"So as third year students, it's time to start thinking seriously about what you want to do with your lives. I could start passing out some career aptitude tests but… why bother? I know you all want to go to the Hero track!"

The class erupted in cheers. Sensei threw the career packets across the room like they were meaningless. To 99% of the class, I guess they were.

'But I'm on clean-up duty today,' I thought to myself, deflating. 'Of course Sensei doesn't care when he's not the one picking up all those papers.'

"Hey, Teach, don't lob me in with this bunch of losers. I'm the real deal."

Even if I hadn't known the voice, the words themselves made the speaker obvious.

Bakugo was balancing on the back two legs of his chair, arms crossed behind his head and feet leveraging on top of his desk. A mocking, egoistic grin filled his face. "…But the rest of these guys will be lucky to end up as side-kicks to some busted D-lister."

The class erupted again, this time in protest to Bakugo's declaration. The blonde only laughed and egged them on more.

"Huh, you've got impressive test scores," Sensei relayed, blind to the rowdiness of his students. "Maybe you will get into U.A. High."

There was more chattering, ranging from awe to disbelief. Bakugo, of course, assured over it all the he was the best, the only of us capable of getting into the nation's top Hero school.

"I'll end up more popular than All Might himself, and be the richest Hero of all time!"

It was that line that made me frown. Popularity? Money? Is that why he wanted to be a Hero?

Was even Bakugo that shallow?

"Oh yeah, Midoriya," Sensei went on, not acknowledging Bakugo at all. "…you want to go to U.A. High too, don't you?"

The mood in the room dropped palpably. Up until everyone started laughing, anyway.

I slumped down in my seat, trying to stay out of the whole thing. Nothing about it was fair. It wasn't fair that Bakugo got to jump on his desk and degrade everyone without our teacher reprimanding him. And it wasn't fair that Midoriya had to cower on the floor while he tried to defend his dream.

Nothing about this world was fair. Heroism caused as much trouble and good sometimes.

Class let out soon after, and I left the room to gather the cleaning supplies I needed. Bakugo was supposed to be my partner but he'd never once shown up for his half of the duty. It wasn't that big of a deal for me to work alone, but it hurt a little that Bakugo thought he was too big of a deal to help out.

By the time I made it back to class (broom, mop, bucket, hot water, rags, and all disinfectants in tow) Bakugo and his goons were heading down the hallway. If I were braver, I would have called after him.

If I were heading for the path of justice, I would have said something.

But I wasn't, so I didn't. I only pouted at him silently and trudged on into the classroom, where only a distraught Midoriya was left.

Midoriya was a constant target of Bakugo's, so it wasn't hard to figure out that I must have missed some altercation between them. At least it obviously hadn't been a physical one. Midoriya was a sweet kid and I honestly felt terrible for him, considering he was both Quirkless and all-around frail: in other words, he was a sitting duck.

I wasn't sure whether I should say something to him or leave him be, so I took careful steps to the front of the room, keeping my eyes down. First things first: pick up all the career aptitude tests.

I knelt down and more or less crawled across the floor, snatching up each packet as I came in contact with it. At some point I noticed Midoriya's footfalls before he crouched down, too, and mimicked my actions.

When we finished we both held a small stack, standing to face each other awkwardly. Midoriya placed his papers on the closest desk and gave me a tight smile.

"Sorry, I'll get out of your way," Midoriya said, pulling his backpack up onto his shoulder. He seemed to have a second thought and turned to me again. "Are you staying late alone, Katsumi?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Midoriya cut me off with some kind of panic attack.

"I didn't mean to address you so familiarly! Katsumi-chan, I mean! No! Katsumi-san!"

Midoriya was sweating bullets, as flushed as a public toilet during festival season. It was a tension breaker for sure though, and I had to suppress a laugh.

"We've been classmates since grade school," I reminded him, doing my best to hide my smirk with a smile. "You can just call me 'Luka' if you want. I won't be offended."

My offer only seemed to stress Midoriya out more. It didn't seem like he had many friends, as congenial as his personality was. Apparently he had a more formal approach to addressing people.

"Or 'Katsumi' is fine," I corrected, switching to my surname. Midoriya gradually gathered himself, his normal color returning as he nodded decidedly. "And to answer your other question," I went on, "Bakugo is supposed to be my partner for cleaning duty. He's just never stayed after to help before."

