hope y'all like a bit of kiribaku and kamijirou

Word Count: 4,134

He'd only come out to see what all the fuss was about: after all, a gaggle of young men and late-teenage boys weren't usually rowdy when it was five in the morning. It had to be something really interesting to be worth waking him up.

And Aizawa supposed they were right to be so loudly awake. To say that Yaoyorozu had surprised him was, at the very least, an understatement. That was certainly saying something, considering how infrequently anyone even met his already ground-level standards.

He squinted at the pole as the boy clambered down and handed the weights off to Shoto, whom he noted looked actually surprised for once, albeit subtly. Relatable.

Aizawa stretched lazily and eyed the trainees. Less than he expected had been weeded out, but at the same time, there wasn't one in sight whom he would think to cut. Aizawa grunted to himself. I suppose they're just better than the last batch.

Or maybe he was just getting soft at this ripe old age of thirty-one.

He looked the camp over a second time, and, pleased with the way Shoto got all the rascally trainees in line, trudged back into his tent to get some more sleep. He couldn't be holding that kid of a captain's hand the whole camp.

No sooner had his head hit the pillow did Aizawa hear Katsuki's earsplitting roar, and he sighed. Forgot about that one, he wryly noted. Not sure how, but I did, and dammit does he need work. Aizawa lay on his cot listening to Katsuki kill his voice giving instructions for another minute, too lazy to get out yet.

When at last he did rise, he was greeted by Shoto shyly poking his head inside the tent. "Sir? Are you coming? Or are you getting too old?"

Aizawa eyed the young man warily. "You really don't need an ancient fart like me coming along," he said dryly as he exited the tent, heading to the training grounds with Shoto trailing close behind. "Don't think it's good for you either, to have me supervise for so long. Stunts your growth as a leader. Makes you constantly unsure of yourself, constantly seeking external approval and validation."

Shoto was silent for a moment, and Aizawa was able to appreciate the crisp morning air in peace.

"You're right," the former said quietly. "I won't bother you next time."

Aizawa stopped, having reached his perch overseeing the training grounds, but he had to fight the oddest urge to turn and ruffle the mixed boy's hair. Instead, he grunted and let the echoes of Katsuki's insults call Shoto back to work for him.

He surveyed the trainees with a tired eye. They were doing hand-to-hand combat today, and everyone was paired off to practice. Yet, there seemed to be something just a little bit off about it. In the short span of time that he had been supervising all these kids, Aizawa had gotten a sense of each one's personality, the friend groups, and their dynamics. If he was made to hazard a guess, he could have predicted practice pairings easily.

Shoto and Katsuki were wanderers, the only variables that broke up partnerships regularly. Today, they had taken Yaoyorozu and Kirishima, respectively, which normally would have left their friends Kaminari and Jirou to spar with one another, but for some reason, they didn't.

Aizawa watched with disinterest as the blond dumbass Kaminari got his ass handed to him by the silver-haired Tetsutetsu while Jirou was locked in combat with a different blond dumbass, Monoma. It really was strange. From his observations, the two were close, being among the first to bond while at camp, and there had been multiple times when Aizawa had seen Kaminari following Jirou around like a puppy. Then there was that whole thing the other day with the cannons, which had Jirou borderline annoying, what with all the crying.

He frowned, folding his arms across his chest. Yeah, that was definitely the cause of their stubborn avoidance of one another. Which was dumb, considering how much more beneficial it would be not to have infighting. Plus, it could be resolved so easily; all they had to do was communicate with one another!

Alas, Aizawa knew better than that. Teenagers sucked at feelings, and teenage boys sucked even more at being mature. To expect them to be emotionally mature enough to talk to each other was like asking the emperor to be human for a day: impossible, and frankly too unrealistic to even think about.

Aizawa wished he had some tea because then he'd be able to slowly sip it as he did absolutely nothing to resolve that little conflict.

But he'd have to settle for a sharp breath of cold air as he surveyed the trainees. He smiled slightly to himself as he did so.

Heh.

He'd never admit it out loud, but aside from a few snags here and there, he was growing proud of this pack of idiots and the captain training them.

