer decency he deserves.  

You turn to Izuku next, your expression softening. Almost immediately, you reach out and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffens at first but then melts into it, burying his face in your shoulder. 

"Thanks for standing up for me," you mumble, voice warm with appreciation.  

He pulls back, eyes watery, cheeks red as cherries. "Y-Yeah. Of course." 

You glance down at the grass near your feet. The good thing about grass is that it’s practically everywhere, and no one would ever notice if some of it goes missing. If anything, you’re doing the neighborhood a favor by constantly picking at weeds and preventing the grass from getting too overgrown.  

A spark of mischief curls in your chest. It’s not often you feel this way, but it should be fine. Even you’re allowed to vent your frustration every once in a while.  

You focus briefly as you grab a big clump of grass in your hand. You need to act quickly, because already, it’s starting to change texture and hue. By the time you direct your palm forward, water has already formed, clear and cold.  

And then—with perfect aim—you splash it into the face of the kid who insulted Izuku. 

“HEY!” he shrieks, wiping his eyes. "What the heck was that for?!" 

You don’t answer, mirroring the way he rudely ignored you last time. Instead, you turn to Izuku, and it actually looks like he’s… giggling? Just barely. He’s trying to hold it back, but ultimately failing. 

Midoriya Izuku may very well be an angel among men, but you can’t help but smile as you watch him stifle his laughter. He deserves this. It’s the least you can do for him, considering how much shit he constantly has to put up with. Besides, it’s just water. Hardly a criminal offense. 

The boy you just splashed proceeds to yell at you for a considerable length of time, which means that Katsuki of course yells back at him. Needless to say, the mood has been soured, so the group begins to disperse. Some of the kids shoot you dirty looks while grumbling under their breaths. Some just sulk, bummed out that you didn’t make more gold for them. But none of them dare say anything else. 

You look over at Katsuki and Izuku with a smile. "I'm heading back home now. I'll see you both tomorrow, okay?" 

Katsuki nods. "Yeah. Later." 

Izuku waves shyly. "Bye, [Name]!" 

You leave with a bounce in your step, excited to go home and experiment with your Quirk some more.  

And that’s when the silence settles. 

It’s only Katsuki and Izuku now, alone. They’re just kids, and yet, the atmosphere is awkward, to say the least. Katsuki shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks at a rock, uncharacteristically lost for words. Izuku shifts nervously beside him. 

"Um... Kacchan?" Izuku starts. 

Katsuki cuts him off before he can say anything else. "Why did you do that earlier?" 

“Do what?” Izuku blinks.  

"You tried to defend [Name] when those guys were saying her gold was fake. I was already doing it. You didn’t have to butt in." 

Izuku frowns. "I-I wasn’t butting in. I was just trying to help. She's my friend too. I don't like it when people say bad stuff about her." 

Katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly in response to that comment, but he doesn’t respond to it. He just turns and starts walking away.  

However, he doesn’t get very far.  

"Next time, just stay out of it, Deku.”  

Izuku’s face falls. He feels the entire weight of the world descending upon him. It’s the first time Katsuki’s ever called him that. The first time he’s mirrored the cruelty of the other kids.  

And thus—history repeats itself.  

But not quite the same as before. 

Chapter Text

The more you train your Quirk, the more convinced you become that it isn’t so much a physical skill as it is a mental one. Sure, your body channels the energy, and sure, you get a weird, staticky feeling in your limbs when a successful transmutation takes place, but it’s more than that. This isn’t about muscle memory. This is about knowledge, precision, and intent.  

So, you study. 

You study like your life depends on it. 

In your old life, school was the last thing you cared about. You were too tired, too scared, and too broken to invest time into things like homework or test scores. Not because you were stupid—you knew you weren’t—but because nothing ever changed. It didn’t matter whether you got a perfect score or a failing grade; your parents would always find something to punish you for regardless. They made sure of that. 

But here? In this life? Everything’s different. Your parents love you. They support you. You’re safe. 

And most importantly, you’re free. 

That’s why you can afford to pour yourself into books and articles and study materials far beyond your age level. You memorize every single detail on the periodic table. You memorize properties to the best of your ability. And when you walk into class every day, you breeze through the classes and homework like they’re nothing. 

It’s kind of funny, honestly. You’re barely seven years old yet in this life, but mentally, you’re sixteen. That kind of academic gap is a little hard to ignore. You’re the top of your class, obviously. And while that’s not a huge flex given that your classmates are barely able to do basic arithmetic, it still frees up a lot of time for your independent learning. 

You’re determined to keep growing. Given how knowledge-based your Quirk is, you’re striving for the kind of intelligence that could be considered prodigal. Maybe it’s ambitious, sure, but dreaming is a luxury you finally have. 

Plus, school is more than just a place for learning. It also gives you uninterrupted time with Katsuki and Izuku. You see them every single day, for hours on end. And even though Katsuki is still as brash and bossy as ever, he still hasn’t bullied Izuku, not even once. 

It makes you feel like their relationship really is changing for the better.  

Anyway, school is rather predictable, for the most part. When the lunch bell rings, you hear the usual chaos erupt as students race for their lunchboxes, grab their bento containers, or bolt outside to eat and play in the sun. Your little group prefers to eat indoors first and then go outside. Mostly because Katsuki likes things to happen on his schedule.  

The moment lunch is in full swing, he immediately claims the center spot while everyone groups around him. Naturally, he motions for you to come sit beside him, and you do. Of course you do. Izuku hurries so that he can sit beside you as well, opposite to Katsuki, his little green eyes lighting up when you smile at him. 

But not everyone is happy about your choice of company. 

“Ugh, why is Deku eating with us again?” one of the boys whines. “Doesn’t he have anyone else to hang out with? He’ll infect me with his Quirkless germs!” 

You snap your head towards him, frowning. “That’s not how being Quirkless works, and you know it. Stop being rude to Izuku.” 

“Yeah,” Katsuki adds casually, picking at his lunch. “Leave him alone.” 

You blink. 

Okay, wow. That’s... unexpected. To say the very least.  

Not only is Katsuki not bullying Izuku—he's standing up for him. 

Your heart leaps. For a second, you feel like you can see the timeline branching right in front of you, carving out a better future. One where Katsuki and Izuku aren’t bitter rivals, but friends. Real friends. Even before all of the toxicity and heartache they had to overcome. A world in which they were friends all along.  

You try not to let your excitement show. If you smile too hard, it might come off weird. Already, the pull on your lips is getting dangerously close to creepy territory. You have to repeatedly shake your head just to collect yourself.  

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t notice the way Izuku’s expression twists at that moment. He gives a weak, almost forced smile in return to Katsuki’s protective words, but something in his eyes looks off. Hollow. 

Lunch goes on without a hitch, though. You chat with Izuku about the latest book you’ve been reading, while Katsuki rants about how stupid one of the other boys is for messing up a question on the blackboard earlier. A few kids chime in now and then, but most of them ignore Izuku entirely. They talk over him. Around him. Like he doesn’t exist. 

But he does exist. He has you. And Katsuki, too, even if that bond still feels a little fragile. The point is, he’s not all alone. Not like he was originally supposed to be. And every time someone teases him, you’re right here to put a stop to it. There’s no way Izuku feels as ostracized as he did in canon.  

Surely not.  

Eventually, you all finish eating, and your group floods out onto the playground. Someone yells out the word tag, and that’s it. The game’s decided, just like that.  

Katsuki demands to be "it" first. He says it with so much confidence and volume that nobody even tries to argue. He really likes being able to chase everyone down, then brag about it afterwards.  

You scatter along with the others, squealing and dodging, but alas, it doesn’t take long for you to get caught. 

“Gotcha,” Katsuki shouts gleefully, tagging your shoulder. 

You huff in exaggerated defeat. “You’re too fast. My legs can’t keep up with my brain.” 

Unsurprisingly, the round doesn’t last much longer, and it’s only a matter of time before the praise starts rolling in for Katsuki. He caught everyone. He always does. He proudly lifts his chin towards the sky while the other kids cheer and clap like he just won a prestigious medal. 

Everyone except Izuku, for some reason.  

Izuku stands off to the side, arms strangely limp, as he watches Katsuki with an unreadable expression. 

You blink and tilt your head. “Is everything okay, Izuku?” 

He jolts slightly, then smiles. “Um, yeah. I think I just got a little tired. Kacchan’s really fast.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” you sigh. “He makes me feel super unathletic."  

Izuku laughs quietly at your comment, and much to your relief, it doesn’t seem like he’s actually upset.  

Then Katsuki announces that you’ll all be playing hide-and-seek. 

“I’m gonna be it again,” he declares. 

No one argues, because even if someone was opposed to it, it’s pointless to try and change his mind. So, while Katsuki covers his eyes and begins to count down, you all spread out in various directions.  

You crouch behind the school’s storage shed, your heart racing in the pleasant kind of way, as you imagine all the best hiding spots. Which, there aren’t all that many, to be honest. Not that it makes the game any less fun. Kids at this age are quite small, so you always find a way to squeeze in someplace.  

You’re not the only one hiding, though.  

Izuku crouches right in the middle of a thick bush near the edge of the yard, well-hidden beneath the branches. It’s a pretty good hiding place. The leaves are incredibly dense, and he’s quite certain he even earned a few scratches while he was climbing in. 

In fact, he’d go as far as to call this hiding spot almost perfect.  

Almost.  

The truth is, he gets tracked down right away.  

“Found you, Katsuki grins. 

Izuku flinches right as the other boy parts the branches. “Whoa! That was really fast, Kacchan.” 

“Yeah, I know. I was looking for you. I wanted to find you first.” 

“R-Really?” 

For a split second, Izuku feels hopeful, flattered even, that Katsuki was paying so much attention to him. But before he can even form a smile, Katsuki grabs hold of the back of his head, then violently shoves his face into the dirt.  

“I found you, Deku,” he hisses. “What’s your problem, seriously? You’re so annoying. You’re always eating with us, playing with us… even though nobody likes you. It’s gross. Aren’t you embarrassed?” 

Izuku's eyes begin to fill with tears, but he doesn't even get to cry, because Katsuki glares down at him. 

“Shut up,” Katsuki snaps. “You’re lucky I’m still letting you hang around us because I feel sorry for you. You can be with us, but only if you promise not to tell [Name] about any of this. If you tell her, I’ll make sure she hates you too. I’ll make sure you end up all alone. Forever.” 

Izuku whimpers, face still pressed against the dirt, but he does everything in his power to keep from full-on sobbing. He desperately tries to fight back, in his own way, so as not to give in to Katsuki’s cruelty.  

Fortunately, it seems to work, because after a few moments, Katsuki lets go and backs away like nothing happened. His smile returns, all sugary and fake. 

“Since I’m so nice, I’ll even let you stay hidden,” he hums. “I’ll pretend I didn’t find you until the very end. Just remember you’re not allowed to tell [Name] about this. Ever.” 

And then he’s gone. 

Izuku doesn’t move from the bush, his little body shaking uncontrollably. Somehow, he’s managed to hold back his tears even now. They have yet to spill over. They just tremble upon the surface of his eyes, not quite breaking free.  

He wants to cry. He really, really does, but he manages to avoid the temptation, because there’s another emotion that overwhelms him.  

Izuku sniffles, then wipes away all of his tears before they can fall. He doesn’t make any sound after that. He just sits there, eerily silent.  

While anger blooms inside of him like a thorny rose.  

Earlier today, you invited Izuku over for a playdate, and he's been practically glowing with excitement ever since he arrived.  

Your parents, being the supportive and doting people they are, not only approved, but went all out. The living room is overflowing with snacks: bowls of popcorn, animal crackers, apple slices, mochi, mini rice balls, and an open bag of chips that's already half gone. You’re lounging together on the couch with a bunch of pillows stacked around you, the TV screen glowing with vivid animation.  

"[Name], did you see that?!" Izuku practically yells, bouncing upright and nearly spilling his juice. "All Might's Detroit Smash is so strong! No villain even stands a chance against it!" 

"Yeah, he's amazing," you nod eagerly, eyes wide with shared excitement. 

Izuku babbles on, pure joy bubbling out of him as he recounts every detail of the scenes that just played. His arms wave dramatically, mimicking All Might's punches and poses. It’s adorable, really—seeing him so animated and talkative, when most kids his age are content to simply zone out in front of a screen. His passionate fanboy side really is a crucial component to his character.  

It's also a good sign. One of the best signs. You didn’t get to see most of his childhood unfold firsthand in the anime, but you can imagine how lonely it must’ve been. How hard it was to carry a dream that everyone else dismissed, while not having a single person to stand by his side.  

Thank goodness he gets to be happier this time.  

"My mom bought me a new All Might figurine the other day!" Izuku beams proudly, puffing up his little chest. “I cleared out lots of space for it on my desk!” 

"Ooh, is it a big one?" you ask. 

"Hm? No, not really," he blinks. 

"Then why does it need so much space on your desk?" 

"Because it's important!" he says with total conviction, his face scrunching up like you just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. 

You stifle a laugh, making sure it doesn’t come off as teasing. You’re not mocking him—far from it. His enthusiasm is infectious, and it warms your heart. You want him to always be able to smile like this.  

He doesn’t realize it yet, but one day, he’ll get a Quirk of his own. A powerful one. You know that, without a shadow of a doubt. All he has to do is be patient, and his conviction will inevitably be acknowledged.  

Eventually, the All Might compilation comes to an end, and the room falls into a warm silence. The TV displays the end credits, and the both of you just stay curled up on the couch, surrounded by wrappers and crumbs, still basking in the afterglow of All Might’s impressive heroism.  

It’s a peaceful moment. Truly.  

So much so, in fact, that you almost hesitate before asking, "So... are you and Katsuki getting along?" 

Izuku freezes mid-bite, blinking robotically at you. For a second, he looks like a deer caught in headlights, but then he recovers. 

"Me and Kacchan? Yeah. We're... fine. Why?" 

You exhale, relieved. His reaction doesn’t raise any red flags. If something had happened, he’d definitely have told you by now. Not to mention that you would have witnessed the bullying yourself. It isn’t exactly in Katsuki’s nature to be subtle.  

"I’m just making sure," you say, smiling. "I’m glad you guys are friends. I want all of us to keep being friends forever." 

"Me too," Izuku nods brightly. 

You turn away to grab another rice cracker, and when you do, his smile falters for just a second. His fingers curl into the hem of his shirt. The image of Katsuki’s glare flashes in his mind, and he remembers the threat. 

"If you tell [Name] about this, I’ll make sure she hates you too. I’ll make sure you end up all alone. Forever." 

He swallows hard. 

It’s just easier to let it happen, right? Katsuki only gets mean sometimes, when the two of them are alone. It’s not that big of a deal. If it means maintaining his friendship with you… it’s worth it. He can handle it. 

Or so he keeps telling himself. 

Later that evening, just as the two of you are contemplating another round of hero-themed videos, the doorbell rings. Not once, not twice, but several times in rapid succession. 

"I’ll get it!" your father calls out, heading toward the front door. You hear it creak open, followed by a familiar voice.  

A loud voice. But the incessant doorbell ringing was already a dead giveaway.  

"Oh, hi, Katsuki. Are you here to spend time with [Name]?" your father chuckles. 

"Duh," Katsuki says bluntly. "I’m not here to see you, old man." 

Your father gasps dramatically. "Ouch! You’re hurting my feelings. You might end up breaking this old man’s heart." 

Katsuki doesn’t reply. He stomps into the house, expression neutral, but the moment his eyes land on you, they light up. 

"Hey, [Name]!" he grins. 

Then he sees Izuku. 

"Oh. You’re here too, De—Izuku," he catches himself mid-slip. His fake smile stretches out instinctively. "Hey. I’m here to play. What are you guys doing?" 

"We were watching an All Might compilation," you explain. "But it just ended." 

"Sweet! I wanna watch too!" 

"But we already finished it, Kacchan," Izuku mumbles.  

Katsuki sends him a lightning-quick glare, then plasters his smile back on. "Let’s watch something else, then. Something you haven’t already seen. Also—whoa! So many snacks! I call dibs!" 

He bounds over and flops onto the couch, helping himself to a handful of popcorn. You and Izuku join him, and you end up seated in the middle. Katsuki eagerly grabs the remote and starts scrolling through your parents’ streaming queue. 

"Ugh, too many choices," he groans. "What about... this one! Let’s try it." 

Before you can protest, he’s already clicked on it. 

Which sucks for him, because it’s a romance. 

Not an inappropriate one that’s age-restricted or anything, but definitely not something little boys usually pick. The description alone reads like a sappy teen melodrama. 

You let it slide. Partly because it’s harmless, and partly because you’re morbidly curious to see how they’ll react. Kids this age, especially boys, are quick to express their disgusts for cheesy, gushy things. You’re already smiling with mischief, just imagining how horrified they’ll be.  

They both settle into watching, shoving snacks into their mouths at an impressive pace. To your surprise, they seem genuinely invested in the plot, since it has some comedy interwoven and the story moves at a fast, engaging pace.  

That is, of course, until the kiss happens.  

The second the male and female lead lock lips, both boys let out loud groans of horror. 

"Ewwww! Gross!” 

"Why did they do that?!" 

They slap their hands over their eyes, dramatically recoiling as if they’ve just witnessed something traumatic. 

You stifle a laugh. "It’s just a kiss. Adults kiss all the time. It’s normal." 

"It’s weird," Katsuki mumbles. 

"When we’re older, we’ll probably understand," you say casually, grabbing the remote again. "You’re supposed to kiss someone when you really like them. It’s just something that ends up happening.”  

"So… you kiss someone you like?" Katsuki repeats, skeptical. 

"Yep. Haven’t you seen your parents do it?" 

"I guess," Katsuki grimaces, shuddering slightly. "Ugh. I didn’t want to remember that." 

This time, you fully laugh, selecting a different movie. Something action-oriented, and thus, less likely to provoke emotional trauma in small boys. 

But before you can hit play, you feel something soft press against your cheek. 

You blink. 

Katsuki is leaning back, face flushed a deep shade of red, grinning like he just accomplished something amazing.  

"I did it! I kissed you! So… what happens next? Do we get married now?" 

