SI Bakugo

by daschpool

SI Bakugo

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 11

Chapter Notes

This chapter has only been written because I told Bee that I would update so they didn't have to keep rereading the same chapters, and I keep my fucking word (just slowly). I am currently travelling around Europe all month and wrote this chapter bit- by-bit in hostel dorm rooms at night when I should have been sleeping.

It is also dedicated to Alphabeti-Spaghetti who made this super cute fanart of Baks during the Hero Course Battle Trial: https//p/BwvuLGQlphU/

Both of you are super funny and I love reading your comments. That goes for all of you who comment regularly! It makes me happy to see the same names popping up each chapter. You stuck around!

So this is for you guys. Enjoy.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Toshinori has seen a lot of things in his life. Considering his career and his… unique position as the eighth carrier of One for All and the Symbol of Peace, he has probably seen more than most. So he can safely say that when he arrives at the USJ after coming across young Iida searching for help, he is prepared for any kind of villain or quirk that might be thrown at him. Portal quirk and disintegration quirk working in dangerous tandem? Reminds him of the teleporter and the laser- cutter quirk that had teamed up to rob banks in the Midwestern US when he was 26. Mobs of low- level villains keeping his students spread out and on the defense? A classic tactic. Twelve-foot abomination designed to withstand his quirk (or what they know of his quirk)? He's seen it a hundred times. Never works.

He manages to blitz in and remove Aizawa and the small group of students with him from the center of the action (Tsuyu and Mineta have not sustained any visible injuries, but the same cannot be said for Bakugou and Young Midoriya), depositing them next to their classmates where a handful seem to have set up a make-shift first aid station (he'd need to remember to praise them for their quick thinking when all of this was over. Positive reinforcement was supposed to be good for kids, right?)

He listens to his protégé's babbled warnings about the creature designed to kill him (it certainly sounded strong, but all of the previous attempts had been strong as well, to anyone other than All Might), and was about to recite some sort of reassuring platitude and excuse himself to have a chat with the people who had dared to target his students, when one statement among many caught his attention, not because of its contents, but because of the tone it was spoken in. Not hurried, not frantic, not even a little pressed. The speaker sounded totally relaxed, and at the same time, unbelievably annoyed.

"It's honestly amazing you even qualify as a responsible adult most of the time." Bakugou Katsuki deadpans from where he's slumped against a displaced chunk of concrete, cradling his side in a way that suggests cracked or even broken ribs.

Toshinori can't help but blink at him in slight bewilderment. He had just scooped him and his

classmates out of immediate danger, hadn't he? He had, right? What was not responsible about that? He was very responsible! The most responsible! Hell, he had a whole angsty thing going on over how much his responsibilities as the Symbol of Peace weighed on him and everything!

"Like, did you even check to see if there was anyone behind those doors before you blew them open? I doubt it. You could have sent one of your students flying – hell, you did send Mineta flying, just from the wind force. You're lucky Frog Girl was babysitting him or he might have gotten injured." The blond continues to scold him almost casually, as if they aren't in the middle of a crisis situation that he really needs to go handle. The little spitfire wags a finger at him like a misbehaving dog and says something about how responsible fathers don't give their children toys that break their bones, whatever that means, but Toshinori – No, All Might doesn't have time for this. He has villains to subdue.

"Relax, Young Bakugou," He says soothingly, not entirely sure what he's reassuring. "Rest and get your ribs and hands looked at, and I will keep you and your classmates safe now."

"My hands?" He asks, as All Might takes off towards the cluster of villains at the center of the field. He barely hears "Oh, that's not my blood," over the sound of air being displaced.

Well that's alarming. He decides to ignore that for now. And maybe forever. Yes, forever sounds good.

It becomes infinitely harder to ignore when he arrives among the villains to find the blue-haired one screaming barely-comprehensible death threats at that "damn blond shitstain" and rambling about "Nomu, Nomu kill it, KILL HIM NOMU." All Might has a bad feeling that he knows exactly what blond shitstain the villain is talking about. And if Bakugou is responsible for the damage to the blue-haired villain's eyes…

The blond boy is young Midoriya's best friend. His successor speaks so highly of the other boy, always brightening up when he has the chance to praise the other's abilities and heroic attributes. It makes All Might want to believe that there is something truly good in the boy that inspires such admiration. He would not be the first hero All Might has encountered that is rough around the edges, brash and impulsive but determined to do good. The problem with that theory is… Well, despite his seemingly volatile temper, Bakugou shows no signs of being impulsive.

His behavior in class spars and even his social interactions lean towards quiet (angry) observation and analysis, until Izuku comes in and shakes him up like a bottle of soda and he explodes. Still, even that explosion follows clear rules and limitations that only Bakugou seems to understand completely. Every move the boy makes feels pre-meditated, even the kind ones, as if he can't help but overanalyze every action before he makes it. Or as if he's living his life from one step back, like a pilot at the controls of his own body. It isn't sinister, but it is unsettling, and it leaves room for the possibility that Bakugou Katsuki is not a brash young hero like All Might has seen so often before, but a terribly deliberate one.

And that makes his actions here reason for concern. As both a hero and a teacher, All Might can't ignore the possibility that Bakugou has crossed a line today. It's one thing for a student to claw someone's eyes in panicked self-defense. It's another entirely for them to attack with the intention of maiming their opponent permanently. And Bakugou does not seem to be experiencing any shock at the injuries he's inflicted on his opponent, despite not having a record of violence. If this is the first time he's seriously hurt someone, he should not be this calm. If anything, he seems like he wants to go over there right now and finish the job.

All Might contemplates the dangers of a hero student who seems to feel so little at causing such a gruesome injury even as he intercepts the monster (a Nomu, he'd called it?) as it attempts to go

after said student on the blue-haired villain's orders.

