Izuku had been looking forward to the weeklong internship, but all he could focus on was how Bakugo was sitting on the other side of the train car five rows up and had been avoiding him since the kitchen incident.
His stomach churned at the memory.
Kirishima had found him the next day in the courtyard and had asked if he could eat lunch with him. Izuku saw how his smile was completely forced and wavered at the edges. They'd ate and chatted lightly, the events from the day before weighing down the conversation in bloated pauses. Then Kirishima had looked at Izuku was a slight frown and asked that Izuku keep his distance from Bakugo for a while.
Izuku agreed without argument, too tired and embarrassed to even consider having the talk with Bakugo that needed to be had.
It was finals week, so Izuku focused on studying and writing in his journal and talking with Mrs. Ito about the weekend prior (and reluctantly about what happened with Bakugo) and joining Hatsume in Power Loader's shop to help with the new support items for his costume.
Anything to keep from thinking about how Bakugo avoided looking at him, avoided talking to him for more than a few words, and avoided touching him.
Izuku glanced over to where Bakugo sat with his head leaning against the window.
He didn't know what had happened between Bakugo and Kirishima that would've resulted in Bakugo setting off such a huge explosion on school grounds, but it worried him. There was something wrong, Izuku could feel it. The prickly emotions surrounded Bakugo and Izuku had to put a lot of energy into blocking them out so he didn't accidentally invade. It made it easier to do what Kirishima asked of him.
Every morning, Izuku heard Bakugo play, but it was clumsy like he was trying to get the notes out faster. Izuku thought of the way Bakugo had relaxed stubbornly into his mother's arms and wondered if Bakugo was trying to tap into that nostalgic relief, to soothe whatever turmoil he was working through.
And Mina had been right, Aizawa was pissed and had almost wordlessly dropped Eri off with him before going to deal Kirishima and Bakugo. Both had been given detention and put on clean-up duty for the remainder of finals week. When Izuku asked, Kirishima had said he and Bakugo didn't fight, but things had gotten out of hand. Izuku didn't push for an answer beyond that.
Aizawa must've told Mirko what had happened because Izuku received a message from her to suspend their training sessions for the week. She also wanted them to head straight to her apartment to change when they got off the train and then meet her on the roof. Izuku tried not to imagine what would happen if Mirko was angry. Maybe she'd just put them through some grueling training so that they'd sleep hard. Izuku would almost prefer that, then he might actually get some rest instead of guilt and insecurity that festered in the quiet hours of the night and kept him up.
Hatsume was usually up, so he talked to her most nights. He missed her. Terribly. He'd sit on his
balcony, enjoying the cool night, and stare across the courtyard to the third-year Support Course dorms, wishing they could watch some stupid comedy like they used to. A small part of him wished he'd never left. Things would be so much easier, or he imagined they would be if he didn't think on it too hard, but then he'd remember how his quirk had been slowly eroding away at his mental state. Then he truly wondered where he'd be if he'd somehow convinced the faculty that being a hero wasn't for him.
Something always soured at the thought of not being in the Hero Course, like it felt wrong to do anything else.
Izuku stood as the train came to a stop. He slowly gathered his things, waiting until Bakugo started moving down the aisle before he followed. Even while walking down the street, Izuku kept his distance, ignoring how his chest ached for a reason he didn't understand.
All he knew was that he hated how Bakugo wouldn't look at him, just ignored him. It was worse than any punch Izuku had felt.
Bakugo only walked about twenty feet in front of Izuku, but for all Izuku felt, it could've been miles. At least in the two years they'd been in separate courses and only saw each other in passing, Bakugo had glanced at him, lingering a moment in recognition before he moved on.
This was worse. So much worse.
Izuku took in a deep breath to cool down his simmering anger as the apartment building came into view. When Izuku entered the flat, Bakugo was already in the bathroom changing so Izuku sat on the lumpy couch to wait his turn. He glanced around the sparsely decorated apartment and then back at the couch wondering where they would sleep.
Before he could wonder too much, the door opened and Izuku locked eyes with Bakugo, feeling his throat go suddenly tight.
For the first time that week, Bakugo didn't immediately look away, he stared for several suffocating seconds that had Izuku's heart racing. He hadn't realized just how much he missed those red eyes looking at him—
Izuku stood abruptly, nearly dropping the case that held his suit that had been sitting in his lap. He stared at the floor as he moved around Bakugo to go to the bathroom, knowing the whole time Bakugo's eyes followed him, even catching the way Bakugo's foot shifted as he turned so he wouldn't lose sight of Izuku.
