After Izuku sorted through the mess of messages on his phone and made a few calls, one being

Aizawa congratulating him and asking if he was ok, Izuku followed Mirko to the hotel gym. She grinned at him, hands on her hips. "You feel like shit?"

Izuku nodded weakly. He had a dull headache and he still had to squint against bright lights. He wanted to sleep off the soreness in his muscles and just relax, but he was pretty sure Mirko didn't understand the word.

"Good," she said, walking towards him. "You're lucky I let you sleep in. Don't expect it again." Izuku nodded and her grin dropped to a lazy smirk. "As a hero, you don't get days off." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Even on the days you feel like shit, after you've had the biggest fight of your life, someone will still need you and you need to be there."

Izuku pushed the tiredness aside and made himself more awake. "I understand," he said. "I've always been healed by Recovery Girl after I extensively use my quirk, so this will be good practice."

She scoffed. "Figures they'd be soft on you." Then she took a few steps back and sized him up, ears twitching. "You're a liability."

He stiffened, a hot wave of embarrassment flooding him because he knew she was right.

Mirko smirked teasingly, arms crossing over her chest. "Bakugo told me about how he had to carry you out of a training practice." The smirk softened but her fingers gripped her arms a little tighter. "He did explain what happened, but from my understanding—"

"I overexerted myself and left myself vulnerable. In a real fight, I would've been a handicap to my teammates."

Mirko nodded grimly. "Exactly. You're still learning, so I won't give you too much shit about working on a team, but"—her eyes sharpened—"you need to remember a team is only as good as its players. The stronger you are, the stronger the team is. If there's a time limit on that strength, you're not strong at all." She raised her fists. "Let's see it, Deku."

He went on offense and they danced around the gym area. Mirko was still miles better than him and she was holding back. He had no hope of beating her in a fight, but sometimes he'd make a block or land a punch that surprised her, and those were the moments he aimed for.

"You have to rely on yourself in a fight," she said as Izuku ducked under a kick. "You can't trust those around you to be able to help you. You can't be weak. Not when you're the only thing standing between a villain and someone in need."

Izuku threw a couple of quick jabs that usually tripped Bakugo up, but Mirko blocked them with ease and pushed him back.

"I don't care if you're on your last breath, a hero dies on their feet and if there is someone who needs you—teammate or civilian—you better spend it saving them."

Izuku tripped, dulling the blow that nicked his face, but he still landed hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He looked up at Mirko who stood over him, no smile on her face, and after a moment, she extended a hand to him. He took it and sat up. "I understand," he said as her grip on his hand tightened.

Something lightened around the corners of her eyes. "I know you do." She crouched down so that they were eye level, hand still wrapped around his. "I don't know who convinced you, you were weak, but they were wrong."

Izuku's jaw fell open in a gasp and startled effort to say something, but then he softly closed his mouth. "How did yo—"

Mirko let his hand go and shifted to sit on the floor before him. "Because you always hesitate," she said. "I saw the way you looked at the photo on the TV—like it was somehow lying to you." She tipped her head to the side with a sad sort of smile. "Who was it, so I can kick their ass?"

It was a joke, of course, but his stomach churned with unease. He leaned back on his hands thinking. "You think a certain way for so long, it's had to see a different point of view," he finally said.

"Ah, so some shit-nosed kid?"

Izuku chuckled. "You could say that. It's complicated."

She froze, ears swiveling to full attention, and her eyes narrowed dangerously slow. Izuku scooted back as a wave of rage hit him. "That's what you always say when I ask you about your past with Bakugo."

The way her voice sounded so calm sent a shiver down his spine. He frantically waved his hands, trying to defuse the situation as he said, "I mean—Um—We were kids!" He yelped when Mirko pounced and tackled him to the ground. "He thought I was quirkless!"

"You think that's an excuse?" she seethed, hands balling up in his shirt and hauling him up. "I know how he used to be. You're telling me he was that way to you?"

Izuku heard himself whimper. "Mirko. . .it was just—"

"Just what? Kids being kids?" Her grip loosened slightly. "Worse? Was he worse to you?"

Izuku thought back to middle school and his last conversation with Bakugo and felt tears fill his eyes. "I—"

"Don't you dare lie to me," she said, voice wavering with layers of emotion he didn't have time to pick out.

"We were kinda friends at first," he said quietly, looking down. "Then things began to change as we got older, and, yes, it was bad, but he's so different now I hardly recognize him sometimes."

Mirko let her grip go and got off him, her anger slowly dissipating. "Tell me," she said sternly.

