Leaves rustle in the cool early fall breeze as sleepy eyed students wind their way through streets. Kirishima is still rubbing the crust out of his eyes when he looks up, brain hardly registering that something is clearly not right. Across the street stand two girls in his year, knuckles white where they clench each other's hands in fear cowering under the gaze of the three thugs that have cornered them in an alley entrance. The short one has taken a wide stance switch blade pointing towards the girls and hoodie concealing his face. The middle one is in the process of snatching their bags, slender snake-like face peeking around the edge of his hood. The last one stands tall and skinny as a telephone pole, arms crossed and face hidden in the shadow of his hood.
From where he stands Kirishima can't make out what they're saying. His eyes that have popped open, suddenly awake, stay fixed on the girls shaking and crying in fear. He has to do something, but what? No, he thinks, I can't. What if they report me? It's hardly effective, would I even be able to help them let alone defend myself?
He inches a foot forward, but his legs won't move. He shakes where he stands across the street, witnessing as the guy starts to rummage through the girls bags. I should do something! I should call for help! Why can't I move?
There's a crackling of thunder and Kirishima's prayers are answered. In the time it takes for him to blink someone's there, spikey blond hair frames a tight black mask, muscled arms exaggerated by a slim fitting black tank and baggy black sweat pants. Splayed on the concrete lies the guy who was just pilfering the girls' bags, snake-like face fully visible from where he rests face up. Kirishima watches star struck as the tall one's body bends and twists, arms stretching to wrap around the newcomer in an attempt to immobilize him.
Bright bursts of light explode from the blond guy's hands and the tall one reels back with a shout. He turns to him and sweeps his legs aiming for another punch. Kirishima sees the short guy spring forward aiming for his back.
"Watch out! He has a knife!" Someone yells. Kirishima looks around and realizes that no one else is there. It was him.
The blond guy moves in an instant. Explosions from his hands propelling him off the ground and into a back flip over the short guy. The guy with the knife stumbles and the blond takes the opportunity to blast him into the tall guy.
"Why don't you fuck off!" He barks. "And here!" He grabs the snake guy by the front of his hoodie with both hands, "Take your stupid ass friend with you!" and tosses him into the other two as they scramble backwards across the pavement.
Everything is still for a moment, the girls still stand there trembling as the blond heaves in labored breathes. Kirishima grins and doesn't hold back the "Woot!" of pure excitement that bubbles out of him.
"That was awesome!" The guy looks back at him dumbstruck before looking down at his wrist with an audible "Shit!" Kirishima can barely make out from across the street and takes off at a sprint back in the direction he came from.
Kirishima jogs over to the girls brushing his long dark hair out of his face. "Are you two okay?" The three of them crouch down together and gather the girls' stuff.
As they walk to school together one of the girls can't help but vocalize, "Can you believe those guys? Using their powers out in the open like that! So scary! No wonder their illegal!" Kirishima's steps falter.
"Ah, yeah," The other girl sighs, "But, like, that must suck for the dude with the snake face. What can you do when you're so obvious? I bet it's really hard to, like, get a job and whatever."
"Ew! I think snakes are gross enough as is! They should do something with people like him!"
"Like what?" Her friend stops and gives her a hard look. Kirishima stops where he walks a foot behind them now.
"I don't know! Just something! Those guys were dangerous!"
"But what about that other guy? He saved us, right?"
"He explodes things! With his hands! What's safe about that!?" Kirishima moves to detach himself. He stares at his feet the whole way to his locker lost in thought. He feels tears sting his eyes as his mind replays again and again, they should do something with people like him! He stares out the window of his first period classroom to the leaves falling in the courtyard and thinks about the blond guy who helped those girls. He was so manly and cool! If only I could be brave like that!
He replays the scene over and over as the bell rings and the other students file in. He imagines himself stepping in as the teacher starts talking. Something, something, new student, something, something, not showing up. He's interrupted from his train of thoughts by the crack of the door slamming against the wall. He pulls his chin out of his hand to face the new guy, shirt disheveled, pants sagging, blond hair looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed after tossing and turning all night, and breathing as if he'd just run a mile.
"Class started ten minutes ago." Their teacher sighs.
The new guy huffs and throws himself into the only available seat right behind Kirishima.
"I don't know how they do things at your old school, Bakugo, but next time you're late its detention. Now, you have a lot of work to catch up on. Talk to your neighbors after class and see if anyone will lend you their notes."
Kirishima can hardly help returning his head to his hand and his eyes to the falling leaves. He spends the rest of class daydreaming about muscles and masks and being a hero.
Fuck, first day at a new school and he's going to be fucking late. Bakugo's palms sweat around the strap of his backpack. He's going to have to wash it again. He's going to have to meticulously clean every article of clothing he's worn today because he can't take the risk that his nitroglycerin like sweat hasn't seeped into the fabric making it explosive.
He doesn't mean to slam the door open. He just didn't want to touch it with his hands and in his blind rush he kicked it with too much force and now twenty three eyes are locked on him. Fuck.
He makes his way to the only available seat and of fucking course, there sits one of three people he really did not want to see. It's that guy from the fight earlier with the dark hair who warned him about the knife and cheered for him. His whole body starts producing sweat at a rate that could detonate the whole school if someone lit a match. Get it the fuck together, Bakugo.
He lets out a small sigh of relief when the guy turns back to stare out the window without the slightest trace of recognition. Bakugo opens his backpack to pull out a notebook, careful not to open the pocket with his makeshift disguise. I'm the lamest fucking vigilante. I don't even look like a hero. I just look stupid.
He watches as his new teacher scribes notes out on the chalkboard. Algebra. Thank fuck. He's good at Algebra. He spends the fifty minutes of class time half taking notes half dreaming up costume ideas. This is so fucking stupid. I'm going to look stupid no matter what. Nobody asked me to do this.
The bell rings and the guy in front of him starts to turn towards him so Bakugo ducks his head down to shove his notebook back into his bag afraid he'll look up into a face that'll say hey, aren't you that guy? He should have just let those girls get mugged.
"Bakugo, right?" The guy in front of him sticks his hand into Bakugo's face, pointy teeth flashing in an all-out grin. "Name's Kirishima. I'm not very good at math, but you can borrow my notes if you want. Can I see your schedule?"
He doesn't even wait for Bakugo to hand him the schedule, just grabs it off the desk and squints at it like it's an optical illusion he's trying to make sense of. "Hey we have the same lunch period! You should come sit with us!"
Bakugo snatches his schedule out of his hands with a muttered whatever and races out the door so fast he heads in the complete opposite direction of his next class. He doesn't sit with anyone at lunch. He eats alone in the library and he doesn't see Kirishima again until fifth period Chemistry when he waves him down from the back of the classroom.
The only available seat is at a lab table two rows in front of Kirishima's where he can hear every asinine word of every conversation he has with his buddies around him. He could combust right there on the spot, but he's tried. First days are inherently emotionally draining.
He jumps out of his seat as the last bell rings, ignoring the way his classmates look at him. He's practically the first one out the school doors, slipping into his sneakers and tearing into the nearest alley to change, tying his mask tight and throwing his backpack onto a roof he'll come back to later. His hands pop like fireworks and he sighs in content.
Two streets over someone screams and Bakugo, no, Nitro races over to investigate.