"I'm afraid I have to protest." He says with a smile that is all teeth, pushing aside his concerns about Bakugou to deal with later, when he is a teacher again. Right now, he is a hero. "After all, it's me you came to see, is it not, villains?"

"He's right, Tomura." The portal-quirk user says in a strangely polite tone. Almost like a butler. "All Might is our main objective. You can get your revenge after he has been neutralized."

"You can try." All Might growls, feels that familiar spark of protective fury rise in his chest, and fires up One for All.

I know Izuku is going to go running back in there the minute All Might gets in a pinch (the mental image of the Nomu's hand digging in to his injured side is enough to make me nauseous, but it's still stupid to go running into danger like some sort of Shounen protagonist – oh wait). I know that originally, Bakugou was supposed to subdue the portal user while IcyHot Pain Relief and Eyesore helped out with the Nomu situation… But I had not been transported to the same location as Eyesore, unlike Bakugou had in the story. Things are already different. I can't trust everything to always be the same. Especially when people's lives could be on the line.

So, after Cheat Code helps me wrap my ribs in some bandages she'd produced from nothing ("From lipids. Lipids." "Bullshit."), I wait until most people are distracted with some other job and start making my way closer to the fighting. It's surprisingly easy to do, but people tend to get tunnel vision under pressure. It's an unfortunate side effect of adrenaline, especially if you aren't used to it, but one that I gladly take advantage of at the moment.

There are still a number of low-level villains running around, although they seem just as startled by what is going on as the UA students are (had they not been debriefed about the mission properly? Did they not know about the Nomu? Or are they just that afraid of All Might?), and they don't have any sort of organization or team structure, so it's easy to pick them off one by one as they come across me. I aim for stealth, since no one ever expects me to be quiet, and manage to avoid giving away my position despite the handful of villains I'm forced to confront.

All I have to guide me is the strangely vivid image of the Nomu's hand in All Might's wounded side. I wonder if this is a message from Whoever-I-Was, or if it just happens to be the only thing that stuck in her memory clearly enough to last into another life. Figuring out how this stupid foreknowledge works would really help me decide how to act on it, but there's nothing I can do about what I don't know. I have to use what I have, and what I have is the knowledge that Portal Fucker is going to intervene when All Might goes to suplex the Nomu, and that's my chance to take him out.

Hands McGee seems to be furiously disintegrating anything he can reach (and based on the way he kind of flails around until he hits something, he still can't see. Ha), while Portal Fucker talks to him and keeps an eye on All Might's fight at the same time.

Crouching among a few seemingly-concussed villains (and knocking out one that starts to stir nearby), I wait for the prickle of deja-vu that will tell me to act.

It comes along with the sound of Deku's stupidly loud footsteps making their way through the field of semi-conscious villains behind me. Of course he still comes running down to the rescue despite All Might's reassurances. And of course he has no idea how to walk silently, stupid fourteen-year- old danger magnet. And if my mental image of Deku rushing in right after the Nomu hits All

Might's injury is correct, then…

There. All Might moves to grab the Nomu in an appropriate hold to suplex him, and I use an explosion to launch myself into the swirl of mist that makes up the Portal Villain's "body". It feels like everything slows down, no sound except for the muffled pounding of my heart and the faint echo of my explosions making it through to my mind, and all I can see is the metal neck brace that identifies the villain's physical body to me. It's surprisingly easy to pin him down, which I guess explains how a barely-trained fourteen-year-old managed to do it in two realities now, but that doesn't stop me from sending a firm punch into the metal neck brace in the hopes that the resulting explosion will dent it enough to cripple his ability to use his quirk.

Three things quickly become apparent as the ringing sound of an explosion on metal rings out from under my fist. The first is that I only half-succeeded in my attempt to prevent a portal from being opened. The Nomu has successfully fallen into a portal under the ground, but my interruption seems to have thrown off the Portal Fucker's aim, and All Might avoided the attack on his wounded side and is now attempting to wrestle the Nomu back out of the portal, presumably to suplex him again.

The second thing that is apparent is that even though All Might has not been wounded, Izuku still feels compelled to join the action – presumably because of my own involvement, but I'd bet good money that it's just his usual Main Character Bullshit acting up again. I tune out his dramatic dialogue with All Might in favor of the third and final revelation.

That being that despite being blinded and furious, Hands McGee is not deaf, and can pretty easily recognize the sound of my characteristic explosions, especially from less than three meters away. To exactly no one's surprise at this point, he doesn't hesitate to go for the kill, and I have exactly enough time to hear Izuku scream in rage (what a weird sound honestly, that kid never gets angry) and think I fucked up, before a pale, deadly hand is blocking my view of everything else on the battlefield.

I wish I knew how to read palms, is the last idiotic thing I think before I die. If I had time to slap myself I would. Luckily for me, a wall of ice explodes into the scant centimeters between my death and me and manages to do the slapping for me. I'm knocked onto my side by the force of the sudden ice growth, and as my grip on the Portal Villain slips, I make a split-second decision and toss his physical body into the open palm that is already well on its way to dissolving the ice that Half and Half threw at it.

The Portal Fucker's pained yelp is music to my ears, even if it only lasts a moment before Hands McGee lifts a finger and stops his quirk from damaging the other's body further. That moment is all I need to roll (very painfully fuck my ribs) away and join ranks with IcyHot Pain Relief, Clifford the Big Red Eyesore, and… Tailboy?

