Chapter 17
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"Let me go Deku." I warn. It's not begging. I am simply giving him a chance to rethink his actions before I blow his arms off where they're wrapped around my torso.
"You can't just forfeit Kacchan!" He insists idiotically. I very obviously could if he would just let go.
"Watch me." Feeling merciful, I forgo making my childhood friend a double amputee… for now, and just start walking with him hanging off of me like a particularly noisy backpack.
"But Kacchan, imagine how Uraraka will feel if you just withdraw from your match without giving it your best shot! Everyone has been working so hard to prepare for the sports festival! Don't you usually jump at any chance to use your quirk without holding back?"
"The only appropriate response to being faced with Pink Cheeks' demon quirk is lethal force." I deadpan. "If I don't hold myself back, I'll get expelled for killing a classmate on public television, even though it'd be totally justified self-defense."
"Kacchan no."
"Which is why I am going to withdraw, so that I do not have to deal with either of those scenarios."
"But Auntie Mitsuki said she was going to record the whole festival so she could watch you fight when she gets home!" Izuku must really not want me to throw this match, if he's trying to threaten me with my Mom's wrath. "Mom was going to go over and watch it together with her. She was so excited for the excuse to hang out with Auntie again…"
Goddammit.
"That's low, Izuku." I growl. "What kind of hero manipulates someone like that?"
"You said all good heroes are masters of manipulation!" Izuku protests, finally letting go. I'd think I'd won except we both know I'm not going anywhere after he brought Auntie Inko's feelings into it. Ugh.
"Yeah, against the villains." I say, grabbing him in a headlock and giving him a noogie until his hair looks like a longer version of his old rat's nest style. He wriggles in my grip, protesting, but doesn't actually try to get away. Probably knows he deserves it, pulling a dirty trick like that on me. "I won't forfeit the damn match, but you are not forgiven." I say, letting him go and leaving to find somewhere quiet to figure out a plan that doesn't involve accidentally ripping a hole in the universe.
Now would be a really convenient time for some obnoxious foreknowledge. I tell myself, but the only thing in my head is a vague sense of sympathy toward Gravity Witch and the image of her, lying on the ground but still struggling to rise and continue the match… Admirable, but stupid. Not stupid enough for Whoever-I-Was not to be rooting for her, apparently, but still stupid.
Fuck you too, I think to my past self, feeling defensive about the fact that She... (I?) hadn't cheered for myself… (Bakugou?) the first time around. I'm going to win without looking like an asshole,
just watch.
Just pretend she's holding two red-hot knives. I reassure myself. It doesn't work. As long as her fingers can't touch you, you're safe. Just keep her hands away.
When Midnight's creepy whip signals the start of the match, Uraraka charges forward, hands raised offensively and a look of determination on her face. It's her only option, really; her quirk requires contact, where mine can be used at long range if necessary, although not without excessive damage to my body and surroundings.
Just like a knife, I breathe in, it's just a short-range weapon. I wait until she's within a couple feet of me before making my move. I raise my hands, palms out and fingers relaxed. She reaches out with her right hand.
I duck into her guard, grabbing her right elbow and pulling it across the front of her body. I move fast, before she can bring her other hand up to reach me, keeping her off balance by putting pressure on her arm. Changing levels, I lower my center of mass enough that hers is higher, and line our hips up in a T, swinging my foot around to sit right behind her heel. Then, I turn, driving my body weight into her and pushing her backwards over my left knee.
She hits the ground with a satisfying thwack, her free arm splaying out involuntarily from the impact. I scramble on top of her and grab her other elbow, keep my hands just above the joint so she can't bend her arms and reach me that way. She's stronger than she looks, bucking her hips and yanking her arms at the same time to try to make me lose my grip.
Maintain the mount, I think randomly, steadying my feet against her hip bones. Put pressure on them, make them feel your weight. The distraction is enough for Uraraka to almost throw me off, and only my feet hooked on her hips keeps her in place. Random memories of drills and spars float through my head, making me want to pin her arms and smother her with my weight, but…
If her hands touch the ground, could she use her quirk? What would even happen? Could she cancel the Earth's gravity and send us rocketing out of the sun's orbit?
This is horrible technique, the useless part of my brain whines.
Fuck off, I think, not at all crazy. I'm not risking destroying the Earth for a school festival. Not even for Auntie Inko.
If I can keep her pinned long enough, I'm hoping Midnight will call the match to avoid the crowd getting bored. It's difficult to keep her down without letting her hands touch anything for leverage, though. And trying to pin them to her chest is asking for her to twist them around and tap me. I'm starting to think Midnight isn't going to call the match unless I do something more disabling, when pain explodes between my legs.