"He never liked me that much," Izuku started with a reminiscent smile. "He just kinda tolerated me hanging around. But then, I think around the beginning of seventh grade, he changed. Started getting super serious about going to UA and I just didn't fit that image."

"He was a little shit," Mirko grumbled. "You wouldn't believe how high he had that greater-than- thou stick shoved up his ass. Took forever to beat the superiority complex out of him."

"That's an image," he laughed, holding his stomach. "So yeah, it was Kacchan, but don't be too hard on him." He bumped his shoulder against hers. "I was skeptical at first but he's trying."

Mirko crossed her arms stubbornly. "Oh no, I'm definitely using this as an excuse to kick his ass. I haven't seen him in six months, I just know he's gone soft."

The way she punched one of her hands onto the palm of her other had him sending up a quick prayer for Bakugo.

Izuku only fully relaxed when he pushed open the door to his home. He toed off his shoes by the door and sat down his bag and case frowning when he wasn't greeted by Eri like he usually was. But among the familiar sounds he'd grown accustomed to, he heard someone playing the guitar— or trying to at least.

When he stepped into the living room, he saw Aizawa in the kitchen preparing dinner, Shinsou helping him and Eri sitting in the living room, a child-sized guitar in her lap, Mic in front of her with his own instrument.

Izuku paused in the entryway and watched them play for a moment before he approached. Eri's tongue was caught in the corner of her mouth as she tried to match Mic's fingers and clumsily plucked at cords.

"Zuzu!" Eri set the guitar down briefly to hug him. "I saw you on the TV! Papa recorded it!" Her eyes absolutely sparkled. "You really saved that man?"

Izuku nodded shyly and he glanced at Mic before looking back at Eri. "I did," he said gently. "He's in the hospital recovering."

Eri pulled the guitar back into her lap and readied her fingers. "Papa's been teaching me a song." She plucked at the strings, watching her hands, brow furrowed in concentration. Mic mirrored her, playing the notes with ease, hands moving gracefully. Izuku listened to the random notes played out of rhythm, feeling the stress from the weekend melt away.

"When you practice really hard," Mic said, "you'll sound like this."

Izuku sat up straighter as Mic brought the notes together and played more. Eri gasped, eyes locked on the way his fingers slip and pressed along the neck. But Izuku knew those notes. That song. The one he couldn't seem to place but was right on the tip of his tongue for weeks. The one that Bakugo still played almost every morning. Sometimes he would stop and Izuku expected that to be the end of it, but it always came back a few days later, drifting through his wall.

Bakugo didn't stumble over the notes anymore like he was learning. Now he played it on loop, slow and quiet. Izuku had tried to see if there was a pattern, especially when Bakugo fell off playing for a few days. But he had no luck determining if something upset Bakugo. He played when he played and there didn't seem to be a reason for it.

Izuku watched Mic, mesmerized at hearing the song unmuffled by drywall. He watched Mic's

hands imagining Bakugo playing, his hands moving just as swift and with grace. "What's that song?" he asked, voice a bit breathless.

Mic smiled and began to sing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray. . ."

Izuku felt his jaw drop because it was definitely the song, but he hadn't expected Bakugo to be playing a lullaby. Mic was looking at Eri as he sang and Izuku felt the love rolling off him in a pressing weight that surrounded Izuku, and he suddenly remembered why the song was so familiar.

He was thrown back to one of the few times he went to Bakugo's home when they were still young. Izuku had lied and said he lived close because it had been a particularly tough day and he wasn't ready to leave Bakugo's side. He hadn't expected to visit such a nice home or for it to be so warm and inviting. He'd tip-toed around wondering why Bakugo had invited him in. They'd been talking—about what, Izuku couldn't remember—but then Mitsuki had scooped Bakugo up in her arms, grinning ear to ear mischievously as she rained kisses down on his face.

Izuku had laughed at the way Bakugo fought her, kicking and screaming, but she held tight and started humming. Izuku watched in amazement as Bakugo settled down, accepting the embrace and the humming turned to soft singing. Izuku's laughing died out, the mirth replaced by a sudden aching that shocked the breath out of him as he watched Mitsuki hold a pouting Bakugo. It had hurt so much watching them and he'd wondered why that action had calmed Bakugo down so much

and why he wanted to be held like that.

Mitsuki noticed him watching and she smiled wide again, playfully tossing Bakugo onto the couch and pulled Izuku off the floor and into her arms. Izuku had froze, fighting the instinct to pull away. Her embrace was tight as she picked him up. Izuku did his best to mimic Bakugo and wrapped his legs around her waist, still not sure what to do. Mitsuki's voice by his ear wavered and her arms tightened around him like maybe she knew.

