The house across from hers was larger and far less impersonal, Saya noticed as she crossed the street. Its green roofs curved downward and the building had an asymmetrical design that showcased big paneled windows and even some balconies on one side. It was as nice as the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, with well cared-for trees lining its perimeter.

As customary, Saya was carrying a nicely wrapped box packed full of Hokkaido food souvenirs that her mother had personally picked for the Bakugos. It was quite over-the-top with a whole assortment of savory snacks, sweets, cakes, cookies and even a gift-appropriate six-pack of Sapporo Premium Beer. The whole thing weighed enough for her to have to use her quirk in order to balance it on one arm and ring the bell. She could just hope that her mother's generosity wouldn't be mistaken for bragging condescension on her part.

She didn't have much time to ponder on that as the door opened almost immediately.

"Saya-chan!" the woman beamed, stepping aside in order to let her in.

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Bakugo," Saya responded, bowing politely in front of her host and stepping into the house as was expected of her.

"Just Mitsuki!" the woman exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you to call me that over the phone?"

She did, Saya thought. But it felt so weird to use an older woman's first name when she had just met her the day before.

"I apologize," she mumbled.

"Don't need to be so formal around me, sweetheart," the woman answered. "It makes me feel like an old prune."

She certainly didn't look old at all, Saya thought. She knew Mitsuki was an old friend of her mother's, which must have made them close in age, but, even though her mom appeared younger than her years, the blonde woman looked to be only a handful of years older than Saya herself.

Mom must be so jealous.

"I brought a little something for you and your family," Saya announced, presenting the wrapped wooden box with both hands.

"Little, you say," Mitsuki joked in reference to its size. "You shouldn't have bothered."

"It's no big deal," Saya insisted, as she was supposed to. "My mom packed these for you herself, and she also made sure to stuff the cabinets in my kitchen with Hokkaido souvenirs," she added. "In case I needed to use them as temiyage."

Mitsuki took the box and gasped at its weight.

"Holy cow," she said. "This is way too much. Typical Oyuki." She rolled her eyes playfully and beckoned Saya to follow her.

The girl quickly took her shoes off and put on some inside slippers before doing so. She quietly sighed, the awkwardness almost too much to bear.

She had definitely not planned and was not comfortable with this dinner invitation, especially since she still had a lot to unpack, but Mitsuki had insisted so much over the phone she had been basically forced to accept.

It wasn't that she was not grateful: she did appreciate the woman going out of her way to have her over, but it just felt so sudden and unfamiliar Saya seriously felt like a fish out of water.

"Over here, Saya! Let me introduce you to my family." Mitsuki's voice came from the end of a short hallway.

Saya hurried there lest she keep them waiting and entered an ample, beautifully decorated living room. Mitsuki was standing next to a man with brown hair and a faint mustache.

"This is my husband, Masaru," Mrs. Bakugo said. "KATSUKI! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE THIS VERY INSTANT!" she added in an ear-piercing scream.

Saya gaped at her unexpected yelling.

"I'M FUCKING COMING," a male voice answered similarly from upstairs.

Mr. Bakugo scratched his head apologetically.

"It's nice to meet you, Saya," he said. "Please don't mind all of the yelling and swearing that goes around this house, both my wife and son have quite the explosive tempers," his smile was warm and honest.

Saya forced herself to reciprocate it.

"It's alright," she answered, although she was completely baffled.

"Ugh, sorry, Saya," Mitsuki's demeanor was friendly again when talking to her. "You'll understand when you meet him."

That she did. Although, perhaps not immediately.

The person who walked down the stairs with a frown and his hands in the pockets of his baggy black jeans was a teenager who looked to be the same age as her. He definitely took after his mother, Saya thought.

"You took way too long, brat," Mitsuki told him. "You made Saya-chan wait."

"Saya-chan this, Saya-chan that," the boy complained. "Like I give a damn!"

He started for some other room in the house without so much as a glance towards Saya, his mom hot on his trail with some more yelling about being disrespectful and embarrassing her in front of her guest.

Mr. Bakugo cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he looked as awkward as Saya felt. "What Katsuki means is he feels like he already knows you from all of Mitsuki's talk about you these past months."

Yeah, right.

Saya gave him a stiff nod.

