"I understand that you want him dead, and honestly, I don't blame you. But you're angry right now, and I don't think you would be entirely happy with your decision in the future if you'd let Endeavour die now."
Todoroki opens his mouth, but Katsuki cuts him off before he can interject.
"And I know that it's not my place to make that decision for you," he says quickly. The other boy's mouth snaps shut again. "I know. But shit like that? It ruins your life, man. That blood on your hands—it doesn't go away."
Red on his ledger, his mind supplies randomly, making absolutely zero sense once again.
Shut up, he shoots back sharply. I don't have the time for your cryptic bullshit.
Out loud, he says, "I'm sorry for interfering."
It's tough to get the words out, mostly because he dislikes both apologising and Todoroki in equal measures.
It's worth it, though, because Todoroki no longer seems willing to cut in or argue with him.
Instead, he sighs quietly.
"I'm being selfish," he says. "I have no right to be angry at you for saving someone's life."
He sounds utterly defeated, and Katsuki bites his lip.
"I don't blame you," he says again, seriously. "The way you acted… I'm not gonna lie, it was fucked up. But after all that asshole did to you, I understand why you wanted him dead."
The corner of Todoroki's lip twitches upward slightly at the insulting title, and Katsuki smirks back at him for a moment before letting his expression harden again.
"There are other ways to win against him," he tells Todoroki meaningfully. "Ways that don't involve you condoning murder or suppressing half of your quirk and nearly giving yourself hypothermia."
"How?" the other asks, almost desperate.
"Live your life," Katsuki answers simply. "I won't tell you to go to an adult about what he's done or anything, because I can't lie to you and say that you'll win that fight right now. Our society is corrupt and Endeavour has a stupidly and undeservedly solid reputation. But just… enjoy high school. Be happy, make friends. If he wants you to be his stupid, perfect fucking pet project, then show him you're more than that. Show him that he doesn't have his claws in you anymore."
There's silence as the other processes the words, expression pensive.
"Friends…" he echoes softly. "I've never had one of those."
There's a beat of silence, before he lifts his gaze to meet Katsuki's.
"Are we friends?" Todoroki's expression is softer than usual, eyes wide and searching.
"Nope," Katsuki says flatly. "Good luck with that, though."
He may have had a moment with the asshole or whatever, but his civility only goes so far.
Without another word, he pushes off his bed and sidles off in search of food.
Katsuki doesn't find food. Instead, in a disappointing turn of events, he finds Endeavour.
Or, to be more precise, he accidentally walks past the geezer's hospital room, makes eye contact with him through the open doorway, and keeps walking with full intentions to pretend it hadn't happened.
"Bakugou," Endeavour calls, promptly ruining that plan. "Come in."
Katsuki groans, turning on his heel and stomping inside the otherwise empty room with a petulant scowl. He may have saved Endeavour's life tonight, but he's still far from his biggest fan, and his conversation with the asshole's son just a minute ago has him feeling a little uneasy.
"Hello," he says flatly.
"What happened tonight?" the hero asks, a hint of frustration in his voice. "The hospital personnel refuse to tell me anything."
Katsuki rocks back on his heels, smacking his lips loudly.
"If they're refusing to tell you anything, I'm getting a feeling I shouldn't tell you anything either."
This earns a sharp glare.
"I'm the number two hero."
The entitlement in the tone is not lost on Katsuki, and it has something sharp and acrid curling in his gut.
You're a fucking child abuser who deserves to rot in hell, his brain supplies. He's always known that hero society is corrupt, has been constantly aware of the implications of such a system, but the prospect that someone like Endeavour is allowed to walk around playing the hero without repercussions is nauseating up close.
Katsuki bites back the sharp retorts that rise to his lips, holding his breath for a long moment. Then, he walks over to the empty bed opposite Endeavour's, and drops onto it heavily, lying with his back flat to the neatly-made sheets and his gaze fixed to the ceiling.
"Your kid turned up," he says instead. "After you were knocked out."
"I'm aware that my son was involved, although I do not know the specifics."
Endeavour's tone is clipped and stiff.
"I'll tell you the specifics," Katsuki mutters, suddenly feeling more than a little petty. Part of him is still feeling guilty for his misunderstanding with Todoroki, and he wants to hurt Endeavour on his classmate's behalf. It's an odd feeling, the protectiveness that surges up in his chest.
"The specifics are that your kid got to the scene, took one look at Stain standing over your body, and told him to go ahead and kill you."
He tilts his head back until it dangles off the foot of the bed and Endeavour's upside-down face
comes into view. The hero's expression has shuttered into something impenetrable, but the shock is clear in his eyes, in the sudden stiffness that lines his posture.
"You're lying." The flames surrounding the hero seem to flare up, burning bright with his anger.
"I'm not," Katsuki says quietly, lifting his head until all he can see is the ceiling again, bland and white.
"And I don't blame him one damn bit."