Izuku realized he was shaking, too caught up in the feeling burning a hole through his insides to notice. He clung to her, something he didn't even realize was missing, now an unavoidable, gaping hole. She moved to sit on the couch, letting him curl up in her lap as he cried, softly stroking his hair and back. She didn't let go till he pulled away and dried his face.

Izuku drew in a shaky breath as Mic stopped playing. Something dripped off his chin. He hastily whipped the trail left behind by the tear. His heart ached at the memory. Perhaps that's why he forgot. Because he was almost eight before he experienced a hug that he could remember. After that day Mitsuki had hugged him so fiercely each time she saw him, and he was reminded each time no one wanted him. It became too painful, so he avoided following Bakugo home or lingered in the halls of the school and hid till Bakugo's mom or dad picked him up and left.

"Are you ok, Midoriya?"

Izuku refocused his eyes on Mic, reading the concern there. Izuku swallowed hard. "I'm. . .I was just remembering something," he said, voice tight as he realized Mitsuki was the closest thing he ever experienced to a mother.

"Funny how memories can just sneak up on us," he said. "Music does that to us the strongest." Izuku sunk back wondering why Bakugo was playing that song.

After dinner, Izuku sat at the table, pushing his glass of water around nervously. Shinsou had taken Eri to her room so that he could talk with Aizawa and Mic in private. Izuku was sure it had something to do with the raid even though Aizawa had called him that morning to check on him.

He pouted a bit, annoyed that Aizawa seemed to know him so well in such a short amount of time. Recovery Girl hadn't been there to help with the migraine so even now he had a lingering headache, but it wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. He'd also tried to keep his voice steady on the phone when he talked to Aizawa, but he'd been quiet, and tired, and hearing Aizawa's voice made him ache to be home, in his room, safe.

Now, he waited patiently for them to finish wiping off the counters and put away the leftovers.

Mic was the first to sit down and his usual smile was soft at the edges like his concern was pulling it down. Izuku liked how bright and warm Mic was, he reminded Izuku of Hatsume. "How are you feeling, kid?"

Izuku blinked at the question, pulled out of his thoughts. "I'm tired," he said, and he could hear it in his voice. It dipped low and the effort to get the words across his lips made his eyelids sag.

Mic's smile drew tight. "That must've been a lot of pressure," he said, as he accepted the mug from Aizawa.

"It was." Izuku shifted in his chair, following the grain patterns in the wood. "But it all worked out." He'd been telling himself that all day. The plan had worked, and everyone thought he was a hero. Even people on the train had stared and whispered, not sure if Izuku was the boy they'd saw on the news. He'd saved someone, helped the police, but he couldn't seem to be happy about it. He slumped on the tabletop with a sniff.

"Maybe," Aizawa drawled, sounding unconvinced. "The police requested Mirko's help because of your quirk, yes?"

Izuku nodded and met Aizawa's eyes. "They asked that I use my quirk to gain access. They hadn't been successful for years." The way Aizawa's face grew cold and dark made Izuku sit up. "It was a lot of pressure, I'll admit that, but I also didn't follow orders. I couldn't leave that man in there. He was so injured."

"That's not what we're worried about, Izuku," Mic said gently, hand sliding forward on the table like he meant to touch Izuku and then thought better of it.

That ache festered again as Izuku thought of Mitsuki and wished Mic had.

"I'll be frank with you Izuku," Aizawa said, squaring his shoulders. "You have a valuable quirk, and a lot of people are going to want to get their hands on it."

"I understand," Izuku said after a moment. He hadn't thought of it that way, but it made sense. The entire plan had revolved around him, but someone asking for his help had blinded him to considering the risks.

"That was a very dangerous situation they put you in," Aizawa said. His voice was level, but his fingers were wrapped tightly around the ceramic mug. "They were trusting your quirk to get them the information they needed even if that meant you possibly getting hurt."

Izuku reached for his water, throat suddenly dry, but the weight in his hand felt like the gun and he set it back down.

"I'm not angry at you," Aizawa continued. "I just don't want you getting caught up in the glamor of hero work so young and inexperienced. You've been thrown into this, and I know you're enjoying it, but I don't want you getting hurt as a result."