You stare at him, blinking a few more times. 

"Um… no,” you eventually manage. “Kissing someone doesn’t automatically mean you get married." 

"Why not?" he asks, baffled. 

"Because marriage is for people who really, really love each other," you say gently. "It’s a whole thing. Grown-up stuff." 

“What’s love?” Katsuki asks innocently. “You’ve mentioned it before, but I still don’t really get it." 

You think for a second. "It’s when someone means a lot to you. Not just as a friend, but… more. It’s stronger than just saying you like someone. It’s when you care about them with your entire heart." 

Katsuki considers that for a long moment.  

Then, he nods. 

"Okay. I love you, [Name]." 

Um.  

Your brows skyrocket, even though you know better than to read into it. He’s just a kid. He’s probably just repeating your words back at you. Kids always say things they don’t quite understand, without realizing the gravity of their own words.  

"Since I love you, and I kissed you, that means we’re definitely getting married when we grow up," he grins. "You’re lucky! Since I’ll be the best hero in the world, you’ll get to brag about being married to me." 

You chuckle softly, more so amused by his childish innocence than anything else. However, within a split second, you feel it again. 

Another soft pressure—on the opposite cheek. 

You turn around, and now Izuku’s face is the one that’s beet red. Even redder than Katsuki’s, for that matter. He actually looks like he’s about to start blowing steam out of his ears.  

"I-I love you too," he stammers shyly. "Can you get married… to more than one person?" 

Oh no. That’s a whole other conversation. 

You decide to sidestep it entirely. 

"You guys are really sweet," you say, patting both their heads, and hoping to dismiss the marriage topic for the time being. "Let’s just watch the movie now, okay? This one looks fun." 

Both of them nod, still flustered beyond belief. 

As the next movie loads in, you focus on the screen, pretending not to notice how they keep sneaking glances at you. 

They’re young. Too young to fully understand what just happened. Mentally speaking, you’re a teenager. Being kissed by two kids who adore you is cute, but that’s all there is to it. It’s an adorable, innocent gesture, from your point of view. You wouldn’t even be surprised if they forgot all about it in a few days’ time. 

Except they won’t. The truth is, this moment will stay with them, for much longer than you could ever have expected.  

One day, when they’re older, they'll understand it better. 

And they’ll each wish they’d been the only one to kiss you. 

Chapter Text

You're nine years old now, and with increased age, your freedom has increased as well. That freedom is hard-earned, not just because of your behavior, but because your parents see you as reliable, level-headed, and mature beyond your years. 

They’re not wrong, even if they don’t know why. 

Now that you’ve gotten to this point, they’re finally letting you go into town on your own. With one condition: you have to bring your phone. Not just any phone, either—a painfully expensive one, even though you argued against it. You told them they didn’t need to go that far, but they insisted, saying it was non-negotiable. If you're going to be off on your own, they need peace of mind. That’s what they said, at least, and you didn’t push back too hard, even though it obviously wasn’t the full truth.  

You know it’s because they love you. That’s why they always spoil you so much. Their love is absolute and unconditional. That fact alone still amazes you sometimes. 

But you digress. The phone now sits comfortably in the front pocket of your jacket as you wander through town, deciding to spend your afternoon exploring the quieter parts of the shopping district. Eventually, you find yourself in a bookstore—a small, independent one, tucked away on the corner of the street. You’ve been here once before with your father, but this time you wanted to come on your own. 

It’s a peaceful feeling. You like being able to take your time as you peruse the shelves with your usual curiosity, lingering in the science section. Your fingertips graze the spines of textbooks and theory compilations, and you pull out a book that seems like it might be useful, but certainly has no place in the hands of a nine-year-old girl.  

That’s another good thing about your parents. You did your best to hide your intelligence for a while, but even once they realized how seemingly advanced you were, they didn’t try to push anything onto you. They give you the freedom to do whatever makes you happy. And what makes you happy, undoubtedly, is being able to learn and experiment. 

Also, you’ve discovered that you like collecting things. Books, mainly, for the purposes of improving your Quirk. Plenty of information is available online, of course, but certain books provide far more depth than a simple internet search. Plus, you like books. Your parents in your old life never gave you money to buy them. They never gave you money to do anything.  

But you suppose that’s history now.  

You place the book back on its shelf, making a mental note to come back to it later. You hate taking books out and then forgetting exactly where they used to be. You feel bad for the employees who have to rearrange everything afterwards.  

Scanning the shelves, you notice another book that catches your eye, but it’s slightly out of reach, a bit too high up for you, even when you press onto your tiptoes.  

Just a little bit… closer… almost there… 

The door bursts open.  

And then you hear a scream.  

Not just any scream, but a real scream. Raw and panicked. It tears through the shop’s peaceful silence like a blade, and you freeze in place, head rigidly turning towards the sound of the commotion. 

“STOP!”  

It’s the cashier, by the sounds of it, but her voice is cut short by a heavy thud. She hasn’t so much as breathed a word since her outcry. You can’t see anything past the maze of bookshelves, but you draw in a shuddering breath, pulse racing. 

Working up the nerve, you take a hesitant step toward the main aisle, about to peek around the corner— 

But then there’s another scream. 

A man—the only other customer who was in the store, if you remember correctly—goes crashing to the floor with a guttural grunt, and then… silence. 

So much silence that it’s downright haunting.  

You crouch down low and backpedal into the corner of the aisle, tucking yourself behind one of the bottom shelves. You can’t breathe. Your hands are trembling. Nobody else has spoken up since then, but without a doubt, what you heard was violent. That much, you can tell without even seeing.  

Footsteps begin to echo. They’re heavy, uneven, and seem to be coming closer.  

Closer, and closer, and closer still. 

Towards you.  

You want to run, but you can’t. The store only has one entrance, at the very front. If you want to escape, you need to run past the villain. Maybe you can try to sneak your way around the shelves? But you’re scared. If you move, they're going to hear you.  

You’re the only person left in the store. Nobody’s here to help. You’re all alone again, just like you were the night you got brutally stabbed. You’re alone, and helpless, and if you don’t act quickly, you’re going to— 

Wait. No, you’re wrong. It’s just that you’ve been too panicked to make proper sense of your surroundings, but suddenly, from the corner of your eye, you see someone. 

Another kid. 

A boy, a couple years older than you, maybe thirteen or so, standing a few shelves over. He’s just browsing. Calmly. As if none of this is happening. 

He must have heard the other two people screaming and getting hurt, right? Yet he's still combing through the shelves, with a look of visible disinterest. You wonder if he might be deaf. Is he unaware of what's happening? Maybe he doesn’t realize how dangerous this situation actually is? 

You’re not really sure what’s going through his head, but whatever the case, you hesitantly stand up and reach out to him, as quietly as you can manage, then tap him on the shoulder to try and get his attention.  

He slaps your hand away the moment your fingers connect. 

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses, golden eyes piercing your own.  

You realize far too late that he's wearing white fabric gloves. He must be a clean freak or something. But he can speak clearly, so he's probably not deaf or mute, in which case he definitely heard what just happened. 

"I-I'm sorry," you apologize, voice hushed. "But... I think we're in trouble. Someone's in here. They attacked the others... and we have nowhere to run from here." 

The boy just narrows his eyes at you. Yes, he's a few years older, but he's still not an adult, and he seems rather nonchalant considering the fact that you just told him a villain is most likely creeping their way through the store. Also, you get the feeling that... he looks kind of familiar. Those eyes of his, framed by lower lashes, along with the shape of his eyebrows and his dark short-cropped hair. Not to mention the gloves, too. 

Could it really be...? No. Surely not. At a certain point, it gets too coincidental to be true.  

You don't have the time to dwell on it, though. The person who you presume to be a villain suddenly picks up the pace, and before you can even bolt in the other direction, he appears right in front of you. 

"I thought I heard something," he grits out, eyes bloodshot, wide, and visibly manic. His fists are stained in blood. He really did hurt those two at the front, and now that he’s staring you down from so close up, you can feel your heartbeat quicken. 

You back away, terrified, and suddenly, his fists sharpen. It's as if jagged protrusions form right upon the surface. His own skin has hardened into sharp, unforgiving brass knuckles, and you fear to imagine what will happen to you if he lands a hit.  

You want to run, but you can't. If you run away now, maybe you can outmaneuver him around the bookshelves. You're smaller than him, so you can duck and slip away, if you're lucky. Logically, you realize there might still be a way to escape.  

But your legs still refuse to move.  

It's because, in this moment, you remember. You remember how it felt to have that knife plunged into your body. You remember what it felt like to be left for dead, bleeding out onto the pavement with nobody coming to save you. This villain isn't holding a knife, but if he hits you with those sharp knuckles repeatedly, the outcome will ultimately be the same. You'll die. You're going to die again. And this time, the life you'll leave behind is one you can't bear to part with.  

Tears rush down your cheeks, which regretfully, just makes the villain tremble with rage.  

"What the hell are you crying for, you stupid bitch?” he rasps. “You... you're just like my daughter. I barely even hit her and she tried to call the cops on me. It's her fault! It's all her fault for being a stupid, ungrateful piece of shit! I never even wanted to have a kid like her!" 

He lunges towards you, and this time, you do try to run away, but you stumble and trip in the process. Your legs have completely turned to mush. Now you're lying on the ground, helpless and afraid. The villain closes in. You cry out for him to stop, for someone to save you, even though you know it’s futile.  

It’s finally happening. The misfortune of your previous life is finally catching up to you, and history is about to repeat itself.  

Except, strangely enough… it doesn’t?  

Much to your surprise, your desperate cry actually works. "Stop yelling, you ugly old man," the boy scowls. The villain turns his head, and you see it then. You notice that the boy has removed one of the gloves he was wearing. 

A split second later, the villain's arm explodes in a fountain of blood. He wails out with all his might, but to no avail. He's losing too much blood, too fast. He can't do anything but crumple to the ground, surrounded by a puddle of dark red that’s spreading faster by the second.  

Eventually, he stops screaming entirely, and his eyes close. He must have passed out. Or at least, you're assuming he passed out, because the boy then goes over to him, touches his arm for a split second, and just like that—the villain is healed.  

He's still unconscious from the shock, however. You look up at the boy, mouth agape. He seems to be scratching relentlessly at an exposed patch on his forearm. You can faintly make out a collection of hives on his skin. He shakes off his hand, even blows on it a few times, then places his glove back on.  

Finally, he looks down at you.  

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell the police about my Quirk," he says, somewhat coldly. "I saved you. Not because I wanted to, but because that man was getting on my nerves."  

A few more tears spill over. You’re still struggling to process what you just saw. You can’t believe the threat was dealt with so easily. By a child, no less. 

"I-I won't tell them," you eventually stammer out, because the truth is, he did save you. He didn't even kill the villain or anything. He brought him right back to normal, free of injuries. If not for him, you might have died. 

"Good," the boy merely replies. He proceeds to pull out a book from the bookshelf. A quick glance at the cover tells you that it's chemistry-related, similar to what you were looking at earlier. He starts walking away, not even bothering to spare you another glance, but suddenly, you regain your strength and leap up.  

Then, without thinking, you wrap your arms around him.  

"Didn't I tell you not to touch me?!" he cries out, and he's about to shove you off him, but you start trembling uncontrollably.  

"Th-Thank you," you gasp. "Thank you so much. I was really, really scared. I didn't want to die again. Thank you..." 

The boy arches a brow at that. "Again?" 

For obvious reasons, you decide not to address that little slip of the tongue. You just hold onto him for a few seconds longer, and surprisingly, he lets you. You pull away before he can get really upset though, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.  

"Um, I'm [Name]," you say, forcing a smile. "Thank you again. Would you mind... telling me your name?" 

He hesitates, visibly. For a few seconds, he's clearly contemplating how he should react, and how much he should divulge, but after a rather disgruntled sigh, he just says, "Kai."  

Ah. It's exactly as you thought.  

Kai, as in, Chisaki Kai.  

Chisaki walks away without another word. You don't follow him, even though you're tempted to, because you're sure he'll lose his patience if you do. He must already be part of the yakuza by now. You're thankful for his help, but you don't dare to imagine what might happen if you chase him down and push your luck too far.  

It's just like what happened with Tomura. You want to change things, but you're too scared. You don't have the power to make a difference.  

Yet.  

And so, you wait until Chisaki leaves the store. It feels uncomfortable being surrounded by all this blood. Even just the scent of it is enough to make you sick. The villain is unconscious, which means you're safe for now. You run up to the front to check on the other two people that got hurt, and thankfully, it looks like they're still alive. They passed out from their injuries, but they're still breathing.  

You hurry to call the emergency line. You're just a child, physically speaking, but you owe it to these people to wait with them and make sure they're safe. You can't just abandon them. You don't want to leave them all alone, like how you were when you died.  

While you're sitting close to them and waiting, however, your eyes flit towards the register. More specifically, the counter. There wasn't anything there before, but... someone just left some money behind. To pay for their book. And the only person who walked out of the store just now was Chisaki.  

Ha. It's almost too ridiculous to believe. A yakuza member not only saved you, but paid for his book like an upstanding citizen. Maybe it's because he's still young, or perhaps it's simply to adhere to whatever ‘code of honor’ the yakuza follows. Who knows.  

More importantly, you wonder if you'll ever see him again before it's too late. Before he throws his humanity aside and decides to experiment on an innocent young girl.  

Or maybe this really was just a fleeting encounter, and nothing more.   

But somehow, you doubt that.  

Chapter Text

The smell of blood lingers long after the villain is dragged out of the store. 

You sit on the cold tiled floor near the register, knees tucked up to your chest, hugging them tightly as police officers move around you in neat, practiced strides. Their uniforms rustle with every movement. They talk in low voices too, asking each other questions you’re probably not meant to hear. 

Although you hear them anyway. 

“…how does a guy lose this much blood and not have a single injury?” one mutters. 

“I don’t know. We can’t say for sure it’s his blood. Even though the blood splatter direction suggests as much. Maybe it’s some kind of blood-related Quirk? If he can manipulate his own blood, it might be possible.” 

“Not having any security cameras is a pain. This store’s in the traffic cam’s blindspot as well. It’s set too far back on the corner.” 

Your hands clench in your lap. You make a point of staring down at the floor so they can’t read your expression that easily. You’re still shaking a little, and your heart is pounding forcibly enough that you can feel it in your throat. 

One of the officers eventually kneels down beside you, softening his tone. “Sorry about this, little miss, but can you tell me what happened? We just need to hear it in your own words, okay?” 

You nod slowly. Your voice comes out small and uneven at first, and you remind yourself not to use any overly complex words. You have to sound like a normal kid. Especially in a moment as nerve-wracking as this tone.  

“I… I heard him hurt the other people,” you say carefully. “They screamed, and I got really scared, because I was trapped at the back with nowhere to run. I could hear him getting closer and closer to me. I think he was about to hurt me… but someone stepped in.” 

The officer tilts his head. “Someone? Are you saying somebody saved you?” 

You shake your head quickly. “I don’t know,” you lie, eyes going wide. “I just… I-I heard the villain screaming. And… I think… maybe I saw someone standing next to me before that? Just for a second. But I closed my eyes. I was covering my face and I couldn’t move because I was so scared. When I opened my eyes again, the screaming had stopped, and the villain was on the ground. I didn’t see anyone else after that. And I-I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember what the person beside me looked like. It all happened too fast. I’m sorry…” 

The officer studies you for a second longer than you like. You’re nervous, worried that he caught onto the inconsistencies in your story, but thankfully, you are a kid. Appearance-wise, at least. Everyone knows that child testimonies can’t always be relied on. Children are usually subject to confusion, lack of knowledge, or a general inability to properly express themselves. 

It’s a good thing you look like a nine-year-old, and not your actual teenage self, otherwise they might not have let you off so easily.  

“Alright,” the police officer says, and he offers a kind, reassuring smile. “That’s fine. It must have been scary, so I understand if it’s hard to remember. You did good. Take some time to think about it, and if by some chance you remember anything else, you can always make a call. Okay?”  

You nod again, folding your hands even more firmly than before and forcing yourself to breathe normally, although your pulse is still racing. 

When the officer walks away, you hear a few others talking in hushed tones, just faintly.  

“I checked again, but yeah. No cameras inside, and the street angle doesn’t cover the door. We can try looking at some of the other street cameras, but if the person who saved her went towards the alley, we probably won’t find them.” 

“What about the kid?”  

“She says she didn’t see anything. Maybe it’ll come back to her another time. Or maybe she really didn’t get a proper look at them at all.” 

You stare down at your shoes, throat feeling increasingly tight. God, you just want to get out of here. You’re afraid they’ll somehow find out you’re concealing Chisaki’s identity, and you have no idea what the punishment for that is, but… you’re pretty sure it’s not the right thing to do.  

And yet, you did it anyway, because like it or not—he saved your life.  

You wonder if Chisaki already knew. If he already guessed there wouldn’t be any cameras in this area, and that there wouldn’t be any proof. He lives with the yakuza, so this might very well be something he’s familiar with. He could have mapped out the city’s blindspots, just to be safe.  

Or maybe it really was just him being kind.  

A rare act of kindness from a boy who has yet to become a villain himself.  

The police finish their sweep and lead you outside so that they can tape off the crime scene for the time being. There’s tons of blood to be sent into the lab and analyzed. Most of which is the villain’s blood, but still. 

The two injured people have already been carried out on stretchers and picked up by an ambulance. From what you overheard earlier, they were unconscious, but definitely still breathing. The EMTs used the word stable when describing their conditions, and you felt your chest loosen a little. As for the villain, they keep him restrained as he’s loaded into the back of a police car. He only just opened his eyes a few moments ago, and he looks incredibly disoriented, head whipping around in every direction. You’re not even sure if he’ll remember what Chisaki looked like, because he was obliterated in a single breath. He’s probably just wondering how his arm is still intact—seeing as how it erupted into pieces earlier.  

Finally, one of the officers crouches down again. “We called your parents with the number you gave us and told them what happened. They’re on their way, alright? We’re going to meet them at the nearest station, so just sit tight a little longer.” 

Your stomach twists into a knot. You almost wish you could disappear before they get here—not because you don’t want to see them, but because you don’t want them to see you like this. 

