He couldn't get that fat kid's expression out of his head. The way those beady little eyes glinted with superiority, the cruel twist of those lips as they formed a smirk, the way the shadow of one sided power gave those round cheeks a false glow― it was utterly sickening. He couldn't get those words to stop ringing in his ears, couldn't stop that one word from screaming at him the way he would scream a thousand curses. But above all that what bothered Bakugo the most, the one thing he couldn't stop, was the deadening weight of how familiar it was to him.

Rolling onto his back, the covers rustling quietly in time with his restless movements, Bakugo laced his hands beneath his head and stared at his ceiling. Ever since the hospital had permitted his release― those damn nurses had been adamant about making sure he hadn't caught pneumonia or some other sickness despite how hard he argued his case about being perfectly fine ―his mind had drifted through a thick fog that was shadowed with a combination of the day's events. Until, eventually, all thoughts wound up re-routing themselves to the one thing that bothered him now and left him unable to fall asleep.

The memory of that expression was like an itch, irritating, hard to reach, and utterly impossible to resist scratching. It was impossible to not mull over every little detail and break it down until he had worn through enough layers to make himself bleed. But it wasn't enough to make the itching stop, no, it was never enough. He had to keep scratching, keep thinking about it even long after he had exhausted every angle of consideration until eventually a series of sores had been created and the space that had been scratched was no longer recognizable. He had to destroy it until it had nothing more to do with him; even though there would still be scabs to remind him, scabs for him to pick at again, to stop from healing completely, and then there would be scars.

Because for Bakugo Katsuki itches came with compulsions, and with compulsions came destructive tendencies― tendencies which either left him ticking like a timed bomb or exploding on impact.

A light shined between the slim openings of his curtains, momentarily upsetting his train of thought and distracting him as the soft yellow glow traveled across his ceiling. It was late, but someone must be on their way home from work…

Kicking the covers off, Bakugo sat up and made a move to get out of bed. For a split second his feet hovered above the floor, toes barely ghosting against the carpet as he remained perched on the edge, his mind going blank with indecision. The moment passed and before he was fully aware of it he was halfway to the desk that sat adjacent to his bed.

Bakugo reached out and flicked a switch on a little lamp. He squinted against the golden haze, slightly turning his head as he grabbed the swivel chair from beneath the desk and pulled it out. As he began to lower himself into the chair it dawned on him that the coat of his uniform had never been put up. Instead it had been carelessly thrown over the back of the chair and had accumulated a new set of creases that came from not being hung up properly, especially since it had needed to dry out from being wrapped around a soaking wet kid. Looking at it now though made the creases the furthest thing from his mind, instead reminding him all over again of Fatty's face as he endangered someone else's life.

He decided against sitting.

Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, Bakugo attempted to distract himself through other conventional means. This proved to be a bit more difficult than originally intended. Despite his non-existent fuck-giving attitude he was a consistent sort of guy that actually cared to stay on top of his grades, so all of his homework had long since been completed and was currently in his backpack at the ready to be turned in the next day. Reading was an idea that went flying right out the window; none of his books held any interest to him at the moment, and since he was already caught up on all his comics then he was forced to wait for the next release, which was two weeks away. Doing a little bit of a workout was an exhausting idea in and of itself (even if exhausting himself to the point he passed out was the goal). And the thought of filling the silence with music was just as iffy as sitting in the silence with only his thoughts.

Katsuki sighed deeply, crimson eyes traveling up the partially illuminated wall to rest on a full yet organized bulletin board. Yet again, despite the messy delinquent appearance he put forth, Bakugo actually did possess some semblance of cleanliness and orderliness. It was mostly kept to the more personal and private aspects of his life― namely his room ―but it wasn't really like he kept it a secret. (More like there was no one to show just how deep his perfectionism ran to.)

The bulletin board itself was fairly basic as far as the boards of aspiring teenage heroes went. In the middle was the first poster he had ever received of his favorite hero, All Might, obtained from a Heroes Weekly magazine he had been obsessed with when he was a kid. The big man himself was maintaining a hands-on-hips hero pose coupled with his iconic smile and personal slogan. Surrounding this poster were a few postcards with All Might and some other top heroes that he had collected as souvenirs of sorts, claiming they were rare collectibles even though they really weren't. Further to the left was the calendar his dad had gotten him around New Year's, the days slowly being crossed off with a red slash to mark what's gone by and what was still ahead of him. To the right were a bunch of a bunch of charts and post-its which ranged from reminders to weekly training regiments.