Izuku sat back in his chair as he rolled Aizawa's words over in his head. "I'm getting stronger with my quirk," he said slowly, "but I still have a long way to go. I don't want to be healed by Recovery Girl anymore. I need to learn how to do it on myself." After a moment, he added, "I need to get stronger on my own."

"There's nothing wrong with asking for help—"

"He's right, Hizashi," Aizawa said. "I think you're ready to start managing your quirk on your own, but, when you're on patrols with Mirko, I want you to keep the extent of your quirk under wraps."

Izuku nodded. "I'll be careful about who I trust," he said.

Aizawa took a deep breath that relaxed his shoulders on the exhale. "We're proud of you Izuku. You've come so far in a short amount of time."

Izuku bit his lip to stop the way it quivered when Aizawa smiled in that rare, fond way that Izuku hadn't seen since the provisional exam.

"You and Shinsou should get back to the dorms. If I get another message from your classmates asking about when you'll be back—" Aizawa cut off as he pinched the bridge of his nose and devolved to intelligible angry grumbles.

"Your face is all over the news," Shinsou said as they walked back to the dorms. Izuku smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, it's a really weird feeling."

"It was the same with Bakugo. Everyone is always curious about Mirko's interns." "She said I was recommended to her," Izuku said. "I wish I could thank them." Shinsou raised a curious brow. "You don't know who it was?"

"She won't tell me," he grumbled with a pout. "Every time I ask, she just laughs." "So, she's cool?"

"The coolest." Izuku grinned. "I've learned so much from her. I can't wait for the weeklong internship."

Shinsou's shoulders dropped a bit. "How are you always so excited about everything?"

"Don't act like you're not excited too," Izuku said, bumping Shinsou's shoulder. "Mina has a count down."

"You realize you'll also be stuck with Bakugo for a week."

Izuku stopped in his tracks. Shinsou looked back at him from a few feet ahead with a mischievous smirk that made Izuku's skin crawl.

Shinsou turned to him fully, head tilting to the side. "He was all pissed off Friday after your little

training session you two do." His smirk split into a grin. "Something happen?"

Izuku swallowed, feeling heat creep up his neck. "N-No." He stiffened as Shinsou quirked a brow at his stammer and Izuku felt the flush reach his face.

"Uh-huh," Shinsou drawled, tongue in cheek. "He was so distracted, he burnt the stir fry." "It was just a regular session," Izuku lied, gripping the strap across his chest.

Shinsou's eyes flickered to Izuku's hand. "Liar."

Another wave of heat rushed across Izuku's cheeks. "Alright, fine. I beat him—sort of." "Sort of?"

"I mean—I need to talk to him," he grumbled, scuffing his shoe against the concrete. "So, something did happen?"

Izuku glared up at Shinsou. His grin was gone and now he just looked curious. "I don't know. Maybe?" He started walking again, Shinsou stepping in line with him.

"But you beat him?"

"That's what he told Mirko." "Then what's the problem?"

Izuku's skin crawled as he remembered the spar and how easily Bakugo could've just shifted his weight and thrown him off. "I'm not accepting it as a win," Izuku said defiantly, not necessarily to Shinsou. "But I am going to beat him next time. Fair in square."

"You think he threw the fight?" Shinsou said it like it was the most ridiculous thought. "He wouldn't do that."

"I mean, I'm not using the full range of my quirk so neither is he and I did technically pin him first, but he totally could've beaten me, and he didn't! My technique was shit!" Izuku strangled the air in front of him.

Shinsou's brows rose, bringing his eyes wide. "Huh, yeah, that doesn't sound like him at all."

"Exactly!" Izuku simmered down as they entered the UA gates and he decided to save that anger for tomorrow during their training session. He reached the door to their dorm first and held it open for Shinsou before following him in.

The moment he stepped through the threshold he was swarmed by his class.

"Izuku! We all saw the news!" Mina squealed, wrapping him up in a bone-crushing hug. "You looked so cool." She pulled away, grinning at him.

Izuku did his best to mirror it. "Thanks. It was a big operation. I'm just happy I could help."

"But Midoriya, you saved that man," Uraraka said, gently touching his shoulder. "That's a big deal."

"The photo was so manly," Kirishima gushed, and he pulled Kaminari onto his back mimicking it.

"Just like a hero."

"And then the photo with Mirko." Yaoyorozu sighed dreamily, hands clutched in front of her. "Who knew she could be so sweet."

Izuku chuckled. "Don't be fooled, she doubled my training this morning." "It must've been scary. The news said the yakuza traded illegal weapons."

Izuku looked down at Tsu as a chill rushed across his skin. "Y-Yeah, but the police were there. I wasn't in any danger."