That’s a futile dream, however. There’s no way the police would leave a child unattended right after a violent incident such as this one. They’ve been mindful of giving you space, but they haven’t stopped keeping an eye on you for a single moment. 

You end up taking a trip in a police car for the first time ever, and after just a few minutes or so of waiting inside the station, you hear a familiar voice.  

“[Name]!” 

Your mother barrels through the doorway, her purse thumping against her hip as she runs. Her arms are around you before you can blink, warm and trembling, clutching you so tightly it almost hurts. 

“Oh, my poor sweet girl,” she sobs, pressing frantic kisses to your hair, your cheeks, and your forehead. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You must have been so scared.” 

You bury your face against her, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. 

Then your father’s arms wrap around you too, strong and steady. His chest rumbles when he speaks, and although he does his best to be soothing, you can hear the strain in his voice.  

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he mumbles. “We’re here.” 

And that’s when it hits you. Not that it didn’t already hit you before, but properly, this time. With a hundred times more force.  

You could have died today.  

You could have died, which means your parents would have been left without you. And they care. They care so much they can barely hold themselves together.  

Your old parents wouldn’t have cared. They would’ve called it a blessing, finally rid of the burden they never wanted. You don’t have memories of your infanthood in your past life, but based on how miserably they treated you, you’re willing to bet that for them, you were nothing more than a mistake.  

The thought slices through you like glass. Once again, you reflect on the dizzying contrast between your old parents and your new ones…  

And just like that, you’re sobbing.  

Not small tears, but messy, heaving sobs that soak your mother’s blouse and make your throat ache. You can’t stop. It’s everything all at once—the fear, the relief, the realization of how close you came to losing this life. The life that finally gave you something worth living for. 

Your parents hold you through all of it. They don’t rush you or try to silence your wailing. They just hold you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Perfect and irreplaceable.  

Worth loving.  

By the time you get home, your eyes are raw and your head hurts from sobbing relentlessly. Your parents stopped at a bakery on the way and bought powdered donuts to try and cheer you up. Then, once you’re finally back, they sit you on the couch with a warm blanket and cuddle you between them while you eat, brushing your hair back and kissing your forehead every few minutes. 

You curl up against them for hours. Until your heart stops racing. Until your tears dry. Until the world feels like it’s not spinning out of control anymore.  

Later on, you hear your mother on the phone. Her voice is soft but tight, like she’s trying not to cry again. You can’t make out all the words, but you catch enough. Things like, “awful,” “terrifying,” and “thank goodness she’s okay.” It doesn’t take a genius to understand that she’s recounting the crime.  

You’re not entirely sure if she called because she wanted to get some things off her chest, or if she was trying to gather even more support for you, but whatever the case, not even twenty minutes after the phone call, the doorbell rings.  

Inko is here, holding a casserole dish. Based on the smell wafting through the cracks, it must be one of her delicious, home-cooked meals. She smiles at you, like always, but her eyes tear up when she sees you curled up on the couch, smothered in blankets like you’re trying to make yourself forget what happened earlier.  

“[Name]… oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” She sets the dish down on the coffee table and gently strokes your hair. “I brought you some dinner. Your mother said you hadn’t eaten much apart from a few donuts. And Izuku really wanted to come too.” 

Sure enough, Izuku’s here too. He stands behind Inko, clutching the hem of his shirt, his big green eyes shiny with unshed tears.  

The second you look over at him, he breaks. 

“[Name]!” he cries out, running across the room and jumping onto the couch so that he can throw his arms around you. His little body shakes as he sobs into your shoulder. “Y-You’re okay! You’re really okay, right? The villain didn’t hurt you…?” 

You hug him back, combing a hand through his messy curls. “I’m okay, Izuku. I’m fine now. Don’t worry.” 

He sniffles hard, trying to rein himself in, but the tears keep coming. You can feel his heartbeat racing through his chest, and you can’t blame him. Your parents are your parents, but he’s also known you for many years. The thought of losing you must be too terrifying for him to even process.  

“I-I’ll protect you,” he blurts suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at you with wet, determined eyes. “I’ll get stronger so that no villains can hurt you ever again!” 

You blink at him, startled. “I mean, the villain technically didn't hurt me," you point out. "He almost hurt me, but I got lucky." 

“Still!” he insists. “When I get older, I’ll be way stronger. And I’ll protect you, [Name]. I promise.” 

And then, like the most serious thing in the world, he sticks out his pinky. 

You can’t help it—you laugh a little. He’s so small, innocent, and earnest. In the eyes of a child, a pinky promise is the most important promise of all. He’s saying this knowing full well that he’s Quirkless. He knows, and yet, he has every intention of protecting you anyway.  

You smile at ahim, wrap your pinky finger around his, and squeeze gently. “I’m sure you will, Izuku. You’ll be super strong. An amazing hero.” 

Izuku’s face lights up even through the tears. He squeezes back, hard, like he’s sealing a contract that can never be broken. 

In that moment, you believe him. Because why wouldn’t you? He’s going to be All Might’s successor someday. The future Symbol of Peace. Of course he’ll keep his promise. You have no reason to believe otherwise.  

And so, you smile.  

Today, you just turned ten years old. 

You stand in the middle of the decorated hall, blinking like you’re not sure if this is actually real. A bouncy castle looms in the far corner of the room, its bright colors glowing under the string lights strung across the ceiling. There’s a ball pit on the opposite end, big enough to swallow several kids at a time, and tables piled high with treats—rows of cupcakes frosted in pastel shades, candy boxes, little bowls of chips, all lined up with the kind of perfect symmetry that only your mother could achieve.  

It looks magical. And it’s all for you. 

You’ve technically turned ten years old before—once in another lifetime. But back then, there wasn’t a party. There wasn’t cake or laughter or friends shouting your name. Just another year of wishing things would change. 

Now, you have everything you used to dream about. Everything you thought you’d never have.  

Your parents spared no expense, that much is obvious. You suspect it has something to do with what happened a few weeks ago, when you nearly got attacked in that bookstore. They haven’t said it outright, but you can feel it in the extra softness of their voices lately, and in the way they watch you like you might vanish if they blink too long. 

They’re terrified. That much is clear. But they’re also smiling now, bright and wide, as if this party can erase every ounce of fear from their hearts. And you… well, you’re determined to make sure it works. 

“Okay, everyone!” Your mother claps her hands, drawing the attention of every kid in the room. “We’re bringing the cake out now, so please grab a seat!” 

A wave of squeals and chatter ripples through the crowd as kids scramble toward the long table at the center of the hall. It’s covered in a glossy birthday-themed cloth, confetti scattered like stardust across the surface, plates lined up neatly in front of every seat. Your chair—the birthday throne, basically—is right at the head of the table, with a shiny gold “10” balloon floating behind it. 

You make your way over, cheeks warm with a mixture of pride and disbelief. This is your life. These are all people who care about you, who enjoy being with you, who consider you important to them. 

And that’s the most amazing part of all, to be honest. Knowing that you’re so loved.  

You pull out of your chair and prepare to take a seat, and naturally, two boys are hot on your heels, ready to sit down right next to you.  

Those two boys are none other than Katsuki and Izuku, of course. They’re rushing in from opposite sides like rivals charging into battle. Katsuki plants himself in the seat to your left, immediately. Izuku, on the other hand, hesitates for a split second, then goes for the chair on your right—only to be suddenly pushed back.  

By Hitoshi.  

Izuku freezes, blinking in confusion. “Um, I wanted to sit there.” 

Hitoshi looks up at him with his usual sleepy expression, voice calm but firm. “But I got here first.” 

“N-No, you didn’t,” Izuku stammers, reaching out for the chair and grabbing hold of it. “I was here first, but you pushed me out of the way—” 

“I’m sitting here,” Hitoshi interrupts, tone flat. He doesn’t even sound angry, just… immovable. Like this conversation is already over. 

You’re turned around, watching as your mom brings out the cake, so you don’t actually notice the tension brewing behind you. You don’t see Izuku’s shoulders trembling, or the way his brows pinch together like he’s trying his best not to cry in front of everyone. 

He takes a shaky breath, pulling at the chair once more. “No, I was here first,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. “I was first, I was first—” 

“Izuku,” Hitoshi says suddenly, and Izuku frowns, replying to him without so much as a second thought.  

“What is it?”  

And just like that, Izuku goes still. His gaze remains pointed towards Hitoshi, but it’s different now, blank and glassy, as if something deep inside him just… shut off. 

Hitoshi smiles sweetly. Too sweetly. “I’m sitting next to [Name]. You can sit there. One seat over. You’ll still be close to her, just not as close as me. Go ahead. Sit down.” 

Izuku does what he’s told, of course, but only because he quite literally doesn’t have a choice in the matter. 

He lowers himself into the next chair without another word, movements stiff and puppet-like. Hitoshi releases his Quirk a few seconds later, and Izuku blinks hard, like someone just yanked him out of a fog. He stares down at the table, throat bobbing as he swallows, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s confused. And scared. Because whatever he felt just now, as his body moved against his will… he didn’t like it. He really doesn’t want it to happen again.  

Just on the opposite side of the table, though, Katsuki notices everything. His crimson eyes flicker between the two boys, sharp and suspicious. He has a theory forming in his mind that he has yet to fully confirm, but before he can dwell on it any longer, your mother sets the cake down in front of you—and the entire room erupts. 

“Whoa!”  

The cake is huge, practically a work of art, frosted in swirls of cream and pastel icing. Right in the center, piped in glossy edible paint, is a perfect little picture of Bitsy, your beloved cat, surrounded by ten bright candles, their flames dancing in the air like tiny stars. 

Your chest squeezes. You didn’t think you could feel happier than you already did. You’re just so lucky. Unbelievably lucky. And you'll never take it for granted. You'll appreciate this life with all your heart and soul.  

The room only starts to quiet down once your mother raises her hands. “Alright, everybody! Ready? One, two, three—” 

The first notes of Happy Birthday swell through the air, shaky and off-key in places, but you don’t care. You sit there, cheeks pink, soaking in every second as countless voices join together just for you. 

“Happy birthday dear [Name]… happy birthday to you!” 

Applause breaks out the moment the song ends. All eyes turn to you, expectant and bright. 

You take a deep breath. Then another. You lean in, the warmth of the candles kissing your skin, and in that breathless space between inhale and exhale, you make a wish. 

Then, you blow. 

The flames vanish in a single sweep of air, curls of smoke rising in their place. Cheers erupt, bouncing off the walls like fireworks. 

“What’d you wish for?” Katsuki asks, tone impatient, eyes gleaming with curiosity. 

You grin, cheeks still warm. “I wished for all of us to be happy forever.” 

“Huh? That’s such a lame wish,” he sighs. 

“No, it’s not.”  

“Yeah, it is. You should’ve wished to be stronger than All Might or something. Even though it’s not going to happen, because I’m going to be stronger than him.” 

“I don’t need to be stronger than All Might,” you brush off. “There are more important things than being strong. I care more about my friends and family than anything else.” 

Katsuki opens his mouth like he’s about to argue—but nothing comes out. He clamps it shut again, lips twitching as if he can’t tell if he wants to smirk or frown, or perhaps even both. 

“Fine,” he just mutters, looking away quickly. “Whatever.” 

But inside, he’s secretly pleased that you value him so much. Saying that you care more about him than All Might is, in his eyes, the biggest compliment imaginable.  

The candles are gone now. Your mother starts cutting the cake into slices and distributing them all around. Laughter, crumbs, and frosting smear across plates as the party spins back into chaos.  

But for a moment, time feels still, because you’re looking across the room and thinking how perfect it all is. The three boys closest to you—Katsuki, Izuku, and Hitoshi—are still staring at you, or perhaps gazing would be a better word, with pure adoration in their eyes. This really is amazing. It’s the best birthday party that anyone could ever ask for.  

There's a myth about birthday wishes, though. Just like when you wish on a shooting star, you're supposed to keep your wish secret. Otherwise, it's said that it has no chance of coming true.  

But that's just a myth, obviously.  

Chapter Text

Izuku walks through the neighborhood, notebook hugged tightly against his chest, a spring in his step and a bright smile across his face. His shoes scuff the sidewalk every now and then, but he doesn’t even notice. He’s too caught up in his excitement. 

It’s always like this when he’s on his way to see you. 

Heroes are his favorite thing in the world—everyone knows that. He could spend hours rambling about All Might, his fighting styles, his rescues, and all the little details Izuku has scribbled down across a multitude of notebooks. And yet, even with his endless hero obsession, if Izuku had to choose between talking about All Might or spending the day with you, he’d still pick you. Every single time. 

You’re his best friend. The kindest, most supportive person he’s ever met. Being around you feels safe. It feels good. 

That’s why right now, he feels unstoppable. Untouchable. When he’s in this kind of mood, it seems like nothing can bring him down— 

“Hey, Deku.” 

…ah. Nevermind. 

His smile drops instantly. The notebook presses even tighter against his chest as his whole body stiffens. He doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is. That voice is all too familiar. 

Katsuki. 

Sure enough, when Izuku glances over his shoulder, Katsuki is striding up behind him. His hands jam into his pockets, red eyes narrowed and sharp. There’s that sneer again—the one that makes Izuku’s stomach clench uncomfortably, without fail.  

“Where are you going, Deku?” Katsuki spits the nickname like poison. 

Izuku flinches. His shoulders hunch, and his steps falter. “Don’t call me that,” he mumbles, so softly it’s almost a whisper. 

“Huh?” Katsuki cups a hand around his ear and leans closer, mocking him. “What’d you say? Couldn’t hear you. Sounded like something stupid, though.” 

Izuku presses his lips together. His throat feels tight.  

It’s always like this. 

Katsuki hasn’t bullied him openly in years—not since you made it clear that you were against such a thing—but that doesn’t mean the cruelty stopped. If anything, it’s only changed shape. Now Katsuki saves it all for when you’re not looking. When he knows you won’t notice. Pretending to be Izuku’s friend in front of you, only to tear him down the second your back is turned. 

Izuku doesn’t understand what he did to deserve this. Is it really just because he was born Quirkless? Because he’s different? Or is it… something else? 

Deep down, he supposes he already knows the truth. A big part of it is because of you. 

Because Katsuki can’t stand the idea of Izuku being your friend as well.  

“Come on, Deku,” Katsuki pushes. “Where are you headed?” When Izuku stays silent, Katsuki just tilts his head. “Don’t tell me you were going to [Name]’s house.” 

“…yes,” Izuku admits, voice tiny. “I was.” 

Katsuki scowls instantly. “Ugh. You’re so clingy. And annoying. Don’t you get it? She doesn’t even like you.” 

The words slice straight through him. His eyes sting, hot and wet, and he can feel tears rising fast. But he swallows them down. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how badly he wants to cry, he refuses. Not here. Not in front of Katsuki. 

Crying only makes things worse. Crying makes him feel weak. Almost like he’s confirming exactly what Katsuki already thinks of him.  

And so, he clenches his fists and forces the tears back. 

“[Name] does like me,” he says, surprising himself with how steady his voice sounds. Katsuki blinks at the declaration, and although Izuku hesitates for a moment, against all odds, he goes on. “She’s not like you, Kacchan. She’s honest. She doesn’t pretend to be nice and then act differently behind people’s backs.” 

…there. He said it. 

Katsuki’s lips twitch into a pitying smirk. “Wow. Talking back now, huh? That’s new. But how would you even know? You don’t hear what she says when you’re not around.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Izuku mutters. “I just know she’s nothing like you.” 

And with that, he turns. 

He marches ahead, notebook still pressed against his chest like a shield. His legs tremble, but he keeps walking in spite of it all.  

At least, until Katsuki’s foot hooks underneath his.  

He gasps as his body lurches forward, realizing that it’s too late to catch himself, and then— 

“Ow!”  

His chin crashes against the concrete. Pain flares instantly, sharp and searing. A thin, wet warmth even spreads across his skin. 

Izuku scrambles to his knees, pressing a trembling hand to his chin. After a moment, he pulls it back and sees the way his fingertips glisten with dark red fluid.  

When he looks up in horror, Katsuki is standing right over him.  

And he’s smiling.  

“Aw,” Katsuki mocks. “You good? Looks like you tripped. Does it hurt? Do you feel like crying?” 

It does hurt. Badly. The sting runs all the way through his jaw, rattling his teeth, but he still doesn’t cry. 

Not this time. This time, he won’t give Katsuki the satisfaction. Because it turns out that it's not so much pain that bothers him. Not physically, at least. What bothers him is being treated like dirt by everyone around him—especially Katsuki.  

Katsuki extends his hand, feigning kindness. “Here. Let me help you up.” 

Izuku stares at it, trembling. He knows that hand. He knows it’s a trap, some cruel trick to humiliate him further. 

So, he slaps it away. 

“I’m fine,” Izuku says, darker than before. His voice wobbles, but his words don’t. He manages to push himself up, dusts off his pants, and grabs his notebook. Then he lifts his gaze, and for once, he doesn’t look afraid. 

For once, his green eyes meet Katsuki’s head-on, steady and firm. Unyielding.  

“I’m [Name]’s friend too,” Izuku declares. “You’re just jealous because you need her to pay attention to you all the time. I’m not the clingy one. You are.” 

The silence that follows is downright crushing. So much so that Katsuki’s smirk actually falters.  

Before he can react though, Izuku turns away from him. He walks onward, shoulders squared, head held just a little higher. He doesn’t look back. Not even once. 

Katsuki stays frozen, stunned. His chest burns, his stomach twists. How dare that nerd talk back to him. How dare he. 

For a fleeting second, Katsuki imagines running after him, grabbing him by the collar, shoving him into the dirt until Izuku says it himself—until he cries and begs and admits he doesn’t deserve to be your friend. The urge gnaws at him, insistent. Presently, Katsuki is only eleven years old, so it's tempting to give into his childishness.   

But he doesn’t. He stops himself.  

He knows there are lines he can’t cross. Even at this age, some part of him understands the consequences that will inevitably follow.  

So, much like Izuku swallowed his tears, Katsuki swallows his rage. 

He ends up following Izuku and trailing right next to him, and although they both exchange glances, neither of them says anything. Not a single word is spoken.  