Holy shit, I think, for once not sure if it's me or Whoever-I-Was speaking. I am so sorry to every man I ever knew. This is a pain I haven't felt so far in either life, not having had the equipment for it the first time around, and having been fortunate enough not to have come across it the second time.
When I stop seeing stars a few seconds later I'm already several feet in the air above a victorious- looking Uraraka. I blink, looking around as I float incrementally higher.
"You… you do know I can fly, right?" I hold up one hand and giving a little pop as an example. I
lurch downward at the added momentum, before settling back into a gentle float. "Like, I did it during the first part of this festival."
"I- you-" She splutters, looking caught, and I realize no, she didn't know. "Then why did you try so hard not to let me catch you?!"
"I figured you were banking on the possibility that your quirk would launch me into space!"
"That has never happened!"
"YET."
"Ohmygod I can't-" Uraraka doesn't get to finish venting her frustration, because I have enough sweat gathered up by now to maneuver. I have to twist my hips more than I'd like to angle my right arm behind me (damn scar tissue) but I manage to launch myself toward her in a fairly straight line. I'm slightly off-center, but it's alright because she doesn't have time to react (nothing like moving at the speed of a cannonball to take people by surprise) before my other arm is catching her in the stomach in a clothesline, knocking the wind out of her and dragging her along with my momentum.
This slows me (or us, now) down enough that I can get my other hand back in front of me over the next ten feet and set off a second, smaller explosion. It's not enough to completely cut my momentum, but combined with a shove against Gravity Witch's stomach, I manage to stop short of the boundary line.
My opponent is not as lucky. I wince at the sound of dry heaving as she rolls over where she landed a few meters away. I'm not sure if it was from using her quirk or getting nailed in the stomach by something moving at the speed of a car, but… yeah, okay, that's probably on me. The booing is uncalled for, though.
I turn to glare up at the stadium, and see my pissed-off expression mirrored back at me on all the Ultra Big Screen TVs around the arena. Oh, fuck off.
"If you think I should have gone easy on her, you come down here and let her float you into space!" I defend, although it comes out more as a murderous bellow than a rational explanation. Close enough.
She's conscious and everything! I think indignantly, fuming as I march over to Midnight and (politely) interrogate her about where the goddamn medic is. She kicked me in the nuts! But I'm the one who went too far? Right.
I finally convince them to send Recovery Girl out to the field instead of waiting for Uraraka to recover and walk her way over there (or worse, expecting me to help her to the nurse's office. I've had more than enough physical contact with her and her Demon Quirk for one lifetime, thanks), and I stick around long enough to make sure she's up and back on her feet before slinking off to consider my next match.
Who was it again? I try to remember. I hadn't paid much attention to the other matches, since I had been planning to forfeit my own. I pull out my phone and google it, sure that there are probably already posts speculating about potential winners. And sure enough, someone has a March Madness style bracket drawn up with all the contestants in order. Apparently, they thought I was going to win my match. Damn, now I really wish I'd forfeited.
And the match next to mine in the line-up is… Oh you have got to be kidding me, I close my eyes.
Goddammit.
Eyesore vs. Off-Brand Eyesore is the least climactic fight I've ever seen in my life. It goes on forever. Long enough for me leave to arrive late, get bored, leave for a bathroom break, come back with snacks, beat Izuku up for stealing said snacks, and get bored again. Someone call it a draw and send them both home, already, I despair.
When they do finally call a draw, stating that they'll hold a tie-breaker later on (oh god not more of this), they move on to more interesting fights. The kid with the bird head knocks 3D Printer out of the arena in a frankly embarrassing match, French Fruitcake gets pantsed in an even more embarrassing match, and Iida somehow tops them both by being caught in a trap by the equipment that he willingly put on himself.
There are several sympathetic murmurs from the students around me, but I can barely hear them over my own guffaws. This chick is amazing. She even brought a microphone. Is she seriously just going to hold the audience captive and turn this match into an infomercial? Fucking iconic.
"- which cancels out the horizontal component of the normal force in order to reflect back attacks against the hero wearing it-" She's saying grandly, every inch the used car salesman, and I feel my ears perk up. She's already moving on to the next product, though… "And here you can see a wrist-mounted weapon intended for heroes with short-range quirks. It uses the same principle of force produced by adding a current into an electric field seen in technology before the advent of quirks, in order to…"
I lean forward, forgetting about the discontented murmurs of the students around me, and Eyesore's stupid tie breaker, and Izuku's endless drama. I don't even flinch when Gravity Witch comes back from the infirmary and takes the seat next to Deku, entirely too close for comfort. I'm too enchanted by the complete nutcase currently making a laughing stock of my vice class president. I glance around for the announcement board… Mei Hatsume it reads, next to a wildly grinning picture of a girl with pink dreads and crosshairs in her eyes. She looks like a pain in the ass.
