for two people—one at the weights rack, and the other on the pull-up bar.
Katsuki ignores them both, heading straight to an unoccupied corner to start his warmups. This is effective for all of three minutes, until he notices the way the person from the pull-up bar is openly staring at him. They're skinny as hell, dressed in all black with dark under-eye bags to match. He ignores it at first, finishing with his stretches and stalking over to the free weight section. But five minutes later, they're still watching him and he caves, turning to send them a scathing glare.
The person startles, eyes widening before they quickly turn back to their pull-ups. Katsuki huffs, returning his attention to the weights.
He spends another hour at the gym, exploring all the equipment, before deciding to head home.
It's not bad, he admits. Definitely a step up from the training facilities at UA.
He goes back again two days later.
Two weeks before the exams, Todoroki approaches him after class.
"My father told me he knows what happened at Hosu," he says flatly.
Katsuki pauses, pressing his lips together.
"I'm not angry at you," the other amends moments later, making Katsuki flinch slightly.
"You should be," he points out.
"I know," Todoroki muses. "To be entirely honest, I'm not sure if I should be grateful or if I should hate you."
Katsuki blinks. The other boy is looking at him with an odd sort of frankness, but true to his word there's no anger in his expression.
"That's fair," he says slowly. "He didn't do anything to you, right?"
Todoroki shakes his head.
"He seemed oddly subdued," he says with an uncomfortable expression, as if the notion baffles him.
Katsuki relaxes imperceptibly. He'd already had a feeling, but it's good to have that confirmed.
"This is what I wanted," Todoroki tells him honestly. "So I'm not sure why I'm not more happy about it."
"You don't have to be happy about it," Katsuki says, feeling more than a little awkward with the conversation. "Just go with what feels right."
Todoroki accepts this advice very seriously, nodding.
"I'm sorry I told him," Katsuki adds on, when it's clear the other isn't going to speak. "I thought it would've helped."
"It did," Todoroki affirms. "At least, I got what I thought I wanted. But my feelings haven't changed."
"You should go, like," Katsuki gestures to the general area of the UA gyms, "punch some shit. It helps."
Todoroki nods again, like Katsuki's just imparted some great wisdom upon him, and heads off in the direction of the gym.
He doesn't come out for another two and half hours.
Less than a week before exams, Shinsou manages to keep up with Katsuki for seven laps. For the past two weeks, Katsuki hasn't said a word during their runs, simply letting Shinsou chase him desperately, before walking off when the dark-haired boy finally tires. This day, though, Katsuki is the one who slows to a halt at the conclusion of their seventh lap, and Shinsou is so caught off- guard by it that he runs straight into Katsuki's back.
"What the fuck—" he snaps, only to falter at the odd gleam in Katsuki's eye.
"Not bad," the blonde murmurs appraisingly. "That's seven laps, and in faster time. Two weeks ago, you could only make four."
Shinsou blinks, wide-eyed.
"Wait. Is that what you—holy shit. You asshole, you could've just told me instead of going all Mister Miyagi on me and not telling me—"
"You still turned up every morning," Katsuki points out easily.
"Yeah, 'cause I was pissed," Shinsou snaps.
Katsuki clicks his finger, pointing at the other.
"Bingo," he says simply. "You wouldn't have chased me half as long if you weren't as pissed as you were. Spite is one hell of a motivator, take it from me."
Shinsou stares at him for a long, long moment, before collapsing in the grass.
"I hate you," he mumbles.
Katsuki crouches down beside him.
"You're still coming back tomorrow," he says cheerfully, barely ducking away from the flailing punch that Shinsou aims at him.
The final exams finally arrive as the semester draws to a close. The written tests pass smoothly—at least, for Katsuki they do. Kaminari and Ashido didn't fare so well, if their pitiful sulking is anything to go by, but he's not too worried about them.
Then comes the morning of the practical exams.
Katsuki, to his utter frustration, is paired with Izuku against All Might of all people.
He turns to glare at the teachers, catching Aizawa-sensei's eye. The man simply shrugs, looking exhausted and irritable as always.
"Don't look at me," his homeroom teacher mutters, gesturing at a grinning All Might beside him. "I told the idiot it was a stupid idea."
All Might, noticing the attention, turns around with a beam, only to shrink back at the glare Katsuki's levelling at him.
"You see, Young Bakugou, we simply—"
"You," Aizawa-sensei corrects blandly.
"—I simply felt," All Might powers on, smile twitching, "that you and Young Midoriya may need a little push, what with all the animosity the two of you seem to have between—"
"Kacchan," Izuku cuts in, from where he's been anxiously fidgeting at the side since the pairings were announced. "Can we talk?"
All Might falls silent, watching the interaction carefully.
Katsuki sighs, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck wearily.
He and Izuku have been keeping to themselves for most of this term, sticking with their own groups. Izuku's managed to make friends with Uraraka and Iida, and somewhere along the way, Todoroki too. Katsuki, on the other hand, has had his hands full with his idiots.
They're gonna have to sort their shit out, though, if they're expected to work together today. He can accept that much.
"Fine," he mutters.
The two of them end up standing outside the back of one of the buildings.
"Kacchan, can you please just tell me what your issue is?" Izuku asks bluntly.
Katsuki blinks at him slowly.
"I don't have an issue."
If anything, Izuku is the one with the issue between them, considering how quickly he'd cast aside Katsuki's support, he thinks to himself pettily.
At the words, Izuku frowns.
"Kacchan," he says, frustrated.