Until finally, they both knock on your front door.  

“...coming!” 

They hear the sound of your voice, slightly muffled, and then the patter of your feet as you rush over. Soon enough, you're swinging the door open—wearing a lab coat and goggles, no less. 

Katsuki frowns immediately. “What the heck are those for?” 

“Safety goggles,” you reply simply. “Because safety’s important.” There's a pause though, and your attention noticeably shifts.  

On account of the gash on Izuku's chin.  

“Wait, Izuku, you’re bleeding!” you gasp. You shove your goggles up to your forehead and rush towards him. “What happened??” 

Katsuki feels his stomach drop right at that very moment.  

He really can't stand this at all. He can't stand how much you worry over a loser like Deku. More importantly, though… 

He can't stand how smug Izuku looks all of a sudden. 

"I tripped on my way over," Izuku just brushes off. He smiles brightly. "But I'm okay, so don't worry."  

“Still,” you frown, already reaching for his hand. “Come here. I’ll clean that up and disinfect it. I’ve got bandages too.” 

“Okay,” Izuku beams. “Thank you! Oh—and I brought one of my hero notebooks with me. Can I show you later?” 

“Of course,” you smile back at him, and the next second, you're leading him along by the hand, showering him with nothing but warmth and adoration.  

You've barely even spared Katsuki a glance since you realized Izuku was hurt, and Katsuki can feel it. He can feel the pain, the frustration, spreading so deep it reaches his bones. It hurts. It hurts because he realizes that stupid nerd is right. You do care about Izuku. You do consider him your friend.  

And it makes Katsuki angrier than he can put into words.  

Slowly but surely, you’re inching your way back to your original age. You turned eleven a few months ago. It’s strange, really. The realization that you’re just five years away from when you died in your old world. 

Sometimes, that number feels like a clock ticking inside your head. Like you’re walking towards a finish line you can’t see, but already know is waiting for you. You try not to think about it, but the thoughts creep in when you’re alone. What if your fate is set in stone? What if you’re destined to die again around the same age? 

But no. You shake those thoughts away when they come. That’s just trauma talking, not logic or rationality. This life is different. You’re different. 

And besides—if you push aside the fear of dying—what’s left is excitement. Because if everything goes right, if you keep working hard, U.A. is just around the corner. Working as a hero is just around the corner. A life of meaning, of saving people from suffering like your old self, is almost within reach. 

That thought fills you with so much energy it’s hard to sit still sometimes. You’ve been pouring yourself into studying, into practicing, into experimenting. You’ve made real strides, too. Transmuting simple compounds has become second nature now. More complicated materials are still tough, but the progress is there. The potential is real. 

And for the first time in two lifetimes, you feel like you have a chance at something absolutely incredible. 

That being said, you’re still a kid. You can’t spend every second on chemistry or training your Quirk. Sometimes, you just want to have fun.  

Like right now.  

“Why are we here again?” Hitoshi frowns, arms stuffed in his pockets as he stares at the neon lights and noisy machines of the arcade. 

“Because it’s fun!” you beam. “I never got to do anything like this in my old—I mean, I’ve never gotten to do this, so I wanted to try.” 

The truth is, arcades were always out of reach for you before. They didn’t cost a lot of money, but they still cost some money, and that wasn’t something your parents ever gave you. Plus, even if you did have the cash, the idea of going alone made your stomach turn. What if you ran into classmates? What if they sneered at you or whispered behind their hands? It was easier to stay away from everyone else. Not out of desire, but necessity.  

However, things have changed. Now you have friends. A family. A proper life. Walking into a noisy arcade doesn’t make you feel like an outsider. It makes you feel like you belong. 

“I don’t really play video games,” Hitoshi admits. “So, I don’t think I’ll be any good.” 

“That’s okay,” you grin. “We’ll figure it out together.” 

Before he can argue, you grab his hand and pull him deeper inside. He lets you, even if this wasn’t his first choice of hangout. Truthfully, he’d rather spend time at your house with Bitsy curled up between you both. But he doesn’t actually mind all that much.  

Just as long as he gets to be with you.  

“Let’s try this one first,” you say, pointing excitedly to the two-seat racing game. The ones you used to see in movies, with kids laughing and leaning hard into the wheel as if that helped the car on screen turn sharper. 

Hitoshi shrugs. “Alright.” 

You both slide into your seats, feed tokens into the slots, and grab the wheels. The screen lights up, and the countdown begins. 

You can easily imagine Katsuki excelling at this sort of thing. He’s competitive, sharp, and skilled at just about everything he touches. But that’s not the point here. It doesn’t matter if neither you nor Hitoshi are particularly good at this. The point is that you’re having fun, even if you’re clumsy at it. 

“Watch this crazy drift!” you yell with way too much confidence. 

A second later, your car veers so far off course that you spin in slow, humiliating circles while the CPU cars zoom past. It takes a ridiculous amount of time just to orient yourself in the right direction again.  

Needless to say, you end up dead last. 

You’re laughing anyway. Because compared to your old life, where you wouldn't have even been able to step into a place like this, it’s perfect. 

“Okay, next game!” you say cheerfully, hopping down from the seat and heading across the arcade. 

The place is rather busy though, and Hitoshi ends up blocked by a group of kids crowding around a claw machine. By the time he slips through, you’re already reaching back, grabbing his hand firmly, and this time, your fingers slip between his. 

“Stick close to me,” you say gently. “So we don’t get separated.” 

He blushes but doesn’t let go. Instead, he squeezes your hand back, a slow, somewhat timid smile spreading across his lips.   

“…okay.” 

You try practically everything after that. The claw machine once it’s no longer in use (which ends up being rigged, of course), then bowling, then mini basketball. Even the shooting gallery with plastic guns that rattle every time you pull the trigger.  

Time blurs by in a whirl of flashing lights, laughter, and clinking tokens. You don’t care that you’re terrible at half the games. You don’t care that your token stash runs out faster than you wanted. 

All you’ve ever wanted is to find joy from life—and now, there’s always more than enough to go around.  

You’re quite certain that you would’ve been content to play here for the rest of the day, but alas, there’s not much you can accomplish without any money left. All things should be done in moderation anyway. You’ll just come back another time. 

So, you grab Hitoshi’s hand again, ready to lead him towards the exit, when you’re suddenly hit with a massive wave of deja vu.  

Your eyes have just caught onto something. Actually, no. Not something, but someone.  

Once again, you recognize that pale blueish-gray hair. That hunched posture. Those dull, haunted red eyes that are currently locked on a screen. 

…it’s Tomura.  

You freeze, staring at him across the arcade. It really is just like before. Just like that first, fleeting meeting. 

“[Name]?” Hitoshi says, confused when you suddenly stop and let go of his hand. 

But you can’t help it. Another chance has appeared right in front of you. Back then, you made a wish, didn’t you? You wished for the chance to meet him again. To try again. Last time, you failed to make a real difference, but maybe this time, you can redeem yourself. You can take the first strides towards saving Tomura from a life of villainy and heartache. You can make it so that he doesn't have to live on with so much hatred. The odds certainly aren't in your favor, but... you can't help it. He's so sad and broken. He's just like how you used to be.  

There's no way you could possibly abandon him. 

Without a word, you step away from Hitoshi and move towards Tomura. Your heart is pounding, but you keep walking and walking until you’re standing right next to him. 

“U-Um,” you stammer.  

Tomura must not realize you’re talking to him, because he doesn’t even glance at you. His hands stay locked on the buttons, his cold eyes glued to the screen, glazed and empty. 

This time, you reach out and tap his shoulder. 

He flinches, hard, like you burned him, and his head jerks towards you with a glare sharp enough to cut. For a moment, you’re sure he’s about to snap, to snarl, to tell you to get lost. 

But you don’t back away. Instead, you take a deep breath and offer your gentlest smile.  

“Hi,” you say quietly. “By any chance… do you remember me?” 

Tomura’s eyes widen. 

Chapter Text

For a while, Tomura just stares at you, eyes wide. His whole body seems caught off guard, as if the very act of being recognized by someone has thrown him into disarray. He isn’t wearing the embalmed hand this time, thankfully. Without it, you can see his expression in full. Every detail. 

There are spots of dry skin stretching across his face, a pale and cracked texture that seems to ache even without being touched. A few scars mark his skin as well. And of course, there’s that small mole near his mouth, unmistakable in its resemblance to his grandmother, Shimura Nana. 

It really is him again. Tomura. 

Well—Tenko, technically speaking, but that name feels almost like a ghost now. By this point, having been taken in by All For One, he’s already discarded it. He’s already been reshaped, corrupted, molded into something else. But even so, even now, he’s still just a kid. 

And you’re determined not to give up on him yet. 

You’re determined to save him. 

“Do you remember me?” you ask again, expression hopeful, voice soft and steady despite the quickening beat of your heart. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I remember you from when—” 

“You bought me ice cream,” Tomura blurts suddenly. 

The words hit you like sunlight breaking through clouds. Warmth flushes your chest in a wave, stealing your breath for half a second. 

So, he does remember. 

“Yeah!” you beam, eyes sparkling. “That’s me! I’ve been thinking about you a lot since then. You left in a hurry, and I didn’t get the chance to know you better. I’ve also been a bit worried. Is everything… okay?” 

The answer to that question is no, of course. The boy standing before you has been living under the thumb of a monster, raised in shadows and taught to loathe the very world around him. But Tomura doesn’t look like he wants to say that out loud. He falls silent, gaze darting away, lips pressing thin. 

Then, more gently than you expected, he says, “You actually remembered me? But that was years ago.” 

“Well, you remembered me too,” you offer. 

“Because it was weird,” he frowns. “You offered me ice cream out of nowhere.” 

“I just thought you might’ve wanted to have some,” you say simply, honestly. 

Tomura studies your expression. His sharp eyes linger on you for several moments longer than you expect, and then, slowly, his shoulders loosen. His lips twitch upwards, the faintest shadow of a smile forming. 

“Yeah. I guess I did.” 

He actually smiled! 

It’s such a small, fleeting gesture—certainly not an enthusiastic expression of joy—but to you, it means the world. It proves what you’ve been clinging to with stubborn faith all along. That he’s just a child who grew to hate the world around him. A child who gave up because everyone else had already given up on him. 

You know that feeling all too well. 

And that’s why you won’t abandon him. He can’t be beyond salvation yet. He just can’t. 

“Anyway, I’m really, really glad I got to run into you again,” you continue, still smiling, still trying to radiate the steady warmth that you hope will reach him. “Do you want to play together? Oh, but I’ve already run out of tokens, so…” 

“I have some left over,” Tomura says. 

Your heart stutters. Your pulse races. That means he’s actually open to the idea. He’s not rejecting you, not walking away, not turning cold and sharp like you feared. The fact that he remembered you after all this time is proof that he's capable of valuing people. Even the members of the League of Villains meant a lot to him. He's not completely broken. He just needs someone to actually care about him.  

“Yay!” you grin, clasping your hands together. “Thank you so much! I’m not really good at any of these games, but—” 

“[Name]?” 

Ah. You got so caught up in your excitement that you almost forgot Hitoshi is still here with you. He’s been lingering just a short distance away until now, eyes carefully watching the exchange, but he finally steps closer. You watch as he gives Tomura a curious, almost wary look. 

“Who is he? Do you know him?” Hitoshi asks. 

“We met once before,” you explain quickly. “His name is… oh. Actually, he never told me his name. I’m [Name], and this is Hitoshi. What’s your name?” 

You already know the answer, of course. You know more than you should. But you can’t just go ahead and call him Tenko, or Tomura, or anything else. That would be suspicious. That would shatter the fragile thread of trust you’re trying to weave. 

Tomura flashes Hitoshi a quick glance, then looks back at you. For a second, you worry he might try to deflect, inventing another alias right on the spot. But thankfully, that doesn’t happen. 

“Tomura,” he answers simply. “I’m Tomura.” 

He doesn't give his full name, probably because he's still being cautious, but that's fine. It's a start, at least. The fact you managed to run into him again before any of the canon timeline incidents gives you hope that you might actually be able to change things for the better. 

“It’s nice to meet you again, Tomura,” you say, smiling wide, voice soft and sincere. You radiate nothing but warmth, and perhaps he senses that, because even now, he doesn’t glare or try to push you away. 

Tomura nods hesitantly. “Sure. You said you ran out of tokens? Which game do you want to play?” 

“Hmm… we still haven’t tried this one yet,” you say, pointing at the platformer he’s currently on. “But you’re not done yet, so we can wait until your turn is over.” 

“It’s fine,” Tomura shrugs. “This machine lets you play until you run out of lives. There’s no way I’ll die anytime soon. Give it a try if you want.” 

He steps aside, vacating the seat, and you smile before sliding into place. Your hands settle over the controls a little awkwardly. You never really had the chance to play games like this before. Platformers are like Mario, right? How hard could it be? 

…apparently, a lot harder than you expected. 

You fumble with the buttons. Your character runs right into enemies you didn’t even see. You mistime jumps, tumble into pits, and lose all of your lives within less than five minutes. 

“Wow,” Tomura remarks flatly, blinking in disbelief. “You’re really bad at this.” 

You chuckle softly, about to agree, but before you can, Hitoshi’s expression darkens. He flashes Tomura a pointed look. 

“She’s not bad,” Hitoshi insists, glaring faintly. “[Name]’s never been to an arcade before. It’s her first time.” 

“I mean, she’s still pretty bad, even for her first time,” Tomura shrugs again.  

Hitoshi doesn’t answer that. His jaw tightens, and his eyes don’t soften. You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know Tomura. Maybe he feels uncomfortable around him? But either way, there’s really nothing worth getting upset over. 

“He’s right, Hitoshi,” you brush off with a laugh, stepping out of the seat. “I’m not good at any of these games, but that’s fine. I’m still having a lot of fun! And that’s what matters.” 

After a slight pause, Hitoshi nods reluctantly, but his posture stays tense. He still doesn’t welcome Tomura the way you’d hoped. 

Nevertheless, the three of you spend more time together, moving through the arcade, making good use of Tomura’s leftover tokens. He doesn’t talk all that much—not unless you make the effort to start a conversation—but there’s a steadiness in his eyes. A calmness in his voice. It’s enough to tell you he’s not unhappy. He’s probably even enjoying himself. 

Together, you cycle through game after game. Light-gun shooters, air hockey, rhythm machines with flashing lights. Time slips away faster than you realize. For once, Tomura doesn’t look so weighed down, and it fills you with endless pride.  

“I’m out of tokens now,” Tomura eventually says. His voice drops, faintly disappointed. “And I don’t have any money left, so I can’t buy any more. Sorry.” 

You blink. Your lips part. He just apologized to you. 

Shigaraki Tomura, who was canonically known as one of the most dangerous villains in the world, actually apologized. 

It’s over something trivial, but still. The weight of it nearly overwhelms you. 

The more time you spend with him, just interacting casually like this, the more confident you feel. Maybe there really is a version of the future where he doesn’t end up in total ruin.  

Maybe. 

“I should leave now anyway,” Tomura adds, glancing off to the side. “I need to get back… home.” 

He says the word home like it’s foreign, like it doesn’t fit in his mouth. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself. 

Your heart aches. 

You wish you could tell him that the world isn’t as terrible as he thinks. But you hesitate. Would that push him away? Would that ruin this fragile bit of progress? 

Instead, you steady yourself. You take a sharp breath, summoning courage, and then you reach out and grab his hand. 

Tomura’s eyes widen instantly. His whole body jolts. He even yanks his hand back in a panic. 

“Don’t—don’t do that,” he stammers, voice strained, gaze panning down to his own fingers in horror. His breathing quickens, and you realize then that he was actually scared about accidentally hurting you. “Just… don’t hold my hand. You can’t do that. Ever.” 

Hitoshi scrunches up his nose, both confused and somewhat offended on your behalf, but you know better not to take it personally. You thought it'd be fine, because you were careful to grab onto only three of his fingers at a time, not all of them, but you suppose Tomura’s right to be cautious. You're actually surprised that you went for it without holding back. You felt so emboldened that you ended up acting too rashly.  

“Okay,” you nod quickly, voice soft. “I won’t hold your hand. I’m sorry for doing that without asking. Can I hug you instead?” 

“Hug…?”  

Once again, Tomura repeats the word like he barely even knows what it means.  

You can only imagine how long it’s been since anyone hugged him. His mother, his sister, his grandparents probably all did at some point—before they all died. Certainly not All For One, though. Never him. Which means it must have been many, many years since he’s felt anyone’s embrace. 

It’s a feeling you relate to all too strongly.  

“Yeah, a hug,” you smile, speaking with as much gentleness as you can manage. “Can I? I always hug my friends. We’re friends now, right?” 

Tomura shifts uncomfortably, like he's not sure how he's supposed to respond to that. You can see it in the way his eyes flicker, though. You can see that even if he thinks he should refuse, he doesn't want to. 

"Sure," he eventually mumbles, and your eyes widen excitedly. Tomura looks away from you for a second, perhaps out of embarrassment. "Do whatever you want, I guess. Just as long as you don't try to hold my hand again." 

You don’t wait. You don’t give him the chance to change his mind. You just throw your arms around him, holding tight, pulling him close. 

He’s taller than you, older by two or three years, but somehow, even with your smaller frame, it feels like you’re the one anchoring him. 

Tomura doesn’t hug you back. He stands stiff, arms held carefully apart, making sure his hands don’t brush against you. But that doesn’t matter. Just the fact that he allowed it at all… it’s incredible. 

You pull away soon enough, not wanting to overwhelm him. His expression is awkward, uncertain, but not angry. 

“Do you have a phone, Tomura?” you ask carefully. “Can I have your number so that I can call you to hang out again?” 

Tomura’s eyes darken for a moment.  

“I don’t have a phone,” he replies quickly. 

Ah. 

You can't tell if he's lying to you or not, but maybe he doesn't want All For One knowing he made a friend. He's been taught to despise everything and everyone, so perhaps he fears disappointing his supposed mentor. The only person who's ever stood by his side.  