The room lapses into silence. Part of him is wondering if telling Endeavour was a wise decision, especially considering that he now knows what the man is capable of doing to Todoroki. It's a grim possibility that the asshole could take it out on his son, but Katsuki… he knows Endeavour won't. He doesn't know how he knows, especially considering the fact that he only met him a few days ago, but he just has a feeling. And if there's one thing he's learned over the past fifteen years, it's that he's better off following his intuitions; they're rarely wrong.
Katsuki lays there, staring at the white plaster for what feels like ages before it becomes clear that Endeavour isn't going to speak.
With a quiet sigh, the blonde pushes up from the bed and trudges towards the door. As he leaves, he turns back for the briefest of moments. Endeavour's flames have died down into embers, leaving him looking smaller, frailer in his pressed white bed, and the last thing Katsuki sees before the door slides shut behind him is the hollowed-out look in the man's eyes.
Eventually he finds a vending machine and buys a bottle of barley tea with the battered IC card he keeps in his belt pouch for emergencies. He's lucky he's still wearing his hero costume; Iida had been changed into a hospital gown, but because Katsuki and Todoroki weren't injured, they were left in their own clothes.
He ambles around for a while, sipping at his tea, but the hospital is quite busy with the victims of tonight's villain attack, so rather than hanging around the lobby any longer, he returns to his shared room. Todoroki and Iida are sitting with Manual and another man who, upon closer inspection, seems to be an oversized, anthropomorphic dog. The former two are standing next to each other, which is a far cry from the awkward, tense distance they'd been maintaining with one another earlier. It seems they've sorted things out.
The three stand in stiff silence as the beagle-headed stranger introduces himself as the Chief of Police. They give their statements together, opting for a half-truthful version of the story.
"You didn't fight him?" the Chief, Tsuragamae, asks skeptically.
"He escaped," Katsuki emphasises.
"It was very traumatic," Todoroki adds flatly, tilting his head. The boy lies with concerning ease when faced with a figure of such authority, but Katsuki decides not to question it for his own sanity. "We're just first-year hero students. We thought it would be best to simply follow protocol and not engage in combat."
Iida, on the other hand, has reluctantly conceded and gone along with their plot but still lacks the nerve to outright lie. Instead, he simply nods vigorously with their words, steadily reddening as
they pile on each evasive statement.
In the end, Tsuragamae lets them go. He looks somewhat suspicious, but obviously lacks the evidence or grounds to press any further.
Native, they're informed, does not remember enough about the events of the night to provide much helpful information. He's quite disoriented—too disoriented to remember how Katsuki had struck him in the head and knocked him out—this is a fact that makes Katsuki exhale in relief, before he immediately feels overwhelmingly guilty for doing so.
Eventually, the three students are released to go home with one last medical check, Iida covered in bandages and the other two awkwardly ambling along in their hero costumes.
The issues of the night are resolved, just like that. The events aren't mentioned on the news, drowned out by the media coverage of the Noumu attacks. Katsuki, along with the others involved, is under strict instructions not to mention what happened in the alley, lest public confidence in the hero community be diminished. Apparently, Tsuragamae says, it would be creating more unnecessary panic amongst civilians where they're already upset about the Noumus. So as far as the public is concerned, Stain was never even sighted.
It's… underwhelming, in an odd way.
To have been through something like that only to come out of it a few hours later and have to act like it never happened.
Nonetheless, the internships continue with a relatively unsettling lack of activity following that night.
Endeavour delegates Katsuki to desk work with his sidekicks, which the blonde is somewhat grateful for. The flame hero has been oddly subdued following their conversation in the hospital, noticeably avoiding any interaction with Katsuki and generally looking very angsty and brooding.
It's fine, though, because Katsuki is happy to sit behind a desk for the remainder of the week— Hosu was more than enough field experience for him.
Before he knows it, he's on his way back to school again.
It's a little jarring, having to return to class and hear all his classmates gush about their internship experiences and how much they learned, when all he can remember about his own experience is the fact that it has left him a probable accomplice to serial murder.
Fun.
He's slumped at his desk during homegroup, contemplating this particularly depressing realisation when there's a tap to his shoulder.
"Hey, man."
It's Kaminari.
Katsuki has half a mind to just ignore him, still somewhat pissed over the sports festival, but there's a look in the other's eyes that makes him decide to hear him out.
"What," he says instead, exercising what little self-restraint he has.
"Well," Kaminari says, chewing at the inside of his lip.
"I, uh. I'm not sure if you know about what happened at Hosu last week…?"
Katsuki tilts his head in affirmation, gifting his fidgeting classmate a flat stare.
"Okay," Kaminari's voice wavers a little in nervousness, sensing Katsuki's impatience. "Well, I was, uh, I wasn't directly involved. Because the heroes said it was too dangerous for me and all. But I watched most of it, and I—"
Kaminari raises a hand to scratch his head awkwardly, looking everywhere but at Katsuki.
"There were a lot of female heroes there," he says finally. "And I realised while watching them that they—they work really hard. And they're strong as hell. And I knew that already, but I—it made me realise how uncool I've been lately. Especially with the sports festival."
