Izuku walked up to his dorm with a yawn wishing he could go to bed or at least rest. Extra training with All Might and classes on the weekends was going to be tough. He barely got any time to rest as it was. Maybe that was for the best, he thought as he pulled open the front door.

He needed to change and then head over Aizawa's. Shinsou said he'd meet him somewhere along the way.

He yawned again as he headed back downstairs.

"Midoriya, you shouldn't leave. Dinner will be done doon," Yaoyorozu said as he passed her in the lounge area. The other girls sitting with her turned to look at him.

"I'm actually eating somewhere else tonight. I'll be back later," he explained, fighting off another yawn.

Jirou leaned over the couch smirking. "You got a date?" "N-No!" Izuku flushed.

"Aw, come on, you can tell us."

"Really, I'm not—I don't," Izuku said, waving his hands. "I just—I'm—I should go." He hurried out ignoring their snickers. Just outside, Shinsou was crouched by a tree, running his fingers through the fur of the stray cats that lived on campus. "So is dinner a normal thing?" he asked as they started walking.

Shinsou shrugged. "They try to at least once a month, but sometimes if school is hectic, they don't."

They passed through the gate and started down the sidewalk. It was only a couple blocks. "You look tired," Shinsou mused after a few minutes of silence.

Izuku stretched with another yawn. "I think this is the most I've used my quirk in my entire life and with the extra classes on the weekend, I'm not getting much rest."

"Ah," Shinsou said, eyes shifting to the house as they turned the last corner. "Next week should be better."

Eri met them at the door, wrapping her arms around their legs in greeting. Mirio was behind her. "Hey man, good to see you again," he greeted, giving Izuku a friendly punch to the shoulder. "Hope you're hungry."

"Starving." His training with All Might ran over and then after his meeting with Mrs. Ito he'd lost his appetite and then he had classes. Just remembering he hadn't eaten since breakfast made his stomach growl angrily. He blushed looking away sheepishly.

Mirio just laughed. "Good thing we're setting the table."

Izuku sat in his usual chair next to Eri. An extra chair was pulled up between Mirio and Shinsou for Tamaki.

"Tami, have you ever slept in a park?" Eri asked, eyes wide and leaning up on the table. Tamaki blinked down at his empty plate; his brows furrowed with confusion. "Uhm, no?" "Zuzu has!"

"You have?" Tamaki asked. "I couldn't do that."

Izuku shrunk back, pointedly ignoring the look Aizawa was giving him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't napped on a park bench for a few hours while wondering the city on the days Hatsume was away.

"Midoriya," Mic said as he sat down, "you did well on your English assessment test, so you won't need any extra lessons."

That was a small relief. He was still waiting to hear back on the math and science, but he had a feeling he didn't do too well.

The dinner dragged on. Izuku had to focus on blocking out sporadic thoughts. Tamaki sure thought a lot. But Izuku managed, not even a dull throb by the end which made him smile. He stood by the sink rinsing off the dishes before handing them off to Aizawa to wash and dry.

"I saw that you were approved to leave campus on Wednesdays," Aizawa said, setting a plate down in the drying rack.

"I was going to talk to you about that actually." Izuku handed off another plate as Aizawa waited for him to explain. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you first, but I wanted to test it out with Hatsume first." Izuku glanced up at him, but Aizawa just nodded waiting for him to continue. "My biggest problem is dealing with emotions and deep memories. So, I thought going to the terminal wing of the hospital would be good practice."

Aizawa gave a hum of thought, setting a couple more clean plates in the rack before asking, "Was it?"

At that, Izuku frowned. "It's not the exact same, but it's similar. I think I can help them and make myself stronger doing it."

Aizawa was nodding again, face pensive as he methodically dried plates. "I want to go with you next time. After classes?"

"Yeah. Musutafu Hospital."

"How was it different?" The plates were done so now he leaned against the counter.

Izuku dried his hands on a towel thinking. "I'm working with happy memories to lessen the physical response to pain," he explained, "rerouting how the brain processes and functions. It

should last for a few days, then the hold wares off." "Can you make it last longer?"

