"Hey Kacchan?" Deku squeaked out, sitting on his bed and swinging his legs in the most immature way possible.
"What?" he let out, surprisingly easy. It had gotten much easier to fall back into the role of a child, much easier than he had expected. Life was so much easier, but at the same time not having as much freedom or responsibility was incredibly frustrating, if not tiring and stifling. But that was only when he clashed with his mother, which was rare at this age.
"Do you think anybody else from our class has gotten their quirk yet?"
Bakugou froze, wondering where the hell this was going, "Probably. I mean, we are at that age so it makes sense. Why do you care about those extras?" ...He was still working on it.
Deku looked away bashfully, "W-well, I don't know, we've spent a long time out of class, and I was just wondering when we'd get to see them all again."
"You really want to go back to school, Izu?" he tried to redirect the conversation to avoid thinking about all the shit that they did to Deku at school, "School's shitty."
"Kacchan! Auntie said no cursing!"
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her!" he exclaimed, jumping up from his desk chair and grabbing Deku's wrist. He dragged him out of his room, ignoring the child's protests, "Moooooooom, we're going to the paaaark!"
"Be home by dinner then, Katsuki!" she shouted back.
That was the one thing he liked about his mom, she was as much of a free-spirit as he was. Even though the doctors said not to push himself, he couldn't help it. Rest was a waste of time at this point.
"Kaaaaachaaaan! The doctor said not to overexert yourself!" Deku whined at him.
"Shut up, you know I'm fine, so let's go!"
Deku blinked as he pulled his wrist out of Bakugou's grip and matched his friend's pace, "Soo, where are we going? Because the park is the other way…"
Bakugou grinned, "We're going back to the forest."
He couldn't decipher what flashed over Deku's face, but it was gone so fast that he wasn't even sure if it was even there in the first place. But it didn't matter, he had to let himself know that this timeline was going to be better than the last one.
After all, exposure therapy was supposed to help, right?
They explored all of the spots Bakugou remembered to be their favorites, Midoriya trailing behind him with uncertainty. The blonde cracked a few jokes, making his friend smile and laugh as though nothing else mattered.
When they finally arrived at the stream where Bakugou had fallen some time ago, he stopped.
They both stared at it with unreadable expressions on their faces.
Without exchanging any words, the pair turned and headed back to the broken fence they snuck through. Bakugou couldn't bring himself to speak as they shuffled home long before he intended to go back.
If the hag noticed anything wrong during dinner, she didn't say anything.
The months had gone by, and it had finally reached Bakugou's fifth birthday. He still couldn't believe that over a year had gone by since he had woken up in his four year-old body. Deku had spent several months with only his dad before said failure-of-a-parent decided to shoot him, but he had the feeling there were other issues going on in that house that his mother refused to tell him about.
The way Deku hesitated when food was involved.
The way he flinched when someone yelled, despite the yelling not once directed toward him.
The ever-present, still horrifying level of pain tolerance that Bakugou had seen over the years, though never anywhere near the climax of breaking his fingers multiple times as he had during the Sports Festival.
He didn't hate him, but Bakugou wouldn't say that he liked seeing these habits, the new ones or the old ones, in Deku.
But it was too late, and there was nothing he could do about it.
It was really noticeable when Deku's cheerful smile dipped and his eyes clouded as he politely declined to eat a piece of the delicious All-Might themed birthday cake that Bakugou was sure they would be getting for Deku's birthday in a month or two.
"H-hey, where are we going?" Bakugou grit out as his mother dragged him to the car one afternoon.
"Shut it, brat," Mitsuki hissed.
Bakugou flinched. His mother hadn't acted like this when he was this young, what was going on?
Worriedly, he looked at Deku who was in the back seat next to him. He looked sad and resigned, but what stood out most was how old he looked despite his baby fat. The rest of the car ride was quiet and tense, too strained and depressed to be awkward.
Halfway through the trip, Bakugou finally realized where they were going.
The hospital.
Ah, they must be visiting Auntie Inko then.
But that didn't explain the tense atmosphere. Maybe… they blamed him for her being in a coma? It was his fault… but the Deku he knew would never blame anybody, or if he did, take it out on them.
But this wasn't his Deku anymore, was it?
The reminder of all he had left behind only made his heart clench painfully as they parked and entered the hospital. His mother checked in and they made their way to her room, Deku oddly quiet the whole time.
What did Deku know that he didn't?
Midoriya Inko was in terrible shape, and you could tell at first glance. Her cheeks were a bit sunken and her skin was pale. She wasn't anywhere near the weight she would be in the future, so being suspended on life-support had a drastic difference in how healthy she looked.
She was bone-y and she just seemed so wrong.
