Deku's mom was a strong believer in eating your veggies to grow up big and strong; and wanting that more than anything, Deku had dutifully cleaned his plate every night. But no matter how much spinach and peas and diced pepper he shoveled down, it all unfaithfully flew away overnight – somewhere other than the bodybuilder bulk he felt he was due.
Oh, he didn't feel scrawny. Maybe at first, but All Might's well-calculated diet plan and workout schedule had transformed him into a lean, mean, wiry machine. Sometimes in the early morning, he'd get up and just look in the mirror in awe; rewriting the memory of his sorry old body with this strange new one that looked like it was carved out of wood.
He felt like a bicycle paperboy being handed the keys to a souped-up, high-powered motorcycle. Somewhat undeserving, but proud just the same.
Still. With boys like Kacchan around and posters of All Might plastered all over his wall, it was easier to admit he had always felt a little small.
He doubted Rikidou Satou had ever had that problem.
Rikidou Satou was big.
"Wassup, Midoriya," he greeted, his steps thudding on the linoleum. You could hear him coming a full minute before he actually entered a room. A large black gym bag hung over his shoulder.
"Satou-kun! How are you this morning?"
He yawned like a grizzly as he met Deku at the end of the hall. "Man, I've never been an A.M. person. Better get started if we want a shower by homeroom." He swiped a student ID, carefully gripping the card like some people would hold a postage stamp, and the gym doors swung open.
The Heights Alliance dorm featured two exercise areas; this was the smaller one, and it still dwarfed most other gyms Deku had ever seen. In the center stood a cluster of bizarre weight machines built for every imaginable size and body type. Barbell racks and free weights lined two walls, ultra-durable treadmills and stationary bikes two more. Satou squeezed past Deku and slid his bag into a cubbyhole near the door.
"Gotta say, I'm like – surprised you wanted a workout buddy? Like, not bad," he remarked. "I just thought you were already set with the class prez or somebody. Or Miss Floats." Deku laughed a little in mid-stretch.
"No, Iida likes to do his routine in the evening, out by the jogging trails. We tried once, but then he triggered his Recipro Burst and I kind of… got blasted off the road."
Satou talked breathlessly between sit-ups. "It can—be hard to match—your pace to somebody else. I get it. Guys who are—evenly matched, they got it easy. Somebody to push back. Like …"
Footsteps and a muffled voice rang in the hall. The doors swung open with a beep.
"So like, Crimson Riot used to use this special wax-" Kirishima chattered, breaking off when Bakugou's face went as sour as a pickled lime. "Huh? Oh! Satou, Midoriya, funny seein' you guys here."
"Yeah. Funny." Bakugou's eyes locked on Deku. He fought the urge to look away. "Can't stop laughing."
"Well, come on in," Satou said uneasily, "plenty of room for four. Hell, probably room for fifty."
Bakugou bristled like his shock of hay-blond hair might actually explode. He shoved his hands in his sweatpants pockets. "There's room for me. And maybe I don't mind you doing your own thing out of my way. But since when," –tipping his head in Deku's direction – "are you letting this geek drag you down? You're no treat to look at, but I thought you knew how to keep company."
Satou's heavy brow narrowed. "Pretty sure we live here, same as you."
"Oh." Were there supposed to be that many teeth in a smile? "Oh, no, extra. Never the same as me."
A puff of red flashed in their faces as Kirishima darted to intercept.
"Whoa, take it easy, bros!" Another few seconds and it would have taken a crowbar to pry them apart instead of his firm push. "We're all buddies here. Or we're all neighbors here. Classmates? Come on, man, friendly up. When do I ever get up at six?"
Kirishima whipped Bakugou around and laughed off the reflexive punch in the jaw. "Yeah, okay, you're mad. You know my lazy ass, though, nine out of ten days I just crunch the alarm. We're already here, so let's just do a couple sets, get-in-get-out style, and then everybody starts the day over from scratch. Deal?"
Through a half snarl, the blond boy mumbled something that sounded like "fine". Kirishima beamed.
"C'mon. Let's try those shoulder presses again from last week, see how far we get." He gave one last apologetic wave as the duo trotted off to the dumbbell racks.
Deku felt the ice shooting up his spine slowly dissipate. He hadn't been able to say anything, again. Would it even have helped? Satou hmphed.
"Whatever. Hey Midoriya, come spot me on this one." He finished loading the last few plates onto a barbell that was already full to groaning.
"Wha—me?! I mean, I'll try, but I'm not sure it'll be safe for you to-"
His broad grin teased without cruelty. An unfamiliar combination. "Relax, little man."
Satou entered a half-crouch and nestled his huge hands around the bar. Deku focused, acutely aware that this could potentially go sideways real fast… along with both of their spines.
The overwhelming heat of One for All began to percolate behind his ribs, beating power up his arms and down his back, ready to assist should the bigger man's knees buckle –
Then Satou hissed softly between his teeth and deadlifted four times Deku's bodyweight. The bar creaked satisfyingly.
"Holy shit!" went an astonished cry from across the room. Kirishima bustled over, shining with sweat. "You're in another league, dude. Are you using your Quirk right now?"