Katsuki doesn't respond, simply choosing to glare at the wall.
Izuku sighs.
"I don't understand you."
"You never do," Katsuki mumbles under his breath bitterly, and Izuku gives him a tired look.
"It's not like you ever made any effort to understand me either, Kacchan," he says after a long pause.
At this, Katsuki falls silent, and the two of them simply stare at the ground.
They're not going to get anywhere like this, with the exam starting in less than an hour. But Katsuki just can't let go of it—he can't understand—
"Why wasn't it enough?"
Izuku startles at the sudden question, turning wide eyes to him.
"W—What?"
Katsuki swallows, not moving his gaze from the gravel-covered ground.
"Why wasn't I enough?" he asks quietly. "What changed?"
The shorter boy looks absolutely baffled.
"Kacchan, I never said you weren't—"
Katsuki holds up a hand to silence him.
"I was there with you. Every step of the way. There was never a moment where I didn't believe in you, even after you stopped believing in yourself."
He huffs, kicking at the ground half-heartedly. His stomach feels heavy.
"Despite it all, you gave up. And I'm not—I'm not blaming you for that. I know what your life was like, I watched how everyone treated you. But I just can't understand why—why did you give up without even trying?"
Izuku stares at him with wide eyes, full of emotion.
"I did try, Kacchan, how do you think I got in—"
"What changed?" Katsuki interrupts. He feels worn-thin, suddenly.
"What?" Izuku echoes weakly.
"I'm asking you what changed," Katsuki repeats. "What changed, from that day that you told me you were giving up, that made you believe you could do it again?"
Izuku doesn't answer for a long, heavy moment. And then, of course, just like Katsuki expected—
"All Might—"
He scoffs, and the pure bitterness of the sound has Izuku's mouth snapping shut instantly.
"All Might," he echoes quietly. A bone-deep weariness is settling into his bones. "Always All Might. Why couldn't you have just done it for yourself, huh?"
His words grow louder, fuelled by frustration and the clear confusion in the other's gaze, because how—how, after so long, does Izuku still not understand?
"Why did you need fucking All Might to come along and give you his damn blessing for you to believe you were worth something?"
He's still staring at the wall intently, but he can feel Izuku's eyes on the side of his head.
"... What's your issue with All Might, Kacchan?" he asks finally, words careful. "What happened?"
Of course.
Of course.
"Why can't you—" Katsuki whispers, voice hoarse. He's so—he's so fucking tired of being the only one to care about it.
"Why can't you see? Don't you realise how dangerous this is? It's clear he doesn't know what he's doing alone, but to drag you into his bullshit as if he isn't up to his neck in it himself—"
"He's trying his best, Kacchan," Izuku interrupts fiercely, a sharp defensiveness rising in his tone.
"He's stupid," Katsuki spits with a level of vitriol that he hadn't thought himself capable of harboring towards All Might. "You shouldn't be going along with his shit if he's just going to drag you into trouble."
Izuku's eyes are glassy already. So, so fragile.
"I need him, Kacchan."
Katsuki curses under his breath, staring upward at the sky.
"Why?" he demands sharply.
And it's not jealousy that wells acrid in Katsuki's chest right now, it's frustration. It's raw, unadulterated fear at the danger that All Might carries with him—at the way the man lets Izuku into his orbit carelessly despite it. Because after all this mess, after Katsuki has fought tooth and nail to keep these stupid fucking feelings away, he can't bear the thought of losing Izuku.
"You know about One for All," Izuku says. "You know why I need him."
"That's not what I'm asking."
"Then what are you asking?"
Katsuki sighs again, deeply, trying futilely to push down his rising temper.
"Why do you need him?" he asks. "This—this One for All bullshit, the whole quirk exchange— why? Was it really fucking worth it?"
There's a sniffle. Izuku has started to cry, predictably. For some reason, it doesn't piss Katsuki off right now—it only serves to spur on the whirlpool of emotions in his chest.
"Kacchan, All Might needed me—"
"He's a grown man, Deku!" Katsuki spits, finally raising his gaze to meet the other's. The nickname only makes Izuku cry harder. "Let him handle himself, or ask someone else! Of all people, he shouldn't be placing the burden on a goddamn kid!"
The moment the words leave his lips, he freezes.
Because that's what it is, isn't it? Izuku is a child. Izuku, who grew alongside him, who was there every step of the way—he's frail, and soft, and so, so breakable. These feelings inside him, this sharp, furious anger at All Might—he doesn't understand any of it. He doesn't know why he needs so deeply, on such a fundamental level, to protect Izuku like this. But in this moment, with the younger boy's tears dripping rhythmically onto dry gravel, fists clenched at his sides and cheeks rosy with emotion—it hits him harder than ever.
"I was quirkless." Izuku's voice trembles, barely audible. "I was quirkless, Kacchan. He gave me an opportunity and I took it. Are you seriously going to be angry at me for that?"
Katsuki presses his eyes shut, jaw clenching tight.
"I'm not—I'm not angry. I'd never be angry at you for that, I just wish—" he raises a hand to knead at his temple.
"I just wish you hadn't done it."
The words are harsh. Too harsh, he knows the moment they leave his lips. Izuku's expression twists instantly, from shock to something bordering on anger, for the first time of the day.
"So you'd rather I just stayed on the sidelines?" he demands, stepping closer to Katsuki as his voice shakes with rage.
"That's not what I—"
"Did you want me to just give up on my dreams," Izuku presses on, voice growing shriller with emotion, "like the rest of the quirkless rejects?"