“That’s fine,” you reassure. “It’s okay. But do you come here a lot? If you do, I’ll make sure to stop by all the time so that we can play together! I’ll check as often as I can, so please come back. You’ll come back, won’t you? Please.” 

You hate to guilt him into anything, but you can't help the pleading tone your voice takes on near the end. Last time, you made a mistake. You couldn't figure out how to get him to stay, but this time—this time, you'll do things right. You'll find a way to be here for him. 

“You really want to see me again?” Tomura asks, incredulous. 

“Of course I do,” you smile again. “You’re my friend. I hope I get to see you way more from now on!” 

There's silence again, just for a few moments, but then, Tomura nods. 

And just like before, there's the faintest smile on his lips.  

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll try to come back here whenever I can. If you want to keep seeing me… I’ll be here.” 

He nods one last time before stepping outside, heading off towards wherever his “home” is supposed to be. 

You believe his words. What he said just now didn't sound like a lie. It sounded genuine, hopeful. Like this is the closest he's gotten to being happy in a very long time. Perhaps not since all those years ago when you ate ice cream together.  

Eventually, his figure fades from sight, but the warmth in your chest lingers well after the fact.  

“He was older than us,” Hitoshi remarks suddenly. 

You blink. “Hm? Oh, yeah. I think he’s a little bit older, but we can still be friends!” 

“And how do you know him again?” Hitoshi asks. 

“I ran into him before when I was out with my parents. He was all alone, and I was worried about him. I don’t think he has any friends, so I don’t want him to be lonely. He seems nice though, right? He even let us use his tokens.” 

“He didn’t seem that nice,” Hitoshi frowns. 

“Why not?” you ask. 

It's true that canonically, Tomura is a villain, but you can't think of anything he did wrong today. He was almost gentle, with the way he did his best not to hurt you. He certainly didn't say anything mean to Hitoshi either.  

Still, for whatever reason, it doesn’t look like he made a good impression.  

"I don't know," Hitoshi says, turning away from you. "It's just a feeling I get."  

Chapter Text

In the weeks that follow, you keep heading to the arcade every chance you get, hoping to run into Tomura again—but sadly, it doesn’t happen. Each visit feels a little heavier than the last. You walk through the flashing neon lights, weaving through the crowded aisles, your eyes scanning every corner, every machine, every shadow in the hopes that he might be there. But he never is. 

You sit at the claw machine sometimes, pretending to focus on the plush toys inside, but really you’re just looking around, waiting for that familiar mop of gray-blue hair to appear. Other times, you hover near the platformers, remembering how clumsy you were and how quick Tomura had been to point it out. You can still hear his voice in your head, that blunt but oddly gentle remark.  

It echoes long after the machines fall quiet. 

Day after day, week after week, you come back. At first, you’re tethered by hope. But as time passes, your chest begins to ache with disappointment. 

I thought... he actually wanted to be my friend. 

The thought creeps in every time you leave empty-handed. And the more it repeats, the heavier it becomes. 

Once again, you feel weighed down by a sense of failure, an inability to change something for the better. It’s not like you’ve given up on becoming a hero—that dream still burns bright, a steady flame at the core of your being—but with Tomura, you feel powerless. 

You really believed you could help him. You believed that maybe, just maybe, you could accomplish something meaningful outside of your comfortable life, your Quirk, your family, your friends. And failing to make that difference… it eats away at you. 

You just can’t stop thinking about him. His guarded eyes, the way his lips twitched upwards into the faintest smile, the stiff way he stood when you hugged him. You wonder if he’s okay. You wonder what All For One has been making him do. The thoughts are painful, but you can’t push them away. Maybe that’s why you keep coming back. 

Because despite everything, despite the way the universe seems determined to test you, you don’t give up. You refuse to abandon the hope you’ve nurtured for him, fragile though it may be. You cling to it because you understand. You’ve felt the same emptiness, the same despair. And if someone had reached for you back then, maybe things could’ve been different. 

So you keep reaching for him, even when your hands come up empty. 

And finally—one day, when you drop by the arcade, even though you don’t expect anything to change—you see him. 

Tomura. 

This time, he’s not hunched over a machine. Instead, he’s standing near the entrance, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. He looks somewhat thinner than you remember, a little frailer, and he’s trembling slightly from the cold. His clothes aren’t nearly warm enough for the season. The doors open behind him every time someone comes or goes, letting in a sharp gust of winter air, and still he just stands there. 

Waiting. 

Waiting for you. 

“Tomura!” you exclaim, excitement bursting out of you before you can rein it in. 

Your feet move on their own, propelling you across the entrance hall. And without warning, you throw your arms around him. 

He flinches hard, stiffening beneath your touch, eyes widening as if he can’t believe what’s happening. But he doesn’t push you away. Not immediately. 

You know you need to be careful. Every time you touch him, you’re taking a risk. His Quirk isn’t something to take lightly. That much goes without saying. Still, you can’t stop yourself. You don’t want him to think you’re afraid of him. You don’t want him to think there’s something wrong with him.  

“Yay, you came back!” you beam, still holding him close. “I’m so glad you’re here! Are you cold? You don’t even have a jacket. Let’s go inside.” 

Before he can answer, you loop an arm around his. You deliberately avoid his hands, just like he told you before, and tug him gently toward the arcade. 

“I’m fine,” Tomura mumbles, blinking a few times, clearly still trying to make sense of the situation. His voice is incredulous. “But you… really came back? It’s been weeks.” 

“I know,” you nod, tugging him through the entrance. The warm air from inside washes over both of you, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. 

Tomura frowns, his eyes dropping to the floor. “And I haven’t stopped by here for a while. I’ve been… busy. With other things.” 

Your heart clenches. You don’t need him to spell it out. You can imagine what other things means. Missions. Training. Atrocities orchestrated by All For One. You force yourself not to grimace, not to let the horror show on your face. Because right now, what matters is that he’s here. 

“I know,” you say softly. “I mean, I thought it was possible that we were maybe checking in at different times, but I’ve been coming here pretty much every chance I get. I made sure not to stop looking for you, and it finally paid off!” 

Tomura’s eyes widen. For several moments, he doesn’t speak. He just stares at you like he can’t process what you’ve said. 

You step back a little, tilting your head to give him space, waiting patiently. And finally, slowly, he strains a small, somewhat pained smile. 

“You were really looking all this time? I thought you definitely would’ve given up by now.” 

You shake your head firmly, conviction surging through your chest. “No. I’ll never give up on my friends, so don’t worry. Even if you stop showing up again for a while, I promise I’ll keep looking for you no matter what.” 

He studies you again, his expression unreadable. But then, something in his eyes softens. 

“Alright,” he says at last. Another faint smile touches his lips, a little less melancholic than before. “I’ll believe you. Since you promised.” 

You grin, joy swelling inside you. He actually believes you. He’s accepting your friendship, not pushing it away. You’re so caught up in your happiness that you don’t notice the shadow lurking behind his words. 

The unspoken oath you’ve just committed to.  

“You promised. You’d better not break your promise.” 

But you’re not thinking like that right now. You’re far too overjoyed. So, you lead him deeper into the arcade, and once again, you spend the afternoon together. 

Just like before, you’re terrible at just about every game you try. Your characters fall off cliffs, your racecars spin out, your shots miss their targets completely. But it doesn’t matter. You’re so giddy that it doesn’t matter.  

And if you didn’t already know any better, Tomura just seems like a normal kid. 

He leans against the machines, watching you fail spectacularly with the faintest traces of amusement flickering across his face. When he plays, his hands fly over the controls with startling precision. He’s good at this—better than you by miles—and you wonder if he’s spent a lot of time here in the past, hiding in the bright noise of the arcade where no one could touch him. 

“It’s kind of impressive how bad you are,” Tomura remarks near the end, when you’ve burned through your last token. 

You smile and nod, unbothered. “I know.” 

He stares at you. “You seem weirdly happy about that.” 

“No, I’m just happy that I got to hang out with you again. It was really fun!” 

“Oh, okay. If you say so,” he mumbles, and for a fleeting second, you catch the faintest blush dusting his cheeks. 

Your chest warms. It feels like progress. Like proof that he’s not unreachable. 

This time, when the tokens run out, you don’t wrack your brain desperately for a way to keep him close. You don’t have to. Because Tomura takes that step himself. 

“I got a phone,” he blurts out.  

You freeze, eyes widening. 

He shifts on his feet, pulling the device halfway out of his pocket before tucking it back in. “So, if you still want my number, I can give it to you. We can stay in touch. Unless you’ve changed your mind…?” 

His voice falters near the end, and for a split second, you see it—the flash of hurt, of fear, like he’s already bracing for rejection. 

But rejection is the furthest thing from your mind. 

“Of course,” you say, your smile blooming bright and genuine. “That way we can call each other and hang out way more often!” 

Tomura exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Yeah,” he nods, another faint smile flickering across his lips. 

You trade phones, nearly brushing fingers with him as you type in your number. It’s a small, ordinary act, but to you, it feels monumental. 

And just like that, it’s done. Shigaraki Tomura has officially become your friend.  

Whatever happens from now on, it’s too late to regret it. 

Katsuki sits beside you on the floor of your living room, one leg bent, the other stretched out as he flips through his comic. His brows are furrowed, like always when he’s focused, although the frown softens whenever he reaches a page that excites him. You, meanwhile, are leaned over your dad’s laptop. You’ve been brushing up on your chemistry knowledge, as per usual, fingers scrolling steadily—at least, up until a few minutes ago, when your phone lit up with a familiar name.  

Your lips twitch into a small smile as you reply to Tomura, quick and careful, even though Katsuki is right beside you. You don’t think too much of it. It’s not like you have anything to hide, especially if you plan on saving Tomura from a life of villainy. Katsuki’s engrossed in his comic anyway, right?  

Except, no. He’s not. 

“…who do you keep texting?” Katsuki suddenly frowns, his voice sharp, suspicious. 

You blink, caught off guard. For a moment you hesitate, then smile faintly, trying not to make it a big deal.  

“A friend,” you brush off. 

Katsuki sets his comic aside in one deliberate motion, crimson eyes narrowing. “Who is it?” 

“You don’t know him.” 

That answer lands like a bomb. You don’t notice the way Katsuki stiffens, but inside, his chest seizes. A friend he doesn’t know? He already hated when Hitoshi came into the picture. Now there’s another boy? One you’re texting with a goofy smile on your face?  

“Who is he?” he demands.  

“Tomura,” you simply respond, still smiling, not realizing how much heavier the name sounds to him. 

Katsuki leans closer, trying to catch a glimpse of your screen. “Who’s Tomura?” 

“A friend,” you repeat again.  

“Well, where do you know him from?” Katsuki presses, voice almost demanding now. 

“I met him at the arcade a while ago,” you explain, the truth spilling easily. 

You leave it at that. You can’t tell Katsuki who Tomura really is—not only because you aren’t supposed to know about his future, but also because you can’t. If you told him Tomura was being raised by All For One, the future’s worst villain, you’d sound insane. And more importantly, you’d lose the fragile trust Tomura’s given you. 

Katsuki’s glare deepens. “At the arcade? You’ve been going to the arcade without me?” 

“I went with Hitoshi at the time,” you say casually—without realizing you’ve just pulled the pin on another grenade. 

“What?” Katsuki’s voice spikes. He gapes at you like you’ve slapped him. “You invited him but not me?” 

You frown, tilting your head. “I don’t know. It just ended up happening. I wasn’t trying to exclude you or anything. It must’ve been one of the days you were busy.” 

“You should always be inviting me,” Katsuki grits out. “I’m your best friend.” 

“Well, you can come next time,” you suggest gently.  

“I should’ve already been there the first time!”  

You sigh inwardly. Almost twelve years old, yet still just as hot-headed. It’s part of who he is, obviously, but sometimes, it’s exhausting.  

You try to soothe him. “I’m sorry, Katsuki—” 

But before you can finish, he lunges, snatching the phone right out of your hands. 

“Katsuki!” you exclaim, your heart lurching. 

“What are you guys even talking about?” he mutters, eyes scanning the message thread. His expression twists with disgust. “He’s just talking about video games. He sounds like a loser.” 

“It’s not nice to talk about people that way,” you scold, reaching toward him. “Please give me my phone back.” 

You extend your hand firmly, expecting him to hand it over. But Katsuki—being Katsuki—doesn’t listen. Instead, you watch in horror as his thumbs fly across the screen. 

“Katsuki, stop!” 

By the time you manage to wrench the phone back, it’s too late. The damage is already done. A new text is there, sent under your name: 

[Name]: 

You’re such a loser. 

Your stomach immediately drops.  

You stare at the screen, ice flooding through your veins. He didn’t just take the phone from you. He insulted Tomura. Under your name. 

Panic rushes in, hot and choking. You need to fix this. You need to— 

But your phone buzzes almost immediately with a reply. 

Tomura: 

Wow.  

This is funny to you? 

You’re only talking to me to make fun of me? 

Your lungs seize. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Which is why, without thinking, you slam your finger down on the call button. 

Thankfully, he picks up. The line clicks, then Tomura’s voice cuts through, sharp and defensive.  

“What?” 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt instantly, the words tumbling over each other. “That wasn’t me! I’m with my friend right now and he grabbed my phone to prank me! I don’t think you’re a loser, Tomura. I promise I would never think that. Never, ever.” 

There’s silence on the other end, followed by a disbelieving scoff. “Really? So, where’s this so-called friend of yours—” 

“I’m right here, loser,” Katsuki interrupts, voice harsh. He’s grabbed the phone again, hitting speaker this time, though you still cling to it, glaring furiously. 

“Oh.” Tomura’s voice pauses, less sharp now, more curious. “So, I guess you’re the one who thought that would be funny?” 

“I wasn’t saying it to be funny,” Katsuki bites out. “I was calling you a loser because that’s what you are. All you do is talk about video games. I read your conversation. It’s stupid. Just so you know, [Name]’s super smart, but if she hangs around you, she’s definitely going to lose brain cells.” 

A low chuckle filters through the speaker, and you can’t help but blink, wondering if you’re just imagining it.  

Because Tomura actually laughs.  

“Is it really up to you who [Name] chooses to be friends with?” he muses. 

You hurry to chime in. “Of course it’s not—”  

“Of course it is,” Katsuki snaps over you. “Because I’m her best friend.” 

“Interesting,” Tomura says, his tone faintly mocking. “I didn’t realize that being best friends gives you the right to control someone. So, you can just decide pretty much everything [Name] does? Cool. Sounds like you’ve got a lot of power.” 

Katsuki’s brow twitches. His eyes burn as if he could set fire through the screen. “Are you looking down on me, asshole?” 

“Whoa, that’s a bad word,” Tomura chuckles again, unbothered. “You might be a little too young to be speaking like that.” 

“You are looking down on me, you piece of shit!” 

This has gone way too far. With one last, desperate pull, you rip the phone fully out of Katsuki’s grip and hold it close.  

“I’m really sorry about him,” you hurry to apologize. “Please don’t take it too seriously. I’ve known him for a long time, so he’s just really protective of me.” 

“It’s fine,” Tomura says simply. There’s a pause—a pause heavy enough that you catch the faintest shift in his tone when he adds, “Just tell him not to do that again. I was talking to you, not him. He’s not part of our conversations.” 

And then the line goes dead. 

You exhale shakily, relief and dread mixing together. That could have gone so much worse. 

“Ugh,” Katsuki mutters beside you, scowling. “That guy was your friend? Even his voice sounded weird. He actually sounds pretty creepy—” 

“You can’t do that, Katsuki,” you snap, glaring at him harder than you ever have before. “He’s my friend, and he almost got upset because of you. I like talking to him and hanging out with him. If you try to ruin things, I’ll be really angry. Because it’s just not okay. You can’t just do whatever you want all the time, without caring about how it affects other people.” 

With that, you stand, clutching your phone tightly, and storm out of the room. 

It’s not like you to lose your cool. You’re normally gentle, patient—always the peacemaker. But you’re still human, still susceptible to frustration and negative emotions. And right now, Katsuki just crossed a line. 

Behind you, silence hangs in the air. 

Katsuki sits frozen, his fists clenched, his chest aching. He’s never seen you this upset with him. Ever. And he hates it. More than that, though, he hates the reason for it. 

His jaw tightens, teeth grinding together. 

It’s Tomura’s fault.  

All his fucking fault. 

Chapter Text

Is it wrong to enjoy being friends with a villain so much?  

You know exactly who Tomura is destined to become, and yet, despite that knowledge, you just can’t bring yourself to push him away. You’re well aware of the fact that Tomura is far from pure. He’s already stained his hands, probably on more than one occasion by now. But the truth is, you don’t blame him. Not really. Not when you know who’s behind it all. 

All For One. 

It’s because of him. Because he’s deliberately molding Tomura, feeding his hatred, fanning the flames of his bitterness and rage. He’s raising Tomura into his perfect vessel, preparing him so that he can eventually take over his body. In canon, Tomura genuinely believed All For One cared about him. He respected him, admired him, trusted him, never realizing that his supposed mentor was also the one orchestrating so much of his pain. 

That was canon, though. 

And you’ve already established that you’re not in the regular timeline. You wouldn’t even be here otherwise, alive in this new world with a second chance. This time around, things don’t have to go the same way. This time, Tomura doesn’t need All For One to be his comfort. You can be that person instead. You can show him that there are things worth living for that extend beyond the destruction he so desperately craves.  

You can do it. 

You have to do it. 

That’s what you tell yourself every time you hesitate. Every time you think about just how dangerous his Quirk is, how much devastation it could cause if you misstep. But Tomura was never the type to hurt people accidentally—aside from the one time his Quirk first manifested, back when he was a young child. Since then, he’s learned how to restrain himself. He’s learned how to be careful. Around you, you’ve noticed that he’s especially careful. 

And if he’s careful, then you should be safe. 

Probably. 

“Ugh, solo queue is such trash,” Tomura groans into your ear. The sound of his voice filters through your phone speaker, paired with what you assume is the slam of his fist against his desk. You picture him hunched over a monitor, face twisted in frustration. “I keep getting dogshit teammates. I can’t carry this lobby. They’re just terrible.” 

“That sucks,” you offer, voice soft, consolatory. 