Butterflies practically lived in Kirishima's stomach at this point. Actually, scratch that, they'd always lived in his stomach. He'd just become good at ignoring them over the years. He took deep breaths, inhaling for four heartbeats and exhaling just as long.

It was just his own anticipation that made everything so nerve-wracking, he told himself. Captain Bakugou wasn't a bad guy, or else he wouldn't be in charge of a trainee squad. He was just living up to that invitation from the day they ran up the mountain.

Yes, Kirishima was perfectly aware that the invitation hadn't been literal, but he there was something about the blond boy that had stolen his curiosity away. And besides, now was as good a time as any to face his nerves head-on, probably the best, actually. He didn't want to serve as a mediator between Denki and Jirou forever; they had to patch that up someday. Hopefully soon. (He felt kind of bad for leaving Haku to deal with the two of them alone, but shh, it was for the greater good.)

The tent flap rustled, startling him with its suddenness. Well, here comes the point of no return, Kirishima thought, fighting the temptation to chew his lip.

"God damn that shitty hapa…" Bakugou muttered to himself as he walked inside. He shook his head for a moment, but stopped completely when he noticed the redhead sitting at the tea table facing him.

Kirishima gulped as the assistant captain peered at him with disinterested, analytical eyes, his eyebrows furrowed (Jirou's right, they do look like they're kissing, Kirishima found himself thinking, much to his chagrin), and his upper lip curled in half a sneer. "Hi," he said, infinitely glad that his voice hadn't cracked, and he flashed Bakugou a lopsided grin despite the internal screaming.

"Who the fuck're you," he bluntly grunted.

"Eijirou Kirishima," he answered.

Bakugou gave him a weird squinty look. "Hairbrain?"

Scrambling for an answer aside from his name, Kirishima tried to ignore Bakugou's expression as well as the memories of archery training specifically coming to mind. "I, uh… You did say we could be your guest."

Bakugou stared at him blankly.

A fuzzy haze Kirishima hadn't even realized was clouding his mind began to fade as he adjusted to the situation. "It was the day you shot an arrow at an apple on my head, remember?" He dropped his gaze, missing the way Bakugou stiffened ever so slightly.

Both the silence and the tension in the tent was palpable for all of a minute until the assistant captain broke both by plodding forward and plopping himself down on the other side of the tea table. Kirishima glanced up to see him baring his teeth in what he hoped was a smile.

"Kirishima, huh?" he said with the weirdest fire in his eyes. "Well, let's have some fuckin' tea, shall we?"

All remaining fear of Bakugou flew out of Kirishima's mind, and the latter visibly brightened. I knew he was a good guy—! "Yeah!"

On one hand, how dare Kirishima run off to have tea with that bitch of a captain Bakugou and leave poor, sensitive, still-not-over-what-he-said-to-his-crush Denki without a bro to have lunch with.

On the other hand, Denki knew he completely deserved this, and he did have to apologize to Jirou if he wanted to at least keep their friendship going.

So with a sigh, Denki Kaminari accepted his afternoon rice bowl and headed to where he knew Jirou had been hanging out with Haku to avoid him.

Hi Jirou, I'm sorry about saying you sound like my mom, it's not like it's not true or whatever— wait, no, he couldn't say that! He mentally scribbled out that line— I just have this really bad habit of saying stuff without realizing it and that was just an accident, promise, please, can we be friends again?

His rehearsal time was unfortunately little, and he found himself standing before Jirou's tent before he knew it. He really didn't want to do this yet, so Denki took a bite of rice as stress relief. Hi, Jirou. I'm sorry about what I said the other day. I have this really bad habit of saying stuff without realizing it or thinking about it either. I didn't mean it, it was just an accident, promise. Please, can we be friends again?

Please, can we be friends again?

Nope, still not ready. Denki shoved another wad of rice in his mouth, ready to stand in front of the tent until he fully thought through this apology, even if it took the entire lunch break and more. Hey, Jirou—

Unfortunately, the tent occupants had a different idea, as Haku poked his head out the tent flap mere seconds later. "Denki?" he asked, and Denki nearly choked on his meal, he was so startled.