They stand nose to nose, now, Izuku trembling with fury and Katsuki dead-still.
"Would you rather I just took everyone's fucking advice and just laid down and died li—"
Izuku's head snaps to the side. Katsuki's ears ring over the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, and it takes the stinging of his palm to realise what has just happened.
Neither of them speak for a long moment.
"Don't you dare," Katsuki whispers.
Izuku continues to cry, head left hanging to the side where Katsuki had slapped him.
"Kacc—chan," he hiccups, face scrunched up like a baby's. His expression is wide open, emotions written across his face.
"Don't you dare, Izuku." Katsuki's voice trembles, words hitching in his throat. His palm smarts sharply, and Izuku's cheek darkens. "Don't you dare."
Izuku chokes on an inhale, lip wobbling.
"It was all I had, Kacchan. It was my only chance."
Katsuki presses his lips together, eyes stinging.
"You never needed a quirk to—"
"I did!" Izuku cuts him off shrilly, voice echoing through the open air. He's sobbing openly now, desperate and keening.
"I did, Kacchan. I do. I'm not—I'm not like you, okay? I'm not amazing, or strong, or smart. I can't —throw knives, or kickbox, or shoot guns. I can't get perfect grades without trying, or—or magically speak a dozen languages fluently. I'm—I'm sorry, Kacchan, but I can't. I'm not you."
Katsuki takes a step backward, feeling like the air has been punched out of his lungs.
All this time—
"You don't know, Kacchan. You don't know what it's like for me," Izuku whispers, sounding utterly hollowed out. "To have to be the only one like this—to constantly be surrounded by amazing people with amazing quirks—it's like you're halfway through the race and I can't even get to the starting line."
Katsuki doesn't realise he's crying until the first droplet rolls off his cheek. He feels like his chest has been filled with lead, dizzy at the realisation that all this time, Izuku—Izuku who's looking at him with a tormented twist to his expression, eyes glistening with the remnants of his slowing tears —
"I'm not amazing like you, so I took the chance I was given," his childhood friend says, quietly. "I'm sorry if that makes me pathetic."
With that, he turns on his heel and walks toward the building, leaving Katsuki staring at his receding back.
Chapter End Notes
this chapter was... complicated. i know people like to take sides with katsuki and izuku a lot, but i personally don't feel that either of them are actually starkly in the wrong here. that being SAID, i'm also very curious to see what you guys think about this one. we've mostly been seeing katsuki's POV, and i know there are some mixed feelings about him being either not flawed enough, or too flawed entirely. i've found it really interesting to read about everyone's opinions so far, so thank you all for commenting!!
quick note for those of you who may be confused, an NDA is a non-disclosure agreement--it's essentially a contract that prohibits parties from sharing sensitive information with anyone. don't worry yourselves too much with the jargon, i put Very Minimal thought into it as it's really not that significant :)
also note about katsuki being a minor (you can skip this if you're not interested in my ramblings hehe): i'm very much aware that katsuki's being a minor would likely render the contract invalid. i considered this while writing the chapter. however, there are in
fact circumstances (at least where i live) where minors can enter into legally binding and valid contracts, e.g. for beneficial employment, or with consent of the court and so on. unethical in this situation? maybe. but the hero commission isn't exactly known for its morals. i also have a feeling there would be more leeway (or at least exceptions) for minors to enter into not only voidable but actually enforceable contracts in the bnha- verse, considering the amount of responsibility already placed upon hero students. with all the information they deal with and the work they do, it doesn't seem like too ambitious of an assumption that the legislation would have evolved to address this, or at least create an exclusion in which hero students in particular are able to enter into enforceable contracts without need for parent or guardian permission. i didn't plan on rambling in my notes but i see a few of you have picked up on katsuki being a minor, and i just wanted to establish that this wouldn't be a plot point.
[EDIT: i didn't think i had to say this, but it's better late than never, i guess. please don't leave hate comments about izuku under my fic. i'd love to hear about what you think of my depiction of him in THIS FIC, but i have no desire to read an entire essay on why you hate him in canon. it's not relevant to the fic, and nor is it appreciated.]
eleven
Chapter Summary
let's get it started
Chapter Notes
thank you to my love bee for beta-ing this chapter--their ao3 is communisteevee!
cw this chapter for violence! nothing too gory, mostly canon-typical.
note the rating change on the fic please!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Katsuki doesn't get a chance to see Izuku again before their exam starts. The two meet at the gate, each unwilling to meet the other's gaze.
From Katsuki's belt, the handcuffs hang limp.
All Might is waiting for them in the open, standing among the ruins of the destroyed buildings. The man makes no effort to hide, grinning widely as he always does, but he briefly falters when he sees the two of them, seeming to sense the mood.
"I see," he says slowly, smile dimming slightly and black eyes glinting. "It seems that the issue between you two is yet to be resolved. Young heroes, I recommend that you do not treat this as a training exercise, and instead face me as a villain."
Katsuki doesn't move. All the fight has drained out of him suddenly, replaced with a heavy sort of numbness. All this time, the way Izuku has felt—Katsuki doesn't know how to fix it. He doesn't know what to do, how to address this rift between them that only Izuku had seen. He glances to his side, where the other is resolutely refusing to look at him.
"I'll go first," Izuku says finally, after what feels like an hour of silence.
All Might watches them from the other side of the street with that same sparkling smile stretched across his face. He's waiting for them to make the first move, muscles tensed in anticipation. Even from a distance, raw power rolls off the man in waves in a way that has Katsuki itching to shield his friend.