Katsuki actually blinks at this, tilting back in his chair to appraise the other. He'd been pissed about the sports festival, having shoved it to the back of his mind as a reason to dislike Kaminari. But he'd never considered that the idiot would get his shit together this quickly. It's a start, he guesses.
"Okay," he says slowly. There's an unspoken question hanging in the air of 'and what?'
The other grimaces at his glare, but, to Katsuki's begrudging respect, doesn't flinch away.
"I'm gonna go apologise to the girls," he says quickly. "I just came to let you know. And—well, apologise to you, too, I guess. You shouldn't have had to keep me in line but you did anyway. And I appreciate that. I'm gonna work on it so you won't have to do it again."
Katsuki bites his lip to fight back a smirk.
Okay, he thinks to himself privately. Maybe the dumbass isn't half bad.
"Whatever," he says in lieu of a proper response, mostly because he'd rather die than verbally affirm his approval.
Kaminari gives him one last sheepish smile before turning and heading straight to Yaoyorozu's desk.
Huh.
Classes pass by quickly, with the announcement of the impending term exams weighing over them. In preparation for these, most of their teachers begin to focus on outlining revision schedules, and explaining what the exams will involve.
By the time lunch arrives, the entire class is buzzing with nervousness. Somehow, Kirishima manages to wrangle Katsuki into joining his stupid clique at the cafeteria, although not without much difficulty.
He slumps down at the table, scowling into his tray as Ashido and Kirishima chatter over his head.
"Oi, where's Kami?" Sero asks curiously, craning his head to survey the packed cafeteria.
His gaze catches on the yellow-haired boy in question, who's collecting food at Lunch Rush's window.
Kirishima blinks, before turning wide eyes to Katsuki, remembering the conversation from the sports festival. It's clear Kaminari has been sitting with the losers up until now, but now that Katsuki's here the red-head is torn.
"Uh, he's. Uhhh."
Katsuki's too busy glaring holes into the back of Kaminari's head to help him.
After a few moments of this, Kaminari turns around, as if sensing the eyes on him. He looks around like a deer caught in headlights before he catches Katsuki's glare and startles.
Katsuki holds the eye contact for a long moment, before huffing and jerking his head towards the table where they're seated.
Kaminari's eyes widen, a hopeful look coming into his eyes.
He raises a hand to point at his own chest as if to say 'me?'
Katsuki shrugs in response, before pointedly turning his gaze to the empty table at Sero's side.
The dumbass seems to light up visibly, before practically skipping over to their table with his food.
"Hey guys!" he says happily. The others chirp their greetings in response, equally cheery like a bunch of obnoxiously preppy golden retrievers.
Katsuki's phone vibrates with a message in his pocket, and he fishes it out to see that Hatsume has decided to start texting him again.
walmart entrapta
hey bestie wya
1:21pm
walmart entrapta
i'm all by my lonesome up here :(
1:21pm
walmart entrapta
no hunky hero boy 2 keep me company :((
1:22pm
walmart entrapta
when will my bestie return from war :((((
1:22pm
Katsuki grimaces, remembering that Hatsume usually joins him on the roof for lunch. He squints at the text for a long moment, before turning his attention to a chattering Kirishima.
"Oi," he says, nudging the red-head. "Oi, Shitty-hair. You good with me calling Hatsume down here?"
Kirishima blinks, before his expression lights up with recognition.
"Oh! Of course she can!" he beams, before turning back to his conversation.
"Who's this Hatsume you speak of?" Sero says, eyes suddenly sharp and interested.
"You'll see," Katsuki responds evasively, knowing the pink-haired girl is probably going to scare the living shit out of them within five minutes of meeting them.
Me
cafeteria with the losers
1:24pm
Me
come down if you want
1:24pm
walmart entrapta
UR CHEATING ON ME???
1:25pm
walmart entrapta
WITH HERO STUDENTS????
1:25pm
Me
yes
1:25pm
walmart entrapta
WHAT DO THEY HAVE THAT I DONT
1:26pm
Me
guess you'll have to come down and find out
1:26pm
She doesn't reply, but not even a minute later the cafeteria door slams open unnecessarily loudly, and a head of familiar pink hair storms in.
"Hello homewreckers!" she announces, dramatic as always, as she flops down beside Katsuki.
"Homewreckers?" Ashido echoes quietly, eyes wide.
"Hello cheater," the pink-haired girl sniffs in Katsuki's direction, pulling out another one of her many contraptions and beginning to tinker with it.
"Mistress," he replies carelessly, scrolling through the news on his phone.
Hatsume chokes, along with most of the table (although the others are more shocked than indignant).
"Mistr—are you saying I'm the side chick ? So I'm not even the main woman in your life—"
"Did Bakugou just call her a mistress?" Sero says slowly.
"You're thinking of the wrong definition, dumbass." Katsuki mutters, offering Hatsume an egg roll in an attempt at reconciliation. "Don't make it weird."
"I don't think any of the definitions could make this any less weird, man," the brunette responds carefully.