She knows about classical mechanics. I think, swooning slightly as she gesticulates wildly to illustrate the function of the air gun in her hand. She knows about relativity.
By the time she steps out of the ring and forfeits her match to Robot Legs, most of the stadium has wandered off to get snacks or take a bathroom break. Izuku is waving his hand in front of my face as if he thinks I've fallen asleep with my eyes open, which, yeah, sometimes happens, but not when the very smart support course girl is telling me about her thoughts on quantized energy levels in atoms!
"Kacchan? Did you want anything from the snack bar? Kacchan!" Izuku's voice makes my eyelid twitch in instinctive preparation to be annoyed. I shove his hand away, not taking my eyes off the girl waving to the audience as she walks off stage. "Kacchan…?"
"I think," I murmur, mostly to myself, "I am going to make a friend."
"… Kacchan are you sick??"
Izuku's match is the last in the first round, and it's against the kid with the Mind Control quirk and
the obvious insomnia problem. I don't even need Whoever-I-Was to tell me how this round is going to go. As predicted, Izuku gets caught by his quirk in no time at all, and I pinch the bridge of my nose as he woodenly walks toward the edge of the ring. Honestly, he deserves to lose this round. I think. What a dumbass.
When my childhood friend somehow breaks free of Troll Doll's quirk by once again breaking his bones at the problem, I can't hold back my exasperation. I stand up and leave the stands, muttering something about stretching my legs when some of our classmates ask where I'm going.
After about ten minutes of walking around, vaguely searching for snacks since I'd skipped out on Izuku's offer during the Support Girl's match, I run into the loser of the last round, surreptitiously wiping tears from his eyes as he stands in an out-of-the-way alcove. I blink at him. He blinks at me. Neither of us moves for a solid five seconds, out of a combination of surprise and discomfort.
"Did Izuku infect you with his weird crying thing?" I blurt, and that seems to break the spell. Dark Circles scowls at me and straightens up from where he had been trying to stay out of sight, apparently to remind me (or himself) of the fact that he's a good two inches taller than me, even without the hair.
"You." He says, the way one might say three-day-old roadkill. I raise an impressed eyebrow at the amount of bitchiness packed into a single pronoun.
"Me." I agree, lifting one hand and wiggling my fingers in an approximation of a wave. "In the flesh. All your dreams are coming true."
"More like nightmares." He shoots back, voice almost as dry as Aizawa's after I managed to convince Kaminari to make a railgun during survival training. "What do you want?" I blink at his defensive tone, as if he's expecting me to have hunted him down to make fun of his three little pastel purple chin hairs or something.
"A soft pretzel." I say, completely honest. He doesn't seem to know what to do with this information, but his shoulders do lose some of their nervous tension in his confusion. I stick my hands in my pockets, hoping my posture is coming off as I just happen to be here chilling and not I'm about to pull a weapon out of my pants, but aware that my vibe tends toward the latter. "You should have won that round." I say, watching him closely for his reaction.
He tenses up again, fists clenching and face pinching. Ah.
"I didn't mean it like that." I backtrack. "I mean your strategy and your quirk were solid, and it's only a combination of previous knowledge of your quirk and Deku's creepy self-mutilation kink that stopped you from advancing all the way through the tournament. I'm sorry." I look away, wishing my voice didn't sound so angry even when I was apologizing. "He didn't get the information from me, ironically, but I realize that my slip-up last week could have ruined your whole strategy. I haven't said a word about it since, but I'm sorry I blurted that out without thinking."
Dark Circles just stares at me for a long minute, looking a cross between disbelieving and incredibly annoyed.
"You genuinely believe that." He says, finally. I can't quite stop my confused from.
"Yeah, no shit." I agree automatically. He scoffs.
"Well, good for you, I guess. But a good strategy isn't about to get me a place in the hero course,
so compliments don't really make much of a difference."
I hum, shoving my hands even deeper into my pockets and nodding. Something else to add to the Folder, I note.
"That's probably true." I say, and shrug. But there's something ringing in the back of my mind. "That doesn't mean it wasn't your first step to getting there, though." Eraserhead 2.0, capture scarf, likes cats, hero course, not here to make friends.
Sounds like my kind of guy, I think in amusement as I let that vaguely encouraging sentiment be my last word and make my way back to the stadium. The second round will be starting soon, so my snack will have to wait. You better appreciate my sacrifice, Troll Doll. I think in annoyance, but I know he won't.