I have no idea why the fuck Tailboy is here, and there's no foreknowledge or sense of familiarity to back up his presence, so I just chalk it up to butterfly effect and ignore him for the moment. (It's not that hard. The dude's plain as hell, if you ignore the huge fleshy tail growing out of his lower back.) There are more pressing issues right now

First of all, Hands McGee has already disintegrated the ice around his arms, and that Portal Bitch is now free to aid him again. Secondly, the Nomu is already on its feet and fighting All Might after a second, successful body slam, as if it had never even happened. And thirdly, the minor villains that had been hazily laying around in semi-consciousness are beginning to recover from Aizawa whooping all their asses, and regroup. And they seem pretty damned eager to get their pound of flesh from the easiest-available source: our little group of students.

Thank heavens for small mercies, because Portal 3 over there decides to focus on helping the Nomu kill All Might instead of murdering random schoolchildren (how considerate of him). So now all we have to worry about is the slowly-growing hoard of vengeful but low-level villains, and the psycho with the hand fetish who seems determined to melt my face off, if the way he's raving about how killing me would be as good as ruining All Might is any indication. Geez, some people are such sore losers.

"I can hold off the leader with my ice." Daddy Issues chimes in, and I eye his sweat-soaked red and white hair in doubt. He's obviously been using his quirk a lot. "I'm the only one of us here with a long-range quirk, and he needs contact to cause injury." I hate it when idiots make sense.

"Fine. Eyesore, Tailboy – focus on keeping the Extras off IcyHot's back. If Handyman over there gets through your glaciers, I'll need a big explosion to throw him back, so I need to build up some more sweat. Think you can throw ice and be a space heater at the same time?" I ask.

"I… will try." IcyHot says, and I decide that's the best I'm going to get out of him, with all his baggage around his fire quirk to consider. (Not that I should know about that, but hey, the plot is already broken.)

So, I have the unenviable job of sitting back and watching inexperienced children hold off hoards of murderous adults with superpowers while I impatiently attempt to build up enough sweat to keep the most lethal threat off our backs in case of a last resort. I'm as close to snuggling IcyHot's left side as I can get without hindering his movements as he throws wall after wall of ice at the furious villain in front of us. (I try to ignore how he's steadily gain ground. Iida escaped. Backup will be here soon. It has to.)

I'm so focused on Handyman and my own damp palms that I don't even notice the small group of Extras that had snuck around while Eyesore and Tailboy were distracted with a few others. I spot a shadow moving out of the corner of my eye and turn just fast enough to block the blow from reaching Todoroki. I can't waste the sweat I've managed to build up on my palms, or risk it being set off by the blow, so I'm forced to take the strike directly to my torso. In an effort to protect my squishy, vulnerable organs, I angle my body to the side and take the blow on the unbroken half of my ribcage. This does less than I had hoped it would to prevent my previous injuries from being jostled.

I make a mental note to threaten my classmates with severe bodily harm if they ever tell anyone about the sound I made after taking that blow. My steel-lined boot makes a satisfying thud as it connects with the 2nd-rate villain's inner thigh. I was going for a pressure point, but any blow that close to the crotch is enough to get him to back off for long enough that I can try to get back on my feet and figure out how the hell to fight without setting off my quirk.

It turns out I don't even need to. A blur of white and tan lands between me and the three villains that had caught me off guard, and I realize Tailboy has come to my rescue.

Are you serious? I despair silently, settling back to nurse my now-symmetrical rib injuries. This is so lame. I'll never live it down.

And then Tailboy punches the guy who hit me in the throat.

Oh. I think, watching with wide eyes as the taller blond dispatches his three opponents with only a handful of well-placed jabs. He's obviously had a significant amount of martial arts training, and the way he balances on his tail to dodge one of the Extra's quirk (some sort of extendable arm thing. Super weird looking) must require some ridiculous core strength, not to mention the muscle control and balance… And that high kick. Oh no, I think. My face feels like it's burning. Oh no,

he's kind of hot.

"Bakugou!" Todoroki barks and I snap to attention just in time to see Handyman bust through the latest layer of ice, only a few feet from where we're all standing. Todoroki looks like he's about to faint, and that last layer of ice was a lot thinner than the ones earlier. The bi-colored brat manages one desperate layer to buy us a couple precious seconds, and sinks to his knees. Good work, kiddo.

"On it." I call back, moving as fast as I can without jostling my hands where they're cupped carefully at my sides to hold the sweat I've managed to gather. "Get back," is all the warning I have time to give.

Handyman breaks down the ice wall in front of him and lunges forward gleefully at the sound of my voice. I crouch down, waiting as he steps forward in that strangely slow way things move when adrenaline flood your system. It's almost peaceful for a second, and I think to myself this is going to hurt, but my hands don't shake as I wait past the point where I could have blown my opponent back without being touched. Because blowing him back would only keep him away for a few moments longer, really. And with Todoroki out, I couldn't rely on my faulty foreknowledge to guarantee help would come before any of the three kids behind me could be injured or worse by this monster.

I don't care if physics is a joke here. I think hotly. No one can outwit good old projectile motion. And just as his hands settle on my shoulders where I tucked myself into a ball to protect my neck, I clap my own hands together where they're positioned just in front of his knees, a 45-degree angle from his center of mass and the ground.

The pain in my hands wars against the pain in my shoulders and the other various parts of my body that protest being thrown across the uneven ground like a ragdoll for the second time today. There are spots filling my vision and I lash out when someone touches me only to blink away the sunspots and realize any blob that green and fretful could only be Izuku. How he managed to get over here to catch me when he seems to have two broken legs is something I'd rather be furious about later. I try not to think about the pain in both my wrists or the muffled quality of Izuku's voice, and focus on not throwing up as I try to get a sense of what's happening around us.

