The meek shall inherit the Earth.
Sure, it was a comforting enough platitude for Midoriya Izuku when he was young, weak; afraid. But when he took the sum total of his life thus far into consideration, he realized now that it meant more than some assurance that karma would have its day on those who had once belittled or tormented him.
What it really meant, or at least what he took it to mean, was that those who endure strife find within themselves the strength to succeed—to win.
And Izuku made a pretty good case for that interpretation.
He stared up from his hypnotic introspection to pay notice to the achievements that now surrounded him—achievements he had earned. His own hero agency. A monument to his inner strength. A testament to the mantra he'd been taught from adolescence: Plus Ultra. And although he had learned to acknowledge his own achievements, (which, in itself, was no small feat, requiring constant encouragement and admonishing from his friends) he also could never forget the help he had received along the way, nor the help he continued to receive.
He never would have met All Might if his dear mother hadn't supported his near-unattainable dreams. He never would have been accepted to U.A. if not for All Might's faith and mentorship in him. He never would have made it through the application test if not for the kindness and care of Uraraka Ochaco. He never would have made it through the trials and tribulations of his youth without his fellow classmates, his teachers, his guides. And, as it turns out, he never would have been able to start the Agency he now sat within if not for the help of his oldest friend, his oldest tormentor, his arch-rival: Katsuki Bakugo.
And, as though he had a listening device planted directly in Izuku's brain, the door flew open. His bombastic partner stormed in and flung himself into his office chair, momentum rolling him back a few feet. He groaned loudly and frustratedly rubbed at his eyes.
"When th' FUCK are we gonna get another call?!" he whined to no one in particular. Izuku smiled. In spite of being in their late 20s, in spite of growing up, it seemed as though young Bakugo would cling to himself with the same reckless, angry stubbornness he had always possessed.
And indeed, Izuku admitted, Bakugo had matured a great deal. They both had. After their second fight a little more than halfway into their first year at U.A., the dynamic of their relationship had changed. At the time, Izuku had the vague notion that something was different, but now, looking back, Izuku could see the bigger picture. He had always admired Bakugo, but before that fight it had been due to the unhealthy need to be recognized. And Bakugo had always loathed Izuku, but before that fight it had been due to a projection of his own insecurities. They found mutual respect that night, or the embers of it, and over the next two years that ash began to burn more brightly.
The two ended their tenure at U.A. with a promise: to drive each other to heights they never knew they were capable of achieving. It was a bittersweet moment. Izuku had made so many friends, had met the love of his life, had gained the respect and care of too many to count. But at that moment, to know that the boy who had once hated him now viewed him as an equal, it validated everything Izuku had ever fought for more than almost anything.
A few years passed and the two went their separate ways, working with different hero agencies. After some time, though, it became apparent to both of them, independently, that they were meant for more than sidekick work. At their 5-year class reunion, it was Bakugo who approached Izuku and made the suggestion.
And now, here they sat, older, wiser, one who had found confidence, the other who had found humility. And it was Bakugo who he needed at that moment. No one could spur Izuku into action like Bakugo.
His ears must have been burning, or perhaps Izuku had been muttering to himself. As young Bakugo clung desperately to his older self, so too did young Izuku linger. They had each outgrown many bad habits, but not all of them.
"What's wrong?" Bakugo huffed, pointedly. His impatient gaze was fixed on Izuku.
"What? Oh...it's, uh, it's nothing," Izuku stuttered. He hadn't expected to be called out so bluntly. He didn't know why he hadn't expected it, but he didn't.
Bakugo rolled his eyes and clicked his teeth. "Fine, don't talk. But don't say I didn't ask."
Izuku cracked a half-grin. Maybe Bakugo was the person to talk to about his predicament. Izuku had always hated discussing his inner-turmoil. It was a behavior he now realized was unhealthy, but he couldn't help but feel as though he would be burdening those around him with his baggage. He much preferred to be the savior, the friendly ear, the shoulder to lean on. It fed well into his heroism, but it was yet another childhood habit he was trying hard to break. Fortunately, he had a girlfriend who wasn't shy about prying into his tightly-shut mind.
His girlfriend. Uraraka Ochaco. Something bugged him about continuing to refer to her as his "girlfriend". It had been bugging him for a few months now. He was a man. She deserved an upgrade from "girlfriend".
Yes, perhaps Bakugo could help him. His cold indifference to the personal problems of his friends might appear to the outsider to be callous and uncaring, but as Izuku, Kirishima, and many others knew, it was simply his nature.
"Well," Izuku inhaled deeply. "Actually…there is something on my mind, now that you mention it."
"No shit. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out. I can hear your teeth grinding from all the way over here," Bakugo replied, not bothering to look at Izuku, instead tending to the flecks of dust he now absentmindedly flicked off his desk.
"You know, Ochaco and I have been together for a while now…"
Bakugo grunted. A clear indication he was listening.