After Red Crocs wins the least exciting arm wrestle I've ever seen in my life, I somehow find myself standing across from a grinning lunatic. I watch as he fires up his quirk, his skin hardening and becoming jagged, like a type of rock. But one that's sharp enough to give him that scar above his eye, and which somehow increases his strength to the point that he can punch through walls, if what I've seen in class so far is any indication.
How am I supposed to fight this without my support gear? I wonder idly, watching as Eyesore's smile falls after I do nothing but stand in place and watch him for several seconds. Apparently, he'd been hoping for some sort of full-frontal attack after watching my match with Gravity Witch. What kind of idiot tries to Jiu jitsu pin someone whose skin is made of cheese graters?
Finally, after an awkwardly long pause, he decides to go on the offensive. This is objectively hilarious, because his hardened form makes him much slower, although I'm impressed by the speed of his strikes as he gets close enough. It's unexpected enough that the first punch catches my cheek and draws blood, despite my admittedly impressive reflexes. I hum.
"If you forfeit this match, I'll talk to you for a week." I try, and Eyesore almost trips in surprise. I take advantage of the opening to see if his eyes are a weak point, but it looks like they harden too, as he blinks off my explosion like it was nothing.
"That wasn't very manly of you," He complains, and I have to physically stop myself from scoffing derisively. You have no idea. "I would never insult you by forfeiting this match without giving it my best!"
"No offense would be taken, I promise."
"Besides, you already talk to me!" He continues, as if I hadn't said anything. I roll my eyes.
"No, I don't. You talk at me and I sometimes can't escape you for the first few minutes. This is the closest to an actual conversation we've had." I point out, dodging another series of jabs and managing to avoid any damage to my clothes or body.
"That's… okay, that's true." He slumps slightly for a moment, and I try to knock him off balance and just end up with my shin scraped to shit. Fuck. "But you still can't bribe me to just forfeit! A man always gives it his all!"
I don't bother to reply, since talking is apparently not going to get this idiot to forfeit like I was hoping it would. What a waste of social interaction, I lament silently, dodging another series of shockingly fast strikes. I frown. He shouldn't be able to move that fast with his quirk activated.
Which means…
The next time he strikes, I dodge as minimally as I can without taking a serious hit, feeling his hand catch on the sleeve of my uniform as I lean into him and set off an explosion at his side, where the muscles he's using to launch each strike are located. I put as much power as I can spare behind it, hoping to finish this in one blow, and there's a surprising amount of smoke. Rock dust? I wonder, Does Eyesore actually cover himself in stone, or did I damage his skin?
When the smoke clears, it becomes apparent that I have not managed to do any permanent damage to my classmate's skin, for better or worse. His uniform top is now a few scraps of fabric draped over his opposite shoulder, but the side I targeted is unscathed, hardened at the last second to defend against my attack. He grins at me, charging back in for another round of quickly-dodged jabs. It's pretty fun, actually. I'm rarely on the defensive in class spars, and dancing around his attacks relies on the flexibility and agility that I'd spent years earning this time around. There are a couple of close calls when my shoulders don't move the way I want them to, but I can feel myself working up a sweat, and I let myself loose a bit and aim for any opening I see, knowing my classmate will be able to block the hits now. It's fun to see if my quirk can knock him off balance when he's hardened.
What's this guy's weakness? I wonder. The mental image of my (somehow) angrier double blasting the other student until his defense cracks pops into my head, and I groan. Are you fucking kidding me? That many explosions would jack up my wrists! I'm not getting tendonitis for this bitch.
I spend a few more minutes brainstorming, but while I could easily overpower my classmate with my wrist bracers to prevent damage, I'm not about to injure myself just for the sake of winning a glorified school sparring match. I'm enjoying the chance to stretch my body and get back the sense of pressure and adrenaline that a genuine challenge brings, but I honestly don't care about winning this thing, or even impressing any of the heroes here. Besides, one and a half rounds should be plenty of time for Auntie Inko and Mom to gossip over me. Izuku can talk to my fist if he has any complaints.
"I forfeit." I say, raising my hand and turning to Midnight after a particularly dangerous-looking roundhouse kick misses my head. Kirishima stumbles in shock but doesn't drop his quirk. Good defensive instincts, I note idly.
"Bakugou Katsuki forfeits! The winner is Kirishima Eijirou!" Midnight announces with a crack of her whip, although she shoots me an unreadable glance afterward. I ignore it, stretching out my arms and already thinking about which snack stands had been selling soft pretzels earlier.
"Wha- Wait, you can't just forfeit!" Kirishima protests, jogging after me.