“Yeah, right,” Tomura sighs. “You probably think I’m stupid for complaining. You don’t even like games that much.” 

“I do like games.” 

“Really? But you’re so bad at them.” 

“You can still like something even if you’re not good at it,” you point out. 

That seems to give him pause. He doesn’t respond for a while, long enough that you almost think he hung up. 

Finally, though, he mutters, “How? People are assholes. If you’re bad at something, they’ll make fun of you. If you don’t fit in, they’ll make fun of you. If anything about you seems even a little bit wrong, they’ll turn their backs on you. That’s just what people are like.” 

This time, you’re the one who falls silent. The weight of his words makes your stomach tighten into a knot. It’s obvious what he’s referring to. His resentment towards society has been buried just under the surface this whole time, waiting for moments like this to seep through. He carries it with him every single day, those memories of abandonment and rejection etched so deeply into his heart that they’ve become part of who he is. 

And you understand. You, of all people, understand far better than most. 

Because you’ve been there too. You know exactly how it feels to be hated just for existing. To be cast aside by the people who were supposed to care about you. It’s suffocating. It’s lonely. It changes you. 

But you also know that sometimes, good things happen. Sometimes, the world surprises you. Sometimes, you find love where you least expect it. 

“Not everyone’s like that,” you say hesitantly, afraid that you might trigger his anger. 

But he doesn’t get mad. 

“Yeah, I know,” Tomura acknowledges. His voice softens in a way that makes your heart skip. “Not everyone. Not you.” 

The compliment makes your chest feel light, almost fluttery, but it also fills you with pride. Pride that he already sees you as someone different. Someone good. Granted, you’re probably his only friend right now, maybe his only tether to anything remotely normal. That’s a lot to carry, but you’re glad. You’re immensely glad that you can be that person for him. 

“Thanks,” you say, smiling even though he can’t see you. “But I know there are plenty of other nice people besides me. And I’m sure they’ll want to be friends with you too.” 

Tomura snorts at that. “Yeah, sure.” 

“I’m serious! Some people are mean, but other people are a lot more open-minded. It just depends. If you don’t give others a chance, you’ll never know, right? We probably wouldn’t have become friends if you hadn’t agreed to come eat ice cream with me. That was a choice you made.” 

“I just wanted ice cream,” Tomura denies flatly. 

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see that either. You know there’s more to it than that. It wasn’t just about ice cream—it was about connection. It was about someone actually reaching out to him. It was about being offered kindness when he needed it most. Seeing that someone actually cared.  

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you agreed. Now we get to hang out together and have lots of fun,” you grin.  

“Mostly because you’re weird. And a little clingy,” Tomura muses. 

“How am I clingy?” you frown. 

“I don’t know.” You imagine him shrugging. “I guess that wasn’t the right word. You just like to hug me a lot. I’m… not really used to it.” 

“In a good way, though?” 

“What?” 

“In a good way,” you repeat. “As in, you’re glad that I’m hugging you? Or you wish I would stop?” 

Silence, yet again. It stretches out even longer this time. So long that you actually start to worry he’s hung up again.  

“Hello?” you prompt. 

“It’s fine,” he answers hurriedly, noticeably flustered. “I wasn’t telling you to stop. It’s whatever. Not that big of a deal.” 

A smile creeps onto your lips. He’s not admitting he likes it, not outright, but you can hear it in his voice. The faint embarrassment and the way he rushes his words is proof enough. And for someone like him, who hasn’t known real affection in years, even that small admission matters. 

“Okay!” you chirp. “I’ll keep on hugging you then, because I like doing it.” 

“Uh, sure,” Tomura mumbles, still embarrassed. 

“By the way, should I download that game and play it with you? League of Legends? I’ve been watching videos so I kind of get how it works now. We can play together on the same team!” 

Tomura groans. “No offense, [Name], but I feel like you’ll be even worse than the people I get in my lobbies.” 

“Aw, that’s not true. We can talk to each other over voice chat and coordinate our attacks and stuff. If you play bot lane, I can support you.” 

“Yeah, I’ll pass on that,” he sighs again. 

Your brows scrunch up, but honestly, fair enough. Maybe you were getting too confident there. You've been able to befriend Shigaraki Tomura, but playing League of Legends is still too far out of your realm of capabilities, it seems. Still, it doesn’t matter. You’re already more than happy just talking to him like this. Just knowing that he trusts you enough to call you up, to vent about his frustrations, to let you hear his unfiltered thoughts. 

It fills you with endless hope. 

“Hey, Tomura?” you say, right as he’s in the process of starting up another game. 

“Ugh,” he mutters. “Bastards banned my champ. What is it?” 

“Um, I don’t know.” You shift slightly on your bed. “I just wanted to say that… if you’ve ever got something on your mind, something that’s really bothering you or making you upset, you know you can always be honest with me, right?” 

This time, there’s no response. You can hear the frantic clicking of his keyboard, the soft thump of his mouse against the desk, his muttered curses under his breath—but nothing directed at you. 

You wait. 

And wait. 

Then wait even longer.  

You don’t think he’s purposely ignoring you. He’s probably just distracted, focused on the game that’s about to start, his mind pulled in two directions at once. 

Still, you don't dare to ruin the moment by asking again. 

The months drift by in a blur, but they aren’t empty. They’re filled with phone calls, with glowing arcade machines, with moments that seem so painfully ordinary on the surface but are everything to you. You keep in close contact with Tomura. He talks about games and random little frustrations, sometimes he even laughs, sometimes he falls into long silences where all you can hear is his shallow breathing on the other end of the line. Nevertheless, you treasure it all. 

You meet up with him at the arcade whenever you can, cherishing every rare encounter. But no matter how much you want things to change between you, the distance remains. He never agrees to meet you anywhere else. He never tells you the truth about how he lives, never shows you the dark corners of his world. He never once accepts when you offer to let him stay with you, not even for a single night. 

You tell yourself it makes sense. You care about him—you care so much—but maybe it’s for the better that he doesn’t say yes. You catch yourself sometimes, being too welcoming. Too reckless. And in those moments, you wonder if he might actually be protecting you by keeping that distance. 

Because if All For One ever finds out about you? 

The thought alone sends chills down your spine.  

That vile man would never let Tomura keep something for himself. He would twist it, condition it, mold it into something that serves his desires. He’s already proven that countless times. He claims everything he does is for Tomura’s sake, but you know damn well that’s a lie. If he were to learn about you, about your family, about what you mean to Tomura, it probably wouldn’t end well. 

So, yes. Maybe this distance isn’t rejection. Maybe it’s protection. Maybe, for once, Tomura just wants to have something untouched. Something of his own. 

But then how the hell are you supposed to save him? 

That question haunts you. The weight of it presses on your chest, and you have no real answer. All For One isn’t someone who lets go. He doesn’t yield or even fathom the concept of losing. He wants Tomura as his successor, wants to mold him into a vessel, and he won’t just step aside because you wish it so. 

Yet still, you cling to hope. Because unlike canon, you have a head start. You have knowledge. You have time. 

You have a chance. 

And that’s worth everything. 

That being said, your life doesn’t revolve purely around Tomura. You remind yourself of that often. You have your family—your beloved parents, whose kindness still overwhelms you sometimes, and Bitsy, your loveable furball who never fails to nuzzle against you at night. And to top it all off, you also have your dear friends. 

One of whom just lightly tossed a rock against your window to catch your attention.  

Is this like in those cliche romance movies, or something...? 

The one who threw the rock is Katsuki, of course. He’s standing below your window with his arms crossed, impatience practically radiating from him. You slide the window open and blink down at him. 

“Come outside,” he whispers. 

You frown. “I can’t. It’s bedtime. My parents are going to sleep and I don’t want to keep them awake.” 

“Who said they need to be awake? It’s called sneaking out,” he sighs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Obviously.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I don’t want to sneak out.” 

“Just do it,” he insists, tone turning sharp. “A bunch of others are going, too. Even De—Izuku is coming. Do you really want to be the only loser who stays behind?” 

“How am I a loser for listening to my parents?” you ask, completely genuine. 

Katsuki groans, dragging a hand through his hair. “Ughhh. Just shut up and come outside! Everyone’s waiting for us!” 

You glance around your room, nerves bubbling in your chest. Your parents… they’ve never been anything but kind. They’ve never once raised their voices at you. The last thing you want to do is disrespect them. You’re not like a normal kid—you remember too much from your past life, and you’re mentally mature beyond your years. Gratitude is stitched into you like a second skin, especially considering what kind of parents you used to have before this. The idea of sneaking out feels like total betrayal. 

“I really don’t want to upset my parents, though,” you say softly. 

But Katsuki just glares up at you, stubborn as ever. He isn’t budging. And you know how this goes. Eventually, you’ll give in. You always give in when it comes to him. 

With a reluctant sigh, you climb onto the window ledge. The familiarity of it hits you like a gut punch. Back in your old life, you climbed out of windows far too often. Shaking, sobbing, desperate to escape even if it was just for a breath of air. The motions are burned into your muscle memory. 

Naturally, when you hoist yourself down with ease, Katsuki blinks in surprise. 

“Since when are you athletic?” he frowns. 

Oof. That stings. 

"Since always," you say, but you can't help but smile, because in terms of intelligence? Yeah, you're pretty incredible for your age. In terms of athleticism, though... you've got a long way to go.  

Regardless, Katsuki quickly brushes it off. “Anyway, let’s go!” 

He grabs your hand and starts pulling you along. It’s only then that you realize you’re barefoot—but before you can say anything, you notice he brought a pair of slippers with him. The same pair you left at his house a while ago. He thrusts them at you without comment, like it’s no big deal. But it is. It’s thoughtful. Adorable, even. 

It’s moments like these that make you forget how difficult he can sometimes (oftentimes) be.  

Soon enough, you’re with the group of neighbor kids. And Katsuki wasn’t lying—Izuku is there, hovering nervously. 

“Izuku?” you blink. “Are you sure you’re okay with sneaking out?” 

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, giving a weak smile. “It’s okay. My mom won’t get mad. She might just be, uh… a little worried.” 

You can tell he doesn’t believe himself. He’s worried about upsetting her, but he’s here anyway. Trying to fit in, maybe. In this timeline, he isn’t an outcast to the same brutal extent, but kids still pick on him. Maybe he just wants acceptance. Although it's terrible that he even feels peer-pressured to agree to these sorts of things in the first place.  

What you don't realize, however, is that he's not just here to try and fit in. He's here because he knew Katsuki would bring you along. 

And he hates the thought of Katsuki always getting to spend more time with you than he does.  

“Katsuki, where are we even going?” you ask, tugging on his hand. “What’s the point of this?” 

“Aw, are you afraid of breaking the rules, [Name]? I didn’t realize you were such a baby,” one of the boys jeers. 

You roll your eyes, but before you can speak, Katsuki shoves the boy back. 

“Shut up,” he warns. “Don’t talk to her like that.” 

“Katsuki, relax,” you sigh. “It’s not a big deal. And for the record, yes, I didn’t want to be here. Not because I’m a baby, but because my parents are really nice, and I don’t want them to worry about me.” 

“Oh, right. You ran into a villain before. You never really told us that much about what happened, though. Was it scary? Did you think you were going to die—” 

“Shut up,” Katsuki grits out, crimson eyes blazing. 

The ferocity in his tone silences the boy instantly. 

And so, the group moves on. Wandering through the streets, small and unsupervised, chasing the thrill of freedom. You know that kids get up to all sorts of nonsense together, and breaking the rules is supposed to be fun, in their eyes, but... still. You're a bunch of twelve-year-olds, for the most part. This doesn't seem like such a good idea. Especially when you remember what happened to you the last time you roamed around at night. 

Without thinking, you reach for Katsuki’s hand again. Your fingers slip into his, and his eyes widen. But he doesn’t pull away. He just squeezes back, cheeks flushing red, and a small smile tugs at his lips. 

This is meant to be a test of courage, from what you gather. A coming-of-age ritual, which is more common than most might assume. But the deeper into the night you go, the colder the air feels, and the more you shrink inside of yourself.  

“Okay, um, I think we should head back now,” you say, voice meeker than usual. “It’s pretty cold out. And I’m worried something bad might happen.” 

“What could even happen?” one kid laughs. He sticks a lollipop in his mouth—because yes, he did bring snacks with him—and flashes you a smug grin.“You’re not scared about running into a villain again, are you?” 

Ice floods your veins. You are scared. Terrified, even. There's so much to celebrate in this new life of yours. You can't risk losing it here. You just can't.  

But before you can even form any words, once again, Katsuki steps forward. 

“Are you trying to piss me off?” he asks, eyes dangerously wide. “Hey. Didn’t you hear how I told that other guy to shut up? You think it’s funny how [Name] nearly died that time? You think that’s a joke?” 

“Ugh, what’s your deal, Katsuki?” the same boy mutters. “You always do this. You always defend [Name] no matter what. It’s so annoying.” 

Ah. Now, here’s an outcome you didn’t expect. In this life, Katsuki’s protectiveness of you changes everything. His status as the leader of all the neighbor kids is being challenged. They don't see him as the tough, brash character he was supposed to be. They think he's weak for sticking up for you. They don't respect him as much, but more importantly, they don't fear him.  

But they're about to realize they've made a grave mistake. 

“I see," Katsuki says, sounding eerily calm for several moments. Then, a disturbing smile spreads across his lips. "I'm gonna beat the crap out of you now, okay?"  

Your eyes widen. “Katsuki, stop—!” 

But he doesn’t stop. 

Explosions form in the palms of his hands, and then he’s lunging straight towards the boy, forcing the lollipop to fly out of his hands. Katsuki throws him down, fists flying. At first it’s just a scuffle, but quickly it escalates, getting worse, and worse, and worse. The boy’s cries cut through the night air, his body going limp beneath Katsuki’s blows, and pure dread overtakes you.  

No matter how many times you cry out to Katsuki, no matter how often you try to tug on his arms to pull him back, it doesn't work.  

Wait, isn't this... dangerous? If he keeps going, if the boy's eyes keep turning more and more lifeless by the second, won't that mean— 

“Cut it out.” 

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a layer of ice that spreads across the ground, almost too fast for your eyes to keep up with, and it freezes enough of Katsuki's body that he goes stiff, unable to move. The boy underneath him splutters, letting out a choked-out gasp, before he uses the last of his strength to pull himself to his feet and breaks out into a prolonged wail.  

You feel terrible for him. Even though he mocked you for the villain encounter you suffered through, he's just a kid. He still hasn't developed enough maturity to know what should or shouldn’t be said. And he certainly doesn't deserve to be beaten within an inch of his life.  

But you can't even focus on that right now. Your eyes have already drifted towards the sound of the new voice, towards where the ice spread out from.  

And there—sitting on a bench with his shoulders hunched and a listless expression—is Todoroki Shouto.  

He blinks dully, almost as cold as the ice itself. "Just stop. Are you an animal? You don't even know how to control yourself, and it's disgusting." 

Katsuki locks eyes with him, still frozen. No words are exchanged aloud.  

But in that moment, a mutual hatred is born. 

Chapter Text

Todoroki Shouto. 

Yet another important character from the canon series. 

As always, you’re momentarily taken aback, but you collect yourself quickly enough, because you’re starting to realize that this is exactly what you can expect from this world. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re here for a reason—both as compensation from your miserable past life, but also because you adore My Hero Academia, and heroism is something you always yearned for. It felt incredibly far out of reach back in the real world, but here, it’s much easier to believe in. 

The reason you encountered Tomura was to steer him from a horrible fate, undoubtedly. So, then… you must be meeting Shouto for the same reason, right? 

Although you wish it had been on better terms. 

“Just stop. Are you an animal? You don’t even know how to control yourself, and it’s disgusting.” 

The words hang heavy in the air. Although the boy Katsuki attacked was wailing just a few moments ago after peeling himself away from him, his cries have since devolved into frantic, spasmodic gasps. His breathing stutters every few seconds, sharp and uneven. He’s hugging his sides and shaking uncontrollably, eyes red and wet with tears. His injuries… they look bad. 

You swallow hard, unable to clear the firm lump in your throat. 

Yes, you knew that Katsuki had a history of bullying, but you thought he’d gotten better this time around. He doesn’t pick on Izuku the way he used to in canon. Sure, he’s still hot-tempered and all, because that’s just what his personality is like, but you never thought it would come to this.  

And you’re desperately hoping that it’ll never happen again. 

“Who the hell are you?” Katsuki snaps. 

He grits his teeth and starts shaking his entire body, sparks flickering violently from his palms. The ice covering him begins to crack, small shards breaking off and scattering across the pavement. Steam rises from his hands as he forces more and more heat into his explosions until eventually, the ice encasing him bursts apart completely. 

He takes a sharp breath, rising to his feet, and faces Shouto with a harsh glare. 

“You got a problem? You want me to beat you up, too?” 

“Disgusting,” Shouto just repeats, eyes narrowing into sharp slits. His tone doesn’t waver. It’s steady—calm—but carries more weight than any shout could. “You’re pathetic. Anyone who hurts other people for no reason is absolute trash.” 

Although his words are directed to Katsuki, you sense the double meaning they carry. Because he’s not just talking about Katsuki. Without a doubt, he’s including his father, Endeavor, in the equation too. 

He’s condemning anyone who resorts to brute force as a means for personal gain. 

Another wave of anger flashes through Katsuki’s crimson eyes. His hands tremble, jaw tightening as if he’s struggling not to explode again.  

“You’d better shut up before I—” 

“Katsuki!” you exclaim, and now that punches are no longer flying left and right, you rush over to him and grab him by the arm. Your lips nervously press together. “Just… that’s enough. Please stop. Just stop now.” 

Katsuki’s still gritting his teeth in Shouto’s direction, frustration radiating off him in waves, but thankfully, you finally manage to get through to him. He doesn’t move or try to force his way over. He just stands there, shoulders heaving, before turning away from Shouto with a derisive scoff. 

You figure that’s the end of it. 

And thank goodness for Shouto intervening—otherwise, you’re really not sure what would have happened. 

You keep trying to tell yourself that Katsuki probably didn’t mean to hurt the boy that badly. You tell yourself he lost control, that he’s still a kid learning to handle his power, but it still doesn’t change what actually happened. It still doesn’t make it okay. At all. 