Don't, Katsuki wants to say. It's dangerous.
The words catch in his throat.
He lets Izuku charge forward.
It's too slow—this is made evident to Katsuki instantly. Izuku is far from weak, and his control over One for All has improved exponentially, but from an objective field perspective, he's blindingly inexperienced.
All Might has noticed the same, if the tensing of his form is any indication.
His black eyes have narrowed to a squint, shadows falling over the creases of his face eerily.
It's jarring: All Might's muscles, his deep eyes, his wide smile—these are all things that have made him a paragon of safety and security. But right now, watching Izuku charge forward blindly, watching All Might twist to rear his arm back in preparation, all Katsuki sees is danger.
The blue-and-yellow-clad hero's hand curls into a fist, angled towards his approaching student.
He wouldn't, Katsuki thinks to himself distantly, feet glued to the ground. He wouldn't… right?
He doesn't expect very much from All Might, but surely he knows to exercise some semblance of restraint when facing a student?
Izuku is his mentee—his protege.
Katsuki watches as Izuku leaps, almost in slow motion, and their teacher's fist flies forward, air rippling against it with the force of One for All.
All Might's punch makes contact with his student's abdomen audibly, but the noise that really sends Katsuki's gut careening downward is the crack that Izuku's body makes upon collision with the building that it's sent flying into.
It's a sickening sound: the softer initial impact of flesh upon cement, immediately giving way to a jarring crunch as Izuku falls limp immediately, crumpling to the dust and not rising again.
It's this sound that has Katsuki seeing red.
His blood chills, vision blurring over with a hazy tint at the sight of the boy's small, prone form.
Dangerous, his mind hisses at him. Dangerous, dangerous.
Katsuki doesn't realise he's stalking forward until another word flits across his consciousness, this time in a curling, unrecognisable rasp that he vaguely registers as Russian: kill.
The next few moments feel like an out-of-body experience. It's something he's never felt before: like he's sitting behind a curtain, watching someone—some thing —pilot his body in his stead.
He watches himself dodge a punch that All Might aims towards him, ducking underneath it with a speed that he knows he does not possess. He feels, with an unnerving detachment, the air current of the blow surge over his head. He sees, up close, the way All Might falters at the evasion, black eyes widening imperceptibly before they harden.
He watches his body twist away from another punch, watches himself slide a karambit neck knife out of his concealed belt panel and embed it in All Might's hip, twisting viciously until the wound widens and hot blood swells and flows over his fingers.
He hears the man choke, watches through filmy red as a big, calloused hand wraps around his wrist, huge enough that it dwarfs his limb with ease. Observes as he twists his arm out of the grip, harshly enough that he hears a low pop.
The next neck knife is unsheathed, but this time when he swings, his opponent reels back unsteadily.
'—slocated!'
He lashes out again, blade soaring in a round arc that clips the man's forearm shallowly.
He's weaving close, scanning for an opening before he dips back again. The voice in his mind rears up again suddenly: move.
Unthinking, his body twists, sliding out behind an empty alley between crumbling buildings. A split second later, a gust of air is pulsing through the street where he had just been standing, strong enough that benches and loose infrastructure is sent flying.
From the alley, he can see an unmoving body slumped against a crumbling wall. Izuku, he notes.
Izuku.
He's moving again, body outpacing his mind as he darts into the street.
Behind him, a presence approaches.
'—kugou, stand—'
He's turning instinctively, crouching low over the unconscious boy to face his opponent.
Kill, kill, kill, the voice chants, growing distorted and staticky. KILL.
He watches his hand grasp at his own thigh, reaching for a gun that's not there—why would it be there? He keeps his gun holstered at his belt, and he'd left it behind for this exam. Why did he—
'—eed to breathe, just—'
'—cchan?'
No.
Katsuki's mind jerks back into his own body, so viscerally that he flinches back. The red recedes quickly, leaving an overpowering sense of disorientation and exhaustion. His body feels heavy, suddenly. Sluggish and drained. His fingertips tingle with pinpricks of numbness.
He's standing over Izuku's sprawled form, facing All Might.
The hero looks off somehow—he's not moving, and Katsuki can't decipher the look he's giving him.
"Young Bakugou," All Might says finally—carefully—as he steps towards them.
"Stay back," Katsuki spits involuntarily, body tensing instinctively. There's a snarl twisting at his lips. He has no idea what he looks like in this moment, but it's enough to make the hero recoil.
They stare at each other for a long moment.
"K'cchan?"
Izuku is stirring from behind Katsuki, voice rasping and barely audible.
Katsuki inhales sharply at the way All Might's eyes snap toward the source of the sound, body starting forward.
"Back." Katsuki's voice is steadier this time, tone poisonous.
All Might seems conflicted, but his body eventually straightens.
"Villains in the real world would not have such qualms—"
"If you were a real villain," Katsuki interrupts acridly, fury making his vision shake, "rest assured you wouldn't be alive right now."
Silence falls over them, heavy and oppressive.
All Might's smile is frozen stiff on his face, expression twitching at the sheer sincerity that threads the words.
Katsuki sucks in a shaky breath, turning to bundle Izuku's trembling body in his arms and sprint off toward the gate.
All Might doesn't follow them.
"K'cchan," Izuku slurs as Katsuki sets him down outside the exam boundary. "Y'r—hurt."
"Shut up," Katsuki rasps, head spinning. He doesn't know what the hell just happened, but his body is aching in ten different places right now, and Aizawa is sprinting towards them, Recovery Girl hot on his heels.