He tried to answer their questions as best he could while his headache steadily returned and their thought's pressed into him. Izuku felt his heart begin to race and his chest tighten. He needed to leave. He opened his mouth to come up with an excuse, but locked eyes with Mina and her smile dropped. She got this focused look and grabbed his arm, throwing up one of her lopsided grins as she pulled Izuku away from the group.

"You can't just steal him, Mina!"

She grinned back at Kirishima. "He's mine. I'm taking him." That grin fell away when the elevator doors closed. "Are you ok?"

Izuku felt something in him shutter. "No," he answered weakly and stumbled back against the wall. "God, Mina, they had guns. I had to hold one." He heard her take in a sharp breath and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him through the doors the moment they opened and down to her room. She forced the door closed with her foot and wrapped him in a hug.

"It's ok. You're ok now," she muttered against his chest, hand stroking his back.

Still, Izuku's shoulders shook as he wiped the tears wetting his eyelashes. "I was scared but there was so much blood." He flinched hard, ripping out of Mina's grip. He gritted his teeth and thought of all the different shades of red in Bakugo's eyes, how they'd looked up at him narrowed. "They were going to kill me," he barely whispered. "But he's alive, right? I'm a hero now?" he laughed bitterly.

Mina led him over to her bed and sat beside him. "Do you want to call Hatsume?" "No, it's almost curfew," he breathed, flopping back on her bed. "I just need to think." Mina laid down beside him and turned her face towards him. "I'll listen."

Izuku stared up at the ceiling, watching the way the light shifted as the sun began to set. "It wasn't supposed to go that way," he said quietly. "The police were confident there wouldn't be any hostages. I was just supposed to locate their main warehouse and then use my quirk to escape." He drew in a shaky breath and closed his eyes when Mina's hand slipped into his. "I couldn't leave him."

"You did the right thing, Izuku," she said softly and squeezed his hand.

"I know," his voice cracked. "I know, but. . .there were guns pointed at my head, Mina, they were going to shoot—" His breath caught in his throat and he shot up as he tried to breathe, panic spurring in his chest. "It hurt so bad!" he choked out through a sob, gasping for air. "I wasn't even sure I could keep the control. I just kept waiting for a bullet. But he's fine—He's recovering—I'm a hero! So, what does it matter how scared I was?"

"Izuku!"

He felt her hands cradle his face, but he couldn't open his eyes. Mina shifted, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him tight against her chest. He listened to her frantic heartbeat as she dragged her fingernails through his hair.

"Izuku," she said softly, resting her head on the top of his, "you could save the entire world and it would still be ok to fall apart. It's ok to know you saved someone and still be upset. It's ok to be scared."

He pulled away to look at her, his breath still uneven and throat aching.

She stepped away only to pull over her computer chair so she could sit in front of him and then she took his hands in hers. "Our first year was a mess," she said with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Everyone kept saying we were stronger because we had experienced real villain attacks and combat, and they hated us for it, but we watched our classmates and teachers get nearly killed multiple times." She looked down at their hands, her thumbs stroking the back of his. "We were never stronger. We were just more afraid of dying. So, it's ok to be scared, Izuku." Her grip tightened on his hands. "You just have to keep fighting. That's all that matters. That is what makes you stronger, but it doesn't take the fear away."

Izuku pulled a hand away to wipe his face. "Thanks, Mina." He cleared his throat in an attempt to diffuse the ache.

"Let me walk you to your room."

Izuku wanted to refuse but he was still trembling, and his breathing was closer to a wheeze, so he let her.

"Are you sure you'll be ok?" she asked as they reached his room. "We could have a sleepover?" Izuku managed a small smile. "I'll be ok; besides, Iida would have an aneurysm."

She huffed with a curt nod. "You're probably right. But call me if you need anything, ok?"

"I will," he said as he closed his door.

Izuku sunk down along the wall that connected his room to Bakugo's and closed his eyes, counting as he breathed. "I wish you would play," he found himself saying as he listened to Bakugo move around his room. Izuku laid down on the floor, back against the wall, and fell asleep.

It was warm the next day. Sunny and bright. Izuku slumped across the table as he shaded his sketch. Hatsume sat beside him, typing up a new proposal and stealing bites of food from her lunch tray at random.

Izuku glanced at his bento, half-eaten. He was forcing himself since he didn't have much appetite. He sighed sitting up and scrutinized his sketch. "What do you think?" he asked Hatusme, pushing the sketchbook towards her.