"It's true, though," the man insisted, seemingly catching on her disbelief. "Mitsuki has been very excited since she heard the news from your mother," he explained. "Katsuki's personality is a bit… difficult," he admitted. "She thought having you around would be a great influence on him, but also…" he trailed off for a second, as if trying to find the right words. "I think she has always wanted a daughter," he finally said. "Someone to do girly things with, like going shopping, all of that stuff," he scratched his head again. "She can be a bit overbearing at times, but I promise you she has a great heart and will be your biggest supporter while you're here."

Saya felt her heart warm a little bit over his sincere words.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Bakugo," she said. "I'm sorry if my arrival has caused you or your family any problems," she added.

Her mother had made it very clear how grateful Saya needed to be with the Bakugos. After all, Mitsuki had helped her find the apartment house they had rented and promised her parents to keep an eye on her so they would feel safer leaving their daughter in a city roughly 750 miles away from them.

"No problems whatsoever," he reassured her.

"Masaru, dear! Saya! Dinner's ready!" Mitsuki's voice rang from what the girl assumed was the dining room.

"Over here, please," the man said, guiding her from the living room into the direction where Mitsuki and her son had disappeared earlier.

The dining room was a large area with a western-style set of table and chairs made of mahogany. Saya saw the boy was already sitting on one of the chairs.

"Why don't you sit here, sweetie?," Mitsuki suggested, gesturing to the chair across from her son's.

"Sure," Saya mumbled, doing as she was told.

The boy was not paying any attention to her, his eyes glued to his own hands under the table.

"Katsuki, no phones at dinner," his father said.

The teen rolled his eyes and put his phone in one of his pockets just in time for when Mitsuki placed the last bowls of food on the table.

Saya took a second to observe what was presented and couldn't stop her mouth from watering over the delicious looking dishes and pleasant aromas.

"Your mom told me you really like tempura," Mitsuki said. "So I made lots of it for you to try."

"I am most thankful," Saya replied humbly.

She took a sip of the miso soup first and ate some of the traditional white rice before grabbing some deep fried green beans and dipping them in some sauce.

"Oh, this is so good," she complimented. She was used to eating food made by professional chefs, but Mitsuki's tempura was just as good as any of theirs, if not actually better.

The woman's chest puffed with pride.

"Try the white fish," she suggested. "Also, here's my very special sauce," she commented, pointing towards a small dish with a reddish brown liquid in it. "Try it with the fish if you want to, but I'm warning you: it's a bit spicy."

"Oh, I love spicy food," Saya said, smiling.

If she hadn't been purposely trying to avoid looking at the teenage boy in front of hers, she would've seen his eyes had finally landed on her after that statement.

"You're trying to kill her, old hag?" he casually asked before taking a sip out of his own bowl of soup.

Saya raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I guess it is quite spicy," Mitsuki admitted, a toothy grin forming on her smooth face. "Katsuki likes it that way."

"I have no idea how both of them can stomach that thing, to be completely honest," Mr. Bakugo chimed in. He was eating his rice with a side of pickled plums.

The boy grabbed some white fish tempura and dipped it in the hot sauce. He looked Saya right in the eye as he took a bite out of it, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Saya was many, many things, but a coward wasn't one of them, and she understood his direct provocation.

"Oh," she said, "sounds exciting."

She imitated the boy by dipping some fried fish in the sauce.

The smell of it wasn't very strong and it was thicker than the traditional tentsuyu she had just tried with the beans, it had a sticky drip that reminded Saya of honey.

This is not that bad, she thought at first, the sweetness of the peppers complimenting the savory tempura like a match made in heaven. The kick of the spice came in strong after that, though. It spread like a forest fire, engulfing her whole mouth in a tsunami of molten lava.

The boy cackled with a short, loud, most definitely mocking laugh when he saw her blue eyes starting to tear a bit, cheeks quickly turning red.

"What a loser," he said. "You should get her some milk."

In any other circumstance, Saya would have probably lost her cool at his words. Right now, though, the only thing her brain could focus on was the burning hell in her mouth. Some milk did sound like a really nice thing to have at that moment. Her pride could wait. Her ego could wait. Her dignity was probably too far gone by now to try and save it.

She forced herself to swallow the mouthful, a decision she instantly regretted as it triggered an awful fit of coughing.

She felt like her whole face was on fire, steam probably coming out of her nostrils and even her ears. Her tongue was in literal pain.

How the boy had eaten that thing and not even flinched a little bit was completely beyond her understanding.

After what had seemed like an eternity in hell to Saya, but was probably a single minute in real life, Mitsuki had finally passed her a glass of iced milk, which she chugged down in three long gulps.

It didn't dissipate all of the heat, but at least enough to allow her to breathe normally again.