Izuku shut the door, hand pressed over his mouth to quiet how hard he was breathing. His other hand dragged through his hair as he listened to Bakugo's heavy footsteps crossed the living room to the door.
He fumbled with the latches to the case and hurriedly pulled on his suit. The gloves almost reached his shoulders now and the mask was a solid weight around his neck. He looked at himself in the mirror hating that he couldn't appreciate Hatsume's hard work.
He turned away from his reflection and pulled open the door. The apartment was empty which felt like a small relief. The stairs leading up to the roof felt like a mountain and with each step Izuku made himself stand a little straighter, held his head high.
"There you are!"
Izuku returned the hug Mirko wrapped him in. "It's good to see you, Mirko. I'm excited."
"Aw," she drawled, grinning ear to ear. "You're so cute full of hope and aspiration." Then she stepped back with a slight frown as she looked him up and down. "Suit changes?"
"Yeah," Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wanted more support on my gloves and add a breathing mask."
She nodded. "I like it." Her ears swiveled and she turned to look at Bakugo who had been standing near the edge of the roof and blinked in surprise.
Izuku followed her gaze to see Bakugo scowling at him. Izuku crossed his arms annoyed, feeling the rush of anger from earlier return.
Now he was looking at him?
Mirko looked between them rapidly, ears twitching just as fast, mouth ajar with utter confusion. She made a hum deep in her throat as she crossed her arms. "Izuku," Mirko said suddenly, snapping him out of his daze, "I want to see you and Bakugo spar."
Izuku nodded, swallowing thickly as he stepped up to Bakugo. "Y-You don't want to do this in the gym?" he asked as she sat a good distance away.
She plopped her cheek in her palm, brows draw as she looked between him and Bakugo like she was trying to figure out how a puzzle went together. "No, I think out here is best. Begin."
Izuku raised his fists, watching Bakugo warily. Bakugo stood there for a moment before he too prepared to fight. As Izuku opened up his quirk he could tell Bakugo was concentrating, hard.
The fists were hard and fast, full of repressed frustration from both sides. Izuku stumbled back from a punch to the cheek, ducking under a blast, and swiped at Bakugo's legs. Bakugod used an explosion to avoid the kick and spun mid-air to counterattack Izuku.
Izuku rolled out of the way, smelling smoke as he stood. He drove Bakugo back, hating even more how Bakugo was only looking at him, and how something stirred behind his hard concentration, something softer that kept breaking through every few seconds. Sometimes, Izuku swore Bakugo's mouth opened like he meant to say something, but he'd grit his teeth and throw another punch.
He hated it.
That anger prickled his skin, fanning hotter every time he made a solid hit. So Izuku punched harder, kicked faster, tripped Bakugo up with combo moves till Bakugo was stumbling, moving a hand back to blast him upright.
Izuku decided, in that moment, he would not lose.
He dropped, swiping Bakugo's legs, successfully killing off his remain balance and the blast shot him to the right. Izuku grabbed his arm, using the momentum to push Bakugo onto his stomach and Izuku twisted the arm up between his shoulder blades. Izuku grabbed Bakugo's other hand, deflecting another blast meant to knock him off, and drove his knee to a pressure point on the thigh that had Bakugo wincing.
Izuku stared down at Bakugo, breathing hard, a little surprised with himself, but he didn't let up. He wouldn't until Mirko told him too and she was still quiet somewhere behind them.
"No smart remark?" Izuku huffed as the silence dragged on. He pressed his knee down harder when Bakugo didn't answer. "You've ignored me for a week and still have nothing to say?" Izuku tightened his grip on Bakugo's wrists when he felt Bakugo try to get a hand free. "I don't understand you," Izuku muttered, shaking his head.
"Aren't you a mind reader?" Bakugo ground out against the concrete.
The anger that had been pumping through Izuku's blood just a moment ago was replaced with an icy chill that had him reeling back. Before Izuku could process what was happening he was looking up at Bakugo, arms pinned near his head. "I would never," he said breathlessly, hurt that Bakugo would even consider such a thing.
"I thought you couldn't control it?"