"O-oh, hi, Haku," he stumbled, grimacing at how painfully the rice went down.

Haku stepped outside, peering at Denki curiously. "Can I ask why you're just standing in front of Jirou's tent, eating rice?"

"I, uh…" Denki couldn't focus on any one thing, let alone a response. Haku continued to stare at him intensely, and he gulped. "I, uh… I wanted to talk with Jirou."

Haku's eyes brightened with excitement. "Well, that was faster than I expected. Please, come on in!" he said, popping right back into the tent.

Denki stared after him for all of a second, desperately trying to quell the butterflies dancing in his stomach. Hi, Jirou… he thought as he stepped through the tent flaps, trying to compose his apology one last time, but everything he had flew from his brain and out his ears when his eyes met Jirou's.

"Please, can we be friends again?" he found himself blurting, and wow could these tents hold a lot more heat than he originally thought! Jirou's face was all red, and he was positive his own was as well. (He was also pretty sure he heard a facepalm somewhere, but since he couldn't see who did it, he assumed he was imagining things.)

"Just friends, huh?" Jirou dryly said, raising an eyebrow at him. "I didn't realize people were friends with their parents now."

Denki winced, recovering some of his train of thought. "Look, I'm sorry that I complained about your fussing. I'm really glad that I can have an army buddy like you to keep me alive and all, really. I just… have a bad habit of talking without thinking. Trust me, it's gotten me in heaps of trouble back home." He glanced at Haku to gauge the other boy's response. Judging by the glint of excitement in his eye, he assumed approval and racked his brain for more to the apology. "I'll try my best not to do anything as dumb as hang around an ignited cannon again or to say dumb shit anymore. So… please, can we be friends again?" he pleaded.

Wow, it was really hot in the tent.

Jirou regarded Denki with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. Denki held his gaze with his nervous, pounding heart worn on his sleeve, hoping, hoping, this wouldn't be the end.

Jirou broke eye contact and rubbed his eye, mumbling something about dust in the air. Yet, he wore a smile upon his face, as slight as it might be, and something in Denki's chest fluttered. "Yeah," Jirou said after a beat. "Let's be friends again."

Something within Denki broke right then— but in a good way. That panic, that fear that Jirou would say no and they couldn't be friends again— it snapped, disintegrating into imaginary emotional dust replaced by sheer relief so powerful, it was hard not to cry. Instead, Denki mustered a grin and said, "I'm glad."

"You having lunch with us?" Jirou asked, and Denki froze just as he began to sit.

"Oh, uh, I can— I can go if you'd prefer," he answered. "Kiri's having lunch with Bakugou, but I could probably…"

"Nah, it's okay. I was just asking— wait, Kirishima's with that bitch of a captain Bakugou? I thought he just got stuck in the back of the lunch line."

Denki shook his head. "He ditched me so I had to make up with you." When Jirou shot him a look, Denki smiled nervously at him and said, "Kidding, kidding. He wanted to make good on that invitation or whatever. I wanted to apologize. By the way, Haku, that arrow thing was sick as fuck."

The raven-haired boy brightened. "Thanks! I was telling Jirou about how Captain Todoroki told me I could stay at camp after sparring today before you showed up."

Denki grinned at his friends, more than happy to listen to them talk about their day. It was good to have his bros back.

Katsuki peered suspiciously at Hairbrain over the rim of his teacup, taking a single tiny sip. Could be worse, I guess, he decided, savoring the bitter flavor. He took another mouthful, eyeing the redhead across from him curiously as the latter absorbed himself in swirling the leaf bits around in the cup. I wonder what he's up to, tramping in here talking about an invitation or some shit. Credit where it's due though, he's got guts for it. Could've sworn I had all these bitches scared shitless under my thumb.

Hairbrain looked up suddenly, the dumbest smile on his face. "Y'know, I knew you were a good guy beneath that spiky exterior," he said, then took a gulp of tea.

Katsuki was genuinely baffled. Okay, scratch brave, this guy's just an idiot. Fits with the arrow thing too, so I guess that's just fucken' it. "Mmm… questionable," he replied with a huff.