The final thing that drew his attention was the piece of scrap paper pinned at the very bottom of the board. Bakugo reached for it and with a sharp tug, ripped it away to study it. Only two things were written on it: A name and a phone number. The likes of whom they belonged to were none other than Yoshida Seiko's guardian and older sister, Yoshida Chiyuki.

"If there's anything we can do for you then please don't hesitate to call," the woman had said, handing him the hastily written information after profusely thanking him for saving her idiotic sister's life (the one thing they could definitely agree on). Bakugo hadn't been able to say anything in response, instead only being capable of watching the short haired woman rush past him and into the room that Seiko was currently inhabiting. Shortly afterwards he had shoved the paper in his pocket and promptly took his leave.

Then and even now the blonde couldn't shake this heavy feeling that he didn't really deserve any kind of payment for saving that kid's life. He couldn't even bring himself to feel satisfied with the fact that he'd done something heroic. Instead he felt awful in the exact same way that he felt disgusted every single time he remembered that fat faced brat's expression.

Seiko was a quirkless child, a fact taken advantage of by quirk-blessed so called friends, and as a result she had been put in a dangerous situation for the sake of entertainment. It was just all too familiar to him.

After all, how many times had he done similar things to weak, quirkless Deku?

Lifting his gaze up to meet All Might's, Bakugo wondered if he could really call himself this kid's hero. Yes, he had saved her from death― both from drowning and by getting her to a hospital before something else happened ―but he was also guilty of being the same kind of person those two boys had been.

It made him more of a… a villain. A villain that had done one good thing even though there were countless bad things stacked against him.

The thought alone was enough to make his entire body go slack, shoulders drooping, hands falling to his sides, the little piece of paper nearly slipping from his fingers. He wasn't really sure when people had started comparing him to a villain, saying that his quirk and matching explosive behavior suited the role so well despite how much he marked his claim on being the top Pro Hero. He also wasn't really certain on when he had begun to let his guard down and allow a few of those comments slip through his defenses.

It had never occurred to him to be anything but a hero. All his life he had set his sights on making it to the top and being greater than All Might. He was completely taken in by how that man looked when he won and wanted nothing more than to make his mark in the exact same way. And yet the only impressions he ever seemed to leave were of the worst kind.

'Screw that,' he suddenly thought, clenching his fists and trembling lightly. 'Screw that and screw the people that think it too. And while I'm at it screw myself for having some pansy ass pity party. All this time I've given nothing but my best to be the best yet all they can do is spit it back in my face. So what… So what…'

So what really defined 'the best'?

Bakugo glanced down at the paper in his hand as if it would give him some sort of clue. Eventually he gave up though, his mind coming up empty handed, and finally acknowledged that he had gotten himself stuck in a rut. The itch was back, and now it was making him run in fucking circles. Rubbing his face, Bakugo chucked the little paper on his desk and forcefully turned the light off. The room was plunged into absolute darkness but it didn't stop him from plowing through it straight towards his bed and flopping on it in that aggravated way of his.

Turning on his side and tucking an arm under his head, Bakugo closed his eyes. Tomorrow. He'd solve this problem tomorrow. How he didn't really know, but he would get it done, because he was nothing if not efficient in that regard. And with that resolve in his mind, he could finally go to sleep.

Despite the limited amount of time members of class 1-A had spent together each student had already begun to get a feel for everyone's 'normal'― or personal routine and behavior. And the beginning of this normal always started with class rep Iida Tenya dutifully performing his job and making sure everything and everyone was in order for the start of the day.

Or as everyone else liked to call it: Iida vs. Bakugo, Shouting Match Extreme!

Except today there wasn't any shouting, vulgar death threats, or religious upholding of rules to be heard as the students made their entrances in the class. In fact, Iida and Bakugo were no where near each other, both quietly sitting in their respective seats and off in their own little worlds. While most could conclude this as something 'normal' and more preferable behavior for the class rep it was highly disconcerting for their resident Shouty McSplode to be just as equally quiet.