"Hurt," Izuku insists. "K'cchan sit."
He's squinting blearily at something a little off below Katsuki's face, and—holy shit.
There's a rusted metal rod embedded in Katsuki's abdomen.
Oh.
"Huh," he says slowly. And then, a moment later, "son of a bitch."
Christ, that hurts.
Upon further inspection, his right wrist appears to be dislocated as well.
Aizawa skids to a stop at their side.
"You goddamn kids," he says furiously. "What the hell —"
"Mmh," Katsuki manages to say. He then proceeds to pass the fuck out.
He wakes up what feels like a second later, in a hospital bed, with the faint sound of machinery whirring in the background.
"You're awake."
Katsuki's eyes blink open, immediately meeting the gaze of one supremely unimpressed Aizawa- sensei.
"Sup, sensei," he says. His throat is dry, though, so it comes out raspy and hoarse.
"How are you feeling, Bakugou?"
"Well," he grits out, lifting his head up a few inches before promptly dropping it when he's immediately assaulted by an excruciating headache. "Fuck."
"You probably shouldn't move your head," Aizawa notes blandly.
"Astute observation," Katsuki mutters. "What the fuck happened?"
Aizawa doesn't answer for a long moment.
Finally, he sighs quietly.
"When you're feeling up to it, I want to review the footage of your exam with you."
"Ooh," Katsuki says. "That doesn't sound good."
Aizawa huffs humorlessly but doesn't reply.
Two hours later, Katsuki's bandage-clad form is propped up in an armchair as he watches the battle footage silently beside his homegroup teacher.
(He was right. It's not good.)
In the video, he watches Izuku get punted into a building, while he stands motionless for a solid thirty seconds. Then, his grainy form begins to walk forward, gait devoid of its usual edge. All Might punches at him and he ducks below it with a speed that's almost inhuman, even in video form.
Christ, he thinks to himself. He's good, but he's definitely not that good.
Not even a second later, he's dodging another blow with the same speed, hand dropping to slip a knife from his belt and, without so much as a moment's hesitation, stab All Might in the fucking side with it.
"Hm," he says. Aizawa's eyes bore holes into the side of his head.
Video-All Might grabs his wrist, only for him to immediately yank it out of the hold.
"You dislocated your wrist right there," Aizawa points out helpfully.
"Cheers, really don't need the commentary," he bites back, eyes glued to the way he instantly pulls out another knife with that same hand, continuing to slash at All Might while betraying absolutely
no sign that he even feels the dislocation. This twisted dance continues, Katsuki unresponsive to the stray metal rod that buries itself in his stomach following one particularly rough blow.
A few moments later, his form stiffens on the screen, before swiftly ducking out into a side alley. Moments later, All Might punches at the air where he'd been standing, sending rubble flying.
What the hell?
His video counterpart then sprints back into the street, hunching over Izuku's unmoving body like a rabid dog defending its owner.
At this, Aizawa pauses the video, zooming the camera in until the feral, animalistic snarl that twists at Katsuki's lips is visible on the screen. His eyes are narrowed, shining with something cold and wild. He looks… terrifying. He looks at All Might like he wants him dead; like he's going to kill him in cold blood and sleep no less soundly at night for it.
Katsuki stares at himself for a long moment, unable to reconcile this image with himself. That's not —that can't be him… right?
"What happened?" Aizawa asks bluntly, snapping him out of his reverie. Katsuki swallows thickly.
"I—" he begins, unsure of how to phrase himself without getting himself booted out of UA and into a mental institution. "I was angry. And I wanted to pass the exam."
"That looked personal," his teacher deadpans. "You displayed a style and ability of combat that you have not ever used before."
Katsuki winces.
"He told us to face him as a villain," he says weakly. "That's what I was doing."
"Bakugou," Aizawa says. His voice has dipped into something quieter: more serious. "For a moment there, it really looked like you wanted to kill him."
"Well," he says, avoiding his teacher's eyes stubbornly. "I've been told I have a bit of a resting bitch face, y'know."
The words sound flimsy, even to him.
He recalls, very vaguely, the haze of cool, detached fury that had slipped over his consciousness. Even now as he tries to recall it, it fades from his memory rapidly, until it feels like a fever dream.
Did that really happen?
"You seem unhappy." His teacher sounds tired.
"I am," he replies instantly, turning to give the man a pensive look. "All Might threw Deku into a goddamn building."
"He also impaled you with a steel rod," Aizawa nods.
Katsuki blinks, mouth falling open.
"Are you… wh—you're proving my point."
His teacher buries his face in a scarred hand.
"This isn't an argument. And trust me, if it was, I would be on your side in it."
"Oh." That's nice of him. "Then why the interrogation?"
Aizawa sighs deeply, leaning back in his seat to crack open a tired eye at him.
"You," the man murmurs, "are extremely difficult to understand. You make absolutely no sense."
"I'm not a puzzle," Katsuki frowns indignantly. "I'm not obligated to make sense to you."
Aizawa makes an odd noise like this, something between a chuckle and a groan.
"I know," he mutters. "Explain to me why you're unhappy right now. Humour me."
"All Might threw Deku into a building. And stuck a steel rod in my fucking stomach. And yet I'm the one who's being weird for dishing it back. Isn't the whole point that we're meant to go all out? If restraint is the issue, then he as a teacher has more responsibility than I do—especially to set an example."