"Well...I'm thinking about...you know…"
Flick.
Izuku stared down at his hands. He was twiddling his thumbs without realizing it. An idiosyncrasy of Ochaco's that he had picked up unwittingly.
"I'm thinking about proposing to her."
He braced for a response. But what he heard instead was a click, and the sound of the television. He looked up.
Bakugo was now reclining in his office chair, legs kicked up on the desk, flipping through channels.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Hard not to, small office," he replied, curtly.
Izuku eyed him quizzically. "And?"
"And, what?" Bakugo fired back.
"What do you think?"
"I think if you're gonna be a pussy about it, you can do it by yourself."
"I'm not being a pussy about it, I'm asking your opinion-"
Bakugo swung around his chair and planted his feet firmly on the ground. "No, what you're doing is fishing for any reason not to do it. You're being pathetic."
"You think I'm trying to convince myself not to marry her?" Izuku said slowly, disbelief dripping from the words.
Bakugo groaned again, loudly. "Deku, when you want something, ya don't fuck around, you set your mind to it and you make it happen. You always have. So when you pussyfoot around like this, using words like 'thinking about' or 'planning to' it tells me one of two things: either you're not serious about it, or you're scared."
He spun his chair back around swiftly and kicked his feet back up again.
"If it's the first, then shut the fuck up already. And if it's the second, then I oughtta come over there and beat the shit out of you until you sack up and do it," he finished, fixing his attention back on the TV.
"You couldn't beat the shit out of a punching bag with diarrhea," Izuku snapped. Even though he had the confidence of an adult hero, that kind of verbal sparring was uncharacteristic of him. Especially cursing. Turns out, it wasn't just Ochaco's idiosyncrasies he was picking up.
In one swift motion, Bakugo stood, turned, and kicked his chair back forcefully into the wall behind him. Izuku heard a crack and winced. "You want some, Deku scru-"
Before Bakugo could finish, the phone rang. Both their eyelines shot towards the phones on their desks. A second ring. Their arms snapped out like a snake lashing at its prey. Bakugo got there first.
"Talk."
Deku stood amongst the debris of the nearly-successfully robbed bank, hands planted firmly on his hips, chest puffed out, chin held high. He was putting on his best All Might impression. The former hostages swarmed him, each trying to convey their appreciation while they choked down tears of relief.
"Thank you all, citizens. Everything is fine now. We are here!" he proclaimed, loudly. At home, in private, among friends, he nearly never accepted praise. Out here though, he couldn't afford to be so humble. A symbol of peace and protection must stand resolute.
He had learned the lessons of his now-gone mentor well.
When the majority of the crowd cleared, Izuku took a moment to sit. Fighting villains was easy, but putting on a show for an adoring crowd sapped all his energy.
Either you're not serious about it, or you're scared.
The accusation rang in his head like a claxon. The call had distracted him from it at the time, but now, sitting alone, Izuku let his friend's words sink in. After years of verbal and physical abuse by Bakugo, his skin had hardened to unwarranted criticism. He could usually filter out the hyperbole, or ignore it entirely. But right now, Bakugo's words stung Izuku, and Izuku needed to determine why.
The notion that he didn't love Ochaco was preposterous. Maybe that's why he felt his face burning right now. She was everything to Izuku, from the day they met. She was the first person to ever show him unwarranted kindness. In one sentence she completely nullified the stigma and the cruelty he had come to associate with his boyhood nickname. She impressed him time and time again with her open heart and her ferocious compassion.
He remembered the first time he noticed her, beyond her simply being the first girl who had ever treated him like a human. She had turned down his offer of help in their first Sports Festival at U.A., a decision Izuku feared would lead to her defeat. God, he hated the thought that he ever considered her to be so weak. His intention was good, but what an insult it must have been to her for him to offer his help, as though it were some great blessing. She was one of his classmates after all, and the hero course at U.A. is small enough that her presence in it warranted far more respect than he afforded her at that moment.
So off she went, to face off against one of the most vicious heroes of their age. To everyone it looked like it would be over in moments. But when Izuku saw that she had a plan, that she nearly brought him down, and that her determination wouldn't quit until she finally succumbed to her injuries...it made his heart race.
He loved her. He daydreamt often about the concept of the two of them as a crime-fighting duo, rather than Izuku and Bakugo. The romantic in him relished in the thought, like it was some guilty pleasure. And though they did have a great deal of compatibility when it came to fighting (having paired up a number of times over the years), they both knew that working with Bakugo was what was best for Izuku, just as Ochaco succeeding Gunhead was what was best for her. He still shook his head in disbelief that he ever considered Ochaco would go into the support hero line of work.
Izuku thought again about Bakugo's words. Either you're not serious about it, or you're scared. He was serious about it. He wanted Ochaco in his life, always. Even now he longed to be with her.
So with option one eliminated, he moved onto option two.
Was he scared?