A/N: SPOILER WARNING: Vague spoilers for MHA: Vigilantes. If you're confused about something in this chapter (or think that there's an OC), then it's probably something from there. One character featured in Vigilantes will appear here a lot, though I'll try not to spoil any specifics. If you haven't read Vigilantes, you should go read it it's super good.

You've always been signed up for manga spoilers, though. Sorry. I don't even know where the MHA anime stops right now.

Anyways, enjoy! Updates are probably going to be at a bit more... sedate rate from now on, but I'm not quite entirely sure what that means yet. :')

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Guest responses:

Knee:
Heyo, thanks for coming on here yet again! And no problem, just do whatever you're comfortable with. I have been mentally visualizing your cheering and that at least has been pretty damn awesome. You can see here, however, that I have been taking my extended breaks. Things have luckily been a bit more relaxed for me recently, though that's soon to chance.

Hope the school goes better for you though. Please accept my virtual energy juice so that you may be revived and joyful.

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killuas mom:
You are awesome, and honestly the fact that you reviewed three chapters in a row just makes me happy (so don't apologize for that!). I'm so glad you liked it T.T Everything you said here is wonderful, and I'm really glad you thought the dialogue well reflected Leorio and Kurapika and also the backstory. It's sort of my goal to interweave the two things, sort of create my own world someplace in the between between MHA and HxH and it's cool that it feels that they were interwoven from birth to you as a result.

I shall have to leave any speculations unspoiled here, though you are on the right track. :)

And yes, there must be legitimate and logical explanations for everything! At one point this story occupied my every third thought (other times my every second thought), so I might be a little obsessed. It helps with storytelling at least ':). Thanks for the well-wishing, for reviewing again, and keep being awesome. (Also, is it that obvious that I'm a college kid?)

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Stark123: Hey, thank you! And no worries, I shall definitely be continuing this fic; I love these characters too much to not. I'm glad you've been enjoying it so far, hopefully that shall continue. :)

Repeat guest: Yeah, they do just bounce off each other really well! I'm actually taking up your suggestion, though I'm thinking about how to do it in practice. And thanks for the congrats seriously - it is pretty cool to be past the hundred thousand word mark, and cooler still to have it acknowledged. Thanks for dropping the review again. *grins*

anon:
Same here. T.T Honestly as soon as I thought of the interaction scenes I had to write them immediately because they made me grin so hard. I had some of that written way before I had Bakugo's more serious scenes written - because it is just too wonderful. That's what life's about, man.

Anyway, I'm glad that you're enjoying seeing the boys (because I am too, haha). Thanks for dropping the review. :)

Chapter Twenty Four

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One week ago, the night before Bakugo was rescued...

Nezu watched the news, rat eyes narrowed, paws clenched together tightly.

Just after one of his students was kidnapped, and now this? What exactly was going on?

It was like someone kept insistently throwing curveballs into his game. He had been working so hard to maintain the peace, get public officials and the public at large to grow accustomed to the idea of another universe, often referencing Killua's good behavior at his school.

This… however, was ruining all his good work.

He watched as a bright-eyed kid in green clothing swung his feet and prattled on and on about all the adventures he had in his lawless world, all the terrifying people he had met. He talked about child abandonment as if it were normal, he referenced being put into extreme danger, nearly dying, as if it were nothing, he spoke as if the authorities, the "Hunter's Association" condoned all sorts of behavior. His words were brightly said, and the reporter was patient, interested, a sensationalist gleam in their eyes, but Nezu's heart sunk as he knew the impact these careless words would have.

Villains would flock to that world, if they knew how to travel there. In fact, even in Nezu's own universe, villains were sure to rise up, bolstered by the knowledge that there was a world, somewhere, where everyone was free to do as they wished if they were strong enough. It threw off the claims of the pro hero establishment and boldly announced that "heroism is not necessary, there is a world where you may do what you want, whatever you want".

And that wasn't the worst of it, either. If things took the worst case scenario… Nezu barely dared to put a voice to those thoughts. A shiver racked through him, hair standing on end. He continued watching, eyes glued to the screen, thoughts whirling like a hundred silver gears.

"And how did you come here from your universe, Gon?" the reporter asked curiously, at some point.

The boy put on a sheepish expression, scratching at his face.

"I don't think I'm supposed to tell, sorry."

And with those words, Nezu knew that this was no mere coincidence toppling down his carefully built tower of cards: this new news leak had been planned.

But by whom?