"Well, I mean, why else would you let me stay? Everyone else is terrified of you, what with all the yelling." Kirishima paused for another sip.

Well, it wasn't like anyone else had ever tried what this idiot was doing. Hairbrain was simply amusing, that was all. "Maybe I'm just getting ready to kill you," he grunted, sending the other boy a sickly grin. Hairbrain looked like he'd be a chatterbox if he let him. He doubted he wanted that.

For a second, the redhead's eyes grew wide as the moon, and Katsuki mentally congratulated himself for spooking him. That is, until Kirishima let out a snort of laughter. That made Katsuki scowl.

"What?" he snapped, putting his tea back on the table with a thunk!

"Sorry, sir," Hairbrain said, still obviously amused, which just as obviously pissed Katsuki off.

He narrowed his eyes at Hairbrain. "We can fight hand-to-hand again if that's what you fuckin' want," he said in a low voice as he leaned over the table. "If this morning means shit, you defend way too much. What, you think those dumbass Huns are just gonna tire themselves out in a fight? Can't attack for yourself?"

Surprisingly, Kirishima leaned forward, an excited grin upon his face as he met Katsuki halfway and stared him in the eye. "Well, we can certainly test that out outside if you want, captain."

The tent flap suddenly rustled, and Hairbrain quickly retracted to act as if he had been civilly drinking tea the whole time. With a scowl, Katsuki sat properly again and glanced at the tent opening. "Oh, well here comes the golden boy," Katsuki nearly spat as the halfling captain entered the tent.

Shoto blinked at the two of them. "Am I interrupting something? I can leave if you're really that busy."

"I'm not the boss of you," Katsuki scoffed, turning back to Hairbrain. "Do whatever you want."

Wordlessly, Shoto walked right back out of the tent, leaving the two alone again. There was an awkward pause, as they couldn't exactly return to what they'd been doing.

"…Why'd you call him a golden boy?" Kirishima broke the silence at last, drawing Katsuki's attention back to the conversation.

The blond took an angry gulp of tea. "Everything falls onto his fucking lap like a gift from the emperor or some shit, and everyone seems to think he's the best at all this just because his dad's a general and groomed him or what-fucking-ever," he said scathingly.

"Oh, that reminds me. Why aren't you in the planning tent? Don't you guys have important stuff to discuss right now?" Kirishima quietly asked.

Katsuki looked away, lowering his cup with a sneer at the distance. "They don't need me."

Endeavor surveyed his troops with a calculating eye. As far as the eye could see, each man running like a perfect little cog from tent to tent in the beautiful, well-oiled machine of a camp that he ran all on his own.

"You," he said to his advisor, and the frail, little wisp of a man hurried over. All this time, and he still hadn't bothered to learn his name. Why should he? A man like that was a dime a dozen in the Emperor's courts, and his advice meant near nothing when Endeavor planned and executed everything anyway.

"Yes, General Todoroki?" the advisor asked, and Endeavor scowled. That's what he hated about this one in particular, too.

"How many times have I told you to call me by the name given to me by the Emperor on high, General Endeavor?" he sneered.

"As many as you've gotten your soldiers butchered in your blood-soaked battles, sir," the advisor snipped back. "I swear, why even bother having me around if I don't affect anything in the slightest?"

Endeavor decided to ignore that second little comment. "Doesn't matter as long as it gets the results we need, correct? Anyway, I need you to write a letter to Shoto for me. I think he'll want to see the results of our upcoming ambush on the Huns and get a taste of victory to lure him forward…"

"What is it, Shoto?" Aizawa asked blandly, eyeing the captain wearily as he paced the room. He already knew the answer to his question; he had seen the seal on the scroll that lay untouched on Shoto's desk. But he asked it anyway because it was good for the young man to talk about things.

"It's a letter from my father," Shoto replied, his voice tinged with an unusual amount of irritation. "I know what it says," he continued, causing Aizawa to raise an eyebrow.

"I didn't know you could read a scroll without opening it," he dryly commented. "You should teach me how to do that sometime."