Hatsume sniffs but accepts the egg roll, seemingly mollified, and lifts her head briefly to flash a peace sign at them.
"Hatsume Mei, at your service!" she chirps, before returning her attention to her work.
"You're the support girl from the sports festival!" Kaminari cries suddenly, and the others' eyes brighten with recognition.
"Sure am," she murmurs, before sticking a hand out, palm upturned expectantly. "Knife. Needle- point."
Katsuki drops the requested knife in her palm, not looking away from his phone.
From the edge of his vision, the others at the table recoil.
"Dude!" Sero hisses. "Where were you even hiding that?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," Katsuki muses. Hatsume offers the knife back when she's done and he slips it back into the pocket of his blazer.
"Man, that's freaky as hell," Kirishima mutters, staring at where the blade had disappeared, and earning a few grumbles of agreement. Hatsume steals another one of Katsuki's egg rolls, and he smacks the back of her hand but lets her take it anyway.
It's an odd dynamic, but he guesses the idiots could be worse company.
As the exams draw nearer, tension rises amongst the students. Katsuki doubts the exams will really be that bad, considering he's studied for them, but the unfamiliarity makes them seem infinitely more daunting than they otherwise would be.
He takes up jogging with Iida in the mornings again. It's awkward at first, following Hosu, but they settle into a dynamic soon enough. Their route circles the park near the school, and it's surprisingly not too annoying. Iida can shut up when it's called for, so most of their jogs pass in light silence. He's actually... oddly quiet. Katsuki's not sure if it's because they're not in class, or because it's so early in the morning. Maybe it's Katsuki himself. It doesn't matter—he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
One particular highlight of their revision weeks is the day that Shinsou approaches him. The troll doll-haired asshole looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, stalking up to him after school and mumbling something so low that Katsuki almost misses it.
Almost being the key word there. He does end up catching it, but asks for Shinsou to repeat himself, mostly out of spite.
It earns him a venomous glare.
"I said," the boy mutters, "that Aizawa showed me your entrance exam footage."
"Wow!" Katsuki says, beaming. "How'd that go for you? I hope it was a good show."
Shinsou looks like he wants to gut him alive. It makes Katsuki's heart sing with vindictive joy.
"It wasn't terrible," he mutters, jaw clenched so tight a vein in his temple makes an appearance.
"He told me to—train with you."
Katsuki tilts his head, widening his eyes guilelessly.
"That's a funny way of asking for help," he says cheerfully. "But sure! I'll be sure to teach you a lot about, ah, what did you call it that day? Getting everything handed to you, wasn't it?"
Shinsou sucks in a deep breath, and for the briefest of moments Katsuki thinks the guy's actually gonna punch him. Instead, he exhales shakily and gifts Katsuki one last cold glare before storming off.
Katsuki lets him go, mostly because he's aware of the fact that Shinsou hadn't actually gotten his number or arranged a date with him. This means, he notes joyfully, that Shinsou's either gonna have to approach him again, or ask Aizawa for his number.
This thought has him grinning so widely that the students around him recoil, giving him a wide berth.
Another thing that seems to change in the leadup to his exams is the nightmares. This is particularly frustrating, mostly because they rarely make any damn sense. In the past, he's had the occasional cryptic dream, of things that he would call memories if not for the fact that they've never actually happened before. Now, though, it seems that the stress of the impending exams combined with everything else has them increasing in frequency, and he finds himself waking in a cold sweat multiple times a week.
One night he dreams of fighting. Darting around in a grey-toned room, where grime clings to the walls and the mat is hard beneath him. He feels an arm around his neck, big and thick and suffocating as his opponent looms over him mercilessly until he taps out. He tastes the salty sweat on his upper lip, can smell it mingling with the stale dust and defeat that lingers in the air following the fight.
Another night, he's being wheeled down a corridor, with shiny grey bricked walls and yellowing lights. He's straining against the gurney he's restrained to, cuffs tight and stinging against his wrists and ankles. Then there's a sharp pain in his lower abdomen, so excruciating that he wakes himself up and finds his arms wrapped tight around his midsection, chest heaving like he's just run a marathon. His hair is plastered to his forehead and nape, mouth painfully dry and scratchy when he swallows.
He leans back, gazing at the space between the headboard of his bed and the wall, and runs his fingers over the word he'd carved into the plaster a decade ago.
Other nights, though, he dreams of Stain. Dreams of the man standing over Iida's bloodied, limp body. He feels the villain's crimson gaze on him as he whispers again, "There's something about you, Bakugou Katsuki." He says it earnestly, warmly, and his eyes are heavy with intent.
Iida, even in his death, watches Katsuki. Eyes glazed over and unseeing, limbs motionless where they lay splayed and soaking in puddles of blood.
"You let me go," Stain rasps proudly. Unspoken in the air is the implication; 'You did this.'
Katsuki will look down, then, to his own hands, and see the red that stains them, dripping between his fingers and onto the rough gravel floor. It soaks into the rubble, mingling with the crimson that pools around his classmate's unmoving corpse.