She shoved the laptop and meal tray aside to pull the sketchbook closer. "A breathing apparatus, huh?" She nodded, looking over the design changes.

"During some of our combat training exercises, it was hard to breathe because of all the explosions and rubble."

She hummed with a slow nod. "I really like the design you came up with. It'd take me a day or two, but then it'd need to get approved by a design agency." She shrugged. "Still shouldn't take long."

Izuku moved closer to her, picking up his pencil to use as a pointer. "Then I want to extend the gloves further up my arms for more support and add a hood with pieces that look kinda like ears. You know, for Mirko."

Hatsume laughed. "I like it. I can have the support modifications done by the end of the week."

Izuku rested his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes to enjoy the breeze that blew by. "I really hate that finals are this week."

"After this weekend"—she blew out a puff of air—"I don't know how you do it."

"I did alright on midterms, plus Mina is planning a couple study groups, so I'll be ok."

Her fingers paused on the keyboard. "You always say that," she said quietly, frowning at her computer screen.

"I promise, Hats." He sat up to look at her. "My meeting with Mrs. Ito this morning went really well, and I've been learning so much from Mirko. I'll crush these finals."

She smiled with a shake of her head. "Don't you have training with Bakugo soon?"

Startled, Izuku checked his watch. He shoved his sketchbook and things into his bag. "See you later, Hatsume!"

He ran to the sparring gym, quickly changing before finding Bakugo. Kirishima was there chatting with him when Izuku arrived.

"Midoriya, it's you and me today," Kirishima grinned, cracking his knuckles.

Izuku looked past Kirishima to Bakugo and felt a hot wave of anger that propelled his steps into a near jog. "What the hell was that last time?" he asked, pushing past Kirishima.

"What?" Bakugo spat, as Izuku stormed towards him.

"I don't need you to go easy on me!" He shoved Bakugo into the wall and stepped back with his fists raised. "I don't need your help," Izuku ground out. "Go easy on me again and see what happens, Kacchan."

Bakugo narrowed his eyes, teeth bared. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but I'm happy to kick your ass again."

Izuku dodged his advances, backing up onto the mat. He grabbed a wayward punch and twisted it around Bakugo's back till he winced. "I know you let me win. I just don't understand why," Izuku hissed near his ear. Izuku jumped away just as Bakugo set off a small explosion and rounded on him.

"I wouldn't let you do anything, shitty nerd!"

Izuku avoided Bakugo's punches and kicks easily, taking the first opening to grab him by the shirt. "Liar! You've always gotten out of my holds." He turned, grabbing Bakugo's arm and flipping him over his shoulder. "Were you tired or something?"

"Shut the hell up, Deku!"

Izuku barely leaned out of the way of a blast and stumbled backward as smoke stung his eyes. "Then tell me why!" He jumped away from a kick. "Why'd you let me win?"

"You deaf or something? I already said I won't let you do anything!"

Izuku gritted his teeth, widening his stance as Bakugo shot towards him. Bakugo's leg drew back, hand moving to counterblast. Izuku leaned out of the way of the kick, grabbed Bakugo from the air, and threw him to the ground. He pinned him the same way he had a few days ago, chest heaving. "So, you just weren't paying attention then?" He tightened his grip on Bakugo wrists. "Except you were because you told Mirko that my holds need work." He leaned forward, seething. "So why did you let me win?"

He felt his balance give as he was shoved forward and rolled to the side. He glared at Bakugo above him, knees on either side of Izuku's waist. "You shitty fucking nerd—"

"Bakugo!"

They both looked at Kirishima watching from the edge of the mat.

Izuku looked back at Bakugo. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"Because I fucking didn't. Deal with it, Deku." He stood, storming off the mat, grabbing a towel off the bench. "Work with Kirishima on your shit holds!"

Izuku sat up, watching him go to the locker rooms till Kirishima asked, "You ok, man?" Izuku took the hand that he offered and stood. "Can we just spar for a little bit?"

"Sure. Whatever you want."

Izuku didn't worry about going fast or avoiding punches. They fell into a rhythm. Once they were both breathing hard, Kirishima suggested they move onto the actual lesson. At some point, Bakugo returned, and he sat on the bench watching with a scowl.

"The way to took Bakugo down towards the end was really cool. Like you moved at the last possible second and he didn't have time to dodge," Kirishima said as he let Izuku go and sat back on the mat. They both glanced to the side when Bakugo snorted.

Izuku just shrugged, feeling like poking a nerve. "Mirko makes him look slow." "What the hell did you say, Deku?"