"I agree that he was being excessive," Aizawa says. "And I don't think you're being weird. Make no mistake, I am not punishing you for fighting. I'm simply concerned for you."
"Hm," Katsuki mutters, spurred on by his teacher's agreement. "My fighting abilities are… complicated. I don't really understand them myself sometimes. I think it's just instinct, or—a knee- jerk reaction."
His teacher simply nods once at this, to his credit.
"But sensei, my issue with All Might isn't just limited to this. My issue is that he's a terrible fucking teacher in general. Do you understand how much he sucks? I was this guy's fucking number one fanboy for over a decade of my fucking life and I can still see how much he sucks at— why are you laughing. Sensei. Stop laughing at me. "
Aizawa's soft snickers evolve into full-bodied guffaws at this, and Katsuki scowls.
"You suck," he mutters. "See if I ever tell you anything again."
"Sorry," the man says finally, voice lighter. "I didn't mean to laugh at you. You're a good kid. And for the record," he leans in closer, usually dull eyes almost twinkling with something vaguely conspiratorial, "I'm on the same page. About his teaching, that is. Not about being his, ah… number one fanboy."
Katsuki flushes darkly at this, realising he's probably run his mouth a little.
"Whatever," he huffs sheepishly. "At least we have you for a homegroup teacher and not him. I don't fancy dying before graduation."
He sniffs, rising from his seat and hobbling out while resolutely ignoring Aizawa's warm gaze on his back.
Katsuki is bombarded by Kirishima's squad the instant he returns.
"Dude, holy shit," Kaminari cries. "I can't believe we failed."
"I can," Jirou says ruthlessly. "Bakugou, is it true you stabbed All Might?"
Katsuki very maturely chooses to pretend he didn't hear the question.
"Probably," Sero answers in his stead.
"I'm guessing all of you fuckers failed here," Katsuki notes instead of acknowledging that topic. "Except Earlobes, probably."
She flashes a peace sign at him, while the others make varying scandalised noises.
"That's mean!" Ashido cries.
"So unmanly," Kirishima bemoans. "I hate that you're right."
Katsuki huffs, discreetly scanning the other occupants of the room.
Izuku is nowhere to be seen.
The next day, the rest of the class heads to the mall to buy supplies for their training camp.
Meanwhile, Katsuki heads to the HPSC headquarters to finally meet his trainers. He's quite familiar with the gym levels now, having returned quite frequently in the weeks leading up to the exams. However, this time Nakashima has asked him to meet at floor G1, for a so-called skill assessment.
When he arrives he's greeted by Nakashima, suit-clad and unruffled as always, standing beside a stranger. They're significantly shorter (and younger) than Nakashima, wearing ripped-up skinny jeans, a crinkled white shirt, a leather jacket, and a wide smile. They look absolutely ridiculous next to Nakashima.
"Bakugou," Nakashima says levelly, tilting his head in greeting.
Katsuki nods back, staring down the still-beaming stranger. Their pupils are a light greyish colour and accented with heavy eye bags, curly black hair cut short and choppy. Numerous piercings litter their ears, several dangling impractically. Excluding their smile (which is somewhat reminiscent of Kirishima's), they look, in all definitions of the word, like a delinquent.
"You're the weirdo who was staring me down at the gym two weeks ago," Katsuki observes blandly. "Are you meant to be assessing my skills?"
At this, the black-haired stranger blanches, expression twisting into one of petulant defensiveness.
"I wasn't staring you down! I was observing!" they snap. "I'm fully capable of completing a skill assessment, short-stack!"
Katsuki pointedly looks them up and down once, noting that the person is, in fact, noticeably shorter than him. Then he turns to Nakashima.
"Is this one even legal?" he asks, gesturing at the now-fuming stranger.
Nakashima simply sighs, looking supremely unimpressed.
"This is Nakao Hisako." He flicks a speck of invisible lint off of his shoulder. "They will in fact be
completing your skill assessment and training. And I assure you that they are, as you put it, legal."
Katsuki sniffs, but wordlessly follows when Nakashima turns on his heel and strides towards an empty gym. Behind them, Nakao follows grumpily.
"I won't be present for your actual skill assessment," the red-headed man explains as they walk. "Nakao will be handling it, and then report their findings back to me. From there, we'll assess what further training you require before we can send you on your first mission."
Katsuki grunts, squinting back at Nakao. The other blows a raspberry at him, in a staggering display of maturity.
"Great," he mutters.
With a few more formalities, Nakashima heads off, leaving the two of them alone.
"Ugh," Nakao huffs. "Head inside the gym area, brat. I'll let you know when we're starting."
Katsuki blinks, watching as the other enters a viewing room on the side and glances at him through the glass window that separates them.
"Are you not gonna… fight me or something?" he asks in confusion.
At this, a blinding, smug smile cracks over Nakao's face.
"Oh," they say cheerfully. "It's not me you'll be fighting."
With that cryptic message, they turn their back to Katsuki, fiddling with some control panels on the wall of the viewing room.
The glass window between the gym and the viewing room darkens, turning opaque and obscuring Nakao from his view.
Then, the other's disembodied voice cuts through the air.
"Just yell out when you want out. You ready?"
Katsuki swallows thickly, forcing himself to stay relaxed.
"Yeah," he calls back.
Moments later, a figure is dropping down from the ceiling, right in front of him. It's black, with a distinctly humanoid form.
Katsuki blinks at it, glancing up at the ceiling only to find the same paneling that's present in all of the HPSC gyms. He takes a step back instinctively, falling into a somewhat defensive stance.
