Chapter Text
The first memory Kaminari had of the HPSC was the smell: antiseptic mixed with iron, a tang of blood that clung to the walls and his skin. The sterile, white corridors of the facility weren’t designed for comfort. They were designed to intimidate, to isolate, to remind him that he had no name, no choice, no life beyond the walls.
He remembered the first time he had met Bakugou Katsuki.
The boy had been bound, arms shackled above his head, bruises dark across his forearms. And yet, even in that state, Bakugou’s eyes burned with defiance, fire that refused to be snuffed out. Most would have crumpled. Most would have followed orders. But not him. Not Katsuki.
Kaminari had been ordered to “neutralize the asset” as he had been on every mission. The voice in his earpiece had been cold, precise, void of empathy. *Do your job. No hesitation. No mistakes.*
But when he saw Bakugou, something clicked—not electricity, not quirk—but instinct. Survival, understanding, recognition.
Their first exchange had been violent and wordless. Sparks flew—literally—when Kaminari’s quirk flared to disable the nearby guards so Bakugou could move. For the first time, they had worked together. And in that chaos, a silent trust was forged, one that no orders could break.
---
Now, in the quiet of the warehouse, Kaminari flexed his fingers and let a faint arc of electricity dance along his knuckles. He had trained himself to react to danger instinctively, but his mind couldn’t help wandering back to that night. The memory was both a warning and a comfort.
Bakugou was there, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, the faint scent of gunpowder and smoke clinging to him. His dark eyes flicked toward Kaminari, sharp and calculating.
“You’ve been staring at that table for ten minutes,” Bakugou said, breaking the silence. His voice had that edge that made it clear he wasn’t joking.
Kaminari smirked. “…I was thinking.”
“Thinking?” Bakugou’s lip curled in a snarl. “Or worrying?”
“…Maybe a little of both,” Kaminari admitted, letting the truth slip just enough to be human.
A pause fell between them, thick with unspoken words. Neither needed to say them. Every movement, every glance, every twitch of the muscles told a story only the other could read.
---
Bakugou pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer. “You’re tense. I can feel it. You’re thinking about them.”
Kaminari exhaled slowly, letting the hum of electricity in his body fade slightly. “…Yeah. The HPSC never forgets. They’re patient, and they’ll come for me. For us.”
Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “…Then let them try.” His voice was low, dangerous, protective. “…We’ll handle it. Together.”
The word struck Kaminari in a way few things ever could. *Together.* He allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. “…Yeah… together.”
Bakugou smirked, dangerous and reassuring. “…Don’t get soft on me.”
“…Never,” Kaminari replied, though the faint sparks dancing along his knuckles betrayed the amusement in his tone.
---
The memory came unbidden.
It had been Bakugou’s first extraction mission, and Kaminari had been assigned as backup. The target: a high-ranking scientist in a rival HPSC facility.
Kaminari remembered the way the guards had moved—silent, precise, trained to detect even the slightest deviation. He had felt his pulse spike, the familiar thrill of anticipation sharpening every sense.
Bakugou, restrained and under watch, had been furious with the plan. “…I don’t need backup!” he had snarled.
“Yeah, you might, if you want to survive,” Kaminari had replied, quirk humming softly, electricity dancing along his fingers.
Their first coordinated attack had been messy, violent, beautiful in its precision. Kaminari would disable the security systems with arcs of electricity, and Bakugou would follow, explosions carving safe paths, taking down the guards with calculated force.
By the time the mission ended, the target was secured, and the two of them had survived. But more importantly, a bond had formed—a bond neither words nor orders could sever.
---
Back in the warehouse, Kaminari shook off the memory, focusing on the present. He couldn’t dwell too long on the past; the HPSC had a long reach. Even now, shadows in the city could hide observers.
Bakugou stepped closer, boots echoing on the concrete. “You’re thinking again,” he said, voice softer this time, almost a growl. “…About them. About the past.”
“…I can’t help it,” Kaminari admitted. “…They won’t stop. Not until they have me back. Or they’ve broken me completely.”
Bakugou’s eyes hardened. “…Then let them try.” He leaned closer, almost brushing Kaminari’s shoulder. “…You’re not alone. Not anymore.”
Kaminari’s heart skipped a beat. “…I know,” he said softly, electricity flickering faintly along his fingertips. “…And I’m not afraid anymore.”
Bakugou smirked, just a faint twitch, but it carried the weight of promise and danger. “…Good. Because I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
---
The night stretched on. Kaminari tinkered with a small device, while Bakugou watched from the shadows.
“You’ve been practicing control a lot,” Bakugou said. “…You’re getting better, I’ll admit. But you’re still sloppy sometimes.”
Kaminari smirked. “…Better than you expected?”
Bakugou growled. “…Don’t get cocky.”
“…Me? Cocky?” Kaminari laughed softly. “…Never.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “…Tch. You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but you like it,” Kaminari teased, letting a small spark of electricity arc along his forearm, close enough to singe Bakugou’s jacket slightly.
Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, a mix of annoyance and intrigue. “…Shut up.”
“…Or what?” Kaminari challenged softly, enjoying the subtle game of push-and-pull that had become their way of communicating.
Bakugou smirked, dangerous and protective. “…Or I’ll fry you myself.”
Kaminari laughed quietly, leaning back. “…I’d like to see you try.”
---
By dawn, the warehouse was bathed in the pale light of morning. Both of them were exhausted, sweat streaking their faces, singed hair sticking to their foreheads.
Kaminari turned to Bakugou, a small, tentative smile curling his lips. “…You’re always so… intense.”
Bakugou blinked, then grinned faintly. “…And you’re always… irritating.”
“…And somehow, I like it,” Kaminari admitted softly.
Bakugou’s smirk widened, dangerous and teasing. “…Tch. Idiot.”
They shared a look, one that needed no words. The tension, the shared history, the sparks both literal and figurative… it was all there. And it was undeniable.
Together, they had survived HPSC. Together, they would face the world. And together… they had something no one else could touch.
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