This boy, Gon Freecs, was a friend of Killua's - he had said as much at the beginning of the interview. Nezu himself had heard much about Killua's friend, information passing up to him by the UA grapevine. The boy matched the description very well, and it was clear to Nezu that the two boys must have a great friendship for each other. The boy himself, therefore, was likely innocent, coming to this universe to find his friend, just as he claimed.

Which meant someone else was pulling the strings.

But who? The world had scarcely heard, or thought of, the possibility of interdimensionality before Killua had arrived. His very mention on the news had set the world into storm - an action taken by Nezu, in order to ease and prepare the world for possible similar incidents in the future.

His stomach pulmetted when an answer came to him.

All For One.

All Might had talked to him earlier, after discussing the theory with Killua, about the possibility that knowledge of interdimensionality was actively being "suppressed". Nezu had come to the same thought earlier, but had dismissed it as too ridiculous by Occam's Razor, the heuristic principle that stated the simplest answer was likely the correct one.

He had dismissed it until All Might had come into his office and quietly brought up the possibility of All For One collecting interdimensional quirks.

This news footage, however, all but confirmed the theory to him.

There was no way Kyoshi, the original perpetrator of Killua's case, would have arranged this. Nay, further - she had no motive to, as according to Naomasa's report, her motive was entirely focused on personal revenge. She had no interest in global politics.

All for One, on the other hand…

Nezu stood from his desk and began pacing the office. What to do, what to do? On one hand, one student kidnapped by the League of Villains the previous night, on the other, a longer-term threat rising from an unexpected direction…

Nezu suddenly had a strong intuition.

All for One wanted to destabilize society, that he knew well. His earlier worry… what could it be, if not that?

Nezu's ultimate wish had been for bridging the two worlds peacefully. He had wanted to officially account and legitimize interdimensional travel, once and if the means of such travel were found. It was a necessity to do so in order to make the interdimensional boundary legislatable and controllable.

As the situation was now, however, if Nezu did nothing to fix this, and interdimensional travel were revealed to the public without regulation, he imagined that things could turn sour between the two dimensions very, very fast.

And if that power were in the hands of All for One, whom villains would flock to?

It could mean war.

Nezu quickly stood up from his desk, reaching for his phone. The interview had ended. He needed to make some calls.

"Hello, TV Tokyo?" his voice squeaked. "This is Principal Nezu, of UA. I'd like to get in contact with Gon Freecss, who was just at your office…"

In the present day...

"Nezu." Naomasa's voice was tight as he held the old-style phone against his ear. "What the hell is going on?"

"You must be stressed if you're cursing, Tsukauchi," the thin voice, ever neutral, but ever so slightly teasing, replied over the phone. It sent a jolt of distaste through Naomasa, and he grimaced. Was Nezu taking this seriously?

"Villain attacks every day, within Musutafu alone. More organized crime again on the rise, the Yakuza becoming active again - though for what, I don't understand," he said lowly, voice unimpressed and increasingly unhappy as he listed the events. "Do you know how many cases I'm on, Nezu? Eleven. Eleven cases! At the same time!"

He breathed out heavily, realizing he had gotten too passionate, and groaned, grabbing at his hair.

"I'm overworked. And you owe me an explanation."

"About what?" Nezu asked innocently.

"You know what," Naomasa grumbled. "The past month, half the cases I've investigated have had a cause in or mentions of upsets involving 'the other world'. Back then, you told me you had it handled. So what's going on?"

"Ah, yes, I see." Principal Nezu was quiet for a long moment. "Did you see Gon's public interview, by chance?" he said at last.

Naomasa grimaced again.

"That's what I've been trying to figure out. There was an uptick in cases after that, and given the subject, it's likely related. But how I don't understand."

"Hmm."

Again, the principal was frustratingly silent. Noamasa had to fight gritting his teeth. Getting information out of Nezu was like pulling hairs off of porcupines - tedious, painful, and all in all an unpleasant affair. He was lucky to not have worked with the rat principal often before All Might had joined UA - but unfortunately, after the USJ incident these conversations were becoming too frequent for his liking.

"You really don't understand, Tsukauchi?" Nezu finally asked curiously. "After all the cases you've been on?"

"If I understood, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Naomasa said flatly.

"You must be blessed then, to never dream of living in another world," Nezu remarked musingly. "The thought isn't tempting to you? To have all your mistakes undone, unknown to anyone except you…"

Naomasa's grip on the phone tightened.