Izuku smirked as he heard Bakugo stomp towards them. He shot Bakugo a crooked smile, head tipped back to look up at him and Bakugo drew to a sudden stop. "Those blasts giving you hearing damage? I said you're slow."

Kirishima shot up between them, hands raised. "Hey now, let's just take a breather."

"Don't see what the problem is," Izuku grumbled. "It's because of her quirk that she's so fast." He met Bakugo's eyes again. "It's just an observation."

"I'm going to kill you," Bakugo growled, hands sparking as Kirishima shoved him back.

"You guys can't keep fighting!" Kirishima whined. "I can't do another night of gross food." Then

Kirishima grabbed Bakugo and shoved him towards Izuku. "Apologize! Both of you!"

Izuku scoffed, "Why should I apologize?"

Kirishima glared at him. "You are purposely pushing his buttons! Please, Izuku, I'm hungry!" He turned his attention to Bakugo. "We will talk later," he said moving a finger between them, "for now, apologize for letting Izuku win."

Bakugo gaped, positively fuming, but Kirishima's glare didn't waver. "Sorry, you felt like I threw the fight, shitty nerd."

Izuku blinked in surprise, never expecting Bakugo to actually give into Kirishima's demands. "Alright," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, "sorry for provoking you."

"Great!" Kirishima grinned as he slapped them both on the back and hooked his arms around their necks, drawing them close. "Now, if we don't have an edible meal tonight, I'm kicking both your asses, even if I have to sneak attack to do it."

Izuku wasn't sure if that would actually work, but he took the threat to heart anyway.

Izuku glanced back at Kirishima who scowled at them from the bar top, watching them like a hawk. Izuku went back to chopping and peeling silently, feeling a chill run down his spine.

"There is something I wanted to ask you, Kacchan," Izuku said quietly, tensing as Kirishima hummed in warning.

"What?" Bakugo ground out, not looking up from the stove.

Izuku scooped up the chopped green onions into a bowl and wiped his hands on a towel. "H-How's your mom?"

Bakugo looked at him like he had two heads. "Why?"

Izuku wrung his fingers, avoiding eye contact. "Oh, I was just thinking about her the other day. Curious I guess." He gulped, staring at his shoes.

"The old hag is fine," Bakugo answered after a drawn-out silence.

Izuku looked up, meeting Bakugo's eyes, but they were narrowed slightly, his breathing stiff. "What?" Izuku asked softly in almost a whisper, watching as Bakugo's irises shifted slightly as he looked Izuku's face over. Izuku jumped when Bakugo put the stirring spoon down and turned to him fully, brow drawn tight.

"Why did you stop coming to my house?"

It was a layered question and Izuku felt himself wither under the weight of Bakugo's piercing stare. "I know you didn't like me following you home," Izuku answered carefully.

Bakugo's eyes narrowed to a glare, his lip curling back slightly. "Maybe I didn't, but that never stopped you."

Izuku swallowed hard, trying to find the strength to look away from Bakugo, but it evaded him. "It just—" he bit his lip to stop himself. Izuku blinked away how his eyes blurred, hating that Kirishima wasn't saying anything—or that he was listening. Fighting with himself as he wanted to tell Bakugo everything and also keep it all locked away in the past. Where it belonged. It was over.

So why did he want Bakugo to understand? He didn't want to remember how safe he felt in Mitsuki's arms, or the way her voice had sounded so close to his ear, or the sound of her heart beating steady under his cheek. "I didn't have a mother, Kacchan," he whispered, hoping Kirishima didn't hear. Izuku managed to drop his eyes to Bakugo's chest and willed himself not to cry. "It just hurt, ok? Because mine didn't want me." Izuku pressed the back of his mouth to soften how his voice broke.

"Deku. . ."

Izuku turned away not wanting to see the expression that came with how softly Bakugo had said his nickname. "The vegetables are done, so. . .I'm going to go," Izuku said, unable to keep the shake out of his voice, and he hated it. He took a step, dragging in a slow breath to steady the way his heart was racing, but then there was a hand curling around his shoulder, fingers pressing into his skin and pulling, turning him around.

The breath Izuku had been taking in caught it his throat, blood rushing cold as white-hot panic split across his skin. He reached, instinctively trying to smack the hand away, but the hand tightened. Izuku grabbed the knife off the cutting board desperately and the hand let go.

"Shit—"

A chair toppled over followed by a shout.

