Unlisted Report #11027A
[Who's adding these!? I keep finding these things with sticky notes in other files! All of them are like 'this belongs in the Rabbit file'. Are we sure we've updated security?]
(You still need to fix your firewall. Oh. And your password really shouldn't be your dogs name in conjunction to your birthday. That's… not only weird, but really predictable if you look at your desk. – Rabbit)
[STAY OFF MY DESK!]
(Get better security)
Stupid fucking provisional license.
Stupid fucking idiots doing stupid things when they should just realize that they're shitty extras, fix their face, fix their worthless lives, and get out of his way.
Bakugo huffs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he considers the sight before him.
None of that was really appropriate to say right now.
Not after the hassle of taking a part of his day where he could be training to come out here. Not after taking the time to converse with the stupid florist to get the right flowers.
Then again.
He guesses that a bouquet of red poppies isn't too… ugly.
He tilts his head to the side, reconsidering them as they sit in the little stone vase on top of the gravestone.
Maybe he should get a book on flower arrangements? He buys them often enough at this point…then again.
He sighs, shaking his head as he trails his eyes up to the name.
Midoriya…
Both of them side by side.
A few months apart.
He sighs, shaking his head.
"When I get my license, I promise I'll buy more than one bouquet." He grumbles, dropping his gaze back to the ground. Then he'll be able to take odd-jobs, work internships, get a bit of money…
The feeling he gets here is always the same.
Like someone is watching him. And maybe it's just because of that he is never sure what to say. Never truly sure what words could possibly make up for the words he's thrown at one of the tombstones and hid from the other.
"I guess I'll start it off like I usually do." He glances from the large gravestone, then to the smaller one. The one for the high school student.
The one for the student that should have gone to Uni. Definitely not the hero course but….
Deku had been fucking smart.
He would have made a half decent support technician.
"I…" And the words stick in his throat, like a fat loogie hanging up. He clears his throat, spit to the side, because even he's not so crass as to spit on someone's grave. "I'm sorry." He snarls the words, so quiet he's sure that only he could hear them.
"Sorry, again. For all the… the stupid shit I said to you in middle school. And…" he trails off, feeling the sticky feel of sweat on his palms.
He burns it off, mini explosions crackling to life in his clenched palms.
"I'm sorry I didn't get my license today, even though I promised you I'd get it easy- first shot." He curses, "some stupid fu-… and- "He cuts himself off, smothering the rant with gritted teeth and a shake of his head.
"So, I'm sorry." He mutters, "I let you down. Again." He shuffles his feet, always unsure what words to say once the normal apology is through.
He screwed up in the test.
Plain and simple. And all the other fucking extras had managed to squeeze through for some bullshit and he was…
He grits his teeth, pulling his hands out of his pockets as the heat builds in his palms.
"Should have done better." The tiny pops and explosions in his palms boil over into a barely controlled rumble. "I should have…"
His palms burst open, and the air oxidizes the explosion, blooming out into a jet of heat and a shockwave of air. He huffs, shaking his head and curling his fingers back into a fist.
"Stupid fucking Deku. Dying before you could become a hero." He swears. "And what kind of fucking best friend am I that I can't hold up your dream? Huh? What kind of fucking asshole bullies his childhood friend into killing himself?" He barks the words into existence, angling them at the tombstone that will never give a reply.
"What the fuck kind of hero would I make anyway!?"
For some stupid reason. That declaration leaves him breathless, panting in front of the grave, his own mind whirling as it tried to understand the words he himself just said. And it's… difficult.
It makes him wonder.
He'd bullied a kid who couldn't defend himself.
Hell, he tortured a kid who couldn't defend himself? Covered his arms and back in burns and blisters and who knows what else.
And Deku just fucking… took it.
Smiled at him through the pain and laughed it off with a nervous chuckle before stumbling away.
'I-it's okay Kacchan. I know what I am now…'
Last words.
He exhales harshly, shaking his head before combing his fingers through his hair. The last fucking words that stupid fucking kid ever said to him- and it's only now that he understands just how self-depreciating they are.
"Fucking shit man." He snarls, crossing his arms and turning back to the other grave.
"I let you down to." He says, eyes tracing the letters on it. "I was supposed to be his friend."