He comes to hate the colour, over these weeks.
The nightmares about Stain are somehow both the best and the worst of these nights simultaneously. The best because they actually make some sense—Katsuki understands these ones —and the worst because the reality of them makes him feel that much more guilty over them.
It's the mornings following such nightmares that Katsuki feels the worst when he goes to meet Iida at the park.
For all that Stain features in Katsuki's nightmares, he's surprisingly absent in the real world. Following Hosu, the villain has completely disappeared, leaving the media reeling. The forums online create elaborate theories, about how he's gone into hiding, or been captured or killed by the heroes. But no one can offer a definitive answer—not even Katsuki. He's left wondering, too, with no one to turn to about it. He daren't ask Iida or Todoroki, lest he disrupt the tentative peace they just managed to create following the events of Hosu.
Katsuki ponders, briefly, if he could find the villain if he went searching near the conbini where they had first met. He shoves the thought away almost instantly, reminding himself sternly that he shouldn't be seeking out a known murderer in the first place.
Three weeks from the exams, he finds himself ambling around the local market areas. His classmates are all busy with studying, spending most of their time revising or relearning the content and training away. Katsuki does, too, but he's always been on top of his school work so he doesn't feel the need to cram the way some of the idiots he hangs out with do.
Thus, he's left alone and wandering around, attempting to take a break to prevent himself from burning out.
He buys some freshly-pressed pineapple juice from a street vendor, for the sake of having something to do with his hands and a purpose for the trip.
It's when he's pushing his straw around the half-empty cup, eyeing the market stalls at the side of the road, that he feels it again.
A prickling itch at his nape, making him fight the sudden urge to hike his shoulders up to his neck. He turns around, slowly this time, aware of the busy marketplace.
It takes Katsuki remarkably little time to find his admirer, mostly because just like the previous two times, the man is standing unmoving amid his bustling surroundings. He's still staring straight at Katsuki, still wearing that neatly ironed suit. But this time when their eyes meet, gold against crimson, the other doesn't flinch back. Instead, he holds Katsuki's gaze steadily, and after a long moment, he tilts his head ever-so-slightly.
Katsuki swallows thickly, before taking a step towards the stranger. The latter doesn't move backward this time, simply watching as Katsuki takes another, and then one more. When he finally stands before him, they watch each other for a moment. This close, he can see the details of the man's face. The red hair, a deep sort of burgundy that's tied back in a smooth ponytail. The puckered scar that intersects the left corner of his pursed lips, so small that it would be invisible from any further a distance. The stranger has an austere air about him, terse and somewhat intimidating.
"Bakugou Katsuki," he says. He lifts a hand from his side to display a badge wallet that holds an ID card with his own face printed on it, along with bold lettering at the top that says 'HPSC'.
"My name is Nakashima Mamoru. It's good to finally meet you."
Chapter End Notes
Chapter End Notes
hi hi hi!! sorry to all of you that commented on the last chapter and haven't received a reply, i'm trying to get to as many as i can!! i typically try to reply to most of the comments i receive, but i've been kind of having a shit time mentally lately and the comments have just been piling up. i had about 500-ish to reply to across all my fics last i checked, but i've been getting through them slowly :') if i /do/ end up missing your comment, i'm really sorry, it's fully unintentional! it's getting pretty hard to keep track of which ones i've replied to, so please forgive me, i've been able to reply to less and less comments with each chapter, but this under no circumstances means that i am not seeing all your lovely comments!! sorry again, and please do not feel discouraged from leaving your feedback 3
thank you to the lovely jess, shou and bern for beta-ing!!! (three betas?? yeah i know this chapter was a mess i'm sorry for putting you three through it) also since i actually received a lot of super cool responses to my question on the last chapter, i'm gonna leave a new one here :0 what's your favourite bnha headcanon that /feels/ like canon but isn't?
ten
Chapter Notes
we are finally in the double digit chapters baby!! i'm sorry to all of u for the wait, i have been ridiculously busy lately / on the bright side i also got the next few chapters planned out in the process of writing this one, so hopefully there will be less delays with my updates (although i make no promises)!
thank you to my love bern for beta-ing this chapter!!!
cw for a very, very brief (as in, blink and you'll miss it) mention of suicide, kind of. it's literally mentioned once, but i thought i'd add it in case!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It takes Nakashima thirteen minutes to convince Katsuki to accompany him to the HPSC headquarters.
"You're very thorough," the man says flatly, as Katsuki holds the ID card up to the sky and squints at it.
Huh. Looks legit.
He turns narrowed eyes to the other.
"When did you say your birthday was?"
Nakashima sighs quietly.
"The third of July."
Katsuki examines the card for a moment longer, nodding once.
The last time he'd decided to cozy up with a stranger, he ended up winning the favour of a serial killer, and… it's not like it could get much worse than that, right?
"Fine," he mutters, handing it back to the adult. "Let's go."