"No," he said shortly. Then, biting, he said, "I would still remember them."

"But that is because you are an honorable man, Tsukauchi," Nezu replied patiently. "These criminals you pursue, however… can you imagine how it must feel to them? The possibility of starting anew again and throwing away their past crimes and regrets, in a different world, where the law will not judge them for past mistakes?"

Naomasa's eyes widened, gears abruptly clicking together in his mind.

"You're saying that they want a fresh start," he said in sudden comprehension. His death grip on the phone relaxed. Things were starting to make sense now.

"Exactly." The principal's tone was satisfied, and in that moment Naomasa felt remarkably like a schoolboy who had just been guided through a lesson. One of Nezu's more annoying habits. "Never underestimate the length humans will go to to wash away their past sins. That, I believe," he said knowingly, "is a lesson you should already well know, Tsukauchi."

The principal, unfortunately, was right. Naomasa did know that all too well.

He had seen it time and time again, when villains would up commit worse and more egregious crimes in a futile attempt to disguise their original crime. When bodycounts ticked upwards, either in cold calculation or a frenzied panic, simply to keep the traces of their original sin from being known to the world. Sometimes Naomasa thought the worst crimes were not born of hatred, anger, or passion - they were born from fearing that the world would know who they truly were.

"A fresh start," he echoed quietly, to himself, sighing. He could see it now. Another universe was the perfect escape. Untraceable, subject to different laws - according to Gon Freecss' interview, less laws.

"But how?" Naomasa found himself asking, the question coming to him as he spoke, thoughts whirling. "I understand the desire, but… these were not the kind of criminals to engage on a whim. Many of their actions seem too coordinated, targetted. I wonder if…"

Naomasa coughed awkwardly, remembering suddenly who was on the other side of the line.

"Sorry. You likely don't know. This is part of the police investigation, after all -"

"You are correct, Tsukauchi," Nezu's voice came in, suddenly level and hard. It had Naomasa perking up once again, alert and attentive as he stared at his dialer seriously. Did Nezu know something that he didn't? "I believe that there may be another hand involved in these villain attacks."

When Nezu finished explaining the theory regarding All For One's involvement, League of Villains and dimensional involvement and all, Naomasa was left feeling breathless and pale.

"All Might told me about that villain," Naomasa said afterwards, fighting to keep his voice steady and level. "If he's alive…" he shook his head in disbelief, "he must be incredibly powerful."

"Yes, I believe so," the voice on the line said succinctly. "What will you do now, Tsukauchi?"

Naomasa breathed for a moment, drumming one hand on the stable, steadying himself, trying to think.

"I have a suspicion," he said finally. Old cases ran through his mind, a certain 'villain factory'. A connection… was there a connection? "Some old cases with similarities… I'd have to investigate further. Thank you, Nezu. This information will help with some of the ongoing cases."

A polite acknowledgement, then silence. The phone call was drawing near to an end, Naomasa could sense it. There was one more thing he wanted to ask, however.

"Before you go, Nezu," he said, tone lighter. "How is Killua settling into the dorms?"

"Quite well," the UA principal responded, voice now chipper once more. "Gon as well has been enjoying his stay there thus far. Class 1-A seems to have taken a liking to them."

Naomasa smiled in relief, feeling his shoulders relax and an inner tension dissipate.

"And Bakugo?" he asked. "No problems with him?"

He remembered the explosive teen's temper, and had worried about it when he had first heard that the young boy was now staying with him. When Bakugo had discovered Killua's dark past, his face dark and tense, Naomasa's concern had only grown.

"None at all," Nezu said brightly, and Naomasa again felt relieved. "In fact, after the kidnapping, they seem to have gotten along even better…"

They passed some time in brief, idle chatter after that, rehashing the situation on both their ends, catching up, before they ended the call. The chatter seemed small, insignificant, but one would never know when the smallest detail would become relevant. As two people fully aware of All Might's condition and the inevitable impact his retirement would have on society, communication between the two parties was vital, especially when both held pivotal positions.

Naomasa didn't like to think of it that way - that he held some "pivotal position" like some underground political mastermind - but he understood the necessity for the case. Over the past years, since he had started working with All Might, he had found himself on more and more high-profile cases, often coordinating raids on villain hideouts and working closely with heroes while many other detectives elsewhere only played clean-up. Now, with a new dangerous villain working behind the scenes, he could not afford to be blind to his own role and influence. Instead, he would have to leverage the authority and information he had to obtain the best results for each case.