I wouldn't have thought the news would be particularly jarring (just because it was Bakugo we were talking about) but Midoriya's reaction was more than I would have expected. He clenched both his eyes and fists, tilting his chin away from me for a moment, as if to mask his response.

Not sure what to do with myself, I shuffled my stack of packets and edged towards my cleaning cart.

"I'm not busy," Midoriya said. I wasn't sure if he noticed my retreat or not, since he never looked my way, but his tone was suddenly so strong. "I'll stay and fill in so that this isn't all on your shoulders."

I stilled and couldn't help but smile, truly. "You've already helped me, Midoriya. Besides, I'm used to it. I have a routine. You don't need to worry about me."

As cathartic as cleaning could be, I doubted Midoriya really wanted to hang out after hours when it wasn't his turn. But I did have a sudden thought, so I stepped forward again and held one of the packets I was holding out to him.

"It's just a shame that Sensei threw all of these career tests around," I said. "I was really looking forward to filling one out and getting a few ideas. You should take one too, Midoriya."

Nothing about Midoriya's expression changed, yet at the same time everything about it did. The air around us was almost thicker, weighing down the mood entirely. The skin on the back of my neck tingled, and I couldn't help but feel like I'd spoken some kind of taboo.

Midoriya reached out a hand, his whole arm quivering. He grasped the pamphlet like it was his death certificate.

"T-thanks, Katsumi," he said. Both his tone and eyes were a mile away, a haunted, taunt smile on his face as he made for the door. "See you tomorrow."

I watched him go, guilt piling up in my gut.

It wasn't unknown that Midoriya was a huge All Might fanboy. It wasn't a secret that he was always following news stories, scribbling down notes, and preaching his ambitions of becoming a Hero. So I knew I must have upset him by suggesting that he consider other options.

I hadn't meant to belittle him. I was just being realistic. Hopefully Midoriya didn't take it the wrong way. I did want the best for him.

The best thing for him was probably to give up on the fantasy of becoming a Hero.

I really didn't understand why that was so hard for most people to grasp.

I only had cleaning duties once a month. The day that I'd met Midoriya after class had happened to be the day I'd shown up late for archery practice as a result. I was on the school team and one of the best scoring members (not to brag). Still, I'd been scolded by the captain and had to pull extra duties there, too, despite the excusable absence.

I'd been a little frustrated by it until I'd heard how Bakugo and Midoriya's night had ended.

I didn't know how to approach either one of them. Well, I knew that approaching Bakugo wasn't an option at all, so the better question was how to, and if to, address Midoriya.

It shouldn't have been so hard. We'd been classmates for so long that just saying "I'm glad you're okay" shouldn't have been such a problem. It was only because of what I'd said to him right before he'd faced off with that villain, really.

I'd wondered if it was my fault in some way. If Midoriya hadn't had stayed after to help me, and I hadn't basically told him to give up on his dream, maybe he wouldn't have felt so fueled to jump in and help Bakugo even when he was so glaringly out matched.

Then again, maybe he would have. Maybe Midoriya was just that kind of guy.

Regardless, All Might had been a true hero that day. If the Number One hadn't shown up, my regret probably would have been grotesque.

It could have just been my imagination, but Bakugo had seemed to calm down since the incident, too. He was less prone to outbursts, at least, and there was the matter of him showing up for our next afterschool cleaning duty.

By "showing up" I mean that he'd stayed in his seat on our designated day, lounging back as usual with his feet up on his desk. Originally I'd left him alone, thinking that he had his own agenda, until Bakugo reached out on his own accord.

"Hey, Scarlet Witch," he called out to me as I swept. "'Seems like you know your place. Don't think I'm the type to play chivalrous to the likes of you. I'll hang around but I'm not some support character here to pick up after all you scum classmates."

I stalled in my sweeping automatically. There were a few things running across my mind in that moment. Other than the obvious misogynist tilt to his words, the parts about "playing chivalrous" and "pick up after all you scum classmates" stirred something inside of me.

Did he really think so little of everyone around him?

I didn't initially respond to Bakugo, but I did stop what I was doing and glance up at him.

Bakugo was remarkably at ease. His body was lounged back in his chair, his arms crossed behind his head. Eyes closed.

If the situation were different, someone could have easily caught him off guard and punched him in the gut.

But I brushed the thought away as soon as I'd thought it, merely watching Bakugo again. He realized that I wasn't moving anymore and opened his eyes.