That was the biggest explosion I've ever set off, and it was an excellent reminder of why I am so careful to wash my hands with desensitizing solution regularly and set off smaller explosions to clear off sweat as it builds up. Since I'd been crouched down at the same level as the explosion itself, I had been sent flying horizontally along the ground, back past where IcyHot, Eyesore, and Tailboy seem to have been thrown off their feet along with the last of the smalltime villains they were fighting. Oops. Handyman, since his grip on my shoulders was immediately turned to dust, had had nothing to hold him in place when the blast detonated just below and in front of him. The force lifted him off his feet and across the battlefield toward the water. I'd say he got a solid 40 meters distance, and he definitely didn't land on his feet. That's got to hurt. I think viciously.

There's a moment of tension as the low-level villains look between me and Izuku and the three others, as if trying to decide who the weakest prey would be, which is broken by the incredibly intimidating sight of All Might launching the Nomu into the stratosphere.

Like, seriously. Team Rocket's blasting off again. Just straight through the roof and out of sight.

Everyone, villains and heroes alike, takes a few moments to gape in absolute shock at All Might's still-raised fist, even as Portal Prick retreats to speak hurriedly with Handyman. There are wisps of steam coming off of All Might by this point, and based on Izuku's frantic stare, the hero is probably at his limit. Well, too bad, so am I. I think grouchily. Let the main character do some fucking work for once. This story sucks. Who wrote this?

When Portal 3 opens a little portal to let Handyman get one last grab at All Might's neck, a gunshot rings out and the hand retreats into the portal with a snazzy new bullet-wound. Several more shots and the sound of villains frantically scrambling to get away as a wave of heroes (our teachers, they came to save us) descends on them like a swarm of angry locusts.

Cementoss blocks All Might from sight and I give up on keeping track of everything that's happening with my head still spinning like someone's put it in a dryer. It's easier to just zone out and wait for someone to tell me what to do, now that there are actual responsible adults to take care of all these fucking kids. Maybe quirk bullshit won't apply here and I can just quietly bleed out from my shoulder wounds and finally take a goddamned break.

Izuku's frantic calls for teachers are less muffled than they had been a few minutes ago, which is a good sign. And either I'm getting used to the pain or I'm starting to go into shock, since I can't really feel my injuries anymore. I can't bring myself to care either way, just relieved to not feel the open handprints on my skin anymore.

"Just hold on Kacchan. Recovery Girl is on her way." Izuku says, and I would roll my eyes if it didn't feel like the most exhausting thing in the world right now. The idiot has three broken limbs, at least, and he's acting like I'm the one who needs to see the nurse.

"Blow your nose, Deku." I manage, wrinkling my own. "That's gross."

"You got snot all over that villain earlier Kacchan." He retorts, looking relieved that I'm responding. What a sap. "Don't think I didn't see."

"That's a lie." I say. "You hallucinated."

"Did not."

"Besides, there's much more important things to talk about right now." I continue. Izuku settles down and leans forward in concern.

"What is it, Kacchan?" He asks quietly. I meet his eyes solemnly.

"Is Snipe's quirk good aim or is it just 'having a gun'?" I demand. Izuku chokes. "If it's good aim, is it only with guns or can he use anything? How would he have even discovered it if it was only with guns? Do you think he cheats at darts? I bet he cheats at darts."

"Kacchan what-"

"Do you think he's ever been banned from a carnival for using his quirk to cheat at those balloon dart games? Is he allowed in any carnivals? Does he play beer pong? That would be fucking vicious." My eyes are heavy, but I can't stop thinking about this stupid quirk. It's the only thing I seem to be able to focus on.

"Kacchan, you're speaking English." Izuku says, looking worried. "Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Trois." I sing-song in French, giggling a bit hysterically. I feel slap-happy. Izuku looks pained. "Ça va Izuku c'est une simple blessure du corps."

"Oh dear." Recovery Girl's voice surprises me. Either she got here crazy fast or I'm losing bits of time sitting here. "Help me roll him over so we can get any debris out of those wounds and get them sealed up." She sounds professional. For a second, I think she's talking to Izuku and I want to scold her for asking him for help when all his limbs are broken, but then much larger hands are

rolling me over and I recognize Vlad King by the sleeves of his costume.

"He made it down to the artery." She says quietly. "Luckily not all the way through, or he wouldn't have made it a minute. But this…"

"Tell me what I need to do." Vlad King sounds so determined. Like a real hero, I think with a giggle. His hands push down a bit harder on my back in response.

Vlad King, teacher of class 1-B, considers us rivals to his own class but still cares about us all. Has a dog! Dog dog doggy dog dog. My shoulders hurt again, but that's okay. The kids are safe. All safe. Except for Izuku with his broken limbs, but some things are more powerful than gods or man. Like my best friend's stupidity.

"Alright, they're clean. I'm going to heal him, but he won't have enough energy to do more than just seal his wounds up. Even that is going to knock him out." Recovery Girl warns. Vlad King makes some sort of response about taking me to the ambulance. I groan into the dirt where I'm lying.

Oh, come on, I think hazily as Recovery Girl's perverted kiss settled between my shoulder blades. Not a fade-to-black ending. I hate that fucking trope…

Chapter End Notes

And now we see my other favorite running gag for this fic introduced: Tailboy's hot as hell and no one can tell me otherwise.

Also Shigaraki got launched like a fucking bottle rocket and he will not forget it.

But the Adults are here and Bakugou can finally rest.

lol jk see you next chapter for more Exasperation.

Chapter 12

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It's the third time I've woken up since the USJ when I'm finally coherent enough to do more than just eat, chug some water, and accept another gross kiss from Recovery Girl before passing out again. It's dark out, and I'm not sure if it's still the same day, but based on how stiff my whole body feels, I have a feeling it might actually be the following evening. Damn.