"Sure I can," I reply, feeling generous after getting a chance to let off some steam and really move. "I just did."
"You would have won, though!" He argues, trying to grab my shoulder. I dodge, grabbing the arm and moving to toss him over my hip and into the floor. I stop when I encounter a sharp resistance, and my palm stings from being cut by the suddenly hardened skin underneath my hand. I raise an eyebrow.
"I can't touch you." I say, gesturing to his reaction and my new wound lazily. "Which only leaves my quirk. Without my costume, overusing it will damage my wrists. I went as long as I could, but I wasn't about to push myself for this. I honestly don't care about it." I pause, and tilt my head, the barest acknowledgement. "It was fun trying to blow you up, though." And before he can make any more stupid arguments about manliness or honor, I push past him and around the corner to slip
away.
Chapter End Notes
I can't believe Baks fought Gravity Witch and then gave up against Crocs Boy, this is scandalous.
To be fair he was at least 30% motivated by his desire to be done with this already so he could get his damn pretzel. Which is, in my humble opinion, an incredibly realistic and relatable mood.
God I have been waiting for Mei to show up since page one.
Shinsou still thinks he's being bullied but now he's pretty sure that Bakugou's just really shit at it.
Izuku is regretting only specifying that Bakugou should try his best in his first match.
Aizawa is sighing dramatically enough that Present Mic decided to count it as a strenuous action and forbid him from doing it anymore unless he wants to go hang out with Recovery Girl for the rest of the tournament.
Chapter 18
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
After my match, I spend about 15 minutes finding and doing some truly indecent things to a soft pretzel, before finally meandering back to the stands to face the complaints of my more annoying classmates. I arrive just in time to see the pink girl from our class get pushed out of the ring by Dark Shadow, and abruptly decide that letting Izuku bitch about my forfeit is the lesser of two evils, turning to give him my full attention instead of contemplating Tokoyami's head or the sentient darkness that lives in his stomach.
I'm nodding boredly at the green-haired boy's lecture about "hero spirit", mentally trying to remember if we have a quiz in English this week, when the next match is called. It's Garbage Legs and the girl with vines for hair. She's actually got a fairly cool quirk, if I can stop myself from wondering what a cross-section of prehensile (hair? Vines? Flesh??) would look like. Fuck, I'm thinking about it again.
I absently feed Izuku some line about not wanting to injure my wrists from quirk overuse in case I need to use it in an actual emergency, which is true, but the way he immediately shifts gears from you need to take this seriously, Kacchan! To Amazing! You're willing to give up such a great opportunity in case someone needs your help… Is enough to give me whiplash. I shove a hand against his face when he tries to hug me out of deeply-ingrained reflex, distracted by the view of Orange Juice Calves shoving Vine Girl out of the ring. That sure looks familiar…
"Kind of boring seeing Iida do it right after Tokoyami did." I muse, ignoring the muffled protests of Izuku as he tries to escape the grip I have over his nose and mouth. I'll let him go before he passes out, the overdramatic dork. "Valid strategy, but after the earlier rounds Robo Legs really needed something a bit more impressive to redeem himself."
"Um, Bakugou?" Gravity Witch speaks up, and I jump slightly, surprised by being addressed directly. I hadn't realized that she'd been respecting my obvious desire not to interact with her. I'm used to… well, Izuku. "Doesn't Deku-kun need to get ready for his match?" She says nothing about the fact that he is currently fighting my grip on his face as if it's an angry squid that has latched onto him, looking for all the world as if she sees this every day. Which, after being our classmate for the better part of three months, is fair enough.
"Oh, yeah." I agree, letting go of Izuku and watching him gasp comically for breath. The fact that he can still whine my nickname at me tells me he wasn't really that close to running out of oxygen. "What are you doing dicking around here, Deku? Get down to the waiting room."
"So mean, Kacchan." He whines again, but he's standing up and jogging out the door to head down to get ready for his match, so I ignore him. It's practically a verbal tic for him, at this point. I turn back around in my seat and accidentally catch Gravity Witch's eye as I turn. She's still watching me, looking thoughtful, and I immediately want her to stop it. I bring my arms in to my sides, eyeing the single empty seat between us, wondering if I would have time to dodge if she decided to lunge across it and grab for me.
"Why are you pretending to be afraid of my quirk." She demands, no hint of a question in her tone. It's weird to hear her talk in such a hard voice, after hearing her be obnoxious and bubbly all day every day in class. I can't help the defensive scowl that twists across my face. She frowns right back, although it looks more like a pout than an actual expression of anger. I give her points for
trying, though.