It was a slippery slope to walk, he knew, but he was determined to do his best.

He stayed late at the police station that night, working overtime for hours that would never appear in his paycheck. It didn't matter. Naomasa had never been in this job for the money, and people were relying on him. A cup of coffee would get him through the eye-straining reports and old case files he would have to comb through.

The office was silent and crickets were chirping by the time he left, donned in his comfortable trench coat. His thoughts were loose and tired, even as he kept a sharp eye on his surroundings, as his stomach idly rumbled and he thought of instant udon for a late dinner. His place wasn't far from the station, so it wasn't long before his apartment complex drifted into view.

As he strode through the complex hallway to his apartment, he lamentingly caught a whiff of a delicious scent - curry, his nose easily detected - wafting through the hall. It was enough to almost make him regret his career, days like these when he passed by neighbors' doors and envied the delicious foods they had cooking within. His stomach rumbled louder, and he hastily walked forward, determined to not linger on it for too long.

When he stopped in front of his own door and the scent intensified, however, his eyebrows raised and a smile came onto his face. The realization came to him softly, a lightness settling in his chest, his earlier worries cast aside in favor of better things.

Is it that time already? he thought, keys in the door. I must really be losing track of time.

The door opened with a jingle, and immediately, a voice shouted from the kitchen, "Welcome back!"

The damnable smile stayed fixed to his face, and he strode into the kitchen, locking the door behind him, and took in the sight of his little sister.

She seemed to grow up more and more every time he saw her. She wore her characteristic determined smile as she grinned at him, black hair tossed over her shoulder in a ponytail, blue eyes alight. She moved with confidence as she jabbed at the tray of curry in an expert way with the spatula. He wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be a first-class meal. Knowing her, he'd be surprised if it wasn't.

"Makoto," he said, throat feeling thick. "You're back."

Makoto laughed brightly. Her grin widened as she looked at him, and she stepped back momentarily from the stove to approach him.

"Of course I'm back, you dummy. I told you I'd come and visit for a bit before the semester starts up again." She frowned sternly, peering intensely at him, one hand on her hip. "You've been working late again." She wagged her finger just in front of his eyes, too close. "You've got black circles. Have you been sleeping enough?"

Naomasa pushed her hand away to the side and stepped back, and finally he was able to let the smile slip away in favor of a more stoic older-brother expression. "I've been sleeping fine." He paused, then asked somewhat eagerly. "How have you been? How was America?"

At that point, however, his stomach gave another growl, and she stared at it pointedly for a moment before meeting his eyes. Naomasa had to look away sheepishly.

"Sit down," she said bossily, though her tone was that of a regiment commander, strict and unrelenting. She pointed her spatula at him. "We'll talk more over dinner."

Naomasa grumbled, but then obeyed, walking over to the table and pulling his coat over the chair. When he sat down, a sense of relief coursed through him. A few moments later, he found himself hanging his head back, letting his eyes nod off -

A plate slammed down in front of him. The sharp sound, and the delicious aroma, was enough to jerk him awake again. His mouth watered as he stared down a plate of delicious brown curry, and he was eager enough to then begin wolfing it down immediately.

Makoto watched him, taking her own plate at a much more sedate pace. She had obviously had the foresight to eat lunch that day.

"Sooo," she said finally. "I hear that things are getting interesting around here?"

Naomasa abruptly stopped eating, fork falling to the plate with a clink.

Oh no.

"Whatever you're thinking, Makoto," he said warningly. "Don't do it."

She looked at him with wide eyes, blinking innocently.

"Why, is that the way you're supposed to greet your sister when she comes all the way from the States to see you?" She shook her head lamentingly, but she wore a cat's grin as she did it. She leaned forward, abruptly abandoning her innocent act, eyes eager. "So? What's the scoop? I've been hearing rumors about some kids from another universe - most of the media in the States was trying to prove it as a Japanese hoax - but I figure you'd know more about it."

Naomasa groaned, and stabbed furiously at his curry.

"You're not getting involved, Makoto," he said shortly, then plopped a large piece of tofu into his mouth angrily. It really was tasty.

"Oh, so you do know something," she said, eyes lighting up. Her eyes narrowed, and she smirked slyly. "So, does it have something to do with All M-"

Naomasa slammed his hand against the table, cutting her off. He narrowed his eyes at her. His relationship with All Might was a secret she had been trying to weasel out of him for years. Now that it was near-public knowledge that he often worked with the hero, she of course knew about it, and so had accordingly turned her probing daggers into inquiries about All Might himself. It was deathly annoying.