"Oh good, you're awake." Recovery Girl says, as she spots me sitting up creakily in bed from her office. "I'll let your parents know they can come pick you up." She disappears for a few minutes, presumably to call my parents. Fuck, Kaa-san is going to skin me for getting scars that are visible in all of the tank tops she likes to buy me.

Before I can really contemplate that future scolding, Recovery Girl is taking a seat next to me with a clip board in hand. She guides me through the usual tests, blood pressure, response time, lucidity, and finally has me try to stand. I'm a little shaky on my feet (probably from blood loss and missing my usual dose of blood pressure medication, if I really have been out for over 24 hours), but my legs are working fine, and my balance is good. Recovery Girl makes a little note on her chart while I come to terms with the fact that I am wearing a backless hospital gown and not the hero costume I last remember wearing.

God, I hope she wasn't the one to change my clothes. I squint suspiciously at Recovery Girl's back. Creepy kid-kissing old woman.

"You'll need to come to see me after class every day so that we can go over some exercises to help you regain mobility in your shoulders." She says, looking up and not even batting an eyelash at catching me glaring at her. Yikes. "Your wounds healed well, but since we weren't able to fix them in a single session, we couldn't avoid scar tissue building up. As a result, you've lost a lot of flexibility in that area. If you work diligently, however, I believe you'll be able to regain the same level of flexibility you had before over time."

Are you kidding me? I think in despair. I spent years. Years stretching daily to make sure my body was flexible enough to utilize my quirk's mobility to the fullest, and now I have to start again? Fuck.

I sit in my hospital bed and stew over that infuriating fact until my parents arrive in a flurry of concerned yelling and clinging limbs. I spend a few minutes reassuring them that I'm fine (well, protesting their hugs and whining about how they're overreacting, but for us that's pretty much the same thing), before they finally calm down enough to step away and listen to Recovery Girl go over my status with them.

It's only when they finally give me some breathing room that I spot the green head that had come in behind them.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in disbelief. Izuku looks like he hasn't slept since the USJ, although his wounds are healed at least. Still. "Aren't medical visits family only or something? And shouldn't you be resting, dumbass?"

"I just… wanted to see for myself that you were okay." Izuku says quietly. "It was… It was really bad, Kacchan. Your whole back, and the ground, it was all red…" I'm not used to seeing his giant

eyes so dull. Even the ground was red? Damn. I knew it was going to be bad, but that's bad. Metal as fuck, but still bad.

"Well, come over and check for yourself then." I say, gesturing to the back of the hospital gown I still haven't had the chance to escape. At least one good thing can come of it. "I'm good as new. See? Just a couple badass scars to remember it all by." Izuku hovers nervously next to me, staring at my back as if seeing it still covered in blood. I roll my eyes. "Oi, nerd, snap out of it. I'm fine." I grab his hand and (with some difficulty, I really am going to have to regain all of that hard-won flexibility, aren't I? Shit.) place it against the new skin on my shoulders. "No pain, no blood. You can feel it, right? It's dry. I'm okay. Calm down."

"You're okay." The nerd parrots, not moving his hand but pressing it a little more firmly to my shoulder and watching my face, as if to check whether I was lying when I said there was no pain. I return his stare blandly. "You're okay." He repeats, a bit more surely. His eyes lower to take in the scars, and this time he actually seems to see them. "They look like wings." He murmurs.

"Hah?" I protest, trying to twist around and look at my own back. "The fuck they do! They're supposed to be badass like, claw-marks. That bitch was holding on to me like the handlebars of his first bicycle!"

"They do look like wings!" My horrible mother chimes in, looking over Izuku's shoulder. "But like, tiny little baby wings, just over your shoulder blades. And they're kind of crooked."

"Oi, fuck you, my wings are fine!" I protest instinctively, only to scowl even harder when Izuku fails to stifle his stupid giggle. "I mean, my scars are fine. Fuck. Fuck you."

"You're right honey." Tou-san joins in, and I almost gasp at the betrayal. "Like a baby bird." And he ruffles my hair. I wish I was a bird, so I could peck his dumb fucking hand. I settle for flipping him one. "Our angry little nestling, with such fine down." He laughs. My mother fluffs my hair up, and it stays wherever she puts it since I haven't showered since… well, I probably smell like some very unpleasant things at the moment, and my hair has plenty of texture for styling, without any gel needed.

"Fuck off." Is all I say, but I don't push them away. They need to be close to me right now, just like they did after the sludge villain incident. And… I guess I want to be close to them, too.

Remembering Izuku, I glance over at where the other boy is watching us with a fond sort of gaze from a polite distance. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"What are you doing all the way over there? I know you've probably been crying non-stop since I passed out." I make sure he sees me roll my eyes long-sufferingly before I open up the arm that's not busy wrestling my mother away from my hair ("but Katsuki you'd look so cute with some pigtails right now"). "Well, come on then."

"Kacchan…" He mumbles, and sure enough he's already tearing up before he even makes it the two steps to join us. He throws himself into my side, and I'm grateful to Recovery Girl's quirk for the fact that my ribs are no longer broken because Jesus this kid has a strong grip. All Might has created a monster, I think.

"I thought you were going to die." Izuku whispers creepily into my armpit. I choke mid-argument with my mother, and both parental units quiet down as well, looking oddly solemn. Did they also think I was going to kick the bucket? Bitch, don't you know I'm one of the main characters in this shit? It's called plot immunity!

"Thank you for that vote of confidence." I deadpan, letting go of my mother in favor of dragging Izuku forward into the noogie to end all noogies. He squeals in protest. "As if something as mundane as blood loss would kill me. Don't you know who I fucking am, nerd? I'm going to be the best damn hero this country's ever known, and when I die it is going to be spectacular and hilarious, and involve at least three different national governments." I let go once his hair is well and truly ruined, and he whimpers slightly as he rubs his aching scalp. Serves him right. "If you ever imply that my death would be anything less than record-setting again, this friendship is over. Got that? Over."