Izuku drew back at the way Bakugo's finger's dug into his skin. "I can't turn it off, but I can control it. Besides, it's more complicated than that. I don't have to worry about it with you. You're so loud and confident." Izuku frowned slightly. "Usually, I don't have to worry, anyway. That's why I followed you around as a kid, I felt normal around you, Kacchan." Above him, Bakugo tensed like his breath had caught. "Please," Izuku murmured as he felt Bakugo's hands relax around his wrists. "Please don't push me away again."
Bakugo cursed as Izuku flipped their positions. "You damn ner—" he cut off as Izuku leaned closer.
"I won't let you," Izuku warned, smirking at the way Bakugo's eyes widened slightly. He gripped Bakugo's wrists tighter. "I like winning."
"Ok!" Mirko said, hauling Izuku off. "That was very informative."
Izuku slowly looked over at her, not at all liking the mischievous edge to her voice. Her ears were at full attention and she grinned in a way that Izuku hadn't seen before. Her gaze slid from Bakugo still sitting on the ground to Izuku in her grasp and she tugged him closer. "This is gonna be an interesting week." She looked back at Bakugo who was now standing. "Isn't that right, Bakugo?"
He looked up, startled, and then ground out slowly, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
Her grin shifted lopsided and wolfish. "Sure you don't."
Izuku stepped back when her fingers uncurled from his suit and he deliberately did not look at Bakugo.
The question had hovered at the back of Izuku's mind for the remainder of the day. While he helped Bakugo and Mirko make dinner, he'd glance at the couch and try not to think about it. Bakugo should get the couch as her first student, Izuku had decided, and he'd just sleep on the floor. There was plenty of room. He settled with that plan as they ate dinner.
Izuku knew there was irony in the way he couldn't look at Bakugo. He just kept filling his mouth with food and desperately tried to ignore how Bakugo relentlessly stared at him from across the table. It felt spiteful and Izuku just knew—knew—that Bakugo knew how it was driving him mad. Every time Izuku glanced up to see if Bakugo was still looking at him he was and with a horribly amused smirk that made Izuku's skin crawl.
It didn't help that Mirko looked like she was on the verge of a laughing fit.
Izuku chewed sourly at the fact that Shinsou was probably right about the week being terrible for him. If Bakugo kept this up, Izuku wasn't sure he'd make it out alive.
Even worse, in the tiny one-bedroom apartment, there were few places to hide. Sneaking away to the roof or the gym would look suspicious, and it wasn't like he could spend the night in the bathroom even if it was tempting.
Maybe if someone was talking dinner wouldn't be so suffocating. Words kept catching in Izuku's throat, so he counted himself out and Bakugo was never a talker at dinner. He always sat and ate and then promptly left as soon as he could. Izuku kept hoping Mirko would say something, anything, but she seemed content to watch him suffer, her ears providing enough entertainment.
Izuku sunk into his shoulders, picking away at what remained on his plate, knowing that his heart was beating loud and hard in his chest and that she could hear it.
Maybe Bakugo was just upset about losing. Yes, that would make sense and he knew how to push Izuku's buttons so—
"Izuku?"
"Yes?" Izuku answered far too quickly, chair squeaking from the sudden movement.
The corner of Mirko's mouth turned up high like she was fighting a smile as she pointedly looked at his plate. "How's that air tasting?"
Izuku flushed looking down at his empty plate and Bakugo snickered. "O-Oops." He gulped. "I-It was good."
Mirko stood with a sigh. "Bakugo's one redeeming quality," she teased, ruffling his hair.
Izuku savored the reprieve from Bakugo staring at him and stood to wash his plate.
"Oh," Mirko said as she put her plate in the cabinet, "sleeping arrangements!"
"Kacchan can have the couch, I'll sleep on the floor. I don't mind, I did it lots as a kid," Izuku said. As they stared at him in silence, he realized he might've said something wrong.
Mirko cocked her head to the side and looked at him confused and curious but there was something sinister about the way her brows drew together. "Why did you sleep on the floor as a kid?"
Izuku forcefully swallowed the lump in his throat and said, "I was a foster kid."
Mirko drew in a half breath, her mouth pressed thin and tight. "Izuku," she said gently, shifting her weight from foot to foot, "those things don't connect."
"They don't?" He frowned at her, crossing his arms. Even when there had been a bed open to sleep in, Izuku found that the floor felt safer. He could tuck up against the wall and then no one would be able to sneak up on him.