Katsuki's familiar with the HPSC headquarters—his train passes it on the way to school every day. It's not like the whereabouts are a secret or anything, what with the giant sign at the entrance and the building's expensive-looking architecture. It's just that he's never really had to think about it before. The inside of the lobby is even fancier than the outside, all polished marble and glass. They have to go through a metal detector, and he's forced to put his pineapple juice cup on a tray to pass through an X-ray baggage scanner, along with his phone and wallet.
"This seems a little excessive," he observes as a stern-looking security guard passes a portable metal detector over his body.
At his side, getting inspected by another guard, Nakashima clicks his tongue.
"The Hero Public Safety Commission prides itself on its safety measures," he says with the air of someone who's rehearsed the line in the mirror a dozen times.
"Spare me the formalities," Katsuki mutters. "I can assure you I'm not hiding weapons in my 300- yen pineapple juice."
At this, Nakashima's lips tilt upward at the corners, and he exhales softly in what could almost be mistaken for a chuckle.
The metal detector that's currently passing over Katsuki's abdomen suddenly beeps loudly.
The security guard pauses, before leaning back to scrutinise the blonde.
"Did you remove your belt?" he asks blandly.
"I'm not wearing a belt," Katsuki replies.
The man raises an eyebrow, and he passes the detector over Katsuki's middle once more, slower this time.
Beep.
They stare at each other for a long moment. And then—
"Oh," Katsuki says, eyes widening. "Yeah, my bad."
He reaches into the panel pocket of his jeans and pulls out the drop point knife that he'd forgotten about.
The guard recoils, and Nakashima stiffens at his side.
"That's—" the security guard flounders.
"It's for self-defence," Katsuki informs him cheerfully. "You won't mind if I keep it on me, right?"
It's a statement, rather than a question. As such, the guard merely blinks, exchanging a nervous look with Nakashima before turning to nod at Katsuki unsurely.
"Great," he declares, shifting his attention to Nakashima as he collects his phone and juice from the end of the conveyor belt, tucking the knife back in its pocket. "Lead the way."
Nakashima nods once, but he studies Katsuki with an unreadable gaze as the two head through the lobby.
The building is full of people in suits, some with briefcases and others carrying folders. Nakashima takes him up a couple of leves in the elevator, and then leads him to the end of a corridor, where he swipes his ID card to push open the door.
"Come in," he says, holding the door open for Katsuki. The guy kind of reminds him of Aizawa- sensei, with his long, dark ponytail and the solemn set of his jaw. It's almost as if his homegroup teacher dyed his hair red, took a shower, and decided to catch up on his sleep debt.
The room they enter looks to be a meeting room, spacious and with one glass wall outlooking the city. There's a large table in the centre with a stack of papers on it and a pen, but the room is otherwise bare.
Fancy.
Nakashima sits down at one end of the table, and gestures for Katsuki to sit down at the other. When they're both settled, the man leans forward to interlace his fingers atop the desk, gaze boring into Katsuki's.
"Do you have any idea why you're here today, Bakugou?" he asks after a moment's silence.
Katsuki shrugs.
"Not really," he admits truthfully. He doesn't know much about the Hero Commission at all, and what little knowledge he does possess is filtered from the occasional news report.
"We've been watching you," Nakashima says carefully. "Since the sports festival. We think you have a great deal of potential."
Oh dear.
"Am I in trouble?" Katsuki asks warily.
"Nothing of the sort," Nakashima says firmly. "Quite the opposite, actually. We're interested in your skillset and aptitude. I've brought you here to extend… well. An offer, if you will."
"An… offer?"
"Yes."
Nakashima unlaces his fingers and lifts a hand to slide the stack of papers across the table towards the blonde.
"We think you would make a very good addition to our unit," the man says, watching Katsuki intently as the teenager studies the papers.
"You want me to work for you," Katsuki realises slowly, gaze lifting from the papers to Nakashima.
"In essence," the other confirms simply. "We believe it would be a mutually benefical arrangement."
Katsuki swallows, eyes lowering to the papers again.
Despite Nakashima's clear assurances, he can't help but feel that he's gotten himself in trouble, whether or not the Hero Commission sees it that way.
"Thanks," he says slowly, "but I'm not really interested. I'm focusing on high school for now."
Nakashima looks entirely unruffled, almost like he'd been expecting it.
"That's very admirable," he says, words kind but expression austere as ever.
"We anticipated such conviction, which is why we are not asking you to compromise your education. Should you choose to work alongside us, it would be on a somewhat casual basis. We would only call on you if your skillset was required for a specific case, and rarely at that. You would be fully in your rights to reject any case should you feel unprepared for it."
Katsuki chews his lip, scanning the paper at the top of the file again as he wrings his fingers under the desk.
"Consider it an internship of sorts," Nakashima tacks on, as if sensing his uncertainty. "You will gain valuable experience and training which you would be hard-pressed to find elsewhere this early in your career."
Katsuki nods.
"And what do you get, again?"
Nakashima lets a small smile tug at his thin lips at this.
"We get you."