"Yes, Kacchan." He agrees, and the slight smile on his and my parents' faces tells me that hearing him parroting that habitual phrase from our childhood (So I was a bossy brat, what's it matter? I still am, and I'm awesome) makes things feel like they're going back to normal. Fucking weirdo, needs to be bullied in order to feel secure. Creep seriously needs a therapist.

Huh. I realize, sinking into my thoughts as my parents finish talking to Recovery Girl about monitoring my recovery and I change into some actual fucking clothes in order to head home. Come to think of it, a bunch of kids going through something as traumatizing as a villain attack someplace where they should feel safest really does necessitate at least one mandatory therapy session, even if it's as a group…

I poke around in the corner of my mind where not-memories usually float up and remind me of random shit like how to sew buttons and what temperature white tea should be brewed at but the only images I get of counseling all involve Whoever-I-Was sitting in a therapists office hugging a throw pillow, and nothing about UA or the students here at all. So, either there was nothing about counseling shown, or Whoever-I-Was forgot it.

Once we've dropped Izuku off at his Mom's and I've taken a much-needed shower and wished my parents goodnight, I settle into my room for the night. I should sleep, I'm exhausted, but I've been out for so long from Recovery Girl's quirk that my body just needs a break from being horizontal for a bit. I'm sure I'll be able to get back to sleep in a couple hours. In the meantime, I open up the bottom drawer of my desk, and pull out the pamphlets Izuku had stuffed there after that first day of school that feels so long ago.

UA Counseling Services, the first reads. For when heroes need help.

"This is going to suck," I conclude, looking at the pile of obnoxiously colorful and stupidly optimistic-sounding handouts. But it's not like anyone else around here is willing to step up to bat for these dumb fucking children. I crack my knuckles and pull out my laptop. "Right. Well, Plus Ultra I guess."

Monday morning comes around with Izuku not even bothering to wait out front for me anymore. He's sitting at the breakfast table chatting with Tou-san when I come down from getting ready. I raise an eyebrow, but Tou-san just smiles happily and says something about how "you should spend time with your friends while you can, Katsuki," so I have to let it go. There's no fighting my old man. Even Mom doesn't bother unless it's about something really big.

So Izuku joins us for breakfast and my parents are still being clingy about me almost-but-not- really-because-I'm-totally-a-main-character dying, so I kiss them both on the cheek today (which Izuku is obviously itching to write in his creepy fucking journal, but if I catch sight of any of this in there I am going to fucking burn it-), and we head off to class.

I leave Izuku's hair mostly down and just do a waterfall braid to keep the front out of his face. It's

the opposite of a battle hairdo, really. After all the stress the last few days have brought, Izuku can wear a nice, impractical hairstyle for once. Bite me.

It's surprisingly difficult to convince Izuku to continue on to class alone while I make a detour. I tend to take every opportunity I can to get a few minutes to myself, so this isn't out of the ordinary for me, but I guess after all that happened in front of him, he's clinging a bit harder to me than usual. It makes sense. He watched as he thought his oldest friend bled to death in front of him during a villain attack on his school, so he's afraid to let me out of his sight in case something happens.

Well that's not gonna fucking fly.

"Dekuuuu…" I warn softly. He gulps, but doesn't let go of his grip on my sleeve. I'm getting flashbacks to our early years of friendship, before he learned not to be an overbearing creep and became semi-tolerable. "If you like your nostrils where they are, you better back the fuck up before I relocate them to your throat."

"W-Why my nostrils?" He yelps, but lets go of me, so who's the real winner here?

"Just go to class, Deku. I'll be there soon, just gotta stop by Recovery Girl's office. And no, I do not need company." I glare at him until his shoulders slump in defeat. Good. You should feel defeated, trying to invade my space like that. I'll kick your tiny green ass.

Once he trudges sadly off like an idiot, I make my way toward the administrative wing, which is, admittedly, where Recovery Girl's office is, that's just not my main objective today.

"Good morning Master Splinter." I greet, kicking open the door to Nezu's office. He's sitting at his desk with his hands folded primly, a steaming cup of tea beside him as he nods politely at me.

"Bakugou-kun." He says, and my eye twitches. Well-played, Mighty Mouse. "I was expecting to see you sometime soon, although I did not anticipate you coming quite so early. What can I help you with?"

"I just want to make sure of something before heading back to that circus of a classroom." I say, taking the seat across from him without asking. "You see, I'm not entirely sure I can trust UA with the well-being of my classmates in the fullest sense of the word."

"Their wellbeing, Bakugou-kun?" Nezu asks, sipping his tea calmly. "What do you mean? Out of all the students, you were the most badly hurt in the attack on USJ, and yet you speak as if this is about your classmates."

"Oh, our physical well-being is at least relatively safe." I agree. With a small effort, I heft a thick manila folder labelled "UA Lawsuit Notes" onto the desk between us. "It's their emotional well- being that I'm concerned about."

Nezu's eyes sharpen at the sight of my folder and the title written on it, and he smiles in a sort of manic delight. A chill runs down my spine.

"Oh? And have you decided to take Recovery Girl's advice and see one of our school counselors yourself, Bakugou-kun?" He asks pointedly. I maintain eye contact, not a muscle in my face giving away my thoughts. I've been practicing this deadpan since I was (re)born; this mouse can't break me.

"Just because I'm a hypocrite doesn't mean I'm wrong." There's a beat as our staring contest continues, and I valiantly resist wondering how the fuck he got that scar over his eye as a lab rat.