"I'm not pretending." I deny, and it's not even a lie. "You have a truly horrifying quirk."
"And yet after I used it on you, you were completely calm." She points out. "And just now, you didn't have any problem playing with Deku-kun when I was right here, even though I could have used my quirk on you at any time. But other times, you run away when I come within ten feet of you. I had been assuming you didn't notice me the times you didn't freak out before, but I think you're just inconsistent because you don't always remember to pretend to be scared!" She jabs a finger at me, and I'm torn between backing away from the dangerous digit and taking a bite of it out of spite.
"Okay, first of all, rude." I begin, crossing my arms. "Just because I sometimes manage to reign in my fear out of the kindness of my heart, you accuse me of being a liar, a charlatan, a fake." I turn my nose up to the side, knowing that my chiseled features make the snootiness of the gesture stand out magnificently. "Second of all, your quirk really does freak me out. Gravity is an intrinsic force of the universe, and completely cancelling it out would be absurd. Which means your quirk must do something other than actually cancel gravity, as the name implies, and that lack of precision is what concerns me. Not knowing the actual effects of a quirk that messes with such a fundamental aspect of our world and using it anyway is just asking for a disaster of astronomical proportions."
"That's why I'm practicing with it, though." She insists, looking less accusatory and more… hurt, now. Ugh. Damn chubby cheeks making her look like a little kid. This is unfair. "So that I can understand how to use it to help people. I would never use it to hurt my friends!" Oh gross, she's sincere about this. I let my arms uncross, too tired from my match earlier to hold my pose any longer, and groan.
"We're not friends." I say, first, because we're not, and then continue before the puppy-eyes I can see forming have time to fully appear. "But you do seem to be more tolerable than most of the people I'm forced to associate with, so I'll be real with you." I lean in slightly, and note with some amusement that she does the same, unconsciously mirroring my actions in her attentiveness. "I'm not pretending to be afraid of your quirk, but I may be… exaggerating, a bit." The I knew it! she lets out at this revelation is uncalled for, but I graciously ignore it and continue. "If your quirk legitimately did cancel gravity, it would send me flying into space at thousands of miles per hour, but we're technically already moving at thousands of miles per hour as the Earth rotates, so we wouldn't actually notice – there would be no acceleration, only a change in trajectory." She looks confused, so I skip ahead. "Basically, I'm just fucking with you and the rest of our classmates, but if you want me to genuinely not mind you using your quirk on me – because I am still very much not okay with your quirk – you need to do some experiments to isolate the actual force or variable your quirk is able to control."
"So I… need to practice?" She repeats, looking confused. I roll my eyes.
"No, you need to experiment. That means thinking of what you want to test – for example, to see if your quirk would stop something moving horizontally, or if it would only cancel the vertical component of force on the object, thus making it float upwards while still continuing to move to the side, or if your quirk cancels all forces on the object. Then, coming up with ways to isolate that variable and see if your quirk affects it or not. Preferably with a number of different trials and materials to ensure that it's not just effective on one kind of substance or… you get the point." I bite down on the urge to babble on about potential experiments for her quirk, having resisted thus far in the semester because I do not want to spend my time quantifying my classmate's quirks when I could be spending that time not interacting with them, thank you very much.
I face forward, paying attention to the match getting started down in the arena instead of the way Uraraka is staring at me thoughtfully again. I'm pretty sure that is shaping up to be my least favorite expression of hers, and I hate that I've spent enough time speaking to her now to have seen more than one.
"You're actually pretty smart, huh, Bakugou?" She says, finally, and my head snaps to the side fast enough to send a stab of pain through my neck.
"Hah?!" I blurt, offended but too startled to think of anything more coherent. "Of course I fucking am! How the hell do you think I got first on the entrance exam? That wasn't just the practical score!" Uraraka just laughs and radiates friendliness at me like a secondary quirk. I hate it with a burning passion.
She's saved from my wrath by the sound of ice shattering down in the arena, and I turn my attention back to Izuku and Freezer Burn's match only to blink in disbelief as Izuku breaks his fingers at his problems once again, literally less than twenty minutes after I told him that I forfeited my match to avoid damaging my body for a fucking school tournament.
"Oh, god." Uraraka breathes, sounding slightly nauseous as one of her hands comes up to cover her mouth. It's a pretty reasonable response to the close-up shot of Izuku's twisted hand that's currently being displayed on the big screens. Even Present Mic sounds more forced than usual as he hypes up Todoroki's attacks and tries to downplay the carnage on Izuku's side. When the idiot curls his broken fingers into a fist and punches with his broken arm, I close my eyes, breathing heavily through my nose to calm myself down.