A chill rushed over Izuku's skin. "Yeah," his voice wavered. "I can make it last, but that takes time and I have to dig down to people's core, changing who they are fundamentally."

"I see," Aizawa said quietly. "I did some research after you said something." He stepped away from the counter. "A few years ago, there were three villain attacks where the villain froze in the middle of a fight and turned themselves in a few minutes later." He looked back at Izuku. "That was you, wasn't it?"

Izuku nodded, forcing back the memories as he held himself, fingers digging into his biceps.

"I don't want you to do that again. I don't think it's necessary for you to win a fight."

"Probably not," Izuku agreed. "But I still want to be prepared for the next time I'm in a real fight." Aizawa nodded, understanding. "You sound confident about the hospital, so we'll try that."

The hospital always held an air of foreboding. Not one wanted to be there, and their feelings flowed out, coating the walls. In the terminally ill wing, Izuku felt like he was wading through it, dragging him to a shuffle as he walked down the hall, following a nurse. She'd given them a list of patients they could see. Hatsume and Aizawa walked behind him, looking around curiously.

The brightly colored walls were probably an attempt to make the patients happier, but it left the atmosphere ajar. Izuku tried again to shake the feeling off, glaring at sunflower yellow, smudge, and scuffed from where hospital beds rubbing against it. It didn't work.

Izuku stepped up to the patient as the nurse left. A young woman, maybe mid-thirties, but she looked just as bad as Hoshi did. He sat down, noticing the dip in the blankest where her left leg should've been.

Hatsume and Aizawa stood a few feet away watching him. Izuku reached out, pressing into her mind. Usually, the room usually appeared to him as a bedroom, but this time he found himself in a garden. Neat rows of vegetables and areas where flowers grew wild, tangling around terraces. He walked through, enjoying the sweet smell of spring.

Sometimes he wondered what his room looked like and wished he could get into his own head. Maybe it wouldn't be a room at all and something like her garden. Maybe he'd have more things, all the things he'd wanted as a child but couldn't afford.

He picked up a spade pulling on the memory of freshly turned dirt under a warm sun.

Birds chirped and a hammock swayed softly in the breeze. He pulled on the memory of the garden all together hard, bringing to the forefront of her mind before diving deeper. As he entered the intangible, he felt the pain, shocking his lungs. Someone touched his shoulder. Hatsume.

He pushed further, grasping that pain. A car crash that resulted in the loss of her leg and an infection that ravaged her body, caught too late. The car crash still woke her up in a panic, spending what little energy still had left every day.

Maybe he couldn't take all of it, but he could make it easier.

He saw the car, sitting at the wheel, laughing with someone else. It was dark, the light red. Then, suddenly, there were headlights filling the windshield and a moment later broken glass and twisted metal.

Izuku knew he must've flinched again because Hatsume gripped him tighter. Not real. Not my memory.

Even as he told himself that, the car rolled, and a sharp pain shot up his leg. Just forget.

He wove through the memory, jumbling the connection, shifting it around till it was blurred and he couldn't pull it into focus anymore. The red light was a bird feeder. The crunch of metal the sound of birds chirping. The skid of tires children squealing.

As he worked, pulling on memories and weaving, the tension and fear he felt relaxed. Slowly he pulled out of her mind, testing the new connections he made till he was sure she'd get a good night's rest. Her mind wasn't as bad as Hoshi's, but she was close. Probably not much longer.

He rested back with a sigh, relaxing his shoulders. Hatsume crouched beside him, clearly concerned.

"I'm ok," he assured. He looked back at the woman still sleeping. "She was in a car accident and lost her leg. I fixed it."

"Midoriya, we talked about this," Aizawa said tensely, taking a few steps towards him. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Izuku stood with a nod. "I feel alright, but I should probably avoid riding in a car for a few days." When Aizawa frowned, he added, "I couldn't just leave her. She keeps having nightmares."

Aizawa considered him for a minute before letting out a heavy sigh. "Ok. Do you want to continue?"

"Yeah, at least one more."

Aizawa nodded, not looking entirely pleased, but led them to the next patient the nurse had listed anyway.