"Yes, in fact," he said, teeth gritted. "All of this is public information, so I will tell you before you start poking your nose where it doesn't belong." He looked at her severely, knowing her habits. "All Might is now teaching at UA. Killua and Gon Freecss are very real and are in fact from an alternate universe. They are now living at UA. So yes, All Might is involved. Indirectly. And it is being taken care of."

When he saw her thinking on the flatly-delivered information, he took the opportunity to ask her, in a strained voice, very-polite smile on, "So how was your year as an exchange student in the States?"

She smiled, then waved her hand in the air. "Oh, it was the usual. I won't bore you about my sociology classes, but I went by to help manage CC's agency's marketing again." Her smile became very self-satisfied. "He won the popularity polls for the region this year."

Naomasa nodded. This was safer territory. He still didn't like that Makoto was involved in the hero world, but Captain Celebrity was a good man, and relatively out of the ways now.

"And Koichi?" he asked quietly, after a moment.

A momentary frown passed across her face. "Still in a slump," she said. "After what happened with Pop…"

Naomasa grimaced, then raised his hands. His distraction had been successful, but now he found himself regretting it. "Give it time," he said awkwardly. "He'll come around."

He had never been very good at the reassuring older brother routine.

She stared at him for a long moment. After some seconds had passed, she finally broke out into a bright smile again, leaned forward, and in a subtle form of vengeance, began telling him about her latest theories on hero sociology. It was a conversation that lasted some hours, and when he finally got to bed, he was feeling more exhausted than ever -

- though, blessedly, for once, his stomach was contented by the warm meal Makoto had cooked for him, and even as his thoughts grew hazy and dark, he found he couldn't be too angry about being kept up too late.

It was good to have his little sister back.

Nezu had been right. Naomasa truly was blessed.

Some hours earlier...

"Yo, Bakugo."

Katsuki paused and turned, half-pivoting on his heel. The brat had long since left for his meeting with Aizawa; he was alone.

"Yo, Kirishima," he returned the greeting. A second later, he grabbed the can of soda his friend tossed him and he looked at it curiously. His gaze then returned to Kirishima. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to talk," the redhead said cheerily, grinning so that his shark teeth showed. Then he sombered, striding forward so that they were now shoulder-to-shoulder. "Lots'a things happened, huh?"

Katsuki stared at his friend for a long moment.

"Yeah," he said, then popped open the can of soda, taking a long draw of it. It was good. Sent an acrid taste to his nose, a fizzy sense of bubbling to his throat, and that was the best part. Like little acrid explosions, prodding him forward. A challenge to conquer and swallow without hesitation.

"Shoto, Midoriya, and I were going to come after you, you know," Kirishima said, lowly. "We were all feeling pretty frustrated, when you saw you, well…"

Katsuki was beginning to feel a little irritated. "... You goin' somewhere with this?"

"Nowhere, man," Kirishima said, sighing like the gust of air just had to be expelled from him. "Just felt like talking about it. Man, doesn't it bother you?" He shook his head, "What am I saying. You were the one kidnapped by villains. I don't have any right to judge with how you're dealing."

Katsuki eyed his friend speculatively for a long moment.

"Want to go to the arcade?" he asked finally, taking another swing of the soda. He drained it down; it was empty, so he crunched it and threw it into the nearest trash can.

Kirishima's eyes widened, looking surprised.

"Hey, sure, yeah. But uh - " he glanced around, at the pristine dorm hall, the " - are we supposed to be leaving the dorms? Y'know, Aizawa told us to stay, for our own safety…"

"Who the shit cares," Katsuki said, throwing his hands into his pockets, already moving forward. Lucky, he had his wallet on already. "Let's just go. I've had 'nuff of this place."

As they walked forward, Kirishima at first hesitantly then more confidently trailing after him, they passed the gaggle of 1A students chattering at the lounge's couches. They were all gathered around in a circle, like some sort of soiree. When Bakugo caught sight of the green-garbed squirt sitting in the center of the couch, surrounded by the girls, who were putting fucking bows in his hair, however, he had to stop and frown.

"What the fuck," he said, finally, staring.

"Hey, Bakugo," Kaminari waved him over with a loose smile. He had been watching the scene avidly, if a bit quizzically.