"No," she said, "kids are not supposed to sleep on the floor, Izuku"
Izuku stared at the ground between them as he debated his answer. "Well"—he swallowed—"it was a group home and all the other kids were a lot older than me, so. . ." he trailed off as if it was obvious.
Mirko closed her mouth like she wanted to ask more but thought better of it. "There will be no
sleeping on the floor. UA gives me a stipend to take care of you two, so I bought an air mattress." She stared hard at the empty table, lost in thought.
Izuku looked over at Bakugo but he was staring off into space too. "You two figure it out," Mirko finally said. "I'm. . .going to bed."
Izuku watched her go feeling like he needed to say something but didn't know what. "Well," he said, turning to Bakugo still seated at the table, "I'll take the—"
"You can have the air mattress," he said quickly and stood.
Izuku watched him at the sink for a few seconds before muttering, "Ok."
The next morning, Izuku shot out of bed in a panic at the suspicious amount of sleep he was getting. He looked around, stumbling from the blankets wrapped around his legs when he tried to stand. He stared at the sunlight coming in from the window and rubbed his eyes to see if he was dreaming.
Faintly, he could hear the sounds of fighting coming from the gym below. Izuku stood and scratched his head, trying to figure out what was going on. He spied his phone on the kitchen table, which was not where he'd left it. He vaguely remembered someone getting up, but Izuku thought it'd just been Bakugo getting up to use the bathroom, so he'd rolled over and gone back to sleep. It'd been too early for his alarm anyway.
Izuku frowned down at his phone where his alarm was still active. Someone must've shut it off before it woke him. Just as he was about to go get dressed and head downstairs, he got a text from Mirko telling him to stay put for a while. Make breakfast if he wanted to. Izuku eyed the kitchen appliances warily and scratched his head again. Mirko must've heard him walking around.
He jumped with a startled shout when there was a loud crash that shook the building and Mirko cackled, apparently done with being quiet.
Izuku pulled open the fridge as his stomach growled. It was packed with the fresh vegetables Mirko was always snacking on, but Izuku spied some eggs and pulled them out along with some green onions and soy sauce. He silently thanked Mic for teaching him out to at least cook eggs correctly.
He dropped an egg into the pan when there was another crash and he scowled down at the bits of eggshell and struggled to scoop them out as that fighting got louder. Izuku supposed it was a good sign. Bakugo was still alive if he was fighting back.
But they were shouting, too. Even though Izuku couldn't make out the words, he had a feeling it had to do with what he told Mirko about his past relationship with Bakugo.
They sounded angry and frustrated.
Izuku took the spare time as he ate to update his friends. It was weird not being bombarded with texts, but they were all busy with their internships too.
Kiri texted him separately to see how things were going.
Izuku flinched at another crash and told him he wasn't really sure.
When Izuku finished his breakfast, Mirko texted him again to come downstairs and join them.
Izuku washed his plate and put it away, knowing he was dragging out time. The fighting below had stopped and now there were quiet murmurs of conversation.
The gym wasn't in as bad a shape as he expected it to be. Most of the equipment was still standing and the drywall wasn't any more damaged than it had been. The scorch marks on the mat were new though.
Mirko hurriedly waved him in, smiling excitedly.
Out of habit, Izuku pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside like he always did. It was when Mirko gasped, hands clapping together, that he realized Bakugo was in the room too.
"Great idea, Izuku!" She pointed at Bakugo. "Off with it, Blasty!" Bakugo tugged off his shirt, grumbling, "I told you I hate that nickname." She smirked. "That was your first mistake."
Izuku watched the way Mirko laughed at Bakugo's complaints, loud and boisterous. That look in your eye—Keep it. He drew himself up straighter finding, a little surprised, that he didn't care that Bakugo was seeing the scars. As Mirko had put it, they were just a small part of his story.
"Now," Mirko said, stepping back, "I want to see you two spar a few more times."
Izuku had to tear his eyes from Mirko to look at Bakugo. As he met those red eyes it felt almost painful, and he had to fight himself to not look away. There was something raw and festering between them. It didn't help that Bakugo was bruised and scuffed up from whatever training Mirko had put him through before Izuku had arrived.
Izuku was relieved to find that Bakugo didn't seem tired, and his punches held their usual vigor, maybe a bit more.
The spar the night before had been strained, but now Izuku felt their usual rhythm returning even as something bubbled beneath the surface.
Izuku grinned from where he had stumbled back, clutching his side.