This one was easier. Another cancer patient like Hoshi. Izuku pulled on the memories and rerouted the pain till the tension in the patient's mind soothed away.

Even though he was proud of himself and felt like real progress had been made with his quirk, Izuku still avoided looking at the street and the cars that passed. Anxiety constricting his chest with every car that flew by. Fast. They were going way too fast. He walked furthest from the road, letting Aizawa take up most of his view.

He pulled out his notebook and wrote a reminder to talk with Mrs. Ito about the aftermath.

A car sped by, swerving a bit, and Izuku froze up, stumbling back. Not real. Not real. He wasn't in a car rolling. It wasn't nighttime.

He screwed his eyes closed taking in measured breaths. Tipping his head back so that he could feel the warm sun on his face he let out a stiff exhale and opened his eyes.

"Midoriya?" Aizawa asked, concern lacing his voice.

Izuku took a few more breaths before he answered. "I'm doing this to learn my limits. What I did with that first patient is definitely a limit." He looked down, rubbing his sore and tired chest. He wanted to sleep off the stress.

"We're going to be taking this slow, Midoriya. I'm not thrilled at you having such side effects from using your quirk but given its nature, I don't see how we can train you any other way," Aizawa said.

Hatsume touched his arm gently, searching his face. "Let's stick to one or two each visit." She looked back at Aizawa. "I can update you on his progress."

"We'll do that for now," Aizawa agreed, stepping closer as more cars passed. "Do you know how long this will last?"

Izuku thought about it, comparing the effects to others in the past. "I think maybe a day." "You're sure?"

He was silent for a moment, remembering how long the memories had lingered when he stopped those villains. "Yes." He was sure they'd be gone by morning; his brain having sorted them out. It felt nothing like the other times. "I'm sure."

Izuku fell asleep listening to music to keep his mind was wandering too far. He tossed and turned fitfully seeing headlights in his dreams and sleepily reminding himself they weren't real. It was a familiar feeling and not near as bad, which made it easier to deal with.

But then there was something else that didn't quite fit. The strum of chords from a song he vaguely recognized. Muted and far-away sounding, pulling him from his sleep.

Izuku blinked into the darkness of his room. It was an hour before his alarm was set to go off, the red numbers glaring back. When the strumming started up again, Izuku closed his eyes as he listened. He stumbled across his room to the wall that connected his and Bakugo's room where it was a little louder, but still so quiet, almost timid.

He rested his head back, listening silently. A chord was messed up and the song stopped only to start up again from the beginning. Izuku pulled his knees to his chest listening, the soft notes washing over him.

Over and over till Izuku was half asleep against the wall. There was something so familiar about the song. Maybe something Bakugo used to play when they were kids.

The notes trailed off and he heard shuffling on the other side. Izuku glanced at his alarm clock. Less than ten minutes before it went off. He sighed and listened a little longer picking out the familiar sounds. The closet door opening. Footsteps crossing the room. The occasional grumble.

The familiarity smoothed out the lingering anxiety from the day before. A nice long run sounded wonderful.

Standing, Izuku flipped on his light and stretched. He changed into his running clothes and headed downstairs. It was still dark when he stepped outside. A cool, crisp morning perfect for a run. Izuku set out at a steady pace watching the sunrise as he took his usual path around campus.

He wondered how many mornings he'd missed Bakugo playing guitar. Wondered why he played so early. Maybe it was so no one heard him. Maybe he only did it when he was stressed like how Izuku went for extra runs.

As his run came to an end, Izuku climbed the stairs of the general studies building. Twice a week he missed homeroom to talk with Mrs. Ito. She always had his favorite tea hot and ready when he arrived, smiling kindly as he sat down. He sighed as the heat fought off the chill in his fingers.

"Mr. Aizawa updated me on your new quirk training," she said, not looking away from the computer screen.

"What do you think of it?" Izuku sipped his tea as he waited for an answer, knowing she had an opinion.

She pursed her lips at something on the screen followed by a few rapid clicks. "As long as it is done in moderation, I think it's a great way for you to practice your quirk." She looked at him pointedly. "What do you think of it?"