It was like Kaminari's greeting had brought on the onslaught from hell. Suddenly, everybody was looking at him. Racoon Eyes called out a cheery greeting, and Icy Hot did a moment later too. Some of the damned extras were wide-eyed as they looked at him, some welcoming, some - like Deku - watery-eyed with happiness.

… Watery-eyed with happiness?

What the fuck?

Uncomfortably, he found himself remembering Killua's accusation of Deku's crush all those weeks ago, found himself feeling sick, and deliberately averted his gaze. His eyes sidled instead towards Gon, who was happily swinging his feet on the sofa, ribbons with at least five different colors lodged in his straight-stick hair.

"Squirt," Katsuki said finally, tone somewhat bewildered. He pointed at his own head to convey what exactly he was bewildered by. "What the hell are you doing?" Don't you have any fucking dignity?

But the young boy just looked at him cheery-eyed and chirped, "Mina wanted to play dress-up!"

Killua, of course, was missing - he was at that meeting, and Katsuki doubted that he'd have allowed this sort of thing anyway.

... Unless the brat took some perverse glee in seeing his best friend be dressed up like a doll.

Which, damn it, was entirely possible.

Fucking kids.

Katsuki's eyes slid incredulously from the Green Squirt to Racoon Eyes.

To his dismay, Racoon Eyes' grin only grew bigger after Gon's confession, and she shot him a cheeky peace sign. "Jealous, Bakugo?" she asked. She then grabbed something from the table next to her and smiled in a very threatening way as a long ribbon dangled from her fingers. "We can do you too." Then she looked behind Katsuki and her grin became even more cheeky. "Or you, Eijiro."

Katsuki shook his head incredulously, then stepped forward, away from the crazy crowd, who laughed and joked and bantered like nothing had ever changed. Whatever. They could do whatever they wanted.

"Let's go, Kirishima," he said. He began striding towards the door.

He was almost there when a figure ran into his vision, arms pumping and gaze stern underneath his elitist glasses. It was fucking Four Eyes.

"Stop, Bakugo!" he said, holding out a warding hand. He looked down at Katsuki sternly, a sharp glint on his glasses. "Where are you going? We are not supposed to leave the premises until we are cleared, particularly you!"

The chatter behind him ceased. It had him feeling irritated, this itchy feeling that had been building in him the past week rising to the surface again. His fingers twitched, ready to pop explosions.

"Fuck off," he said, scraping one foot against the floor. "I don't need to tell you nothin'."

Four Eye's frown deepened.

"Can you not see that we are worried for your safety!" He gestured sweepingly behind Katsuki. "Look at your classmates! Now is not the time to act recklessly."

His hackles were raising, but he found himself glancing back at the couch party, finding everyone silenced and looking towards him, with respective furrows of concern in their eyes. Even Kirishima, who was just a few feet away from him, had a worried gleam in his eyes. Only the squirt was immune, looking confused as he glanced from face to face.

Katsuki felt himself heating up. Getting angry. A snarl was on his lips, lips curling nastily. They were all looking down on him, they were -

"Iida," Kirishima said quietly. "We were gonna go to the arcade."

Iida's eyes widened, and he begun huffing himself up like an angry bird -

"There's one in UA, right?" Kirishima continued all friendly, smile on his lips. He looked towards Kaminari. "Near the lunch room, right? So there's no problem."

Dunce Face, after a moment, nodded slowly. "Yeah, I remember that…"

As one, the rest of the room let out a sigh of relief. Four Eyes abruptly looked chagrined, turning to Katsuki.

"Ah, sorry, Bakugo. I must apologize. I leapt to conclusions and - "

Katsuki didn't bother listening. He had to move, get out of this place, before he blew up. He strode past Four Eyes angrily, bumping shoulders with him, not letting him get in the way. Soon enough, he was out the door, into fresh air.

He stood there for a long moment, trying to cool off, but it wasn't enough. He heard the door swing open and close again, and then Kirishima was there too.

They stood there in silence for a long moment, Katsuki not looking anywhere but the sky, before the redhead spoke.

"They're all just trying to get things back to normal, ya know?"

Katsuki side-eyed him.

"... I didn't know UA had an arcade," he said finally, in way of response.

Kirshima scratched his cheek sheepishly and laughed. "Yeah, I figured… I didn't remember until now, either. Good thing too, or else we'd be in trouble."

Katsuki grunted, then gestured for the other boy to lead the way. He was feeling frustrated, but he figured taking it out on some gaming consoles would help. Crushing his friend at some games certainly would at least, he felt.