"What the hell are you so happy about, nerd?" Bakugo scoffed, throwing another punch.
Izuku ducked out of the way easily. "Because I missed sparring with you, Kacchan." He jumped out of the way of a blast and Izuku remembered coldly why they hadn't sparred in a week. Bakugo seemed to remember too as his fists dropped an inch. From the corner of his eye, Izuku saw Mirko's ears lay back in the way they did when she was concerned, but she didn't say anything. "I'll tell you," Izuku said quietly.
Bakugo's jaw was tight, the muscle in his cheek clicking as he gritted his teeth. His mouth opened then shut a second later and closed the distance between them with a punch.
Izuku let out a frustrated breath as he dodged and landed a kick to Bakugo's ribs.
"I noticed when we were kids. . ." he half wheezed, clutching his ribs, "but I'd forgotten." "You noticed?" Izuku breathed, peering at Bakugo over his fists.
Bakugo nodded stiffly, slowly looking up from the floor to Izuku's eyes. "Attacking someone from behind is cowardly anyway."
Izuku looked back at Bakugo, his eyes narrowed and tired, a bruise blooming under his right eyes. Izuku got the feeling Bakugo didn't want to fight him and Izuku smirked. "Don't worry, I've been enjoying kicking your ass."
"Huh?" Bakugo sputtered, hands coming back up. "The hell you are, shitty nerd!"
Izuku blocked the punches with a smug smile that only seemed to rial up Bakugo more.
"You're lucky I'm not using more of my power, Deku!" Bakugo growled, throwing another blast.
Izuku sidestepped and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. "Need I remind you that I'm only using a fraction of my quirk, too?" He pulled Bakugo's arm back harder when he felt Bakugo's palm begin to heat. "I would never beat you in a fight without my quirk, I'm not an idiot. But we've had this conversation before." Izuku drove his foot into Bakugo's knee and pushed his weight forward to take down Bakugo.
"I'm going to kill Kiri," Bakguo seethed, fighting Izuku's grip.
"You told him to teach me," Izuku dutifully pointed out before he got up. He watched Bakugo roll over and sit up, his heart a loud, swing beat, and before Izuku could consider otherwise, he was offering his hand to Bakugo. "Let's be friends," Izuku said breathless and tight, a nervous chill vibrating under his skin.
Bakugo looked at the hand and then up to Izuku and back to his hand. Izuku watched Bakugo draw his hands into fists and his stomach drop.
Not again. . .
The way Bakugo looked back up at him, dark and pinched, made Izuku's heart thud painfully in his chest. He sucked in a startled breath when Bakugo shot forward to grab his hand, tight and hot, almost uncomfortable, but Izuku just gripped tighter in response. He gave a tug, but Bakugo didn't move, he just glowered at their conjoined hands, his breath uneven like he couldn't believe his own actions.
He wet his lips, and then looked up at Izuku, eyes narrowing. "I don't want to be your friend," he said lowly, withdrawn and gravely like he was trying to keep his voice even.
Izuku felt his heart shutter and gave another tug. This time, Bakugo got up, but neither let go. Izuku frowned at Bakugo as he tried to sort through what was happening. Izuku found that Bakugo's answer didn't hurt as much as he thought I should've. Maybe he expected it, but Bakugo taking his hand was a surprise and it meant something, but Izuku couldn't figure out what.
It felt like an apology. There was definitely something remorseful about the way Bakugo was looking at him. But there. . .there was something else too.
"Ok," Izuku said and let go.
"Alright, you two angsty teenagers!"
Izuku ducked in time to miss the smack to the back of his head but Bakugo did not. "Get dressed, we have patrol soon." Mirko gave them a shove towards the stairs.
Izuku perched on the edge of the roof while he and Mirko waited for Bakugo. He used the time to
test out the reach of his quirk. Eyes closed, Izuku sorted through the thoughts humming around.
"There's a new candy shop about three blocks away having a grand opening," he commented.
"Three blocks, huh?" Mirko smiled. "You're getting better at this."
Izuku shrugged and leaned back. "It's still sporadic. Just words here and there. Like 'candy sale' and 'new shop'."
Mirko hummed, eyes trailing after a group of teenage girls. She cocked her head curiously. "What about them?"
"Going to some manga signing."
"Oh, I forgot there was a convention this week."
"What the hell are you two talking about?"