I
"I was supposed to be there to help him…"
N
"Be his friend when no one else was…"
K
"And I just used it to destroy him…"
O
Inko Midoriya.
He was there when she passed away.
Was there for the second to last time he saw Izuku Midoriya. There for the gut wrenching sobbing that the kid broke down into when the monitor went dead. Was there to watch him fall apart, a sobbing mess on the cold tile floor of the hospital.
He didn't go to the funeral.
Didn't offer his condolences.
Didn't send a card.
Or flowers.
Really anything. He'd just let it….
Happen.
And that day when…
When Deku just…
Izuku.
Jumped.
He wasn't there for that either.
He did go to that funeral. Couldn't bring himself to speak. Just. Attend.
Walk to the gravesite.
Stayed long after everyone else left.
At the freshly turned earth being poured over a casket too small to be grown.
The crunch of gravel behind him had his hands uncurling from his palms, a crackle of heat and light and death coiling in his palms. But the sight of a bouquet of flowers, white tulips, had him curling his fingers back over the explosion, smothering it.
"Who the fuck are you?" He growls. "Some asshole that likes stopping by untended graves?"
The flowers hide the face, but he can clearly see the individual shrug, and the shaking of his shoulders seem to be a quiet chuckle. The stranger ignores him, passing him as he transitions the flowers from out in front to his side, blocking the view of his face.
"Looks like you come here often." And the voice is so familiar, but the tone, the ice, the dry bite to the words are so far from the shaky mutters that it can't be.
"What about it?" He takes a step away, glancing at the red poppies that lay across the smaller headstone. "Is it wrong to give people fucking flowers?"
The stranger doesn't reply, and if it wasn't pre-sunset, and it wasn't the day he'd failed his test, he might have given him hell for not answering the question. But he can't.
Not here at least.
The stranger sets the flowers down, the white tulips set-not on a grave- but between them, and pointing the wrong way.
"The magic of dead people is that you can always speak your mind. Isn't that right-" and the stranger looks up at him, a flash of emerald eyes and a smirk that he's never seen. "Kacchan?"
He has a fraction of a second.
One insignificant molecule of liquid time.
And then a puff of smoke erupts under the not-quite-a-stranger-but-maybe's-feet and he stumbles away coughing.
It caught him off guard.
The smoke.
The look.
The eyes.
The way a name nearly slid from his lips.
But he knew it couldn't have been.
"Deku!" He roars, swiping at the smoke as he charges out of it. "Get your fucking ass back here you! Don't you fuck with my friends memory!"
A laugh is his response, a distance away and going further. He can just see it. A shadow on the horizon as the sun dips down, and the blazing silhouette turns into nothing as sunset is replaced by twilight.
He glances back to the graves.
To the flowers set, looking more like they're for the visitors than for the deceased.
White Lilies.
A contrast against red poppies.
He scowls, snarling and gnashing his teeth together as he shoves his hands back into his pockets. Some stupid prankster probably. Some asshole that knew a tid-bit about him, or Midoriya. Some little shit that thought it might be fun to mess with him. He trudges forward, out the graveyard and back to the rest of society.
A crinkle catches his attention, but only because it's under his boots and nowhere else. He glances down. A slip of paper.
A sketch.
Of him.
Full combat gear and in the middle of it by the look of the sketch, an explosion just starting to erupt from his palm. His boot smudged some of the lead, smeared dirt on the back of the page. But that doesn't matter.
He flips it over, but the other side is blank. And it…
Can't be… he tells himself, inspecting the little scribble at the bottom. Four letters, scribbled in a script so familiar, so recognizable it made his throat tight just thinking about it.
-Deku
(I brought this report up to Ground Zero, but he told me it was 'fucking bullshit' and I should 'spend my own damn time writing useless fanfic instead of wasting a heroes'.)
[Check his new desk. He framed the sketch.]
(^That information is suspiciously correct.)
So thanks to someone mentioning the softcap I introduced in the summary. I realized that I'm on 10, and I have a lot more little snippets to go through with Rabbit.
Hence. The addition (also retroactive addition) or some Unofficial Reports (or Rabbit Reports rather) that can't be classified as official.
With this lovely little change up, we'll also be having some banter between the filing officer(s) and our favorite vigilantevillain. Just because I can.