When they finally arrived, in a small room with only two multi-game arcade boxes, and played some games, Katsuki's hands tight on the ball stick and buttons, mercilessly and systematically winning at each multiplayer game, he suddenly found the motions to be more listless than anything, unfulfilling. Like he was moving by rote, trying haplessly to bite down the frustration inside of him with ruthless victory, only to realize that the victory meant nothing, nothing, in terms of what actually mattered. He was left with a sour taste in his mouth at the thought.

So it was sooner rather than later that a bitter Katsuki left the small arcade room with a chipper, but worried Kirishima in tow.

"Ah, man, you got me beat," the other boy laughed, scratching at his hair. "I didn't know you were so good at these."

I'm a fucking loser, Katsuki spat viciously and angrily in his mind in response. The thought had swirled around his head for days, growing in strength every time it appeared. Unbidden, the memory of being fucking princess-carried over Tokyo returned to him. His helplessness as he watched the twelve-year-old kid get burned rescuing him. His inability to do anything but watch and be carried.

Out loud, he said, "Yeah."

Fucking useless.

Here he was, just trying to reach out for some stupid satisfaction, trying to placate a damable frustration inside of him, when real things were happening. When he should be trying to get stronger, stronger, stronger to overcome his deficiency, his weakness. Here he was instead, just fucking lamenting about it, feeling the anger, the burn, the twitch flow through his hands, red hot and angry and blinding enough that he'd do stupid things like go to an empty arcade just to vent, even if it might have cost him his freedom again. Stupid. Reckless. Stupid.

"How about we go to the lunch room? Grab a drink?"

"Sure," he replied flatly.

Katsuki was great? Katsuki would be number one? The greatest hero?

What a fucking joke. He couldn't even beat a twelve-year-old kid.

He remembered each loss in excruciating detail. The smug cocky smile the white-haired brat always had on his face. The incredible speed he moved at, eyes tracking Katsuki's swing before he had thought of it. He had tried tricks, surprises, coming from different directions, but the brat was just somehow always aware of it - and if he wasn't, he could always move fast enough.

Every time he lost, Katsuki had calculated and retraced his move, trying to understand where he had gone wrong, forced to swallow down his pride to improve and win. One time he had come in with his left hook and overcommitted to the attack, so Killua had been able to easily sidestep him. Another time he had undercommited with a low right cut and came in with too little speed. Again, he lost to a dodge and a swift strike returned to the guts, sidling right between his defenses. Always, always, it seemed just barely out of his reach.

If it weren't for the keen and attentive look the brat had in his eyes every time, full attention on the duel, he'd have thought the brat was toying with him.

"Here."

Another cold drink was pressed in his hands, and he stared down at it in stupefaction. This time, it wasn't a soda. A tea? He looked up at Kirishima.

He was already popping back his own drink, settled comfortably in the empty cafeteria seats. Everything was closed, abnormally silent. It took Katsuki a moment to realize that the redhead must have gotten the drinks from the vending machine.

After a moment of hesitation, he sat down next to Kirishima, a seat of space between them.

"Fucking shitty brat," he found himself grumbling. He took a swig of the mystery drink; this time it was sweet, which would usually sour his mood. "I fucking hate this."

Kirishima looked at him in surprise.

"You mean Killua?" he asked. "I thought you liked the kid."

Katsuki gave him a nasty look. Then he took another sip, and sighed. "Yeah," he said finally. "I gotta admit, the brat's got guts."

He remembered how even when he had stood in front of him, told the brat to leave, Killua had still stepped forward. To fight for Katsuki, unwilling to leave him behind.

"Got any embarrassing stories?"

Katsuki nearly spit out his tea, and stared at his friend in surprise.

"What?" Kirishima said. He had on a stupid expression on his face, looking unusually pleased with himself as he grinned, shark-toothed. "He lived with you for a month until you moved here, right? So you've gotta have something."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed, suddenly determined to get some shit on the brat, and racked his brain. To his sudden lament, most of the incidents that he recalled, Katsuki had always gotten the short end of the stick.

Upstaged by a brat.

Despite himself, he found a smirk riding up to his lips as he remembered better fights, times when he had still won in spirit. The suitcase chase, even, just earlier today, when the brat had been stammering and blushing at Katsuki's and the squirt's mutual victory.

In fact, that brought another thought to mind.