Maybe I should have kept them open. I don't see what leads up to the end of that match as cartoonish caricatures of my classmates flash before my eyes, impassioned speeches dulled by time and reincarnation to a single phrase: It's your quirk!
I don't manage to parse through any more of the not-memories before my eardrums pop and a blinding light turns the insides of my eyelids bright red, air pressure hitting me in the chest like a t- shirt canon from close range. By the time I peel my eyes open, ears still ringing from the pressure wave and face stinging from the wind and dust pelting it, the match is over.
A handful of our classmates rush off to see Izuku as soon as they've recovered their wits, but I take my time walking down to the makeshift infirmary. There's new information floating in my brain, along with the backstory that Todoroki had dumped on Izuku the other day, and it's all coming together to form a picture of Izuku's motivation for pushing himself so hard in the last match that is… telling. I'm not sure what kind of expression I'm making, feeling oddly detached from my own anger in a way that I so rarely am in this body. Before I know it, I'm arriving in front of the infirmary door as Uraraka, Kirishima, Tsuyu, and Mineta are being thrown out of it.
I take in their frantic explanations of bandages and surgery and no visitors with an absent nod, waving them off with some mumbled excuse and watching them leave as if from a great distance. I lean against the wall next to the door, eyes drifting to the ceiling as I listen to Izuku's and All Might's voices drifting through the grate in the metal door.
I listen to Izuku apologize, not for damaging himself permanently, but for not winning the tournament, and I listen to All Might comfort him with some nonsense about how he helped Todoroki and how his meddling was the essence of a hero, and it's about that point that my soul slams back into my body like a yoyo and I'm moving before I have time to think.
The door isn't locked, luckily, so when I throw myself against it, it swings open instead of knocking me back on my ass. All three occupants of the room look like they've just narrowly missed going into cardiac arrest from my sudden entrance, but I don't stop to greet Recovery Girl or Small Might, too intent on strangling my idiotic best friend.
"I-zu-ku." I growl, stomping over to him as he cowers back into the pillow. All Might steps forward as if to put himself between us, but the look on my face must be a sight to behold because he backs down with a single look. Recovery Girl doesn't even try. "What the fuck do you think that was?"
"Kacchan." He says, and then seems to freeze up, glancing frantically between me and All Might like he's not sure what to do.
"Midoriya-shounen needs to rest and prepare for surgery, Baku- I mean, young man." All Might regains his bravery and intercedes. I level him a supremely unimpressed look. "You'll have time to catch up with your friend after he's released, I'm sure." Here, he looks at Recovery Girl for support.
Unfortunately for him, Recovery Girl and I are tight. We've bonded over our shared despair for Izuku's (and Aizawa-sensei's) lack of self-preservation. I just raise an eyebrow at the skeletal blond and, sure enough, Recovery Girl huffs in exasperation from behind me and All Might looks blindsided.
"Don't look at me. I told you not to praise the boy for this, Toshinori. Maybe you'll listen next time." Then, in a much less frustrated tone: "I'll need to take him away to get him prepped, but you have about five minutes while I get the rest of my materials together, dear." I shoot her a polite nod in gratitude before turning back to All Might, who has wilted like a particularly alarming-looking sunflower at this unexpected betrayal by his colleague. I take a deep breath.
"Izuku." I say, finally, deciding to ignore All Might, who should know better, for the sake of his pupil. "I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and presume that you would not have used your quirk to the extent of causing permanent damage to yourself for the sake of a school tournament, although I have reason to doubt that as well." I shoot a glare at All Might, and am rewarded with a flinch, before returning my attention to Izuku. "From what I've managed to gather, you seem to have gone this far for the sake of helping Todoroki overcome some sort of unresolved trauma. Is that correct?"
Izuku looks like he isn't sure whether to trust my calm tone. Smart kid. "… Yes."
"I see." I nod, crossing my arms and humming understandingly. "Just one thing." I drop the calm act, scowling at the unmitigated dumbass in front of me with all the rage burning in my veins. "That is a whole entire child with a whole lot of trauma, you idiot. He needs THERAPY not a new and exciting flavor of trauma to distract him from the other ones. How do you think he's going to feel when he finds out the damage is permanent? He's going to feel like he's the reason your arms are fucked up now!"
Izuku flinches at this, but the stubborn set of his jaw tells me he isn't really getting my point. I gesture angrily for him to spit out whatever argument he has, and he hesitates briefly before speaking up. "I don't want Todoroki-kun to feel like he's responsible for this, but… if it meant helping him, I'd do it again." And he raises his chin, resolve shining in his eyes. "And if he feels guilty, I'll tell him exactly that, because it wasn't his choice, it was mine."