The man leans back in his seat, head tilting sideways slightly. He's lean, but even through the suit, Katsuki can see that he's well-built. He moves with a grace that suggests he's been professionally trained.
"It's very rare to find someone as skilled as you are at your age," Nakashima explains, seriously enough that Katsuki can tell he means it and isn't just saying it to butter him up. "The Hero Commission believes that you would be of great value to us in missions which require more discreet methods, or younger agents."
Katsuki nods again, feeling somewhat overwhelmed but not letting it show through in his expression.
"I'm guessing you're not going to let me take a rain check on this decision," he says, only half- joking.
Nakashima inclines his head.
"I'm sure you can understand that this is a confidential meeting, Bakugou. You're in your right to reject the offer, but even if you do, you cannot tell anyone about it, and we can't risk having this information circulating in the public. It's a matter of public confidence."
There's a threat somewhere in there, wedged between the words neatly, and Katsuki doesn't doubt for a moment that the man has the means to make good on it if required.
He simply nods once, and Nakashima's gold eyes glint in the light.
"Taking this role," the man says, quieter now, as if almost sensing his weakness, "it would help a lot of people, Bakugou. The Hero Commission deals with a number of sensitive cases which could really use someone like you."
A guilt trip, Katsuki registers distantly. He's trying to guilt trip him.
With not-so-distant irritation, he realises that the guilt-trip is actually fucking working.
"Okay," he says, shaking his head once to clear it. "Okay, so if I do this…"
"You'll receive professional training," Nakashima says, sitting up straighter as he notices the change in Katsuki's demeanour. "And a provisional license in order to carry out your work."
"I already have professional training," Katsuki points out. "And I'm gonna get a provisional license at school anyway."
Nakashima dips his head in acknowledgement.
"We can offer you the best training the country has to offer. State-of-the-art facilities, with unlimited access. And per the already-accelerated training regime of UA, you are not scheduled to complete your provisional licensing exam for another three months. Working alongside us, we can have you licensed in a fortnight at the most."
It's tempting. It must show on Katsuki's face, because Nakashima looks pleased.
"No strings attached?" the blonde pushes.
"No strings attached," Nakashima affirms, smoothly pushing the pen across the desk. "You can take as much time as you need to read the contract we've provided."
Katsuki does exactly that, while Nakashima simply leans back in his seat and doesn't move.
It's a little uncomfortable, trying to focus on the contract with the other watching him like that, but Katsuki doesn't doubt that it's an intentional move. He's trying to subtly fluster Katsuki into signing it faster.
Tough luck, because he's not touching that pen until he's read the contract three times over.
Finally, he nods once, straightening in his seat. The contract is, while filled with unnecessarily complex legal jargon that is intended (but fails miserably) to confuse him, actually quite reasonable.
There's really nothing holding him from quitting at any point that he feels like it—not even a notice period. There are only two vaguely concerning things. One is the page-long section regarding the HPSC's lack of liability for anything that happens to him as a result of his working with them. In essence, they'll patch him up if he gets hurt, but he's not going to be able to hold them liable for the injuries. Concerning, but pretty standard in hero work, he acquiesces. The second is the additional, smaller contract at the bottom of the stack—an NDA. Katsuki wouldn't be allowed to tell anyone about the work he does here, or even the fact that he'd be working here at all. Somewhat less standard, but he supposes it's reasonable under the circumstances. All in all, an oddly generous contract. He's a little curious as to exactly what they're going to be making him do that warrants all this leniency, considering how little the contract says about what the missions will actually entail.
"Okay," Katsuki says finally, cutting through the silence of the room.
"So, like, one question before I decide whether to sign or not. When you say I'm not allowed to tell anyone about this, are my parents—?"
"Your parents are included."
Katsuki winces.
"Okay, and what about my teachers?"
"They are included too."
"Damn. So what am I meant to tell them about where I'm going, or how I got my license?"
"I doubt you would be called on enough missions that your parents or teachers would have reason for concern. If you are coming to train, you can simply let them know that. As our office and attached training facilities are located in the centre of the city, there are many public gym locations nearby which you could tell your family and friends that you are using. If need be, the Commission is willing to fund a public gym membership for you in order for you to sustain that cover. As for the license, I don't see any reason anyone would find out about your license until the time at which your class will sit their own exams in September. At that point, you can simply inform them that you have a Commission-issued license. Legally, you are under no obligation to disclose further information than this to anyone, even parents or teachers. If such a situation arises in which your cover is at risk of being blown and it is out of your control, we can deal with that together."
Katsuki blinks, huffing a long sigh.
"You guys have really got this figured out, huh," he murmurs, rubbing at his temple. He's admittedly ridiculously out of his depth here. It's not like he's the type of person to rely on his parents for help in the first place, but this seems like a huge decision to be making by himself. Regardless, he's got no choice.
"Fine. I'll do it."
He scrawls his signature at the bottom of the sheet, and then the NDA, before handing the papers back to Nakashima.
"What now?"
Nakashima stands from the desk to shuffle the papers into a neat stack, eyes glinting.