"This is who you'll be fighting," Nakao's voice echoes through the gym, amplified by the speakers that line the walls. "Show me what you've got, and don't hold back—it's a clone."
Ectoplasm, he thinks instinctively. The figure has a striking resemblance to the hero, albeit without the characteristic beige trench coat and gold linings or jaw-guard.
He doesn't have time to dwell on this possibility, as the clone begins to stalk toward him slowly.
Katsuki's eyes narrow, and he takes another step back. The clone is slow, movements somewhat exaggerated, and—
It tenses, body pulling back to the right, and lashes out with a punch that Katsuki evades easily.
—entirely predicable.
Okay. This is okay. It's a lot weaker than Ectoplasm's clones. Maybe there's no correlation after all.
He ducks below another jab, before reaching out to grip the clone's forearm and yank it, pulling its black form over his head and slamming it into the ground.
Upon impact with the ground, its body appears to dissipate, fading away in a matter of seconds.
Katsuki straightens, unwilling to relax just yet. He's right not to, because moments later two more clones are dropping from the ceiling.
This time their attack is staggered: the second clone only charges in just as Katsuki throws the first into the ground. They're still slow, though, so he has no difficulty in tossing the second one against a wall and watching as they both crumble into thin air.
He doesn't even have time to straighten before another clone is dropping from the ceiling.
This one, however, is faster—he can tell almost instantly. Its movements are more fluid, and there aren't any noticeable tells like the first three clones.
When it snaps out with its first kick, Katsuki rears back, cataloguing the movement. It's stronger, sure, but it's still not at the level of Ectoplasm's clone. He's still comfortable in wrapping an arm around its neck and throwing it into the floor, watching it melt away under his grip.
He's yet to break a sweat so far, but it's clear that Nakao is only just getting started. They're going to ramp it up exponentially, too, if the next three clones that drop down and attack him simultaneously are any indication.
These are equally as strong as the previous, and he has to exert himself a little more in fending them all off at once. Still not exceedingly difficult, but he's definitely paying attention as he throws two of them into each other and punches the third in the shoulder hard enough to send it to the ground.
For a beat, no more clones drop. Then, there's an exaggerated sigh floating over the room from the speakers.
"I'm bored," Nakao drawls, disembodied voice echoing through the room. "Are you bored too, kid? What do you say we spice things up a bit?"
He doesn't rise to the bait, simply glancing back at the viewing room window before jerking his shoulder upward once in the barest bones of what could be construed as a shrug.
It's enough, apparently, because moments later the lights in the gym are dimming down significantly until Katsuki can barely see his own body when he looks down. Everything falls
quiet.
"I'm skipping a few steps here, but you're a big boy! I reckon you can handle it!" Nakao announces. They make no effort to mask the glee in their voice. "Try not to get kicked around too much, yeah?"
The room falls into utter silence, and all Katsuki hears for a long moment is the sound of his own breathing. His body tenses instinctively. He'd known he'd be assessed somehow, but he hadn't expected this. He'd anticipated something more along the lines of a treadmill exercise, or maybe a pacer test. He guesses it's his fault for being so naive as to expect the Hero Commission not to throw him into the deep end.
For a long moment, nothing happens.
Then someone drops down behind him.
It's another clone, but this one is quiet. He has no doubt that most of his classmates wouldn't notice it in his place. He can feel it, though—he's hyperaware of it moving towards his back smoothly. The other ones had been weak, but this one is definitely as strong as Ectoplasm's clones, if not stronger; he can tell that much without even turning.
When it swipes forward with a jab, he ducks, spinning on the ball of his foot in a low sweep kick that has the clone toppling.
It doesn't disintegrate when it hits the floor. So evidently it's more durable as well, then, he notes.
Katsuki spins, keeping his breaths long and quiet so as to hear the clone's movements better.
His vision is adapting to the murkiness of the room slowly, but the clone still looks more shadow and silhouette than human. He's finally starting to warm up, becoming keenly aware of his surroundings as his body sinks into fighting mode.
Just as he moves in to deal the final blow, there's a soft sound behind him that signals the arrival of two more clones. Katsuki doesn't hesitate this time.
With a sharp kick backwards followed by a jab, the two newcomers behind him are struck down. He doesn't hold back as much this time, putting more power behind his blows. It's successful, as evidenced by the way they dissipate upon impact. He then turns on his heel, gripping the remaining clone's bicep and swivelling to throw it into the wall at their side. It scatters to dust, and he's left alone again.
Nakao doesn't speak, but moments later the lights of the gym dim further until Katsuki is left in pitch-black darkness. He can't see anything anymore, not even his own hand when he raises it to his face.
He narrows his eyes, noting the three new clones that drop down from the ceiling by the barely- audible sound of their forms hitting the ground. He barely has time to move before another four join them, the group circling Katsuki silently.
The moment he takes out the first clone, the remaining six charge at him at once, from different directions. He lets his training instincts take over, spinning to deliver quick punches that have two of the clones disintegrating and another stumbling back. As he sends the third flying, Katsuki distantly registers another five clones dropping down from the ceiling.
So this is how Nakao is playing it.
A smile creeps its way onto Katsuki's face, almost imperceptible.
He moves on autopilot from here, with several more clones appearing for every one he beats. Before long, he's entirely surrounded, taking out clone after clone without break. He's finally broken a sweat, letting himself loose a little now that Nakao has shown their hand. But at the same time, his shoulders have loosened somewhat—being faced with opponents that he doesn't have to worry about hurting is almost cathartic.