They both looked back at a scowling Bakugo. Mirko smirked. "About how much we miss your sparkling personality, of course."
Bakugo glared at her with dread. "I knew I should've changed my internship," he grumbled not so quietly.
Mirko pressed a hand to her chest in mock-hurt. "You wound me, Blasty." She stood and surveyed the city sprawling around them, her ears twitching. "Nothing right now. Let's just walk for a bit."
"Why?" Izuku asked as they took the fire escape down.
Mirko shrugged. "Gotta meet the people you're protecting." Then she thought for a moment, tapping her chin. "I guess you don't have to, you could go the Endeavor way, but I personally like the interaction. Boosts my ego," she laughed.
Izuku trailed behind her a few steps as they turned onto the street. "They really trust you," Izuku said, as an older couple he recognized from several previous interactions waved.
Mirko flashed her bright smile as she waved back. "There's a lot of hard work in that," she said quietly. "It wasn't always that way. Still isn't sometimes."
"It's Deku!"
Izuku looked over to a young boy pulling on his mother's hand. His shout caught the attention of other bystanders and soon there was a small crowd surrounding them. Mirko took it all in with a grin, fists planted on her hips as cameras flashed.
In the midst of signing autographs, her ears turned to the right and she tensed. "Looks like we've gotta go."
Izuku muttered an apology as he followed after her, jog turning to a run when they rounged a corner. "Sounds like a domestic dispute," Izuku said, picking up his pace so that he was in line with Mirko.
She nodded. "Are they using quirks?"
Izuku focused, searching out for those thoughts specifically. "Yes. Something about the other one getting really big."
There was a crash and people screaming. Izuku broke off to go right at Mirko's sign, Bakugo going left. Izuku skidded through an alley, crouching in the shadows as he heard Mirko confront the fighters. He quickly sent their location and description of the incident to the police.
He reached into his belt and pulled out two capture net bombs.
"You two are brave for fighting in broad daylight," Mirko called over the blaring car alarms. Now? he asked Mirko.
Not yet.
Izuku could hear the police approaching. He crept out of the alley to a car parked along the road and peeked around. A guy with blades extending from his elbow was paused mid-fight with another guy who must've had some strength enhancement quirk if the thrown cars were any clue. They were both breathing hard as Mirko approached.
"He started it!" one said to the other.
"He attacked me first!"
"He took my parking space!"
Izuku pressed his earpiece. "Any civilians?"
"No, the block is clear," Bakugo replied. Izuku could see him at the top of one of the buildings across the street.
"Surrender," Mirko ordered, and the men bristled. "Me or the police. You choose."
Izuku put the net bombs back when the men stepped away from each other and raised their hands. He stood from behind the car as two police cars pulled into the block and went to stand behind Mirko while she talked with the officers, Bakugo beside him.
Izuku stiffened when he heard the tell-tale click of cameras. He smiled and waved, slowly becoming used to the attention.
"Suck up," Bakugo muttered beside him, rolling his eyes.
Izuku jabbed him in the ribs, coughing through a laugh when Bakugo winced and jerked away. "Don't act like you don't love it."
Bakugo gave him a heady glare.
"Alright you two," Mirko said, slinging her arms around their shoulders and tug them down closer to her level, "let's find a real fight."
Unfortunately, it was relatively quiet for the next several hours, so they decided to return to the apartment roof to wait for calls.
"I've got great news," Mirko said, lounging in a chair, feet put up on a milk crate. "We're contracted out for the remainder of the week!"
Izuku looked up from where he was counting his various bombs. "Where at?"
She smiled slowly. "Tokyo. I think you two are ready to experience the big leagues." "I've never been to Tokyo," Izuku muttered, wide-eyed.
"I get contracted out there pretty often," Mirko said, standing from her chair. "We definitely won't have this downtime."
Izuku looked out at the city and the golden hue cast by the setting sun. "I can't imagine anything bigger than this," he said, coming to stand by her.
She looked up at him with a small smile. "I can't wait to see your face then."
"Any jobs?"
They both looked back at Bakugo.
"Nope. Just filling in patrol slots," Mirko said. "But it will still be fun. Might even have time to do a little sightseeing. I know all the best restaurants."
"When do we leave?" Izuku asked.
Mirko's ears turned, her head following. "Later. We finally have some action."
They followed her over the rooftops for several blocks, sirens becoming louder. When they dropped to the ground, police were already on the scene.