"It was my idea." "And? How is it?"

Izuku thought for a moment, looking around the room as he did. "In moderation," he agreed. "I just wish I could process emotions faster."

"I'm sure that's something you'll develop over time."

Izuku looked at her then and considered that. "Over time," he echoed. Everything was taking time. Time he didn't have. If only he'd started earlier. . . "I don't think it will ever stop completely. But maybe if I keep doing this, I can make the process quicker."

Mrs. Ito nodded, lacing her fingers together. "I agree. Let's talk about what happened yesterday. It was minor in comparison to the other times, yes?"

Izuku set the empty mug down with a nod. "Yeah, it only took a few hours."

"What happened?"

"Well, the lady was in a wreck, so I made her forget about the accident."

Mrs. Ito hummed in thought, fingernails clicking against the keyboard. "And you feel like those memories are yours when you experience them?"

"Instinctually yes," Izuku said, struggling to find a way to explain it. "I know they aren't mine, but sometimes they overpower that logic."

She made a stressed hum, frowning at her screen. "And what about one of the bad times?" She paused like she didn't want to ask. "How bad was it?"

"Each time lasted about three days, the worst was a week," he said, pulling at his sleeves. "I didn't have any friends at the time or anyone to look out for me and I really lost myself." He hesitated for a moment before pulling up a sleeve. Even in the low light, the thin scars were painfully visible. "I didn't want to do it," he said softly. "It was the coping mechanism of one of the villains I stopped. I. . .I couldn't stop myself and now. . ." he trailed off, looking at the floor between his feet.

There was a long pause before Mrs. Ito said, "I see." She took in a shaky breath. "That explains a lot actually," she said softly, typing on the keyboard even slower. "Is this something I can share with Mr. Aizawa?"

Izuku stiffened. "Well. . ."

"I just worry about future training exercises and gym activities," she reasoned. "If he knows, he could make accommodations. Are you changing into your costume in the locker rooms?"

Izuku gulped, sinking down a bit. "I usually wear a dry-fit shirt under my uniform and leave it on under my costume." He shifted around in his seat. "You can tell him."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, you're right. He should know." Bakugo knowing was enough people finding out. He sat back and looked up at the ceiling, rolling his next question around. "Is there a way to stop the memories from taking over? That's the biggest issue right now."

"Some people think of a happy place like a good memory or someone they care about," she said, still typing. "Other's count or ground themselves by engaging their senses." She looked over at him, fingers paused. "We'll work on that with you. Finding an anchor."

Izuku looked back up at the ceiling. "An anchor," he echoed, wondering what that was for him.

"I also want you to start rethinking your responses to triggers. Like with the exercise band, I want you to try reconnecting the color with a new memory."

Izuku sat up and looked at her. "That's what I do with other people's memories," he said, a bit surprised.

"I imagine it will be harder on yourself. It will take time." "Time," he huffed. Something he didn't have a lot of.

Red.

The color red.

The blood covering a knife and trembling hand.

Izuku shut his eyes, sucking in a startled breath, barely stopping the scream that caught in his throat, coming out as a strangled, choking sound.

Around him, someone was laughing, loud and boisterous. Hide it.

Izuku slowly opened his eyes. The shame that filled his bones when he realized it was just Kirishima nearly making him sick. He'd just stepped out of the elevator, it was beginning to close, he could step back into it—

"Deku, chop the vegetables. I hate it."

Izuku flinched back at Bakugo's sudden appearance. He stood a few feet away, drying his hands on a towel, waiting for an answer. Izuku managed a half breath and a shaky nod, throat too tight to

answer. He washed his hands slowly, counting—trying to count—touching the cool metal of the sink.

The knife.

It wasn't the same. The tip curved down—not pointy. It was different. It was ok.

He chopped slow and steady, trying to make a repetitive sound, nodding his head with each downward stroke. Up and down. Up and down. Scoop into a bowl for Bakugo. Over and over till there was nothing more to chop and he felt his heart begin to hammer again—nothing to match pace too. Desperately, he tapped the knife against the board, chopping imaginary vegetables till his heart slowed again.

