Evening.
Rain falls in a gentle drizzle, plinking against roofs and sidewalk alike. Street lamps illuminate the cold, grey concrete with a pleasant yellow warmth, their radiance refracted by the falling drops. Typical houses line the streets, each being so similar to the next that their presence is ubiquitous.
Average homes in average suburbia.
Inko's grey sedan slowly navigates the labyrinth of houses, her headlights forging the path forward. The treads of her tires audibly skim across the wet asphalt, the drizzle leaving harmless drops on the surface of her windshield for only a second before being obliterated by the swipe of a window-wiper.
Inside the car, Izuku sits, arms crossed, head resting against the window.
"Oh, come on, Izuku, it'll be fun. It's what you need after a day like this, trust me," Inko speaks in an attempt to egg her son on.
No response.
Rather unlike Izuku, frankly. Usually he's excited to meet new people, even with his awkwardness.
Katsuki really meant more to him than I first thought…
Izuku rests, his eyes half open in a vaguely frustrated expression. Eraserhead's words refuse to quiet down within his own head.
"They're mourning, just like you. It would be rude to turn them down now. Besides, you get to spend time with… almost… registered… heroes! Not exactly heroes yet, I suppose, but close!" Inko again tries to cheer up her son.
Smooth jazz continues to play over the radio.
Izuku refuses to move a muscle. She's going to have to play dirty to coax her son to interact.
"But don't you want to spend at least a little time with Uravity? Maybe she can teach you a few things about being a hero! And how about those boys? Dicky? A-and… Frankly I didn't get the redhead's name," Inko chuckles to herself, lost within her own words.
"Regardless, maybe they can give you a recommendation and help you get into UA!" Inko happily blabbers on. She knows it's impossible at this rate, but any shot at getting Izuku to react is worth the effort.
Izuku leans forward and turns up the volume of the radio.
Oh, I see how it is, she thinks to herself. How very unlike him.
The sedan pulls up to the curb of the street.
"We're here!" Inko enthusiastically cheers, ecstatic for this awkward encounter to hopefully come to a quick end.
Izuku gazes out the foggy window and sees yet another average, suburban house. Orange light peeks out from the windows and onto the house's gray exterior, the only color stemming from the otherwise drab home.
"D-Do I really have to go?" Izuku turns to her, nervousness evident by his quaking voice.
"Now, I know you've just met them, but it never hurts to give people a shot. Your emotions are getting to you, nothing will help more than making a few new friends," Inko smiles at him. Reaching in for a hug, Inko affirms her son with her warmth.
"Now go out there and show them what a real hero looks like!" she smiles at him, her grin beaming with enthusiasm and energy. Izuku's mood lightens, even if just a tad, in reaction to her energy.
Pushing the door open, Izuku steps onto the sidewalk. Compared to the heat of the car, the air outside is practically freezing and especially harsh, the drizzling rain only reinforcing the damp, steely cold cutting through the air.
Clutching his left arm with his right, his legs feel like jelly. Izuku's no socialite but he can handle himself in conversation. Theoretically.
But to go to a party of heroes?
The walkway leading to the patio of the house stretches for what feels like dozens of miles before Izuku ever reaches the front stairway.
Stopping at the base of the stairway to the front door of the house, Izuku stops, his breath manifesting in the cold air as a foggy will-o-wisp.
Maybe this is too much?
He only met these people today, and even then, he barely paid attention to them! No way they're in a good enough mood to put up with him. Even in a good mood, most don't appreciate Izuku's company. Maybe it is best to head back now, his apartment isn't far – fifteen-minute walk, straight-shot.
They don't want to see me, he reasons.
No one ever does.
Hesitating, he starts to turn around.
Ka-Chunk.
Izuku turns his head. A sound at the front door.
Light trickles out from the inside of the house, throwing yellow light against Izuku.
Standing in the doorway: Denki Kaminari.
A tall teenager of slender build, Denki holds his coat over his shoulder, his white shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Throwing a dramatic pose, Denki stands, eyes locked on Izuku.
"We've been waiting for you. We heard the car roll up and felt you deserved a warm welcome! Come on in!" Denki bows with a hand behind his back, the coat falling to the floor. His other arm is raised in a gesture of invitation, his gaze turned away from Izuku for emphasis.
"Welcome to my humble abode!"
Izuku stands, confused and flustered.
One hell of a welcome.
He's never been invited in such a way.
As Denki stands there, waiting for Izuku to head up the steps and enter his house, Izuku remains in place, wide eyed.
Denki lifts his head.