Three clones are struck down with a strategically-placed swipe. Then another two are sent soaring into the wall, followed by another in close succession. Six more appear. The fight gets a little harder to control, with no visuals to aid him. All he can use to ascertain the number and location of the clones is the sound of their movements, the air, and the vibrations of the floor. He settles into a groove eventually, though, and the rhythm continues like this for a few minutes until the influx of new clones finally stops. It takes Katsuki a moment to notice it, as preoccupied as he is with his current opponents. But he finally realises when the fight seems to slow down, with no new clones appearing to take the places of the ones he strikes down.
He huffs, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand as he appraises the final one. After a moment's consideration, his gaze flicks to the side, where Nakao's probably viewing the fight.
He then makes the executive—and childish, Kenjirou-sensei's voice chides from the recedes of his brain—decision to show off a little bit, stalking forward to take down the remaining clone with a tornado kick. It connects solidly with the clone's jaw, sending it crumpling to the floor instantly. It's a brutal blow, probably a little too excessive, but the sound that the clone makes upon impact is far too pleasing for Katsuki to care.
Moments later, the lights are flickering on again. He blinks, fighting the urge to recoil at the sudden barrage of brightness.
"We're done?" he asks, turning to stare in the direction of the still-opaque viewing window.
"Yeah," Nakao says over the speaker. "Hey, quick question, kid, what the actual fuck? "
"I didn't tap out," Katsuki points out, squinting in their direction.
"You didn't— were you planning on tapping out anytime soon?" Nakao splutters.
"No."
There's silence for a long moment, and then Nakao curses lowly under their breath, the sound carrying through the gym room.
"Damn kids these days," they mutter venomously. "Who knows what the fuck these hero schools are putting in the water."
Katsuki blinks, stretching out his neck idly.
"Well," Nakao says finally. "This is… a little unprecedented if I'm being entirely honest with you.
I'm not sure what to, uh—" They're cut off by the sound of rustling papers, before there's another violent curse. "Did you even use your quirk?"
"Nope," Katsuki says.
One more curse, loudly this time.
"I'm going to go talk to Nakashima," Nakao mutters. "You can, like, go do whatever for a while. Christ."
The blonde shrugs, sitting down at a nearby bench and pulling out his phone as the trainer stalks off. Hatsume has been blowing up his phone since last night, trying to annoy him into bringing some of her babies with him to the training camp. He's not too keen on getting in trouble for possessing what is almost certainly contraband, but she's painfully persistent.
By the time Nakao returns twenty minutes later, Hatsume is still valiantly attempting to convince him. She's taken to sending him increasingly desperate voice snips, in which she attempts to advertise her babies to him in a convoluted TED Talk-style elevator pitch while the sounds of whirring and clatters grow ominously louder in the background. He sighs, finally sending her a message that reads, 'leave your workshop for once and get some fresh air, loser'.
As the trainer approaches, Nakashima at their heel, Katsuki flicks off his phone just in time to see Hatsume's reply appear at the bottom of their chat: an image of her with her tongue stuck out petulantly, finger pulling her lower eyelid down in a typical akanbe. There's black streaking her cheek—grease, probably. Brat.
"There's been a change of plans," Nakashima calls, pulling his sleeve back to study his watch as he strides down the hall. "Bakugou, your skills are more advanced than we anticipated. We plan on fast-tracking you to your first intel recovery mission in the coming week following basic protocol training. Do you have any objections?"
Katsuki almost drops his phone.
"This… week?" he echoes.
Nakashima pauses in his tracks, giving him an inscrutable look.
"Yes," he says carefully. "You will be trained on protocols and other relevant information, but your physical aptitude has proven more than sufficient. Is that…"
"Yeah," Katsuki says quickly, straightening. "Yeah, I can do that."
Chapter End Notes
i'm... not even gonna apologise for being late. i feel like y'all are used to it at this point. hope you're all doing okay!! it's been a long year for me so this took a lot longer than
anticipated unfortunately :( anyways i do want to let y'all know that i'll be twisting the canon timeline a bit. not a Whole Lot, but i'll definitely be changing it.
pop question for commenters: who's your favourite marvel character (either from the MCU, or from the comics)?
End Notes
there is art!!!
first art piece by baybeered on tumblr, depicting katsuki with his electroshock nunchakus!! second piece by my-chaotic-academia!!! third piece by artandcheesecake! a gorgeous feral katsuki from iski!! another wonderful piece by luna here!!
they're all insanely good, i'm still reeling at the amount of skill y'all have tbh :') please do check them out if you have the time :D i have been asked about this before so i thought i could just clarify it here: i am absolutely happy for anyone to make art of my fics, all i ask is that you credit and, if you're comfortable, tag me so i can see your amazing work!!
thank you all for reading, please feel free to leave a comment if you're enjoying it or have any feedback!! 3
my twitter, tumblr, cc, and discord server!
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!
https/baybeered./post/620315927357030400/i-read-wonhaebunnys-fic-blackugo-widow-and
https/my-chaotic-academia./post/622344453835898880/art-inspired-by-wonhaebunny-s-fic-blackugou
https/artandcheesecake./post/624180510055415808/im-briefly-resurrecting-this-tumblr-account-to
https/katsukiski./post/624799090420727808/i-drew-katsuki-inspired-by-wonhaebunny-s-amazing
https/lunadragongem01./wonhaebunny
https/wonhaebunny./
https/curiouscat.qa/wonhaebunny
https/discord./works/22146253/comments/new