"Mirko," one of the officers sighed, "we were about to call you."
"Happy to help, what's the problem."
"Hostage situation in the bank."
She went ridged and looked over at the building. "Do you know anything?"
The officer shook his head. "We were called due to a panic button being activated, but the robbers have barricaded the doors closed."
"Deku," Mirko said, and he nodded, reaching out with his quirk.
"Six robbers and four—fifteen civilians. All but two are tied up," Izuku said. Mirko nodded, frown etching deeper. "Weapons?"
Izuku picked apart the thoughts coming from inside the building. "No," he said after a moment, "they're using quirks." Izuku listened to Mirko and the police bounce around ideas. Bakugo could blast the doors open but then the robbers might retaliate against the hostages. Considered calling Lemillion to phase through the walls but it would take him an hour to get there. Negotiations weren't going well either and Izuku could hear the people inside growing frantic.
He grabbed Mirko's arm and she drew back tight like she knew what he was going to say. "I can help."
"No," she said, crossing her arms. "We've discussed this, Deku."
"Not that." Izuku pulled her closer as he lowered his voice. "The new thing I've been working on with Eraser Head."
Her brows rose curiously. "The stealth thing? You think you're ready?"
He nodded, grip on her bicep tightening slightly. "I can do it."
She looked unsure for a moment but turned back to the police. "Deku can infiltrate the building."
A few minutes later, Izuku was stepping up to the doors with Bakugo.
"Just a blast big enough to open the doors," Izuku reminded quietly as he tightened the straps of his mask to his head.
Bakugo looked at him through narrowed eyes for a moment before raising his hand to the doors. "Don't be an idiot," he said, before letting off a blast.
Izuku rushed in and turned their thoughts, sinking in deep as he slowly entered the floor of the lobby, smoke and dust curling around him. He raised a finger to his mask as the hostages let out relieved gasps. As Izuku untied the hostages, he kept removing the robber's thoughts of him, any recognition that something was wrong, Izuku pushed to the back of their minds, so deep that they carried on their stressed conversations while Bakugo pulled each freed person through the warped exit
Even as Izuku worked fast, he began to feel a strain when the last few hostages. The robbers were growing more agitated as the subconscious feeling of something being wrong grew. Izuku got the last person free and hurried them out of the building and behind the police barricade, only then did he let the control go.
The tension in his shoulders unraveled and he heaved a heavy breath.
"Not bad," Mirko said, leaning on his shoulder as they watched the police enter the building. "Still need's a lot of work," Izuku grumbled, messaging the bridge of his nose.
She hummed with a smile. "You two stay here. I'll help the police bag these guys."
Izuku sat down with a bag of popcorn feeling a little strange about watching a movie. He slumped into the couch cushions, the busy day settling in. He didn't even fight Bakugo when he took the popcorn bag from his hands.
"What are we watching," he asked Mirko as she exited her bedroom in a t-shirt and shorts. Izuku scowled because he and Bakugo were still in their suits.
She grinned, waving around the DVD case too fast for him to read. "A classic, you'll love it."
Izuku reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn to shove in his mouth. He choked when Mirko used her feet to shove him over. Izuku sputtered as Mirko stretched her legs over their laps and cozied up on the arm of the couch with a content sigh.
"I like to relax before a long trip," she said, hitting play and completely ignoring how they struggled under her legs.
"Dammit, Mirko," Bakugo growled, grabbing her ankle and trying to lift her leg up.
Mirko didn't budge. "I'm comfy," she said simply.
Izuku settled into his fate, stuck under Mirko, and shoved up against Bakugo's side. Maybe it
wasn't so terrible. Bakugo did give off a lot of body heat, but the apartment always got chilly at night. As the movie began, Izuku's eyelids grew too heavy to keep open and he thoughtlessly dropped his head to the side.
"What are you doing, nerd?" Bakugo hissed, moving his shoulder as best he could in a poor attempt to get Izuku off.
Izuku smiled tiredly, eyes still closed, as he remembered the other night and how Bakugo had annoyed him by staring. Payback and a nap sounded like a great deal. "Comfy," he mumbled, drifting off quickly.
Izuku woke to the credits coming to an end. He didn't even remember what the movie was called. Mirko was gone. Izuku rubbed his eyes as he sat up and looked around the dark apartment. Her bedroom door was open which meant she wasn't there. Bakugo was predictably asleep. It was late after all.