"So… Are you coming in? I can't hold this pose forever."
Izuku jumps, "O-Oh! Oh, sorry about that. I wasn't sure," he sheepishly heads up the stairs and enters the opening doorway.
Denki returns to a normal position and places his hand out for a welcoming handshake. Izuku grasps it softly.
"Seems like you had a tough time today but don't worry, we all did. Please, come in. There's a few more inside but for now, it's just you and I. Here, I'll show you around, newbie!" Denki says with a cheerful smirk.
Leading Izuku into the house, Denki kindly leads him around. Simply being around Denki reassures Izuku, helping him speak with more confidence. His enthusiasm is electric.
The living room is simple but modern, with a humongous flat screen TV and a substantial film collection on a shelf next to it. A pastiche fur rug lay between the TV and the leather couch before it, a coffee table resting atop the monumental rug. Gleaming with garnish, the hardwood floor sparkles in the light, most definitely requiring a regular cleaning to react so luminously.
"I'm an avid film collector, you name it, I got it. Everything you'd ever want to watch!" Denki confidently asserts.
"Go ahead kid, take a gander," he coolly smirks, raising a blonde eyebrow to Izuku.
Denki is clearly over-exerting himself to come off as the coolest teenager possible. To more aware subjects, this would be clear.
To Izuku, Denki practically sparkles in the lamplight.
Izuku's eyes light up, "Oh! Do you have 'All Might's Legendary Conquest'? I've always been meaning to see it but the discs were recalled. Only a couple hundred remain."
Denki smiles. His stark-white teeth could be mistaken for a blizzard.
Izuku's eyes widen, "No. There's no way."
Denki turns around and points with one arm for Izuku to head towards the collection. As Izuku takes the lead, Denki walks towards the collection. Having Izuku stand to the side, Denki reads through the titles of each film, brushing a finger against each individual boxset as he passes them by.
"All Might Returns", "All Might: First Strike", "Destroy All Heroes", "All Might Versus Mecha-Might", "The Terror of Mecha-Might".
Ah.
Denki carefully slides a finger on top of a box and slides it off of the shelf. Keeping the cover hidden towards his chest, Denki raises both eyebrows at a rapid pace, teasing Izuku.
Izuku gulps in excitement.
Flipping the box, Izuku's eyes widen, his jaw dropping in shock.
All Might, dashing towards the viewer, clutching a small infant with horns against a dark backdrop, moon in the top right corner. The title, emblazoned across the top in reflective holographic print: "All Might's Legendary Conquest".
Denki leans in towards Izuku, "You can hold it." Izuku turns his head, still in shock at the DVD's physical existence.
Offering his hands, Izuku delicately grasps the box. It's light, made of shoddy plastic.
It's perfect.
Looking up to Denki, Izuku finds the slender teen leaning against his DVD shelf, nodding.
"My Uncle used to work at a Blockbuster," he confidently states as if that was anything of merit.
"COOL!" Izuku squeaks out.
To their left, footsteps can be heard stomping down the stairway to the second floor. Kirishima, the redhead, emerges from the stairway. His buttoned white shirt is also rolled up to his elbows, coat missing.
"Knew you were still down here!" he confidently belts out. His expression is eager, his eyes filled with an eager and wholesome form of excitement, very different from Denki's enthusiasm to appear cool to at least someone.
Denki turns towards him with an enraged expression on his face, "What are you, some kinda rhinoceros? I have told YOUso MANY times NOT to STOMP down those stairs! You'll anger my dad walkin' around like that!"
Izuku remains too entranced by his long awaited meeting with All Might's Legendary Conquest to pay the scene before him any mind.
"Hey! Izuku! Glad you could make it! We were worried you'd be a no show, we wanted to talk to you!" Kirishima smiles, planting his course hand on the freckled teen's shoulder. Upon impact, his emerald eyes are shaken from their trance, returning to the land of the corporeal.
Shaking his head in order to figure out just where he is, Kirishima's words flow into Izuku's mind, giving him an idea of what they had previously been discussing.
"R-Really?" Izuku stutters out, bashful, his freckles flaring with a flush of pink.
"Hell yeah man!" Kirishima oozes with enthusiasm and excitement.
Gently slapping Izuku on the arm, he addresses him again, "We know it's been a sad day but hey, Bakugo would be pissed if we cried about him too much. We just wanted to get a few people together to be here for Ochaco, ya know?"
Izuku nods, a reaction more than satisfactory for the chivalrous Kirishima.