Thankfully, you had the good sense to bring your phone with you before you snuck out the window, so you’ll call your parents and tell them the truth. You’ll tell them that things got out of hand. The poor boy that Katsuki beat up must be in a lot of pain, and no doubt his parents will be horrified to see what happened, but they need to know. They deserve to know what’s going on with their own child. Not to mention that he must be seeking the comfort of his parents’ embrace right now anyway. 

You start reaching into one of the pockets of your pajama pants to grab your phone, but as it turns out, you don’t have to. 

Because someone else’s parent has already made an appearance. 

“SHOUTO!” 

The voice bellows loudly, unforgivingly, with a booming echo that travels far and wide. You don’t even need to turn your head to know who it is. The iconic outcry is one thing, but the way Shouto’s expression twists into utter revulsion instantly confirms it. 

Nearly every single neighborhood kid lets out a gasp of awe. Even the lollipop boy, whose face must be aching all over, momentarily stops sniffling and looks up with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Come back, Shouto,” Endeavor scowls. 

He storms over to the bench and proceeds to stare down at his son, gaze positively frigid. Even in the dim light, his presence is blinding. The fiery ridges of his beard flicker faintly, and the sheer size of him makes the air feel tighter. 

“Enough of this. I’m tired of you sneaking out and always throwing a fit. We’re going back home. Now.” 

Your chest tightens. 

So, that’s why he’s here. 

It was never shown throughout the series, but it makes perfect sense that Shouto would run away every now and then, just to catch a breath from the suffocating environment imposed by Endeavor’s selfishness. 

Although Endeavor still isn’t quite as abusive as your degenerate, inhumane parents from your old world, he’s a terrible father all the same. You and Shouto are alike in that regard. The only difference is that you were actually able to escape from your horrible family. 

He, on the other hand, is still trapped. 

Still forced to live with someone he despises from the depths of his soul. 

You wish you could tell him that it’ll get better—that Endeavor will realize his mistakes, and you already know that Shouto will forgive him—but even if you tried to do that, would he actually believe you? Of course not. And it doesn’t matter that things are going to improve in the future.  

Because it still doesn’t change the pain he’s feeling right now. 

“Leave me alone,” Shouto snaps at him, baring his teeth and everything. “Go away. I hate you. I hate you!” 

Endeavor’s brow twitches. “You’re really testing my patience, Shouto. How many times do I have to tell you that—” 

“Whoa, it’s really Endeavor!” one of the kids exclaims, jumping up and down in place excitedly. “Please, Endeavor! Can I please get your autograph??” 

That kid is the first to chime in, but others soon follow suit, gushing and fawning over him. Even the boy that Katsuki injured tentatively steps forward, tears now dry against his gritty skin. 

They’re all vibrating with excitement, and of course they are. 

It’s Endeavor, the Flame Hero—second only to All Might himself. Most people go crazy over heroes and would die for the chance to get their autographs, let alone actually meet them. 

Sadly, they’ve chosen the wrong moment. 

In fact, even if they’d met Endeavor while he was out on patrol, or following a villain attack, you doubt the outcome would have been any different. 

“Huh?” Endeavor says, turning towards them with a look that carries nothing but disdain. “Can’t you tell I’m in the middle of something right now?” 

The cold harshness of his tone makes them all instantly take several steps back. The look in his eyes says it all. He’s not like All Might. He’s not welcoming, friendly, or kind. 

The rift between the two of them couldn’t possibly be any bigger. 

“We’re leaving, Shouto,” Endeavor says again, his tone final. 

He grabs his son’s arm, large hand engulfing Shouto easily, and starts pulling him along without hesitation. The movement is firm, practiced—it’s the kind of grip that doesn’t expect resistance, only obedience. But Shouto resists anyway. He twists, jaw clenched, his heterochromatic eyes blazing as he glares up at his father with all the loathing in his much smaller frame. 

For a second, the two of them are locked in a silent struggle. Shouto’s heels dig into the ground, and Endeavor casts a massive shadow over him. Then, abruptly, Endeavor pauses. His gaze shifts.  

He’s finally noticed the boy’s injuries.  

Endeavor frowns. The expression is tight, but genuine confusion flickers behind his eyes. “Wait,” he says slowly. “What exactly happened here? Who hurt you?” 

For all the ways he fails as a father, for all his arrogance and cruelty, Endeavor is still a pro hero. It’s ingrained in him—that instinct to assess danger, to find the source, to intervene. Even someone like him can’t just ignore an injured civilian, let alone a child. Whatever else he may be, he’s still good at his job. 

Minus the part where kindness is involved, of course. 

Endeavor releases Shouto’s arm and strides towards the injured boy. He crouches, one knee pressing against the cold pavement, and lowers himself to meet the child’s eyes. The boy flinches the instant their gazes lock. Endeavor’s presence is too large, his voice too sharp, his Quirk too intimidating.  

“What happened?” Endeavor asks, voice low but stern. “You can tell me.” 

The boy doesn’t answer. His lips part, then close again. His eyes dart nervously between Endeavor and something behind him. His hands fidget against his knees. You can tell it’s not only fear of authority silencing him—it’s something more immediate. Something right behind you. 

He’s scared. 

Scared of what might happen next time, scared of what Katsuki will do if he speaks up. 

You bite your lip, heart heavy. It’s obvious now, and you can see the realization settle over Shouto’s face as well. He steps forward slightly. He hates his father, that much is clear, but he intervened earlier himself. He won’t keep silent about this. You can practically feel it in the way his jaw tightens that he’s about to speak, to tell Endeavor the truth. 

But someone else beats him to it. 

“It was Kacchan.” 

The voice is small, hesitant—but brave. 

Izuku. 

You turn in surprise, eyes widening as you find him standing there, fists clenched at his sides. He looks nervous, but determined. 

You probably would’ve spoken up yourself if nobody else had. Not because you want Katsuki to be punished, but because it’s the right thing to do. Endeavor deserves to know that this wasn’t the work of some lurking villain, that the danger has already passed. But you don’t have to. Izuku has already done it. 

And Katsuki can feel himself burning with rage.  

“Kacchan?” Endeavor repeats. 

Izuku nods quickly, his voice small but steady. “Yeah. That’s Kacchan.” 

And he points—right at Katsuki. 

You’re still gripping Katsuki’s arm, half to steady him, half to keep him from exploding again. His skin is tense under your palm, muscles coiled tight like a wire that’s about to snap. 

The rest of the kids stay silent. None of them deny it. None of them can. It’s the truth, after all.  

Katsuki looks over at you then, like he’s waiting for you to defend him, to shake your head, to tell them all that they’re wrong. That this is just some big misunderstanding. But you don’t. You can’t. 

If you did, you’d be lying. You’d be enabling him. 

Your silence is an answer in itself.  

“So, it was you.” Endeavor straightens, towering over Katsuki. The streetlight catches onto him, making his silhouette waver slightly. “Where are your parents? Why are all of you alone right now?” 

Katsuki doesn’t respond. He meets Endeavor’s gaze with sharp, silent defiance. 

Endeavor lets out a quiet scoff, clearly unimpressed. “This is what happens when children are left unsupervised. Come along. We’ll go to the nearest police station and they’ll get you all sorted.” 

No one objects. What else could they do? It’s not like Katsuki’s being arrested. It’s just that it’s late, and something serious happened. The police can call their families, make sure everyone’s safe. Even with all his faults, Endeavor’s decision is the right one. 

The group begins to move, the soft shuffle of small feet echoing down the quiet street. The earlier chaos has burned itself out into a heavy silence. The night feels colder now. 

You don’t let go of Katsuki’s hand the entire walk. Your fingers are trembling, but you hold on anyway—not out of forgiveness, but out of fear. You’re scared of what he might do if left to himself. Scared that if you let go, he’ll erupt again. 

I’m back at the police station again. 

The thought surfaces the moment you step inside, sharp and painful. 

It’s not your first time here, and that fact alone is enough to make your stomach twist. After Chisaki saved you during the villain attack, you thought you’d seen the last of this place for a while. But here you are again. Much to your disappointment.  

Endeavor explains the situation to the officers, his deep voice filling the small lobby. The injured boy is led to a side room, where he’s given first aid treatment. Everyone else grabs a seat, the exhaustion finally catching up to them. 

One by one, the police call everyone’s parents, quietly explaining what happened. The air hums with whispered phone conversations and the faint scratch of pens on paper. 

Endeavor had to stay behind to give his statement, and Katsuki went with him, where he’s no doubt being lectured endlessly. You wait, unsure what to do with yourself, and then finally, your eyes find Shouto. 

He’s standing near one of the walls, away from everyone, his posture stiff. 

“Hi,” you say softly, forcing a small, awkward smile. “Are you alright?” 

You expected as much, but he just flashes you a cold look. "What? 

You fumble for words. “I mean, you seemed upset earlier. Because of Endeavor. Is he your dad?” 

“I wish he wasn’t,” Shouto mutters.  

Something in your chest aches. You offer a more sympathetic smile this time, voice quieter. “I’m really sorry.” 

He frowns slightly, confused. “For what?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “It just seems hard. Having to deal with him. I’m sorry if it’s painful for you.” 

He stares at you, eyes unreadable. Maybe it’s surprise. Maybe it’s something else. You realize he probably isn’t used to anyone saying things like that to him. Endeavor kept him isolated for so long, separated from his siblings, from other kids, from kindness. The idea that someone might actually care—it must feel foreign. 

He doesn’t respond right away. The silence stretches between you, but eventually, he asks, “Are you friends with that guy?” 

You blink. “Huh?” 

“The blond one,” Shouto clarifies. “The one who attacked that other kid. You were holding him back. Holding his hand. You’re friends?” 

You swallow, your gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah. He’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were really young. I didn’t think he’d go that far, though. He’s never done that before. It was… really messed up.” 

Shouto studies you for a long moment. Then he turns away, staring at the blank wall ahead.  

“You shouldn’t be friends with him,” he says finally. “You seem way too nice for him. You should stay away from bad people like that.” 

You open your mouth to argue, but the words don’t come. How can you defend Katsuki right now? Not after what happened. Not when the image of the terrified, injured boy is still fresh in your mind. 

While you attempt to gather your thoughts, Katsuki reappears, storming back into the lobby with his arms crossed and his temper barely restrained.  

“Alright, kids,” one of the officers calls out. “Your parents are all on their way, so just sit tight a little while longer.” 

You nod automatically. There’s nothing else to do but wait. 

But before you can say another word to Shouto, Katsuki suddenly steps right in between the two of you.  

“What are you doing?” he demands, tone accusatory. “Why are you talking to him? He’s the guy who froze me earlier. Did you forget? He insulted me.” 

Shouto rolls his eyes, openly disgusted. “Ugh.”  

With that, he turns away and starts walking toward the exit, where Endeavor is now waiting impatiently. You watch him go, sadness flickering in your chest. When he glances back, you give him a small wave. He hesitates, brow furrowing, but doesn’t return it. 

Then he’s gone. 

The silence that follows feels heavier somehow. 

“Why were you talking to him?” Katsuki insists, his voice rising. “Don’t tell me he’s your friend now. That guy? You’d better not be friends with him. You shouldn’t even be talking to him after what he did to me!” 

In that moment, something inside you snaps. 

He keeps going—berating, accusing, demanding—until it feels like you can’t breathe. The tone of his voice, the way he’s trying to control you, to decide who you can and can’t speak to is far too familiar. Too much like the same people who once made your life a living hell.  

“Leave me alone, Katsuki,” you suddenly say, voice uncharacteristically harsh.  

He blinks, startled. 

You shove him back, not hard, but enough to create space, and walk towards the other side of the room. You sit down, arms crossed tightly.  

“Don’t talk to me,” you glare. “I need a break from you. What you did earlier was horrible. I’m going to ignore you until I’m ready to forgive you. Whenever that is.” 

You have no way of knowing, of course, but Katsuki feels his heart shatter right then and there. He feels like the whole world just turned dark. He feels like all the blood just drained from his body.  

This time, you're really, really, really upset with him. You've never been this upset before. It's never even come close. It's unlike anything he's ever experienced—and he's terrified that he might not be able to fix it.  

At that very second, while he's close to breaking into tears, he feels a tap on his shoulder. 

“You can’t do things like that, Kacchan,” Izuku says softly. His expression is sad, brows drawn low. “It’s not okay to hurt people. You could get in trouble if it happens again.” 

Katsuki doesn’t answer. He just stares, dazed, as mumbles ripple through the room. The other kids are nodding, agreeing with Izuku. With Deku. 

Shit. He feels dizzy. He feels so dizzy that he hobbles backwards and collapses onto a chair, gaze blurring uncontrollably. And then—he hears it. It's faint, fleeting, but he hears it, for a split second.  

Izuku just laughed at him.  

Chapter Text

At first, Katsuki hoped that you were kidding about not talking to him. Well, okay, not that you were kidding, necessarily, because you did seem pretty upset, but he thought your anger would be short-lived. That before long, you'd forgive him, just like you always do. 

But that doesn't end up happening. 

The following few days are probably the worst of his entire life—and no, he's not exaggerating. 

To start off, he's grounded. His parents are furious with him for how he lost control and injured that other boy. His punishment wasn't light by any means, and even now, he's still facing the aftereffects, like not being allowed to leave the house when he pleases. 

Of course, he doesn't listen and sneaks out anyway, but every time he does, it ends up being pointless.  

Because you refuse to speak to him. 

"She doesn't want to see you, Katsuki," your father frowns at him, expression sterner than usual. "She made that very clear to us. And I thought you're grounded? Aren't you supposed to be at home right now? You should leave, otherwise I'll have to call your parents." 

"I want to see [Name]," Katsuki insists, desperation seeping into his tone. "I want to talk to her. I need to talk to her!" 

But your parents, being the kind, upstanding people that they are, of course don't give in to his pleading. They stand firm and respect your wishes. Every single time, Katsuki either gets turned away at the front door, or he tries to throw rocks at your window like the night you both snuck out, but you ignore him. 

Eventually, it hits him.  

You really have no intention of talking to him at all—and the realization makes him sick to his stomach. 

He tries to reel his panic in, though. Once the weekend is over, he tries to calm down by telling himself that at least he'll get to see you at school and talk to you there. 

Except, when he tries to approach you first thing in the morning, your eyes are much colder than he remembers them ever being. 

"[Name]," Katsuki starts, but you turn away from him immediately. 

Then come the same chilling words, the same ones you uttered to him in the police station. 

"Don't talk to me," you say, voice frigid. "Leave me alone." 

Yet again, Katsuki feels his heart shatter. 

It's like that for the entire day. You ignore him during classes, even when he tosses crumpled pieces of paper at you to try and get your attention. All it does is get him in trouble with the teacher, who unfolds his paper notes and reads them in front of the whole class, making Katsuki turn violently red from embarrassment.  

Lunch time, sadly, is no different. You make a point of grabbing your food and eating outside with Deku, of all people, alone. Just you and him. Just you and that freckled, curly-haired piece of shit. 

Katsuki follows you around like a desperate little puppy, determined to try and patch things up as soon as possible, but you simply collect your things and move away from him, over and over and over again. 

The other kids are keeping their distance from him, too. Not all of his classmates were there that night, obviously, but some of the other kids from your neighborhood have already spread the word, gossip traveling at light speed.  

Everyone is scared of him. 

And normally, Katsuki wouldn't mind them being scared—because he's stronger, smarter, and better than them in every possible way—but right now, he's alone. He's all alone. 

His best friend has completely abandoned him. 

Katsuki clenches his fists, teeth furiously grinding against each other. This is the worst. He feels like he's on the verge of tears, and he hates this goddamn feeling. He can't stand feeling so unbelievably weak. It's humiliating. It's beneath him. 

But above all else, he misses you so much that he just can't fucking bear it. 

What if you never forgive him? 

What if... you're done being friends with him for good? 

Shit. 

All of a sudden, Katsuki feels strange, in a way that he can’t entirely put into words. His chest feels like it's closing in, the world feels like it's spinning, and he swears he can't even remember how to breathe properly anymore. 

He's hyperventilating. 

He's having a panic attack. 

Bakugou Katsuki, who once proudly proclaimed himself as the future Number One Hero... is losing his mind over a girl. 

Granted, he's a twelve-year-old, and hardly the picture of maturity, but still. It doesn't matter how ridiculous it sounds. It doesn't matter how overdramatic he's being. 

Losing you genuinely does feel like the end of the world—and he can't allow it to happen. 

This time, when he knocks on your front door, frantic and insistent, your parents aren't the ones who open it up. 

You are. 

"What?" you glare at him, and Katsuki has to take a hasty breath, because he wasn't prepared for this right off the bat. 

"I-I'm—" 

He tries to stammer out a proper sentence, but the words just won't come. He's babbling incoherently, like an absolute fool, and it's so embarrassing he can feel his face on the verge of exploding. 

"What?" you ask again, eyes narrowing even further. "Did you have something to say to me?" 

Katsuki takes a few moments, still struggling to form a sentence, but finally, by some miracle, he manages to take a full breath. 

"Please stop ignoring me!" he blurts out. "I hate it, so just stop! Please, just... just stop. I hate it so much..." 

Sure enough, Katsuki's entire body is on fire. It's a shame so deep and visceral that he feels like he's about to puke, but he urges himself to stay strong. After all, he's Bakugou Katsuki. There's no way he'll back down from this, no matter how out of his element he feels. 

He even said please, just for you. He never speaks like that to anyone else, not even his own parents. He treats you differently from all the rest because you're his closest friend. 

Isn't that proof... of how much he loves you? 

"Is that it?" you sigh, looking remarkably unimpressed. 

Katsuki's throat clenches again. The roof of his mouth suddenly feels bone dry. He's not sure what else he has to say, because even just forcing those words out was unbelievably painful. 

After a few moments, you merely sigh again. 

"Okay," you gesture. "Come inside." 

Katsuki's eyes light up. He doesn't want to get excited prematurely, but he hopes that this is a good sign. That you're getting ready to forgive him. 