"Do you think yesterday's combat challenge hit his pride hard enough that he got sick?" Mina leaned a little further into the cluster of girls that was convened in the back of the room and observing the suspiciously silent blonde, whispering.

"Maybe he was angry enough that he couldn't sleep so he spent the whole night plotting his revenge against Midoriya -ribbit," Tsuyu suggested. Everyone nodded. It was a rather realistic and logical scenario considering the type of person Bakugo was beginning to prove himself to be; though incredibly talented and smart enough to be considered a genius, Bakugo was prideful enough that it made him fairly angry and childish at times.

Jiro leaned back in her seat, lacing her hands behind her head while a lazy smirk crept up her face. "My theory is that he's just on his man period and is playing on the mood swing right now."

A low snicker traveled around the group, growing louder until all the girls were laughing hard enough to cry. Meanwhile, a couple desks down the line, the boys were holding their own committee to discuss one particular angry blonde child's inactiveness.

"I'm telling you, aliens stole the real Bakugo and replaced him with this look alike in hopes that it'd fool us!" Kaminari held out his hands as if he were holding a box and gave each person a dead serious look. His speculation was met with one full second of silence before deeper chortling mixed in with the girls breathy giggles.

"'Aliens' says the defective pokémon," Mineta half whispered through his snorting. The yellow haired accused claimed offense with a gasp and immediately delved into a new argument with the stunted grape over how his idea was perfectly logical, the point of the joke soaring above and beyond his head.

On the other side of the table, through his own laughter, Kirishima studied Bakugo and wondered more about how to go about bringing the blonde back to his natural state rather than what had caused him to become so quiet and reserved. He felt that he had a better grasp on how the perpetually angry boy usually ran things; definitely more so than the rest but probably not as good as Midoriya, but even then he also probably had more headway than the green muffin simply because there wasn't any actual animosity between him and Bakugo. Amidst the confusion of where Kirishima stood concerning Bakugo's friendship (which he had imagined more than he realized) the redhead came to a simple conclusion: What he needed was a trigger in order to create an explosion.

Or in other words, he needed to sacrifice Midoriya in order to piss Sparky off.

'That wouldn't be really fair to Midoriya though,' he thought with a sigh. 'I mean, yesterday definitely made things too tense for them to even function somewhat normally. Plus sacrificing someone isn't very manly.'

His nose wrinkled a little at his last thought. What was manly was cool and if it wasn't so then Kirishima didn't usually want much to do with it. As it were though, Kirishima didn't really have to go far to find something to make Bakugo snap. The rise in chatter from the classmates around him was enough to do the trick.

"Oi! Do you think I can't fucking hear you?" The blonde slammed a fist on his desk, whipping around in his seat to send the crowd a set of crimson, poison tipped daggers and demonstrate the value behind the saying 'if looks could kill'.

"No, we did this specifically because you can hear us," Jiro retorted with a little roll of her eyes. Kirishima could have sworn he saw Mina passing her something under the desk, a sour pout puckering her pink face.

Katsuki was halfway out of his seat, the usual snarl marring his features. "You wanna fucking go?"

"Bakugo, use respectful language! I will not tolerate such foul words being uttered in class." All heads turned towards Iida as he stood up from his seat― more like jumping for joy at the opportunity to discipline ―chopping the air like the well mannered robot he was. Several students hid their grins behind their hands or snorts under the guise of a cough, but the relief was evident along with the usual exasperation that things were once again back to normal.

"Respect? I'll show you some goddamn respect― this is for you and the stick up your ass!" The bird was released and Bakugo grinned madly as Tenya gasped about ten generations of offense for the Iida family. At that same moment the class door opened and in stepped Midoriya along with Uraraka, both stopping with one foot in the air at the aggressive display before them of both Iida and Bakugo bickering furiously over the schematics and technicalities of respect and the language that should proceed it. While the two new arrivals were mildly frightened by the growing intensity of the atmosphere they couldn't help but smile and shake their heads while cautiously entering the war zone they had come to know as their classroom.

As for the rest of the students, well, it looked as if they had worried over nothing.

"Ten bucks says that Bakugo won't be able to make things physical before Aizawa gets here," Jiro cackled as she leaned over towards Mina.