Did he fight his way out or something? Fuck, no, concentrate!

"Touché." Nezu says, clapping happily. I almost choke at the sudden break in tension. "And what exactly are you wanting to verify? Our counseling services are always available to students, along with a number of other student resources you should have been informed of."

"Should have been…" I echo, and I can't keep the disbelief off my face. "Are you fucking… Do you mean at orientation? The orientation Aizawa didn't send us to?!"

"Oh dear." Nezu hums, sipping his tea thoughtfully. "It sounds like we might need to add some caveats to our policy of allowing the professors to have free reign over what and how they teach."

"Considering they're pro heroes and not actually certified teachers, yeah I fucking think so! Actually, fuck, I'm writing this down," I mutter, pulling out a pen and adding this under section C of my folder: Problematic Policies. "Fucking. Can't believe this shit. No wonder all these kids are so fucked up. Goddamn. Just look at fucking IcyHot he needs like a whole fucking team of therapists and what does he get? Fucking Deku and the weirdest pep talk of the century. Goddamn."

"Bakugou-kun?" Nezu interrupts me, and I finish jotting down my note to expand on this latest bullshit later. "I take it there was more to this visit than just wanting me to ensure your classmates receive the information they missed during orientation? Or will that assuage your worries?" He says this like he thinks very little short of divine intervention would assuage my worries. But joke's on him because he's fucking right.

"Yeah, no." I scoff. "Unless you want this shit," I give my trusty folder a little pat, "To hit the fan a lot sooner than I was planning to move forward with it, than I'm going to need something a little more proactive than just letting the traumatized children know that their school has counselors. Hell, the few of them with more than three braincells have probably already made that assumption and we both know that literally none of them have made a move to use those services."

"And what do you suggest?" The furry little genius challenges me. "From our experience, making counselling services mandatory has the opposite of the intended effect. Students need to be in a place where they are willing to receive help in order for us to give it, so we let them come to us."

"And have you ever had a situation like the attack on USJ before?" I retort. Nezu gives me the point with a small tilt of his head, but doesn't say anything more. I snort. "Yeah, people need to be willing to receive help to make any progress, but they don't have to get to that stage before the first session. Sometimes it takes several sessions of no fucking progress before they're going to realize they can actually get help from these people. Because until they actually experience it, therapy just sounds like something that happens to other people. These are kids. Future heroes or whatever the fuck everyone sees them as, but still pubescent fucking brats. They… We're fifteen. We don't know when we need help yet."

"You certainly seem to." Nezu points out. I sit on my hands to keep from flipping him off.

"I'm fucking amazing." I say instead. "And it is unfair to hold my classmates to my standard. They're still dumbasses, with maybe some potential, but that potential isn't going to go anywhere if you let them all develop PTSD in their first year of high school."

"Alright, so you want us to make counselling mandatory for the students involved in the incident at USJ." Nezu concedes. I cut him off.

"No." I'm already opening my bag, pulling out my notes from the night before. God, Izuku is

really rubbing off on me. "I want you to bring in specialized counsellors for all UA students to talk to in the aftermath, because a breach of security like this has probably shaken up all of the students who thought that they were attending the safest school in the country, only to have a class of first years attacked on their home terf. Even if they weren't directly involved, Secondary Trauma Stress is very real and can lead to long-term problems." I slap the relevant articles onto the desk in between us as they come up. "And I want you to talk to the students directly involved as a group, so that they don't feel personally cornered or called out, and bring in counsellors to lead them through the process of discussing what happened, and to emphasize that you highly recommend they meet with the specialized counsellors one-on-one, without forcing them."

"And if they don't see the counsellors despite our recommendation?" Nezu asks. He's too quick, already having flipped through the articles I've laid out in the time it took me to finish making my point. Creepy rat. "Will you still hold it against us?"

"Well, you'd go a long way toward covering your ass legally if you at least remind them about the services." I deadpan. "But to answer your question, no. If after all that, they still don't take advantage of the counselling offered to them…" I crack my knuckles. "Well, can only hope that they'll accept the support of their friends, right?"

Aizawa is tired. This is not unusual, considering his habitual insomnia and grueling work schedule, but after the events of USJ and the energy he's been expending just to allow Chiyo-san to slowly heal his injuries, he can truly say he is more exhausted than he has been since… Well, probably like a year ago at least.

Given this state of even-worse-than-usual exhaustion, he decides to wait until after the bell has rung to enter his classroom, not interested in dealing with unnecessary questions and concerns from his students before class. Opening the door and walking calmly over to his desk, he surveys the mixed reactions in front of him.

The students who notice him enter look like they've seen a ghost, which is as amusing as their reactions to his teasing always are. The way the rest of them jump when he drops his papers onto his desk with a thud and announces that they are meant to be in their seats warms his heart. It's so nice to be feared, he thinks fondly as they scramble to take their places, and ignores their questions of whether he is really alright. He gives a cursory glance around the room to make sure no one is absent before he starts in on his announcements… Wait, there's an empty seat.

He squints at the place in front of Midoriya for a moment. Trepidation rises up at the sight of one of his most punctual students missing. Where is Bakugou…?

Click, smack. "Sensei, Principal Nezu cancelled this afternoon's- What the fuck are you doing here?" Bakugou gapes at Aizawa from where he just kicked open the door, seemingly holding a large stack of flyers for something. Heaven help me, Aizawa thinks miserably.

"I am teaching my class. Which you are late to. Care to explain, Bakugou-san?" Aizawa says, threateningly calm. Bakugou just continues to gape at him.