Bakugo scoffed. "Shouldn't you get a move on, Witch? This place ain't gonna clean itself."

I couldn't stop my brow from furrowing. I'd never minded cleaning the classroom alone until that point, so who was Bakugo to show up so randomly and try to direct me? He wasn't helping at all. It had been better without him.

Somehow it seemed like Bakugo realized the emotions behind my expression. He lurched forward suddenly, the front legs of his chair slamming to the floor, and gripped the corners of his desk. His features were twisted in rage.

"You bitch," he ground out. I jolted at the use of the vulgarity. "Who the hell do you think you are to give me that flat look? Do you really expect someone like me to act along like one of you nobodies? There's a million more important things I could be doing, so hurry the hell up and finish this servant's work so I can get on with my life."

I was stunned. I'd never been a direct target of Bakugo's temper – at least, not since way back in elementary. I couldn't piece a solid thought together.

Bakugo sneered at my frozen state. "Just like I said: you're worthless. Who gives a hoot what your Quirk is if you'll always be too much of a shirker to stand up to anyone? You're actually worse than all the other wannabes. At least they have some kind of pathetic ambition."

I was still just standing there, unresponsive and stiff. Bakugo growled one last time before leaping up. He slung his bag over his shoulder and gave his desk a hard mule kick as he made for the door.

"I'm not wasting any more of my time here," he declared. "Freakin' Deku had to go mentioning it, but this was as useless as I knew it'd be. I'm no extra."

It took me a few seconds to start putting things back together once Bakugo had left. At first I only took in the scene in front of me: an empty classroom with bits of rubbish scattered around. Bakugo's desk had crashed into the one next to it, knocking them both over. It was hardly a war zone, but there was still a faint ringing in my ears.

Once my senses came back, I could only blink before letting out a sputter.

Bakugo was wrong. He was honestly the single most "extra" person I had ever met.

I didn't have archery practice after class that day. I went home after cleaning, popped my head into the living room to greet my mom (who was blaring some afternoon talk show) and went up to my room to get a head start on homework. It was a simple night, the kind that I liked.

But once I had retreated to my bedroom it was hard to concentrate. In my distracted state, I thought about Bakugo.

Despite growing up together, that day had probably been the most we'd ever spoken in one session – and I hadn't even said a single word. It wasn't surprising that it was a negative interaction either; I knew him well enough to not expect anything better.

Maybe the only reason I thought about Bakugo at all was because I'd never thought about Bakugo before. He'd always been the rude boy, the bully. Bakugo was, to me, the type of guy you sort of wrote off just because his personality was so bad.

But now I wondered about him.

Why was he so unpleasant? Did he have a bad home life? Some kind of tragic upbringing? Maybe he just didn't know how to handle emotions or interact with people, so all of his aggression was like some form of social awkwardness. It was a little sad, if any of that were true.

I wondered about Bakugo. And I thought about what he'd said to me. His words didn't change the fact that I undoubtedly didn't want to be a Hero, but he did have a point. I could have been too complacent. I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, after all. How long was I supposed to wait to decide? Shouldn't I have had some epiphany by that point, or even a vague goal in mind to pursue?

Rather than sulk in my own faults, I refocused on Bakugo. Bakugo, who was so unapproachable. Bakugo, who pushed everyone away. Bakugo, whose blatant superiority complex could have actually been more complicated.

It was sort of an elementary observation. Narcissism by definition centered around a lack of empathy and excessive self-inflation. I was no doctor, but I did know that Bakugo wasn't a well-adjusted teenager by any means. Regardless of any diagnosis, his instability was obvious. Why didn't anyone else seem too concerned about it? He probably needed professional help.

No one understood him, maybe. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to, someone he could always trust to be there. Someone who could take all of his outbursts in stride and still stay steadfast by his side.

He needed someone to smile and tell him that it would all be okay.

Because, if nothing else, Bakugo was strong. His Quirk was top-tier, his smarts were above average, and he didn't slack off in anything that he did. He was really kind of inspirational. He could absolutely become someone great, with some more refining.

Looking back, it was foolish. That night was when I decided, in my romanticized teenage glory, that I could try to be something to Bakugo.

When I was fifteen, Bakugo became a precious person to me – on nothing more than a random whim.

I vowed that I wouldn't give up on him. I would be his support character, for as long as it took to make him shine.

Like I said, it was stupid.