The pinkette grinned and quipped, "Oh yeah? Ten bucks says that Midoriya will try to make peace between the two and end up being the one who gets decked."

"You're on!"

Ah yes, what an amazing, chaotic normal this was.

The remaining sakura blossoms of the season drifted through the air with little delicate twists and turns as the wind gently pulled them along. Most came to litter the ground, creating a thin but beautiful sweet pink carpet that, if anyone were to purposefully pay attention to, would be difficult to tread on. As was the case though not many people were prone to looking down at where they were going, instead finding it more preferable and optimistic to look ahead or skywards. But when one was closer to the ground it was a sight that was impossible to miss.

A tiny hand cupped some of these petals off the ground and tossed them into the air before hiding beneath a little pink umbrella, giggling at the shadows as they softly slid along the tight material before fluttering to the ground again. Amber-hazel eyes peered from beneath the lip of the umbrella with a gleeful gleam, dark, messy bangs hanging like an unruly curtain of curls above them.

A bell chimed deeply and those eyes turned expectantly towards the entrance of one prestigious hero academy. And, much the same as ants came crawling from their home, students came out one by one, two by two, to three by threes and so and so forth― all until there was a steady trickle of students walking down the road, kicking up petals as they went.

Seiko stood up as tall as she could, bouncing up and down on the tips of her green rubber boots in hopes of catching sight of one person in particular. With one hand she twirled the umbrella around, creating a little rain of sakura petals of her very own, while with the other in its sling she cradled a small hand picked bouquet and a very carefully folded piece of paper close to her yellow clad chest.

Occasionally a few students passing by would glance her way; Seiko would smile wide for them and wave, cheerfully calling out a hello and giggling when they smiled and said hello back. It was incredibly fascinating to see all the different kinds of people that came out of Yuuei, and it only sparked her admiration in knowing that all these cool looking big kids were learning how to be heroes. To be a person that wanted to make use of their unique ability, to be a hero that helped others and fought to protect what was right― it was a respectable dream in Seiko's eyes. Though for now she was stuck dreaming of having a cool quirk, the little girl, too, hoped that one day she could be a great hero.

And, as her sister often reminded her, the first steps of a great hero always began with the little acts.

Her eyes wandered over the sea of faces, wondering when she would be able to perform her own heroic act. It was only a second after she thought this that her target came into sight. Seiko couldn't remember too much of what happened after she fell into the river― her mind had only been able to focus on saving the kitten, breathing, and feeling stabbing pain throughout her entire left shoulder ―but it was impossible to forget that sharp mane of blonde hair, no matter how fuzzy or wet it appeared in her memories.

Grinning, Seiko raised her umbrella in the air and waved it around, yelling, "Hey! Big bro!"

Several heads turned in her direction, but she payed them no heed, instead waiting for the boy― her hero ―to look up and see her. He didn't seem to hear her though, the look on his face saying he was lost amongst his own thoughts. Seiko called out to him one more time before running towards him.

"Hey down here big bro!" The little kid nearly avoided being run over by the boy, shouting her reminder that she was short and definitely not at eye level with a big kid like him.

Bakugo came to an abrupt halt, his eyes widening upon seeing the same idiotic kid he had saved the day before standing in front of him with a fairly self-pleased grin dominating her squishy little face. Too stunned to properly form any kind of coherent sentence, the boy could only examine her with a shocked expression.

Seiko decided that, now that she was awake and aware, her hero was genuinely handsome. She liked the color of his eyes best.

Letting go of the umbrella and letting it slide down her shoulder, the little girl untucked the bouquet and eagerly handed it to him. In retrospect her first gift wasn't much in comparison to the kinds she saw on tv; as a simple, non-employed six year old money was difficult to come by, and the little that she did get could never amount to enough to buy such extravagant and colorful arrangements. The next best thing she could do was pick the wildflowers that grew all around her secret base and clumsily put them together. She thought it was pretty though, and truly hoped that her hero would like it too.

"What is―? Why?" Bakugo wanted to curse himself for being so stupid and inarticulate at the same time. He was so caught off guard by this kid― it was almost embarrassing. At one point he had considered going to check in on the kid to make sure she was doing okay, but he hadn't actually planned on seeing her, and he most definitely hadn't planned on her showing up in front of his school like this. Holding a bunch of flowers with such a starstruck look in her big eyes― how the hell was he supposed to deal with that?!