"That'll be it for today, Bakugou," he says, reaching into his blazer pocket and retrieving what looks like a card holder with—
"You bastard, you knew I was gonna sign," Katsuki breathes, staring down at his own pre-printed ID card incredulously.
Nakashima smiles for the first time of the day, golden eyes gleaming.
"You're free to have your photo taken for it whenever it suits you."
The next day, Katsuki is approached at the school gym by Shinsou. It's been two weeks since the last time he'd seen the guy, and Katsuki would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't wondered where he'd been.
He feels a grin crawl onto his face at the disgruntled, almost sulky expression on the other's face.
"It's come to my attention," Shinsou grits out, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, "that I
forgot to get your—"
"My phone number?" Katsuki cuts in smugly.
Shinsou looks like he wants to cry.
"...yes."
Katsuki claps him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.
"No worries!" he says brightly. "We're gonna have a lot of fun together."
He keys Shinsou's number into his phone, and sends him a text that simply reads, '5am at the oval tomorrow'.
The other boy fishes his own phone out of his pocket at the notification, eyes widening at the text.
"You're joking, right?" he asks in sheer disbelief. "You want me to wake up at five in the fucking —"
"Be there or don't," Katsuki says flippantly, already tucking his own phone away. "I'm not your babysitter."
He turns on his heel and strides off happily, ignoring the way Shinsou's glare burns into the back of his head.
Shinsou turns up the next morning at 5:16am. Katsuki's actually kind of impressed, considering he hadn't expected him to turn up at all. He's been running laps for the past fifteen minutes when he notices the other, standing at the edge of the oval awkwardly and watching Katsuki. The grounds are mostly empty, as they have been for the past few weeks. Following the events of Hosu, the Leage of Villains have really blown up online. Taking up the spotlight that Stain had previously occupied, now the group are the talk of the entire country. With this, there seems to be a new wave of supporters for the League of Villains online, and the tension that this arouses has less people willing to roam the streets and city in the nights or mornings. It's grim, but if anything it frees up the oval for Katsuki's morning training. Silver linings, he guesses.
Katsuki doesn't stop running, wondering if Shinsou is going to make a move, or just stand at the outskirts of the oval for the rest of the morning.
As Katsuki approaches his side of the oval, Shinsou straightens.
"Hey," he says reluctantly, raising his head—only for Katsuki to jog straight past him. Katsuki doesn't turn back, but from his periphery he sees Shinsou freeze in confusion.
"Are you seriously going to ignore me?" the dark-haired boy calls after him. Katsuki doesn't respond, simply continuing his lap.
By the time he circles round again on his next lap, it's been a few minutes, and Shinsou is still in the same spot, glaring at him furiously.
"Hey," he begins as Katsuki nears him again, only for the blonde to speed straight past him once more.
The third time Katsuki comes around, Shinsou's glare has hardened into something downright
murderous.
"Are you fucking serious—" Shinsou spits as Katsuki makes no sign of faltering as he jogs past once more. This time, he stands and follows out of pure spite, sprinting after Katsuki furiously.
Katsuki speeds up, enough so that Shinsou is just barely tailing him but unable to catch up. They continue like this for four laps, Katsuki running ahead and Shinsou chasing him hotly, before the dark-haired boy finally stops, bending over to brace his hands on his knees and pant.
"You—fucker—" he gasps out, raising a hand to point accusingly at Katsuki. The blonde finally jerks to a stop, inspecting his watch briefly. 5:58am—yeah, they can wrap it up there.
Without a single word, he turns on his heel and walks off, leaving Shinsou hunched over on the grass.
That afternoon, he sends another text to Shinsou: '5am tomorrow'.
Not even a minute later, he receives a middle finger emoji in response.
Despite his anger, Shinsou turns up the next morning. Only three minutes late this time, but Katsuki's still already running. Shinsou gives chase immediately this time, fuelled by some ungodly level of anger.
He's hot on Katsuki's tail, and barely manages five laps this time before giving in, cursing colourfully between huffs. Katsuki wordlessly leaves him behind again, sending another text message for Shinsou to come back the next morning.
He receives another middle finger.
Shinsou still turns up the next morning, at five o'clock on the dot.
The cycle continues.
Katsuki returns to the HPSC headquarters four days later, new ID card in his pocket and gym bag slung over his shoulder.
Nakashima had told him to head down to floor G2, which is apparently an underground floor where the gym facilities are. The man had offered to have a trainer meet Katsuki, but he'd brushed that suggestion away quickly. He wants to scope out the facilities on his own time before seeing any of the trainers. Despite Nakashima's assurances that he could get Katsuki a provisional license in a fortnight, the blonde wasn't too fussed. He told him they could do all that after he was finished with school finals, and Nakashima had given him an odd look but acquiesced in the end. So here he is, taking the time to check out the gyms and get in some training for the exams while he's here.
The facilities are state-of-the-art, alright. The entire floor is modelled for working out, with wall- to-wall mirrors and expensive equipment. The room that Katsuki enters is relatively empty, save