The worst part is, that would probably be enough to absolve Todoroki's sense of guilt. What a fucking society. I pinch the bridge of my nose in a desperate bid for patience.
"Okay, forget Todoroki's feelings. I should have known better than to play the pathos card." I meet Izuku's eyes and try to set aside my anger for the sake of showing him how serious I am about this. The slight widening of his eyes is promising, at least. "Let's start with the main problem with what you just said: you'd do it again. Are you insane?" I cut off his protests, leaning forward, reaching down past the anger to the little core of me that cares about this idiot like my own brother. "No, seriously, Izuku. Look me in the eyes. Are you actually using a desire to be a hero as a way to cover up your desire to self-harm?"
"What?! No, Kacchan-" Izuku splutters, but I cut him off ruthlessly.
"Well what else am I supposed to think, Zuku?" The childhood nickname shocks him out of his denials, as intended. "Look at me and tell me to my face that it's not true.
"I- I thought my actions through and made the best decision I could at the time." He says, mostly steadily. I close my eyes.
"How good to know your self-mutilation was carefully thought out." I drone. "But you're forgetting that I know you, idiot. I know better than to trust your words and your calculations. That's exactly why I don't trust you. So, try again. How long have you been thinking of heroism as hurting yourself for others?"
"I…" There's a beat of silence, and Izuku looks gobsmacked before his eyes slide very briefly over my shoulder to the silent presence of All Might. "I… don't know. I just… I've always wanted to be helpful. To feel useful. Like I'm essential to something or someone." He looks down. "If this is all I can do, then…"
"Pause." I interrupt. "First of all, yikes. Second of all, I'm going to tell you something and if you tell anybody we had this talk I'll deny it and bury you in a shallow grave. Understand?"
"Uh… yes?" Izuku looks mildly freaked out, but his shoulders have relaxed a little at the familiarity of my threatening tone. We'll table the implications of that for the next free therapy session. One issue at a time.
"Good. Now listen, Izuku. Heroism… it isn't meant to hurt. You don't need to lose something to give to others. Destroying yourself to help people is not being a hero, it's being a martyr, and it's not as romantic as it sounds. I know… I know you don't believe me, because of the examples you've been given." I can't help the instinctive glance I give All Might, but I return my attention to Izuku fast enough that I'm hoping neither of them caught it. "And I know that the people you admire most are the people willing to lay down their lives for the sake of helping others, but Zuku… A martyr is willing to die for a cause. A hero is willing to live for it. And you can only die once," I suppress the sardonic little supposedly that wants to slip out, powering through: "and then you're done helping. If you really want to save people, you need to take care of yourself first."
"Kacchan…" Izuku breathes, looking stunned. I feel a sudden wave of self-consciousness at the weight of his and All Might's attention.
"JUST. Think about it. Even the greatest heroes have their flaws. Especially the greatest heroes. The ones who seem the strongest often need help the most. So… if you need help, I'm here, or whatever." I'm pretty sure this is the most uncomfortable I've ever been in either life, and I stand up abruptly to escape the sappy look on Izuku's face. "Where the hell is Recovery Girl, anyway? She should have finished prepping her stuff for your surgery." I look around and spy her peeking through the window from the office next door, before she ducks out of the way, presumably to come in now that she's sure we're done. I scowl. "Whatever. I'm done here. And remember what I said, Deku – you tell anyone about this conversation and you're dead."
"Of course, Kacchan." He says, infuriatingly placating. But he does seem to be thinking about what I said, if the thoughtful look he's giving All Might is any indication. Speaking of which…
"Nice to meet Izuku's long-lost great uncle, by the way." I toss at All Might on my way out, and close the door on Izuku's choking and All Might's confused stuttering.
Chapter End Notes
I'd been planning on having Mei be the one to call Bakugou out on faking his fear of Uraraka's quirk, but then Izuku left them alone and Uraraka is a straightforward young lady, so here we are.
Can you spot the moment Katsuki starts to dissociate? Hint: he actually uses people's names, lol. Sucks to have to deal with your past-life's mental illnesses leaking through, huh, Baku-boy?
All Might continues to be the absolute worst-kept secret that nobody's figured out.
Izuku and All Might's conversation in the show made me mad, because he apologized for not winning, and All Might didn't say "bro I'm more worried about your BROKEN ARMS" and instead gave him some line about how he did the right thing and helped his classmate and that's what being a hero is all about (tm)??? Awful. All Might, you're a terrible role model.
Also peep Izuku interpreting Bakugou's forfeit as self-sacrifice rather than self- preservation. Oof. We see the world through the filter of our own experiences, amirite fellas?