"Nahhhh," he managed behind a clenched grin, "Would ruin… the point…" He allowed the bar to meet his shins, back ramrod-straight, then heaved it up three times more. The two boys looked on with admiration. Out of the corner of his eye, Deku could see Bakugou loading his own bar with cold, deliberate focus.
A whistle went up. "Still. I wouldn't wanna lock horns with you."
Satou scratched his head. "Thanks. But, it's not that great… I mean, you and me, we've got similar problems, right? All brawn, no game plan." He gratefully accepted the water Deku handed him. "Not like these two brainiacs."
"That's why we failed the exam with Cementoss," Kirishima agreed, toeing the floor sheepishly. "Some guys just have cooler heads when it counts. Right, Midoriya?"
"… Midoriya?"
Satou guffawed. "Oh, boy. Now we did it."
"-so if just a few grams of sugar produce a sustained five-fold increase in muscle output – what's the real trigger, the glucose energy or some kind of neural limiter? He metabolizes faster than normal without tearing the muscle tissue apart – so! So if we kept feeding the reaction with sugar pills, maybe he could get used to the dampening effect over time…"
There was a clank and a strangled growl from the back. Bakugou slammed out another bench-press, looking murderous.
Kirishima chopped the air in front of Deku's face. "Yo? Mr. Smarts? You in there?"
He yanked his hand away with a squeak when the shaggy green head whipped to the left, eyes aflame. "Satou-kun! What happens to your Quirk when you ingest different kinds of sugars? Like fruit, or honey? Have you tried artificial sweeteners?"
Still toweling sweat off his brow, the hulking teen blinked. "Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, the doc experimented with all that when I was a kid. Lessee… They give me a little bottle of the refined stuff for the field, but as long as it comes from a plant, it all works pretty much the same. 'S why my folks got me to practice baking – if it's in food, I can up my tolerance and keep a low-level boost going. That's why I always have some cake before a study break! Trains up my mind." More furious clanking noises from behind.
"I thought that was just you bein' a pig," Kirishima jived. "But no, that's hardcore, man. You still do okay in class. Better than me anyway."
"A little," Satou admitted. "Wouldn't blame you if you called it cheating. But I always kinda wondered if I'd be a real genius or somethin' if I just changed my diet for a while." He laughed a little darkly. "But that'd be giving up the only thing I got."
Deku toyed with a water bottle in his hands, thinking. "You know, I kind of get what you mean. About only having one thing."
He joined Satou on the bench.
"I didn't have a... much use of my Quirk for a while. Too dangerous and all. But, er- All Might said something in an interview once: the best heroes know what they can't do, better than what they can."
It was the barest of lies: All Might hadn't said that.
His mother had.
"So… you should definitely work on minimizing the downsides, but in the meantime… You can rely on your team to point your strength where it needs to go, right?" Deku reached out and did something odd, but it felt right: he chucked him lightly on the shoulder.
Satou looked a little astonished. "Thanks, Mi-"
BAMMM!
Heat blasted them all from the side. Kirishima instinctively leapt, guard up, his arms flash-stiffening into rigid armor. A singed dumbbell rocketed through the air and sliced thirty-five pounds of windburn into his scalp.
Deku had half a second to recognize the smell before an acrid, smoky hand jammed itself over his mouth.
"Less talk," Kacchan said silkily, eyes burning. "More work."
They finished their sets quietly.
"What are we gonna do about the bench you busted?"
"I'll take care of it later," said Bakugou, refreshed. "I need a wash and we ain't missing class."
"Oh!" Satou loped back to the cubbyhole and unzipped his bag. Inside was a sealed lunchbox. "I, uh, fixed a few breakfast bars for Midoriya and me afterward… Help yourself if you guys want…"
They were still warm, toothsomely chewy, and tasted like honeyed apples. "Wow, Satou-kun, these are really good."
Kirishima took one eagerly and began to gnaw. "So I know that went a little south, but hey, it was a good experience on the whole, right? Wanna do it again next week?" Bits of granola flew into Bakugou's hair.
Bakugou shook off the wet crumbs and the food with a seething stare. "Get that out of my face. I told you," with an accusing finger thudding into Deku's ribs, "that he is functionally incapable of clamming up and getting a job done. 'Gee, Kacchan, I guess I got lost and found myself near a kettlebell for the first time ever! Maybe I should pick it up and shut my mouth?' No, everything has to be a freakin' speech. You clowns can do what you want, but I can feel myself losing mass just listening to it."
Kirishima swallowed the rest of his breakfast in one great munch. "Coulda fooled me, dude. Shattering your PB and all."
"Which would be fine if-"
Bakugou paused. "I what?"
"Yup. Check the log. You think I wasn't paying attention? Nobody thinks I pay attention. You smashed your record by like twenty pounds, right when Midoriya started talking."
Bakugou snatched it and flipped angrily to the latest page.
Somebody coughed.
In one graceful, crystalline, pissed-off maneuver, he thrust the notepad into Kirishima's chest, grabbed back the last of Satou's treats, and stomped off toward the showers.
"Next Wednesday. Not ten seconds late. In fact, I wanna see all of you bastards here two minutes early. No talking."
He shot one last over-the-shoulder glare at Deku, who fought down a suicidal giggle.
Then he spun and stalked out the door, snapping a savage bite without even removing the wrapping.
"And bring more of these, dammit!"