He wasn't sure if he was breathing. He needed to breathe.

He ran through the steps Mrs. Ito gave him. As time dragged on, his heart rate began to slow and the shaking in his hands stopped.

Bakugo was still by the stove, eyes fixed on what he was cooking. Izuku inspected his chopping finding it alright. "Do you need anything else, Kacchan?"

Bakugo glanced at him for a long moment. "No." Then he picked up the prepared veggies and dumped them into the skillet, setting a lid on top to steam.

"I think I'll go to bed early," Izuku said, taking a step back.

Bakugo's gaze flicked up again. "You need to eat, Deku. You're too scrawny."

Izuku flushed, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

"I know you're working with All might," Bakugo continued, turning to Izuku fully. "I'll tell him if you start skipping meals."

Izuku flushed brighter, trying to work up a response. "Fine," he eventually grumbled, too tired to come up with something better. He watched curiously as Bakugo pulled a plate from the cabinet and handed it to him, piled with food.

When Izuku have him a questioning look, Bakugo soured. "You're worthless overworked, idiot. Eat and go to bed."

Izuku glanced up at the clock as he sat down at the bar top. It was just past six, but he was really tired. Exhausted even. Down to his bones. Waiting till dinner was ready for everyone and then sitting at the table sounded like torture. Just eating felt like a chore. Not that he had much of an appetite.

As he ate, he pulled out his notebook, writing about the panic attack. He scowled at the chunk of pages dedicated to just the last two weeks. He didn't even want to think about the new stats Hatsume had on him.

The next time he brought the chopsticks to his mouth they were empty. Izuku frowned down at his empty plate trying to remember when he finished. He stewed on his confusion as he washed the plate and set it in the drying rack, wondering if he should write it down. Probably.

Free time had become a foreign concept since transferring to the Hero Course, but for once, Izuku

had a few free hours during the afternoon on Saturdays. Now that he didn't have to take extra English classes it gave him a couple hours before training with All Might.

He thought about a run, even got dressed for it, but his body still felt exhausted from Wednesday. Mind too for that matter. Which is why he was watching some home improvement show, letting his eyes zone out to splotches of color. It was incredible. No wonder people paid for this.

"Hey, Midoriya," someone said, sitting down on the other couch.

Izuku debated for a moment if finding out who it was, was worth the effort of refocusing his eyes. No, no it was not. "Hey," he mumbled, hoping the couple on the TV picked mosaic tile for the backsplash.

"I have a favor to ask."

Izuku closed his eyes knowing he'd actually have to engage in conversation now. He looked over at the person—Kirishima. Izuku released a slow breath as panic didn't set in. He searched the red hair waiting to feel the rush of fear. It never came. He sat back, trying to relax.

Kirishima smiled, friendly as ever. "You were friends with Bakugo as kids, right?"

Izuku sat up, pulling his feet up under him as Kaminari took a seat on the floor between them. Izuku looked between the two feeling like he was being cornered. "I wouldn't say that—I mean not really."

Kaminari shrugged. "Sure, but you knew him for a long time?"

"I mean, yeah, I guess so," Izuku muttered not sure what favor would have to do with him knowing Bakugo. "I wouldn't say I knew him well."

"Well. . ." Kirishima trailed off, looking over at Kaminari. They shared a series of looks like they were silently debating what to say, before Kirishima continued, "We think—since the final, he's been weird."

Kaminari nodded, leaning back on his hands. "Yeah, he's been stressed about something, but he won't talk to us about it."

Izuku frowned harder, looking between the two. They were closest to Bakugo, if he wouldn't talk to them, there was no way Bakugo would talk to Izuku. "I think you guys misunder—"

"We think it has something to do with whatever happened between you two in middle school," Kirishima said quietly, glancing around the common area to make sure it was still empty.

Izuku blinked once, then twice, and shook his head. "I never knew Kacchan to worry over old stuff like that."

Kirishima smiled in a proud manner, letting out a breathy laugh. "He still has a bad attitude and doesn't think first sometimes, but he's been working really hard to become a leader—be better."