Denki turns to Izuku, the three boys assembled into a triangle, "Alright, I'll have to take that back from you now." He holds a hand out for the rare DVD in Izuku's hands. The fanboy casts a savage glare at Denki, as if in mere moments, he'd snap his blonde friends hand off in one clean bite.
Izuku's grip momentarily tightens, unwilling to relinquish the unique treasure, but after a few weak pulls by Denki, gives in and allows its owner to take it back.
"Hey, you never know, maybe you can come back soon and finally see it," Denki smiles awkwardly, a half-assed smirk spreading across his face.
Izuku almost falls into cardiac arrest at the thought.
"We should probably head upstairs, Ochaco's waiting for us," Kirishima interrupts. Denki takes the lead, gently stepping up the stairs with his hands in his pockets.
"And while we're on our way upstairs, I'll take this time remind you both that we can walk SOFTLY up the stairs. Ya gotta be gentle on these, they're authentic ebony-crafted teakwood," Denki snaps out.
As they head up the stairs, Kirishima looks back at Izuku, "So, do you prefer to be called Izuku? Or should we use something else?" he asks with a smile, his words bubbling with Kirishima's own breed of compassion.
"I mean, most people call me Izuku. Bakugo used to call me Deku though as some kind of insult," Izuku bashfully admits.
Kirishima raises an eyebrow with intrigue and turns his eye upwards to Denki.
"Aw, that's no fun! I like the sound of it already! Hear that, Kaminari? Sounds like we have a Deku!" Kirishima confidently declares.
Izuku blushes, his face having gone red so many times by this point that the color lingers.
"Glad you could admit something like that, I trust you already," Denki sneers, finding Izuku's willingness to expose such a fact mildly strange.
The triage of teenage boys reach the second floor.
An open door directly across from the stairway lets the sound of smooth jazz trickle into the hall. A gentle saxophone pairs with a rhythmic drum, harmonizing to forge a sweet tune behind a haunting set of vocals.
Opening the door, Denki leans in before letting the other two in.
"You good?" he asks, waiting for a response.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Ochaco's soft voice answers back. With this answer, Denki pushes the door open and lets Kirishima and Izuku into the room.
Hearing Ochaco's voice, Izuku is filled with a sense of dread. Not counting the funeral before hand, Izuku had never really talked to a girl before, let alone try and become friends with one. And now, going into a room with her and... hanging out?
Perhaps this was too much for him to handle, maybe it's time to head back...
Noticing his reservations, Kirishima puts his hand on Izuku's back.
"Come on, you'll be fine! She doesn't bite," he says as he gleams a smile at Izuku. For the first time, Izuku notices just how sharp his teeth are... Were they always like that?
Gently pushed forward, Izuku enters the room, not necessarily by choice.
Vibrant and filled to the brim with knickknacks of all kinds, from collectible figurines of All Might and Ultraman to even American media like Star Wars, Denki's room is packed with an overstimulating amount of goods. Skateboards lean against walls, a cardboard cut-out of Michael Jackson sits in the corner, and a shelf is assembled collecting a variety of hats of all kinds. License plates are pinned to the wall from places ranging from the next town over to London and Chicago. A dartboard dangles from the wall, the closest dart being firmly implanted in the wall next to it.
In the center of the room, Ochaco lay on the floor, skimming through a magazine, still wearing the black dress she wore at the funeral. Denki's record player skims across a vinyl next to her, the slip for Tatsuro Yamashita's SPACY next to her. A box of vinyls sits atop Kaminari's desk, the records already scoured through.
Kirishima walks over to a deflated bean bag and comfortably plops himself down on it, sinking deeply into the shapeless gray cushion. Denki steps over his friend and crashes down onto the bed. Izuku stands at the doorway awkwardly.
"Find a spot, get comfy!" Kirishima chimes out, continuing to sink deeper down into the cushion, his face progressively obscured by the bean bag.
Izuku steps into the room and heads to a nearby corner, sitting down neatly, crisscross applesauce. Analyzing the triage of friends and how comfortable they are just… existing with each other. Thoughts bubble in Izuku's mind – how he's never had this, how he's so often been excluded, everyone's last pick.
Ochaco looks up at Izuku as he takes his seat with round, inquisitive eyes. Ochaco locks eyes with Izuku, her cheeks still as pink as they were at the funeral. That same connection from earlier lingers as the two look into each other, a quiet form of communication.
"Deku, right?" she asks, eyes wide.
Caught off track, Izuku shakes his head in confusion.
"Excuse me?"
"Your name, it's Deku right? What you told me when we first met?" She asks in a soft tone of voice.