Bakugou's mother interrupted his train of thought by shoving him inside the hospital room and ushering Deku through the door behind him.
The urge to bitch about the unfair treatment welled up, but one look back at his friend's face made the feeling get stuck in his throat and practically suffocated him. Bakugou really did deserve it in this case, he had to work hard to keep things from becoming worse than he had already made it.
Deku settled in a chair that Mitsuki had pulled up by his mother's bedside. He rested his head on the bed while holding her hand sadly.
The scene struck him as odd, it just seemed far too mature for a kid. But who was he to try and judge what was going on in Deku's head? Plus, who was he to complain. That just meant that Deku would be more bearable sooner and he wouldn't have to put up with oblivious Midoriya for too much longer.
But as soon as he thought that, his chest tightened again and he felt a bit sick. What the hell was wrong with him? There was no brightside from taking away Deku's childhood, his innocence, again!
His mother gave him an odd look as she settled in a chair by the door, motioning for him to sit on her lap (as there were no other chairs in the room). He shook his head, and remained in the middle of the room, standing there awkwardly.
The time went by, and Bakugou had long since lost track of it. But what was probably a few minutes after his feet began to ache from standing still, a couple of nurses and Masaru were talking right outside the room.
His mother had fallen asleep a while ago—when had she gotten those eyebags, and why hadn't he noticed?—and Deku also seemed to be asleep, though he could very well just be awake and not moving.
Out of habit, Bakugou quieted his breathing and ignored the steady beeping and sounds of the heart monitor and ventilator.
"...I'm sorry….I wish there…..was no… yes… we're... pull her off…..tomor..." he could only pick up the high-pitched voice of the nurse.
Hold on. Pull her off…. Tomorrow? Pull her off… life support?
He froze, his heart beginning to race and tears beginning to build at the corners of his eyes.
When had things gotten this bad? Midoriya Inko was as good as dead and this was the last time Deku was going to see her. No wonder his mother had been so short-tempered with him. This was his fault and she was going to die.
His hands shook at his sides, clenched into fists, grabbing the bottom of his shirt.
Masaru entered the room alone after having finished the conversation and politely thanking the nurses.
If he noticed anything wrong with his son, he never said anything.
Deku was much more quiet after his mother was pulled off of life support. Bakugou had absolutely no idea what he was thinking or feeling, and it seemed that his parents had no clue either because they both tip-toed around him the entire week leading up to Midoriya Inko's funeral.
During the service, Bakugou pretty much spaced out the entire time. He ignored all the people who came only to socialize with people they knew. He ignored the people who told funny and sad stories about a woman whom he had accidentally gotten killed. He ignored how blank Deku's face looked, and how his eyes seemed stuck on the flowers at her wake.
If someone were to ask Bakugou what had happened during the funeral, he wouldn't have been able to list anything. And he had a feeling that Deku wouldn't have been able to either.
Clearly, both of his parents knew something was wrong, but never said anything.
As it turned out, the funeral was only a week before Deku's birthday. And just as god-awfully timed as the funeral, his mother finally informed him that the court date had been set for two days after Deku's birthday.
He couldn't ignore the hollow aching in his chest when Deku declined to celebrate his birthday when asked by Mitsuki and Masaru.
Bakugou stared in disbelief.
What the fuck.
He had thought that everything had gone to shit after everything he'd already fucked up, but it was all just pre-emptive to this hard kick in the gut.
Sure, Deku's father was found guilty, it wasn't difficult after all. The medical records were all there from Bakugou's wound, and he had probable cause and didn't even bother to deny it. Went away for attempted manslaughter of a minor and probably wouldn't see the light of day until Bakugou was a hero and would be able to crush him effortlessly.
But apparently the judge decided that his parents were unfit guardians because of the proximity to trauma for Deku.
Proximity to trauma? What bullshit! They were the only people who gave a damn about Deku, and some fucker decided that it didn't matter. And Midoriya was quirkless! Didn't he know that practically meant suicide in the foster care system? Or any system? He raged in his head as his mother had to be escorted out of the court room literally kicking and screaming.
Only later, as Deku… Izuku was gathering his things to be sent to his first foster home, did Bakugou realize that in the chaos, Izuku had never been diagnosed as Quirkless.
And that that judge probably didn't even have the power to make the call on his custody rights, as it wasn't even a custody court, it was a criminal court.
But as a five year-old, there was nothing he could do about it but cry in frustration as the car drove away with his one and only constant in his life.
After losing Izuku, Bakugou felt lost.
He felt floaty, and his emotions just didn't seem to exist at all.
His parents were at a loss at what to do, he just wouldn't respond to much of anything.
He ate healthy and got decent, age-appropriate exercise out of sheet habit, but it was all mechanical and thoughtless.