"Really?"

"All he wants to do is become the number one hero," Kirishima explained. "Mr. Aizawa pulled him aside the end of our first year and told him a part of being number one was being able to lead people, especially if he wants to have his own hero agency."

That's right. All Kacchan talked about when they were younger was being the best. "I still don't understand what you want me to do or what happened in middle school."

Kirishima sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. He seemed to think for a moment, glancing at Kaminari who gave him an unsure hum. "I guess we were just hoping you might know what's wrong. It's weird seeing him like this."

"Unnerving," Kaminari shivered. "I want angry, yelling Bakugo back." Izuku smiled a bit. "He doesn't seem much different to me."

Kirishima's brows rose, the corner of his mouth turning up. "You serious, man? He's never let someone help him with dinner."

"Yeah, he says we'd fuck it up just looking at it," Kaminari laughed. "He's probably right." "Oh, well—" Izuku pulled at the collar of his shirt "—I'm sure Kacchan is fine."

And if there was something bothering Kacchan, Izuku had a pretty good idea what it was about. Maybe that was why he was stressed as Kirishima put it. Was that why he'd been playing the guitar every morning? Over the last few days, Izuku had started looking forward to being woken up by the soft playing.

It was always the same song, over and over again. Bits and pieces that Izuku would catch himself humming or tapping his pen to. He tried to imagine what Bakugo looked like playing. Curled up on his bed in the low light of early morning, playing quietly. Maybe he hummed the lyrics or nodded his head to the beat, counting measures. Smiling when he got it right.

Izuku shook his head to dispel the image. He checked his watch. He still had an hour before training with All Might. Could go for a run or watch more mind-numbing TV. The latter was tempting. Oh, so tempting.

But he stood and tossed the remote to Kirishima. A run would be more productive.

He considered the path before him. His usual. One that wound around the campus and took about two hours to complete. He settled on just getting to the gym early. All Might wasn't there when he arrived, so he decided to enjoy the rare silence, stretching as he did.

"Hello, Midoriya," All Might greeted.

Izuku leaned forward, wincing a bit. "What are we doing today?"

"Weights," All Might said, looking through the papers attached to his clipboard. "We need to find your new max's and possibly increase your calorie intake."

"Again?" Izuku whined. He couldn't imagine eating more than he already was.

All Might smiled. "You've been gaining weight steadily. If you maintain this trend, I think you'll be on par with your peers by the end of summer.

End of summer.

That was so long.

Izuku fell back, glaring at the ceiling. "Why can't it go faster?"

"I'm afraid this is just one of those things that take time," All Might chuckled. "Let's get started."

Izuku dipped and weaved around the swing of the heavy bag. The stress from the last hospital visit had finally worn off completely and he'd woken up with more energy than he knew what to do with. Even after a busy day of classes and hero training, Izuku felt like he was buzzing. He punched the thick leather till his knuckles felt raw under his warps and his lungs burned.

Still not enough.

A run wouldn't cut it. Maybe Shinsou wanted to spar. Nope, he was busy.

Izuku dragged a hand through his hair, glaring down at his phone scrolling through the much longer list of contacts (courtesy of Ashido stealing his phone). He clicked on Bakugo's name and hesitated. He did say to text him if he wanted to spar. But what if he forgot he said that? Izuku narrowed his eyes at the screen, debating. It would be embarrassing if Bakugo just ignored him which was a very likely thing he would do.

"Oh hey, Midoriya, wanna spar with us?"

Izuku jumped, having not heard them come in. He looked over his shoulder at Kirishima, Kaminari, and . . . Bakugo. Izuku turned away as he felt heat rush across his cheeks and shoved his phone away. "S-Sure!"

He squared up with Kaminari. Both he and Kirishima had quirks that were difficult to spar with. If it were a real fight, Izuku would've stopped them before ever engaging.

"Hey, you're friends with Shinsou, right?" Kaminari asked, throwing a couple weak punches.

Izuku took a few steps back, getting the impression that Kaminari really just wanted to chat. "I guess so," he answered with a shrug. "We train together pretty often with Mr. Aizawa."