Izuku 's eyes briefly widen, sparked with realization. She's mixing up his name for the nickname he mentioned earlier at the funeral.
"Yep, that's his name!" Denki chimes in.
Izuku looks up with an expression of confusion, squinting his eyes at his new friend. Denki winks at him before gesturing to stay quiet with his index finger. Izuku's eyes briefly widen with understanding, then turns subtly towards Ochaco.
"Yep! The name's Deku. Sorry, I'm… uh… hard of hearing?" He winces as he attempts to lie to the girl. Ochaco catches on to his strange expression.
"Are you joking?" she asks.
"No no, his hard of hearing means he has a hard time recognizing tone. He might sound like he's asking questions when he doesn't mean to. He explained it to me downstairs, ain't that right, Deku!" Denki spitballs out.
"Y-Yeah!" Izuku exclaims, ecstatic to be included in a joke.
Kirishima sits up from the bean bag, "Woah! Is that so? I thought your name was Izuku?" He asks, the joke flying completely over his spiky red hair. He sinks further down into the bean bag, despite his herculean effort to remain upright.
"Yeah, weren't you paying attention Kirishima?" Denki chides his friend.
Ochaco looks between her two companions, genuinely curious, "So then where did Izuku come from?"
Denki sits there, silent for a few moments, unsure of a suitable response.
"It's a nickname, Katsuki used to call me that," Izuku asserts.
All three turn to look at him. The air is momentarily tense for saying his name.
Kirishima slowly deflates further into the beanbag.
Denki smiles.
Good one, kid! He considers to himself.
"Well, if you say so," Kirishima accepts the explanation. Ochaco remains skeptical.
"Katsuki called you Izuku? How old were you two when you met?" she inquires.
"Four," Izuku immediately replies.
"Four-year-old Katsuki dubbed you Izuku?" She genuinely asks, eyes wide, finger pressed against her chin.
"He was always very intelligent, preferred the sound of Izuku over Deku," Izuku replies.
"Sounds like our Katsuki," Kirishima reaffirms, nodding to himself with eyes closed.
He's not the brightest, Izuku thinks to himself.
"Well, I prefer the name Deku. It's kind of cute!"
Izuku blushes, attempting to hide his expression.
Should I be insulted?
"That's what I said!" Kirishima chimes in.
Ochaco and Denki look at their friend.
"What? I did." Kirishima defends himself with.
Turning to Izuku, Ochaco goes to ask a question.
"So, you knew Katsuki since you were four, Deku?" Ochaco curiously asks.
"Mhm, we met in kindergarten, before his quirk surfaced. We also used to live close together until his family moved further into the prefecture when we were in Junior High," Izuku relays.
"What was he like? Can't imagine a four year old Katsuki, the guy was probably gnawing on his own leg!" Denki inquires. Kirishima chuckles at his comment.
Izuku stops to consider his wording.
"Brash but always a strong leader, he'd lead our little gang on adventures. Very curious too, he was always fascinated by the world around him. I remember one time he chased after a handful of toads because he wanted to see how they croaked, that is, until he fell into the pond after they hopped out of his hands. After his quirk surfaced, he became even more reckless but brave. Ran head first into any situation," Izuku explains.
The three all nod.
"Sounds like Katsuki alright," Denki agrees.
"You knew him best Ochaco, what would you say?" Kirishima asks.
Ochaco stops skimming her magazine.
"Um..."
Tapping the magazine, it begins to slowly float away from her.
"Well, what Deku said is all true! But… He was such a little softie. Like a hard candy with a soft inside. So protective! You all remember when he fought that kid in 1-B for looking at me weird," she considers.
"Speaking of people giving weird looks, anybody else think Mina's been eyeing me up lately?" Denki asks. "Can't blame her, talk about a hotshot choice in boytoy am I right?" Denki states as he strokes his own ego.
"Mina? You? HEHEHE!" Ochaco attempts to hold in her laughter behind the palm of her hand.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean!"
"You'd have a better shot with an angry bear!"
"Maybe Mina is my angry bear!"
"Hey don't worry bro, you can get her! I read this one article where male bears have to subdue the female to prove his worth! Try and beat her in a fight and see if that works!" Kirishima proudly exhibits his own knowledge on bear mating rituals.
"That is not at all how that works!" Ochaco replies.
"It worked for Katsuki when courting you," Denki snidely replies with a snarky tone of voice.
Ochaco flushes bright red.
"THAT IS NOT APPLICABLE"
Izuku happily watches this trio of newfound friends' bicker, simply happy to be here.
Maybe Mom was right, it was good he decided to stay out tonight.