"Do I care to…? Fine, yes, here is my note from principal Nezu, who cancelled this afternoon's Hero Fundamentals class to have us gather in auditorium two. Now, I reiterate, what the fuck are you doing here and why do you not have a substitute?"

"I am perfectly capable of teaching a few classes." Aizawa scoffs, accepting the note with a cursory glance. What is Nezu up to? "This much is nothing for a Pro Hero. Now sit down and-"

"Bullshit!" Bakugou blurts, and Aizawa actually coughs in surprise at being cut off so inappropriately. "Even heroes need rest days, now get out of here and call us a fucking substitute!"

Right, ignoring this now. Aizawa thinks with an eye roll, even as a few of the other students tentatively call out their agreement. It definitely isn't heartwarming to see them so concerned about his health. He turns toward his class. "Despite what happened at the USJ still being fresh in your memories, you need to prepare yourselves for one of the most important events of your hero careers." He suppresses a grin as the tension rises amongst the students, mutters of "more villains…?" and "our careers?" being heard around the room. He lets it rise to a peak before he pierces it. "Next week we will be holding the UA Sports Festival."

The noise that breaks out at that is hilarious and gratifying. Never let it be said that he did not have a flare for drama.

"Are you serious?" The quiet question catches his attention. It's rare to hear Bakugou speak in anything less than a bellow. "Do you honestly think that the Sports Festival is more important than your health?"

"I am fine." Aizawa says reflexively, although it's not exactly the truest thing he could have said. "And the Sports Festival is your chance as students to put your names out and get noticed-"

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT GETTING MY NAME OUT." Bakugou roars, and his vehemence is actually enough to silence the excited chatter in the room, and Aizawa is taken aback enough that he pauses as his student continues. "If you think for one God-damned second that I am going to sit here and listen to you talk about my networking opportunities like they're more important than your fucking BODY, WELL FUCK YOU." And he slams his pile of flyers on Aizawa's desk and storms back out the door. Never even made it to his seat.

"If you leave this classroom, you're expelled." He says calmly, watching Bakugou freeze with his hand on the door and slowly turn to face him. The look on the kid's face is complicated. Like something between disbelief and indignation. He waits for the protests and yelling, placid face ready to ignore any threats or negotiations thrown his way. He's heard them all.

"Okay." Bakugou says, instead, and then walks right out the door.

"Oh fuck." One of his other students (he's pretty sure it was Ashido-san) mutters in the resulting silence. Aizawa turns to the rest of the class and continues his discussion of the Sports Festival and everything it entails, collecting the homework that he had assigned before the disastrous field trip last week (and even with the extra days off, several of them still don't have it ready), but the class remains slightly shell-shocked (or, in Midoriya's case, so pale you'd think the world was ending), looking at him occasionally as if expecting him to tell them he was joking.

He says nothing, just collecting the homework as usual and getting them started on the next exercises. As he goes to set the collected papers on his desk, he glances down at the flyers Bakugou had been carrying.

A Guide to Student Resources at UA…? He wonders, frowning thoughtfully as he begins grading. Why would Bakugou be carrying those?

Aizawa's loudest problem child returns with as much drama as he left, about twenty-five minutes later. He, once again, kicks open the door to the classroom, which Aizawa finds excessive, but which might be related to the fact that the boy's hands are busy juggling a seeming mountain of

blankets and… Is that Hizashi's office chair?

His homeroom class watches on in stunned fascination as his least nurturing student manhandles him into a large plush rolly-chair, propping him up with pillows and blankets as if he's a newborn baby that can't yet sit up on his own. Aizawa regrets the fact that he has been ordered not to use his quirk outside of a life-or-death situation, since his usual method of scaring his students into submission with floating hair and glowing red eyes isn't available to him right now. He settles for projecting the most menacing aura of you will pay for this that he can, but Bakugou seems unaffected. Precocious brat, Aizawa thinks.

Once he's gotten Aizawa settled into the chair to his liking, he presents him with three painkillers and orders from Recovery Girl to take them without protest "or else he'll be seeing the end of my cane!" Aizawa reluctantly takes them, knowing better than to cross his older colleague. The final thing that Bakugou places on the desk in front of him is a thermos with a straw.

"It's soup." He explains, and Aizawa blinks down at the thermos in bewilderment. "Lunch Rush made it. Said it's full of vitamins and other shit you'll need to recover your energy." And with that, he once again turns on his heel and heads back out the door.

"And where are you going now?" Aizawa demands. How can one student be this exasperating? He thought Midoriya was going to give him the most headaches this year, what with breaking his bones whenever he uses his quirk. But apparently his childhood friend couldn't let him be the only one to make Aizawa regret accepting this teaching contract.

"The principal's office." Bakugou says, raising an eyebrow. "I assume that's where you go when you get expelled?" This fucking kid.

"Sit down, Bakugou." Aizawa grinds out. "And if you directly disobey an order from your superior again, you really will be expelled."

"Yes, sir." He says, but the self-satisfied grin on his face as he goes to take his seat is almost enough for Aizawa to change his mind and go through with the expulsion. If he didn't think Midoriya's heart would actually give out, maybe he would.

I'm going to demand a raise, he thinks, and takes a sip from the thermos in front of him. It's delicious. I don't get paid enough for this shit.

Chapter End Notes

Whoop whoop got a little bit of Aizawa's POV in there. His thoughts and Bakugou's are surprisingly similar in tone. The tired exasperation is real folks.

Bakugou is a little shit who's ready to call your fucking bluff, or get expelled trying. (If Aizawa went through with it Bakugou would have used that as more ammo for his future lawsuit, so he saw it as a win-win.)

And yes Bakugou has dumb upside-down handprint wings on his back now and he will never live it down.

Also, I think that this fic might end up with some angst in later chapters. We'll see.