Kaminari nodded, dipping under one of Izuku's punches. "You got a girlfriend?"

Izuku stumbled, dropping his fists. "N-No," he squeaked, his cheeks heating up.

"Really?" Kaminari looked Izuku up and down with suspicion. "Boyfriend?"

Izuku slapped a hand over his reddening face. "I thought we were sparring?"

"Oh yeah!" Kaminari threw a couple more punches, mind completely somewhere else. "So, is that a no?"

"No. No, I am not dating anyone," Izuku huffed.

"Damn," Kaminari said, walking off the mat to his bag by the wall. "I owe Mina ten bucks." He tossed his phone aside, message sent. "One more question."

Izuku slumped. "Hit me."

Kaminari stepped back onto the mat wearing another one of his bright smiles. "You have to come to movie night with us!"

That wasn't even a question, but Izuku let it slide. "I thought the whole class was already going?" "Perfect!" He turned towards the other mat. "Baku-bro, switch with me. Kiri and I have a score to

settle," he grinned evilly, rubbing his sparking hands together. Izuku watched them suspiciously as Bakugo came on to his mat.

"Deku," Bakugo said, getting his attention, "try and actually be a challenge this time."

Izuku scowled. "Fine, but don't get butt hurt like last time, Baku-bro." He grinned as Bakugo's palms crackled.

"You're lucky we're inside!" Bakugo shot forward. Izuku sidestepped, jabbing his elbow into Bakugo's side and jumping out of range of a counterattack.

Bakugo wheezed, clutching his ribs, muttering curses.

"Are you sure it's me who needs to be a challenge?"

Bakugo spun on him, absolutely livid. "Sounds like you're feeling better."

Izuku dodged punches and blasts as best he could. Even when knowing they were coming, Bakugo's attacks were fast and hard. Izuku landed on his back with a thud, barely rolling out of the way of one of Bakugo's power punches. His hands were smoking.

Izuku pushed himself onto his knees, breathing hard, watching Bakugo cautiously as he too took a breather.

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that, Deku?"

"I try," Izuku said, shifting to a sitting position. "Another round?"

Bakugo sat up, a frown creasing his brow. He didn't give an answer, just shot a swiping kick at Izuku.

Izuku was shoved back by another blast, smoke curling around him. His arms ached from blocking so much.

"Your counterattacks are shit." "I know."

"You're slow as hell, too."

"I know!"

"You've been training every day!"

"I've only been doing this for six weeks!"

Izuku dodged another punch combo. He'd noticed Bakugo's attacks getting more technical and less focused on brute force but couldn't decide if it was because he was tired or holding back. He watched as Bakugo's hands started heating up, mentally groaning.

"If you hadn't lied about having a quirk for ten fucking years you might actually be good."

Izuku jumped out of the way of the attack, stumbling. When he got his footing, he looked back at Bakugo. "You're still upset about that?"

"Yeah, I'm still upset, shitty nerd!"

Izuku dropped his stance, looking at Bakugo curiously, waiting for something to reach out to him that would give him insight into what Bakugo was thinking. "Would it have changed things?"

Bakugo's scowl dropped, washing off his face in a split second. "I don't know," he answered and Izuku knew he was honest. It washed up against him, edged with regret. Bakugo raised his fists again.

Izuku mirrored him, ignoring his tired muscles. "You know you've got me beat," he said, swaying from foot to foot, ready to counter once Bakugo made a decision on his next move. "So, I don't know why you want to fight me."

Bakugo paused, fists dropping an inch. "God, you're such an idiot." Izuku dodged a punch. "You can be so much better. The only time beating you will matter is when you can actually throw a fucking punch without almost falling on your damn face."

There were snickers from the peanut gallery. Izuku glared at the other two boys who had given up their spar to watch him and Bakugo. Izuku scowled down at his fists. He held them just like Aizawa had taught him to.

"Your hands are fine," Bakugo said, coming up beside him. "Just do what I do."