"No," he said finally, "but him and the squirt act sickeningly sweet to each other whenever they're both around." He was sure that Killua bullying Gon counted as 'sickeningly sweet', the way the brat's eyes lit up in glee as he did it.

Kirishima's eyebrows raised. "Oh?" Then he looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Hey, man, this isn't to get back at Killua for those rumors he started about - "

Katsuki shot him a glare that could have frozen mercury.

Kirshima yelped, raised his hands in the air, abruptly flustered. "Er, I don't really think, I mean, I know you guys were ch- "

"Never," Katsuki growled, stopping him from speaking. He pressed his hand deeper into the side of the table, explosions popping to express his anger. "Mention. That. Again."

He removed his hand, and to his satisfaction, saw that the section of the table he had been holding was now burned black.

"Alright, alright, man," Kirishima still held his hands up in sheepish surrender.

A moment later, his eyes flitted back down to the table, a frown on his face. "... Should we report that?"

Katsuki also glanced down at the burn, but then stood up, stretching. His drink was in hand and he grinned fiercely. He was suddenly feeling a lot more like himself.

"Nah. Let's let the custodians take care of it."

Kirsihima looked dubious, but when Katsuki began whistling cheerily, a maniacal grin on his face, he quickly agreed, and they scurried out of the lunch room, leaving one damaged table behind. To Katsuki, it felt like he had left a mark on the world, however damned small it was. Who cares about however damned petty it was. To him, it said I am here and I'm going to keep doing whatever I fucking want to. No one was gonna stop him.

When Kirishima and Katsuki parted ways at the dorms however, Katsuki's grin slowly fell. He found he still couldn't keep up his cheery mood, despite the destruction. As he turned to his room, threw himself on the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, he found his thoughts growing more sombre. The itch was still, the frustration, but he could tamp it down, keep it manageable.

He thought of home, the differentness of this new place, even as it held its own furniture. He thought of its depressing sense of emptiness, even though this was only the first night here. Was he fucking homesick?

He thought of his parents, who had been happy to see him once he had come back home. Hugging him every other hour, touching him to reassure them that he was there, until he had to snap at him that he was really okay. They had hugged the brat too, thanking him for bringing him back, and the kid had looked more flustered than anything.

He found himself rolling over, looking at the empty floorspace next to him for a long moment.

"... Hey, brat," he found himself saying.

No one, of course, answered.

He rolled back, facing the ceiling.

… It was strange. Too quiet. In the past month, he had gotten used to having the brat there.

Sometimes, the brat would tell him annoying stories late into the night, half of which he doubted were true, so that the next morning he would wake up exhausted and grouchy. Sometimes he would wake up in the morning to find that his room had been crassly rearranged, his backpack missing, and he'd have to curse and shove at the brat until he was nearly late to school and they'd have to run to get there in time. One time the brat had given him back his backpack and he'd found out only halfway to school that his hero costume was missing. Another time, the brat had stayed mum and Katsuki had spent a precious half hour looking only to find it on the fucking roof of the apartment complex.

It was annoying. He was glad that the brat now had his own room, here in the dorms, and someone else to pester other than Katsuki.

But it was still too damned quiet.

Kirishima had been right. Despite everything, he liked the damn brat. He liked that the brat didn't pull his punches, didn't give him any stupid pity even when Katsuki lost again and again, only a taunting smile. He liked that the brat held his own even when Katsuki came after him when he gave everything he got. And there was something that Katsuki respected about the brat too. Katsuki wouldn't admit it, but - as much as the idea of his parents' torture filled him with disgust and an angry flatness, the fact that the brat had owned up to it, said that it had made him stronger and that he regretted nothing, had later filled Katsuki with a curious sort of admiration, and an understanding.

They both valued strength.

His squirt friend was a different story. Katsuki didn't get him at all. His story had five different gaping holes in it and he didn't understand what the brat saw in him. He was bright, eager to please, and grossly optimistic. If it weren't for the fire that burned in his eyes, he'd have dismissed him as some extra. As it was, the kid unsettled him. He couldn't figure him out.

Katsuki's eyes narrowed, before he sighed, and closed them.

… Whatever. He was getting 'nuthing done, just sitting here and thinking.

Tomorrow, they were starting training for the provisional license exam. He'd better get some rest, so he could beat the shit out of all his classmates all proper tomorrow. Show them who's boss. He didn't need any shitty rescue from fucking Deku or icy'hot or…

Eventually, thoughts warbling, growing wilder and wilder, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep in the too-empty room.