Shoto sighed. "I didn't read it yet," he admitted. Aizawa hummed. "But you already know he doesn't write about anything except that I suck and need to be harder on the trainees."

"Well, personally, I think they've all grown to be quite fine soldiers," Aizawa said. (He'd most likely never admit it to said soldiers' faces, but just to Shoto, it was fine.) "You'll never know what that scroll is going to say unless you open it. Perhaps your father has changed his tune this time around."

Shoto's expression shifted, and Aizawa knew deep down that the likelihood of Endeavor sending a letter of praise was highly unlikely. But, it got the mixed boy to open up the scroll with a sigh and read it.

It took a grand total of thirty seconds for him to finish.

"You were right," he admitted, surprising even Aizawa himself. "It wasn't about how shitty he thinks I'm doing."

"Oh?" the older man said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

"He thinks himself good enough to ambush the Huns in a week's time. He says we should pack up and merge with his ranks, ready or not, so that when he saves the country in a blaze of glory we may bask in it and get a little bit of honor on the side because we helped," Shoto said, all the while keeping his voice disinterested. Suddenly, he rolled the scroll up once more and stared straight at the older man. "Where's Bakugou?"

Well, that wasn't exactly what Aizawa had been expecting. "Likely bathing. Why?"

"I want his opinion."

My, Shoto sure is full of surprises this evening. "Well, you're free to go fetch him. I will stay here in the tent, where it is warm. Not that it looks like you want wise, old, sensei's advice." Aizawa lay down and pulled a blanket out from under a table, fully prepared to fall asleep on the spot when the captain crouched down in front of his face.

"Don't take it personally, old man. Your word still weighs heavily in my mind, but I have also been thinking. I should involve Bakugou more in my decision-making process. Besides, you already said that I shouldn't be relying on you so much as time goes on," Shoto replied. He sighed, sat down, and for a moment, things were quiet.

"What?" Aizawa lazily asked after a few beats. "Not going to go find the little brat? Wouldn't be hard."

"No, it's not that. It's just that…" Shoto faltered, wondering where he was going with this. Something had been tugging at his heart lately, especially since Yaoyorozu had pulled that stunt with the arrow, but he couldn't place what it meant to save his life. "There's been a little something building up in my soul."

His mentor sat up in bed. "Are you sure it isn't just indigestion?"

Shoto shook his head, a little bit irritated by the comment. "It's been a while since it began." Plus, it ran way deeper than a bit of digestive pain. "It's weird, sir. Sometimes it's a hollow ache in my chest. At others, it's like a firework at the end of its fuse, ready to burst, and still others, it's a shot to the heart. Once, it felt like a dream, red as the sunrise." He subconsciously put a hand over his chest to feel the beating of his heart. "I just don't understand it."

"And neither can I if you're going to continue using obtuse metaphors to describe it like that," Aizawa dryly remarked. "I've never in my life heard such extra bullcrap fall from your mouth, Shoto. It was like you were possessed by Present Mic for a second there, and let me tell you, I don't need that."

Shoto sighed as his hand fell back down to his lap, where he stared at it. "I don't know. It's just a little inkling of something that's been growing in the last few weeks." He got up and bowed slightly to Aizawa. "Thank you anyway. I'll go fetch Bakugou now."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow as the young captain left, but in the blink of an eye, he was alone in the tent.

"Well, I'm not going to stay up for those idiots," he grumbled. The old man snuffed out the candle and was out like a light.

author's note ix. any cup can be a teacup if you put tea in it. anyway i was getting worried as to how i'd finish this chapter on time bc if my projections were right i wouldn't finish it until the morning of the update and i was like "oh nooooes" but then i saw the live action 2009 version of mulan and mmmm that left me inspired. makes me kind of wonder if i should expand on the war and battles aspect of mulan's story? lemme know if you'd be interested pls.

anyway that's all for now! thank you for reading, follow/fave if new, review if that's what you're into, and as always, have a greaaaaaat daaaaayyy~~
p.s: i might miss next week's update because i have a oneshot i wanna get out for june. sorry about the inconsistency in updating fasjnsafk.