As you lead him towards your bedroom, he feels a swell of elation and nerves bunching up in his stomach. He doesn't say anything, though. Not until you're both alone in the room together, and you're standing a good distance away from him with your arms crossed. 

"Why did you do that, Katsuki?" you eventually ask. "You hurt that guy really, really badly. He could've been in serious danger if that other boy, Shouto, didn't stop you. You could have put him in the hospital. Even if you didn't mean to go that far, don't you realize how messed up that was?" 

Katsuki furrows his brows. "But they're always doing this. They're always getting on my nerves by making fun of you. What about them? Don't you think it's messed up how they kept asking about that villain attack? They acted like it was no big deal that you nearly died that day. That's way more messed up than what I did." 

"No, it's not," you frown at him. "I didn't appreciate their comments, but it's fine. I can handle it. But you almost put his life in danger. You keep talking about how you want to become a hero when you grow up. Heroes don't hurt other people like that. That's the sort of thing that villains do." 

Katsuki feels his hands tightening into fists again. He just doesn't know how to make you understand that you're the only person he really cares about. He wants to become a hero to take down villains, not because he's particularly enamored by the idea of saving random people. In fact...  

He's pretty sure you're the only person he'd actually want to save. 

"I didn't mean to hurt him like that, but it's not my fault he's so weak," Katsuki mutters in frustration.  

However, it's clear that was the wrong thing to say, based on how your expression immediately hardens. 

"Get out," you snap at him. 

Katsuki's face falls. "What?" 

"I said, get out. I thought you were actually going to own up to what you did wrong, but that was stupid of me. You clearly don't feel bad about it at all. You don't even care, and it's disgusting." 

The word disgusting spills from your lips like poison, like something that’s almost too cruel to be uttered in your voice, and Katsuki swears he feels the walls of the room closing in on him. 

You're already pushing him towards the doorway, glaring ruthlessly as you do, but he spins around in a hurry and grabs you by the shoulders. 

"Okay, I'm sorry!" he exclaims. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, gritting his teeth again. "I'm sorry, [Name]. Are you happy? That's what you wanted to hear, right? I'm sorry, so just stop ignoring me. I'm your best friend. You can't keep ignoring me. You just can't." 

"I can do whatever I want," you scoff. "You're the one in the wrong here, not me. But... fine. I'll consider it." 

For what feels like the millionth time in the span of just a few minutes, Katsuki's mood skyrockets again. 

"You will?" he asks hopefully. 

"Yeah. But only on one condition." 

"Sure. What is it?" 

"You have to apologize," you say, pausing for a moment. "But not to me. To the boy you injured. You have to say sorry to him. Properly." 

Katsuki's nose scrunches up in revulsion. 

You're surprised lollipop boy’s parents even agreed to this. Ever since the incident, predictably, they’ve had nothing but sheer contempt toward Katsuki and his family. Any parent who actually cares about their child would naturally hold a grudge after seeing them end up in such a state. Although you feel bad for Mitsuki and Masaru—because they’re the ones who had to suffer through the constant berating, the shaming, and the scorn-filled looks—it doesn’t change the reality. All of it, every whisper, every glare from the other parents in the neighborhood, is because their son is a hotheaded asshole. 

Parents are held responsible for their children’s behavior, but only to a certain extent. You feel for Katsuki’s parents, you really do. They’re good people, kindhearted and genuine, and when they found out what Katsuki had done, they must have been horrified beyond words. They probably never imagined that their own son would be capable of something so extreme. Yes, there was that one time when Katsuki punched another kid when he was younger, but that still doesn’t compare to this most recent incident. This was relentless. Uncontrollable. And now everyone looks at them differently because of it. 

Still, after Katsuki told his parents he wanted to apologize, they did everything in their power to try and organize this meeting. They must have had to beg the other boy’s family to even consider it, and even then, you can’t imagine how much convincing it actually took. 

So now, here you are. 

You wanted to see the apology with your own eyes, and you also felt the need to be here because, let’s face it—Katsuki pretty much only listens to you. You’re desperately hoping it’ll go well. Hoping that maybe this will finally knock some sense into Katsuki’s head and help him understand that the things he does have consequences. 

“Our son shouldn’t even have to see that animal anymore,” the neighborhood kid’s mother grits out. Her voice is sharp and trembling with rage, every syllable laced with disdain. “We’re only here because he wanted an apology, but I’m worried this is going to traumatize him even more.” 

A vein in Mitsuki’s forehead throbs. “I understand your frustration, and again, I’m so sorry about what happened. But my son isn’t an animal. He’s just troubled, and we’re doing our best to work through it.” 

“Troubled, sure,” the other woman snorts, folding her arms. “Plenty of kids are troubled and have their own challenges to deal with. It doesn’t mean they resort to extreme forms of physical assault.” 

...oof. The tension is thick, to say the very least. You can practically feel it clogging your lungs, heavy and suffocating, and although you wish you were anywhere but here, you don’t have a choice. 

You grip Katsuki’s hand tightly, watching as he faces the boy—the same boy who still bears faint bruises that have yet to fade. No, there wasn’t any permanent damage, thankfully, but he’s only about twelve years old, and he experienced a form of terror that no child should ever have to feel.  

You would know. You’ve felt that same pain and fear before yourself. Too many times to even count.  

“Please do it, Katsuki,” you whisper softly. “Please just apologize to him.” 

Katsuki doesn’t say anything. He just clenches his jaw and nods. You can feel his fingers tighten around yours for a few long seconds before he slowly lets go of your hand and takes a step forward. 

The other boy flinches at his movement, his whole body tensing instinctively, but Katsuki keeps his distance. His mother looks ready to step in and pull her son back, but the boy shakes his head. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted an apology. He’s just nervous, probably struggling to understand why Katsuki, of all people, would even want to do this. 

Because Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t apologize. Not to anyone. Almost never.  

Canonically, you know it takes years for him to even apologize to Izuku, and that only happens after countless lessons and humbling moments. But right now, he’s still a kid, yet he’s trying. You know that he’s capable of remorse. You’ve seen glimmers of it. You’ve seen the side of him that cares, even if he tries so hard to hide it. You just wish he would stop letting his anger consume him. 

He can do this. You know he can. 

“…I’m sorry.” 

The words leave Katsuki’s lips in a low, almost hesitant tone, but they’re still loud enough for the boy to hear. Then, to your shock, he bows his head deeply—a rare and humbling gesture. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he says, his voice steadier this time. “I shouldn’t have done that. I was upset because of what you said to [Name]… but still, I’m sorry. I feel really bad about it. I promise it’ll never happen again.” 

You blink several times, momentarily frozen. You were the one who insisted that he do this, but it’s still surreal to actually see him apologizing so earnestly. To hear him say those words so clearly, so sincerely, like he really means them. 

It feels like progress. Real, genuine progress. Like a turning point. 

For someone such as Katsuki, setting aside his pride is monumental. It’s a battle all on its own. And yet, he’s doing it. That has to mean something. Surely. 

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki repeats one more time. He raises his head, his expression surprisingly calm. He doesn’t scowl or grit his teeth. He doesn’t even glare. He just stands there, grounded and composed, and although it’s too late to undo what happened, you can’t help but feel proud of him. He did it. He really did it. 

And then— 

The boy spits on him. 

For a second, you can’t even process what just happened. A wet splatter lands across Katsuki’s cheek, and he simply stands there, eyes wide with disbelief. 

“I hate you,” the boy sneers, voice cracking with spite. “And I don’t accept your apology. You’ll never be a hero. You’re a horrible person.” 

He storms off immediately after, grabbing his mother’s hand. Together, they disappear down the street, leaving only a cold, heavy silence behind. 

Your stomach sinks. 

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, reaching over on instinct. You use the sleeve of your shirt to wipe the boy’s saliva off Katsuki’s face, even though it’s kind of gross. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He just stands there, still as stone, eyes wide and distant, as if his brain is struggling to catch up with what just happened. 

“It’s okay, Katsuki,” you mumble, wiping the last of it from his cheek. “Don’t let it get to you. You did the right thing. He doesn’t have to accept your apology. That’s his choice. But at least you said it. At least you owned up to your mistakes.” 

Katsuki doesn’t answer. His expression slowly changes, shifting from shock to something colder, darker. His crimson eyes harden, flickering like smoldering embers. You know that look. You know how dangerous it is when his temper starts to boil beneath the surface. 

Mitsuki watches him closely, worry etched into her face. She probably knows as well as you do that there’s nothing she can say right now that will make it better. The humiliation he just felt is something he’ll never be able to forget. 

However, time and time again, Katsuki surprises you. Sometimes in a bad way, but other times, it's for the better.  

Because for some reason, his anger fades away in a heartbeat.  

“Whatever,” he simply shrugs. “I don’t care. I did it. I apologized.” He turns his head towards you, voice softer now. “You saw me do it, right, [Name]? Does that mean you forgive me now? You won’t keep ignoring me anymore?” 

“Yes,” you say, smiling gently. “I forgive you, Katsuki. I’m glad you made the effort to apologize. Please just don’t do anything like that ever again. I don’t want to see you end up that way, and I don’t want you to get in trouble either.” 

“Listen to [Name],” Mitsuki chimes in, placing a firm hand on her son’s head. She gives his hair a rough tousle before offering him a small smile of her own. “She’s right. Good job apologizing. Still, if you ever pull any crap like that again, I won’t be so patient next time. Got it?” 

As expected, Katsuki ignores her. All of his attention is on you anyway.  

He hasn’t looked away from you once since you told him you forgave him. And then, suddenly, his arms are around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. His grip is almost desperate, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll vanish again. 

“You’re not allowed to do that again,” he mutters into your shoulder. “You can’t ignore me. You just can’t. I won’t let it happen.” 

“As long as you don’t do bad things, there’s no reason why it would happen anymore,” you reassure, and after a slight pause, you make sure to hug him back. 

It feels like resolution. A massive stride towards Katsuki's maturity, his emotional growth, and just becoming a better person overall. He's not the type to go along with anything without genuinely believing in it. He can't fake anything. It's just not in his nature. It doesn't come easily to him.  

And that's true. It's not easy. In fact, having to pretend is unbelievably exhausting, and it drains him more than just about anything else—yet he does it anyway. And he's been pretending for a much, much longer time than you even realize.  

In fact, he's even pretending right now. He's pretending not to be upset about how that boy spat on him and made a joke out of his apology. But he is upset. He's upset all the way down to his bones, and already, he's made up his mind.  

He doesn't know how. He doesn’t even know when.  

But someday, he swears he's going to make that piece of trash pay for what he's done. 

Chapter Text

Since Katsuki nearly lost his entire friendship with you, he’s been clingier than ever. He insists on following you around just about everywhere, shadowing your footsteps, making sure you’re right within reach. Though you suppose that’s not really any different from before, his attachment to you is far easier to see now—raw and unrestrained, like he’s afraid of losing something vital. 

It shows in how nervous he gets whenever he makes a brash remark. Normally, he would just speak his mind, never bothering to care what anyone else thinks. But on more than several occasions, after you chastise him for saying something rude or flash him a disapproving look, he quiets down ridiculously fast. His jaw locks, his shoulders tense, and he clamps his lips shut like he’s afraid he’ll say the wrong thing again. 

No, he doesn’t outright censor himself. He’s still hotheaded, still outspoken, still every bit the Katsuki you know—but there’s hesitation now. A flicker of self-awareness where there never used to be. Canonically, he would never second-guess himself; he’d just say whatever came to mind, charging ahead without caring who else it might affect. But in this timeline, something’s changed. He’s actually developed empathy. Consideration for others and a fragile sort of self-restraint that almost makes him look uncertain. 

You feel bad that he seems so worried about you abandoning your friendship someday (you must have really given him a fright when you ignored him for so long), but if your frustrations with him caused him to re-evaluate his behavior, then surely that’s a good thing. Right? 

In any case, things have gone back to normal now. Some people still speak ill of Katsuki for the extreme violent incident he was involved in, whispering about it in corners of the neighborhood or classroom, but he hasn’t done anything like that in the weeks that followed. The situation’s mostly calmed down. 

And although Katsuki certainly isn’t without his flaws, he’s still your best friend. He’s still someone you cherish, someone you can’t imagine not having in your life. He’s made a genuine effort to move past what happened, and even though the boy he injured didn’t accept his apology, it’s the fact that he even apologized at all that counts. That’s what matters. His genuine desire to improve himself. 

…or at least, that’s what you’ve been misled into believing. 

Anyway, you try not to dwell on the past too much. The most important thing is that Katsuki is making an effort, and to this day, he still hasn’t resorted to bullying Izuku. Well, not right under your nose, that is.  

But you really have no awareness of what’s going on behind the scenes. You’re focused on other things, like strengthening your Quirk, figuring out a way to save Tomura, managing all the moving threads of your strange, second chance at life. There’s really no reason for you to suspect anything. Not when Katsuki is so good at manipulating you and twisting the truth.  

Normally, you spend just about every free moment with your family, your friends, or performing alchemical transmutations, but recently, you’ve begun setting time aside for other things too. Like honing your body. 

You’ll be thirteen years old soon enough, and that means it won’t be much longer than two years until the U.A entrance exam. You’re proud of how good you’ve gotten at using your Quirk. There’s still plenty of room for improvement, of course, but you also can’t ignore the physical side of being a hero. You need stamina. Athleticism. Preparedness. Whatever challenges await, you want to be ready. 

Which is why, along with Izuku and Katsuki, you’ve begun jogging around the neighborhood on a regular basis. It’s not much, but consistency counts, and you’re bound to see improvements eventually. Especially in terms of stamina. Which, sadly, seems a bit lacking right now. 

“Come on, keep up,” Katsuki frowns, glancing back at both you and Izuku. The two of you trail behind, unsurprisingly. At this stage, Izuku hasn’t yet gone through All Might’s hellish training regimen, so physically, he’s not particularly impressive yet. But you’re not one to judge, because neither are you. 

Compared to Katsuki, though, you both look extra bad. He’s just way too good at everything he does.  

“Ugh, I need a minute,” you gasp, stopping to bend forward, hands on your knees. You actually thought you were doing pretty well at first, but the longer you ran, the more your body started to feel like jelly. Meanwhile, Katsuki hasn’t even broken a sweat. 

“You guys are so slow, it’s crazy,” he scoffs, arms crossed. “What, don’t tell me you’re already tired?” 

“I’m not tired,” Izuku insists, although with how hard he’s gasping, he doesn’t sound very convincing. 

“Well, I am,” you chuckle weakly. “And—ow! I think I’m cramping up! I’m really cramping up!” 

You collapse rather unceremoniously onto the grass nearby, clutching your poor, spasming leg in midair. It’s embarrassing, but your muscles are convulsing too much for you to care what you look like right now. 

Katsuki just shakes his head, disappointed. “How the hell did you get a cramp just from jogging?” 

“Ughhh,” you groan.   

You don’t really have much of a choice except to wait it out. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the cramp fades, and you push yourself back up to jog again—for as long as you can, anyway.  

Which isn’t very long. 

You end up calling it quits soon enough. You’re a scientist, not an athlete. And sure, there are all kinds of heroes out there. Some specialize in intel, others in disaster response, but getting into U.A’s Hero Department will still be tough if you can’t keep up physically. 

It’s a good thing you have someone like Katsuki as a friend. He’ll push you, motivate you, refuse to let you give up. 

…well, except for today, because you’re just too tired. 

“Good workout, guys,” you say brightly, waving at both boys. “We worked really hard and we’ve earned a break!” 

“You barely even did anything,” Katsuki blinks. 

“Okay, byeee!” 

And just like that, you’re gone, retreating into the comfort of your home, which leaves Katsuki sighing after you. You’re ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.  

But somehow… he never gets sick of you. Ever. 

Anyway, since you’re not around anymore, it’s not like he has any reason to hang back either. And the second you’re gone, the second there’s no one around to see—his whole demeanor shifts. 

“Move, Deku,” Katsuki glares, shoving past the curly-haired boy with visible contempt. 

It’s just so goddamn annoying that Izuku is here so often. Always intruding on time that should belong to him and him only. Time that could be spent with you, alone, without an audience. 

Not only that, but Katsuki hasn’t forgotten how Izuku treated him before. How he rushed to tattle to Endeavor, how he laughed under his breath when you told Katsuki you wouldn’t be speaking to him for a while. Of course he hasn’t forgotten. He can’t forget. 

The only reason he hasn’t beaten Izuku into a pulp is because he’s afraid of how you’d react. How you might threaten to stop being his friend altogether if you ever found out. But the yearning, the desire is there all the same. It simmers under his skin, itching to surface. 

Quite frankly, he wishes he could punch Izuku’s face right here and now. But he doesn’t. As always, Katsuki buries his anger deep, deep down, and keeps walking. 

Then, suddenly, a hand closes around his wrist. 

When he turns, Izuku is staring at him, his expression colder than Katsuki’s ever seen it. 

“Can you stop calling me that, Kacchan?” Izuku asks. With that tone, it sounds less like a question and more like a demand. “I’d really like you to stop calling me that now.” 

Katsuki can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “Huh? Did you just try to tell me what to do? You? Deku? Who do you think you’re talking to—” 

“I’ll tell [Name],” Izuku blurts, and then, after a short pause, he even smiles. “I’ll tell her everything. I was worried before, but now, I think it’ll probably be okay. She’s already seen you get violent with someone else. You said she wouldn’t believe me if I told her, and that you’d make her hate me, but I don’t think that would happen. If I tell her… don’t you think you’re the one she’d hate?” 

Katsuki’s jaw falls open. For a few seconds, he’s so stunned, so breathless, that it really does feel like the whole world just stopped spinning. Midoriya Izuku—a spineless, Quirkless loser—is actually threatening him? Him, of all people? 

“Just stop being so mean to me,” Izuku says. “That’s all you have to do. Stop calling me Deku and making fun of me when [Name]’s not around. If you don’t stop, I swear I’ll tell [Name]. I’ll really do it. Okay?” 

Izuku stares at him then, brows furrowed, fists trembling slightly at his sides. It’s clear he had to work up every ounce of nerve to have this talk, but he actually did it. He stood his ground. 

Since when does this pathetic nerd think he can just say whatever he wants?