Izuku trembled as his vision refocused and he saw Bakugo—not him—stepping back from Izuku, his face pale. "I—Fuck, I'm sorry, Deku, I forgot—"

Izuku dropped the knife and stumbled back in horror, feeling like he might be sick. "I'm sorry— I'm—"

"Izuku?"

He turned to look at Mina as she quickly approached. "Mina?"

"It's ok, come with me," she said quietly, holding her hand out to him.

Izuku stared at her hand for a moment and then took it. She led him to the elevator and then to her room. He sunk to the floor, resting against her bed frame, and stared blankly into the air.

"Izuku?" she asked after a while of silence. "Hey, are you ok? Should I call Mr. Aizawa or Hatsume?"

He looked over at her and considered it. But talking felt painful so he rested his head on her shoulder and tried to sort out what he was feeling.

"When I was a kid, I got hit a lot," he muttered, his throat feeling sore. When Mina didn't move, didn't stiffen, he relaxed a little. "Sometimes, when someone comes up to me from behind and I don't know they're there, I freak out."

Her arm shifted to wrap around his shoulders and pulled him closer, resting her head on top of his. "Bakugo told us a little about you two," she said softly.

Izuku looked up at her as best he could. "Really?"

She nodded. "Kiri has a way of getting him to talk." Her arm squeezed tighter around him. "He really didn't say much, but he said he was a real asshole growing up and took a lot of that out on

you."

Izuku frowned, wondering why Bakugo would tell them that. He just shook his head and sat up. "Kacchan was a bully," he started, "honestly, during the final, I was ready to show him that I was never the weak kid he thought I was." He smiled at the memory. "I'll never forget the look on his face when I used my quirk on him. Must've been a shock."

"Oh, you have no idea," Mina laughed. "We had never seen him so pissed, except for maybe the sports festival our first year."

"But I never hated him," he said, eyes dropping to the floor. "With Kacchan, I never struggled with my quirk or overhearing thoughts. He never hesitated to say what he was thinking and that's what drew me to him." Izuku tucked his chin between his knees as he said, "I felt normal around him. But then, middle school came and that changed."

Mina looked at him curiously, shifting closer to him. "How?"

"He stopped saying what he meant. The bullying got worse." He shrugged, resting back against the bed. "He was choosing to be a bully even if his thoughts and emotions were saying otherwise. He's always been egotistical with a superiority complex, but. . ." he trailed off with a sigh. "Maybe I'd know if I hadn't been suppressing my quirk so hard. Kacchan would be saying these mean, terrible things, but then what I felt with my quirk felt more like pain or self-hatred."

Mina hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, that definitely sounds like first-year Bakugo. We all pretty much hated him." They sat quietly for a while until Mina asked, "Did he ever apologize?"

"No," Izuku snorted. "That's not how Kacchan is, besides, before the final, I had last talked to him in middle school and only seen him in passing since."

Mina was silent for a moment as she adjusted beside him and rested her head against the mattress. "I think whatever you were feeling back then from Bakugo is biting him in the ass right now. He hasn't been the same since you came around." There was a twinkle in her eye as she said that.

"You think so?" Izuku couldn't hide the smile that crept across his face. "Before the semester started, Shinsou had told me Kacchan had changed. I didn't believe him at first. I think we shocked each other, honestly."

"Don't let the hothead fool you." She grinned wide. "He has a soft spot."

Izuku thought of the way Bakugo had softened into his mother's arms and his face earlier downstairs. He winced. "I should talk to him."

Mina grabbed his sleeve like she thought he might get up to leave. "Kiri said they were going to go for a walk. If it's anything like last time, they won't be back till late."

Izuku blinked at her. "They do that often?"

She gave him a meaningful look. "No. Kiri knows he has a limit on how much he can get Bakugo to talk so he chooses their 'walks' with care."

"I'm glad he has someone like that. He never had real friends growing up."

Mina hummed in agreement with a small nod. "You sure you don't want to go see Hatsume?" "She's not even at her dorm. The Support Course students are at a fund-raising gala and she's head

of the Support Item Development Committee." He smiled fondly. "Besides, I've already told her all of this. I think it's why she wanted to help with the final so much."

They both jumped when there was an explosion outside that made the building shake. Izuku pulled the balcony door aside and leaned up against the rail, Mina beside him. A cloud of smoke was mushrooming from the courtyard. Izuku felt Mina place a hand on his bicep. He relaxed when two voices, distantly, started shouting at each other.

Mina winced. "I'm going to safely assume it didn't go well." Then she frowned hard, full of concern, but she turned and went back inside. "Aizawa's gonna be pissed."