So his parents just shoved him in therapy and hoped it would solve the problems.
In the end, he couldn't really decide whether he liked his therapist. She asked him questions occasionally, but usually he just resorted to drawing.
It was ironic. He had lived most of his life breezing through things, only really having to put effort into keeping a balanced diet and exercise routine and practicing his technique to become a hero. But here he was, struggling to draw.
His tiny hands shook just the slightest bit and always threw everything off, making the lines too shaky or too sketchy or too dark or too light. It was never perfect, never just right.
He remembered getting glances of Deku's "Hero Analysis For The Future" notebooks, seeing the life-like drawings, probably drawn in the heat of the moment as he watched hero fights. It was incredible, and yet Bakugou couldn't even begin to replicate it.
The one he had drawn in the back of his own notebook at home was complete shit, but he didn't want to forget that face that always smiled back at him despite always facing beatings and insults alike. And so he worked on it, drawing future Deku hundreds of times. In his stupid casual clothes, in his hero costume, in his Aldera uniform.
His therapist once asked who he was always drawing. Without even thinking about it, he looked her dead in the eye and said, "A hero."
Just a few weeks after the trial, his parents opted to put him back into the public school system in a misguided attempt to get him to socialize and express emotions again.
Of course, he eventually did express emotions again.
But the only thing that really came out was anger at all the bullshit he had to deal with from the teachers and the students alike.
But being put back in school quickly dried up most of his free time, and he was forced to sit in a boring room all day with nothing to think about except what he should do about the future. So, unlike his first run, he largely ignored his classmates and breezed through classwork so efficiently that his teachers practically ignored the rest of the class in their attempts to compliment and praise his intellect.
It was infinitely worse than his first time through.
He decided to take pages out of his future classmates' books and use them in his preparation for becoming a hero.
Ignoring all the club, sport, and special interest offers he got, (as well as potential friendships) he directly asked his parents to enroll him in a multi-disciplinary dojo as well as a free-style dance class at a local studio. He got several odd looks from his parents but no complaints.
Both studies were difficult, though not in the way he had expected. The muscle pain was normal for him, something he had gone in expecting from personal experience especially. Neither the flexibility or the stamina issues did him in. Hell, it wasn't the sheer lack of praise he had been used to receiving.
It was how fast-paced he worked through the disciplines.
It was only a year or so into his free-style dance class that the instructor told him to go elsewhere and learn something new, because there wasn't much else he could do except teach other students. Of course, the teacher joked about being put out of a job because of him, but somehow that only made Bakugou's heart sink.
Several teachers after that ended up turning him away after only a few weeks, a month or two at most. The dojo allowed him to use their rooms for training, but even the sensei politely recommended several other places to look for new techniques as well as personally advising him to try weapon martial arts.
His parents never became exasperated as he might have expected, rather it seemed that they were determined to provide the money required for his endeavors no matter how much the tuition fees (and occasionally hospital bills) cost.
And for that, he was grateful. Their support was relieving and motivating as he struggled with himself.
As he reached his middle school years, he got more and more frustrated with himself. He threw himself into everything he could that had the potential to be an asset to his future hero career. Fighting and dancing alike, hell he'd even tried picking up instruments and accidentally discovered new patterns in individual fighting styles that matched rhythms and beats that made it easier to predict and react to attacks and blocks.
On his own time, he found himself in the forest practicing control with his quirk, focusing on the precise control and force of his explosions. He left the hellish training, like what they did at the summer training camp that got cut short, for his time at UA, but he still itched to improve and get better.
It was irrational, but he felt like he couldn't do enough to prepare for the future, so he picked up dozens of random hobbies on a whim and dropped them as soon as he was more than sufficient in said areas of expertise.
But in throwing himself into preparation, he couldn't help but realize how much he shut everything else out, especially his parents.
Despite how much his heart ached to fix their relationship, he knew that they would never be a perfect family no matter what he did. And every time he almost convinced himself to at least try, his mind replayed exactly how well that turned out with Deku.
School was hell. It was difficult to ignore the sheer number of assholes around him. Kids started rumors about him, because there were no other optimal targets such as a quirkless Deku. Just the weird kid who never used his quirk in the class like everybody else and never spoke unless it was to answer a teacher's question or yell at an idiot who tried to bother him.
Bakugou tried to not pay any attention to their words, but it was very difficult. He had distinctly noticed that not one kid or adult had lavished him with words of confidence in his ability to be a hero, and he wondered what that meant to him. Wondered why it mattered so much.
It didn't even matter to him because he had already begun his journey to become one and, in his eyes, had no other choice but to push towards that future.
After all, if he wasn't going to be a good hero, he wouldn't end up living very long no matter what he did.