She looked up.

The boy was looking at her without even attempting to hide a smirk.

"Told ya," he said, blatantly dipping a piece of deep fried eggplant into the hot sauce again and eating it as if to humiliate her further.

Saya wanted to say something, but only a groan came out of her tortured throat.

"Sorry, sweetie," Mitsuki said, smiling apologetically, "I shouldn't have suggested you try it."

"It's okay," Saya coughed. "It was… fun."

The boy raised an eyebrow at her obvious lie. Mr. Bakugo suggested she eat a slice of white bread he had probably produced from their fridge while she was agonizing. She took it gratefully.

The pain had started to subside, but her tongue still felt like a hot coal in her mouth and even her quirk wouldn't work in that situation. The intensity of the burn had been enough to numb her to the flavors of the rest of the dishes. She did compliment them extensively, though, as was expected.

"So," Mitsuki said, attempting to be inconspicuous, but completely failing at that endeavor. "Are you excited to start school tomorrow?"

Saya swallowed some of her potato salad. It was the cold kind and had mayo in it and it helped soothe her taste buds after their trip to hell.

"Of course," she nodded. "Can't wait."

"What class will you be in?" the older woman pressed.

Saya had a feeling she already knew the answer to that question.

"1-A," she responded anyway.

"Oh! Same as our Katsuki!" Mitsuki exclaimed. "That means you'll be classmates!"

Saya studied the boy's reaction. He seemed annoyed, but was still eating. There were no signs of surprise in his demeanor.

So he already knew.

"Nice," she said awkwardly, picking the last of her pickled plums with her chopsticks and taking a bite out of it.

"Right?" Mitsuki pressed. "I'm so happy our Katsuki gets to have someone like you around," she said. "You can help each other study and…"

"Stop talking like I'm not even here, you old hag!" the boy complained. "And besides, I don't have time to waste with any damn extras."

Mitsuki's hand slapped the back of her son's head. Saya gasped at the whole scene. Mr. Bakugo gave an uncomfortable little laugh that was clearly an attempt to ease the tension.

"That's no way of speaking to your mother, you brat!" Mitsuki yelled. "And even less so to our guest! You should be honored she is wasting her time meeting your sorry ass."

Saya opened her mouth to try and calm things down, but closed it again as the boy tsked.

"Why?" he asked. "Because she's some third place loser's kid? What a joke."

"Katsuki, that's enough," this time, it was Mr. Bakugo who spoke.

Saya was too shocked to even utter a sound, but a frown had begun forming on her brow.

"It's true!" the boy insisted. "Her dad is no rival to Almight. Not even a rival to Endeavor." His scowl deepened. "Only a goddamned loser would think being a side character's child makes them special."

Saya lowered her chopsticks on the plate with a bit more force than was necessary.

"Don't you ever talk about my father again," she growled. "I don't think I'm special because my dad is the third ranking hero in Japan," she added. "I'm special because I'm going to be the first number one female hero," she stated, blue eyes gleaming with determination.

"Hah! In your dreams, extra," the boy said. "I'll beat the shit out of you and anyone else that stands in my way." He had placed both his hands on the table and was leaning towards her. "I'm the next number one hero there will be," he finished.

"Hah!" Saya exclaimed. "How many people have to die before that happens?" she mocked. "Maybe you can be the number one hero after the zombi apocalypse or something."

That was a retort her younger brother Sukenobu had used against her at some point in the past, but they had absolutely no way of knowing that.

"Wanna repeat that to my face?" there were tiny explosions going off from his hands in a threatening manner.

His mother was yelling something about not using his quirk inside the house, but no one was paying her any mind.

"What face?" Saya retorted. She had crossed her arms, a smug expression on her features. "I only see an ass."

Mistuki burst out laughing, which Saya was grateful for. It was clear this family wasn't a normal one, but she still feared offending her host in any way.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?" the boy had screamed.

"Okay, that's enough. I think Katsuki and I are going to do the dishes while you girls go get some rest in the living room," Mr. Bakugo intervened, grabbing his son from the back of his collar.

"LET GO OF ME, OLD MAN! I'M NOT DOING NO GODDAMN DISHES!" he complained.

"Yes, you are, Katsuki, c'mon now." He proceeded to drag the fussing male towards the kitchen.

Saya followed Mitsuki to the living room still in shock about everything he had said.

Did she seriously have to see that idiot every day at school from tomorrow on? She sighed at her own thoughts. This was going to be insufferable.