Izuku stretched, stumbling as he got blood flowing in his legs again. He climbed the stairs to the roof where he found Mirko sitting on the ledge, ears perking up at his arrival.
"Hey kid," she said as he sat down beside her.
Izuku gave a grunt in reply. "What are you doing up here?" he asked after a while.
Her head tilted to the side; eyes locked on the twinkling city. "It's important to enjoy the little things, Izuku," she said softly, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
"I used to do this a lot," Izuku said, shifting to a more comfortable position. "Sitting on rooftops and just. . .watching."
She hummed like she understood. "Can I ask you something?"
Izuku met her eyes, but she gave no clue to her thoughts. "Sure."
She chewed her lip for a second before asking, "How long were you in foster care?"
"Since I was four till a couple years ago," Izuku said, shifting his eyes back to the skyline. His voice got quiet. "When my quirk manifested, I hurt my father. . ." He looked back up at Mirko, her mouth drawn tight at the corners. "I don't remember what I did, but he killed himself to stop whatever I was doing to his mind." He drew in a shaky breath as Mirko remained quiet. "I used to see the blood when I sometimes saw the color red, but I haven't in a while, not from that."
Mirko scooted closer to him, setting a hand on top of his in comfort. "What else?" she asked, voice hesitant, which sounded so strange from her.
"My father's death was ruled a suicide, no one considered a quirk could be responsible," he said quietly, tilting his head back to look at the stars. "I barely remember my mother. I think I got my hair color from her. Maybe I was still using my quirk or maybe it was just too much with his death, but she surrendered me a few months after." He shrugged, trying to brush off the past. "I was moved around a lot for a few years while I struggled with my quirk and finally settled in Musutafu and started school again." He smiled. "That's when I met Kacchan."
The corner of her mouth tipped up. "And you pretended to be quirkless?"
Izuku shrugged. "Yeah, but it was more like I just didn't mention I had one. During the first few years moving around, they figured out that I had some type of mental quirk and listed it as mind-
reading in the quirk database because I always knew things about people that they never told me. Freaked a lot of people out. So, I just pretended to not have one. To be quirkless."
"So, you repressed it nearly your whole life and it bit you in the ass?"
Izuku laughed and nodded. "Big time, but. . ." he trailed off as he leaned forward on his knees, "I wouldn't want this any other way."
"You might've not had me as your badass mentor." She playfully punched him in the arm.
"You ever going to tell me who it was that recommended me?" he asked as he rubbed his shoulder.
She smiled wider, a brow raising, maybe it was the late hour but there was something soft about it. "Bakugo," she said, leaning back. "He thought I'd be good for you."
Izuku sunk back slightly, the air sucked out of his lungs. "Kacchan?"
She sat up and turned to him fully. "I told myself for a long time that I wouldn't do the whole mentor-internship thing, but then I saw the way they talked about Bakugo on the news after the sports festival and the Kamino incident." She shrugged a stiff shoulder. "I guess I saw a bit of myself in him and no one seemed to want to help him. Except for maybe Eraser Head, but I didn't want to see his fire get beaten back into a more manageable spark." She crossed her arms with an aggravated sniff. "He was just a kid, sure he had his fair share of problems, but—" she looked at Izuku "—neither of you are anything like villains. I've always thought the good quirk vs. bad quirk argument was complete bullshit anyway."
"Thank you," Izuku muttered, looking down at his hands. "I've already learned so much from you."
She grinned, chipper mood returning as she reached behind his head and pulled up the added hood. "Don't think I didn't notice this."
Izuku situated it better, feeling his cheeks heat up. "I thought the kids might like it." "Probably," she laughed, "little buggers are always curious about mine." "Kacchan? Really?" he asked again, still stuck on it.
She quirked a brow. "Shocking isn't it."
"Did he say why?"
Mirko looked away in thought, ears drooping slightly. "Nothing much, just asked that I did." Her eyes slid back over to him. "I guess I did kinda lie. I watched the provisional exam footage and talked to Eraser Head." She looked a little guilty as she said, "I did read some of your file because I was curious about your quirk." She let out a small sigh, the night breeze brushing her hair back. "Bakugo has never asked me for anything so I guess it felt serious."
Izuku brought a knee up and rested his chin on it as he thought about the last few months with Bakugo.
I don't want to be your friend.
"And I thought he was confusing before," he muttered.