"This is part one of my thank you plan!" she exclaimed eagerly.

'Part one? What else is she gonna pull out? A circus?' Bakugo eyed the child before hesitantly taking the itty bitty bouquet from her, silently noting that it was already coming apart (and upon closer inspection consisted mostly of weeds rather than actual flowers). When he glanced back at the little girl he was slightly taken aback by the determination in her golden eyes, albeit more so amused by the fact that she had to mouth 'phase two' to herself as if to remind her that that was what came next in this so called plan.

Seiko met the boy's deep, crimson colored gaze and automatically felt warm. It reminded her a lot of how warm she had been the moment he had pulled her through the water and held her against him so tightly. He had been a safe kind of warm, and the little girl knew with all her heart that he was the best good guy she had ever met. Perhaps even better than All Might himself.

"Thank you for being my hero!" With a flourish the folded paper was removed from the sling and also handed to the ever growing flustered boy. She waited while he grabbed and unfolded it, attempting to read his mind since his face revealed almost nothing save for a faint scarlet tinge in his cheeks. After staring at the paper for perhaps a full minute, maybe even five (time was irrelevant to a child), the boy looked at her once again and opened his mouth as if he had something to say.

Before he could get too far― not that Bakugo was fully functioning at this point anyways ―Seiko gestured for him to come closer. "Just one more thing! But ya gotta get down here 'cause I'm short."

He was reluctant to oblige yet also could not stop himself from being curious and wondering just what else she had up her sleeve. So, though Bakugo still felt like he didn't know what the hell was going on, the boy did as he was told and crouched down until he was eye level with the kid. She grinned, cheeks burning a bright pink, just before jumping onto him, wrapping her good arm around his neck and squeezing tight.

Bakugo stiffened, nearly retaliating with a punch that would have literally sent the kid down in flames. If it wasn't for the fact that his mother attacked him in such a similar manner whenever she wanted to show him this thing called affection then he really would have followed through on instinct. But unlike the evasive maneuvers he employed on his mother, Bakugo remained perfectly still, unsure of exactly what it was he was supposed to do. Was… Was he supposed to hug her back?

Seiko didn't hold on for long, easily sensing from his rigid posture that he wasn't used to receiving hugs. Before she fully let go of him though the little girl had one last idea. It was a popular trope and expression of gratitude in all the hero movies, though she never fully understood why, but Seiko was eager to try it just this once.

Quickly turning her head, Seiko puckered her lips and struck fast, pecking the boy's cheek before practically sprinting away from him. Her cheeks grew hot and she giggled to herself from the exhilaration of doing something so daring. Unable to contain so much excitement and energy she couldn't help but punch the air with her umbrella and shout, "I kissed a hero!"

As for Bakugo he was still trying to differentiate between heads and tails. Was he embarrassed? Flustered? Happy? Angry? His whole head had never felt so on fire before.

It wasn't until he started smelling smoke that he realized it was more than just himself that was burning up. He looked down and swore when he saw the edges of the paper sizzling away― the flowers already too far gone to be saved ―and he hurriedly put it out. Now singed and crumpled the gift almost seemed ruined.

But…

A corner of his mouth quirked up.

'It's got charm.' He slowly shook his head before neatly folding the picture of himself and the little girl being heroes together, tucking it away in his pocket.

Bakugo stood up, brushing a stray petal off his pants, and aimlessly stared in the direction Seiko had vanished.

'Maybe, just maybe,' he thought, 'being this kid's hero isn't such a bad thing.'

I was really interested in the fact that Bakugo is the kind of guy that internalizes things (ref. of ch. 118 for the manga readers) so I really wanted to find a way to include that here in order to also help with the growing process, which also lead to the realization that I am incapable of not writing anything without some form of angst. (I'll try to keep it to a minimum though, this is supposed to be mainly a bunch of fluff, lol.)

With that out of the way I must also inform you guys that I am currently in the process of packing/moving so I'm not sure when I'll be able to update after this, though I will try to get in one more chapter before I cease to have internet for a time. Also, right now I am posting this at 3 a.m so if there are any mistakes in both grammar or characters not being IC please help me out.

And because why not here's the title for the next chapter: Quack!