Izuku matched his stance a part of him wondering if he was dreaming as he followed Bakugo's actions. Something warmed in his chest. This new Bakugo. . .

"Pay attention!"

"Sorry!" Izuku looked back at his arms—those arms that were twice the size of his—and matched the motion of a punch.

"You're throwing with your shoulder," Bakugo pointed out. He placed a hand around Izuku's wrist and another on his lower back. "Push with your core and turn with your hips," he said, as he led Izuku through the motion once more. "I've noticed you're off balance, this will correct that."

Izuku practiced the form till Bakugo gave a satisfied nod. "It does feel different," Izuku mused, flexing his sore hands.

"Of course, it does, idiot," he scoffed, arms crossing over his chest.

Off to the side, Kirishima gave a fake sniffle, hanging off Kaminari. "He's grown so much!" "Right before our eyes!" Kaminari sobbed, wiping a nonexistent tear. "I'm so proud."

"You idiots! Shut the hell up!"

Izuku stepped off the matt and picked up his things. "If it makes you feel better, Mr. Aizawa is starting my combat training this week." He soured, sipping from his water. "He also says my form and attacks suck."

"Then what have you been doing for the last six weeks?" Kirishima asked, looking over his shoulder.

"He wanted me to get some control over my quirk before we started training with it, and with All Might we've only been weight and endurance training." His phone buzzed with a text from Hatsume asking to hang out. "I'll see you guys later! Thanks for the spar."

Hatsume was so great. Izuku could never fathom how she came up with so many cool and innovative gadgets. He sat on his bed playing with a pair of goggles and the built-in zoom feature. Hatsume lounged next to him against the wall, computer in her lap as she recalibrated the leg stabilizers lying next to her.

"There's a new first year with a sharp shooting quirk," Hatsume said, brow creasing as she typed in parameters. "He uses a bow. There are so many cool things I could put in it!"

Izuku looked over the sketch and notes surrounding it. Man, he missed this. "I'd add a night vision setting to his goggles." Hatsume hummed in agreement beside him, attention fully engrossed in her computer. "What if the bow could fold for easier carry? Like with my staff?"

She looked up, fingers still typing. "That's a good idea. I should also add a way for him to attach it to his costume then, too."

He wrote down the ideas for her.

"Done!" she sighed, shoving the laptop off of her. "How did you feel today?"

"Great. The stress from last week finally wore off." Izuku rested back against his pillows, stretching out his sore muscles. "Kacchan really kicked my ass during our spar. I have so many bruises."

Hastume's brows rose. "You two are on sparring terms?"

"Apparently," he said with a shrug. "He's definitely different."

"Good different?"

Izuku smiled a bit. "Old Kacchan never would've taught me how to fix my form." He forced himself to sit up, wincing as his abs protested. "A lot can happen to a person in two years."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "76%"

"76% what?"

She ignored him, instead turning to pack up her computer and babies. "76% what, Hatsume?" He jumped off the bed after her.

"You'll see."

If his muscles weren't aching so bad, he'd block the door, but he was forced to lean on the footboard trying to find the will to move his legs. She paused in the doorway, grinning back at him. "It's a good thing, I promise!"

He gave a defeated sigh and limped out of his room, determined to walk her back to her dorm. "You really don't have to walk me, Midoriya," she said gently as they exited the 3-A dorms. "Something could happen," he reasoned. "It's late and dangerous."

"UA has one of the highest-level security—"

"I'm not letting you walk home alone!" he cut off, jabbing a finger into her side. "Villains are always looking for someone to build them illegal support items. You're the perfect target!"

She laughed hard, doubling over as they walked. "If a villain were to try and kidnap me, I'd hit them with baby #358!"

Izuku squinted at the device in the darkness. "Is it a recording of you talking about thermodynamics?"

She huffed, cheeks puffing out. "It's an electroshock weapon." "So, a taser?"

"Oh no, this would definitely put them in a coma. See—" she shoved the gadget in his face "—I made a specific villain setting."

He gave her an incredulous look, rolling his eyes. "Of course, you did."

Izuku stopped at the steps of her dorm, waving goodbye as she entered and turned to head back to his.