A chill ran down Bakugo's spine. The locker room always had the air conditioning on, leaving the room icy and uninviting. Bakugo stood before a communal sink staring carefully at his face in the mirror. He split his lip and had a gash on his forehead. Carefully Bakugo wet his old blood-stained towel and carefully cleaned his face. Once his face was free of dried blood, he gently used his small first aid kit to patch the gash. The gash was fairly shallow so stitches weren't necessary, thank fuck; that was the last thing he needed. Once he was done he walked back to the bench, throwing on his civilian shirt. He sat there and rested, he had a dull ache throughout his body. Especially his left shoulder, he knew it would be black and blue soon. This last match had been a more difficult one. He won, of course, he never outright lost a match before, but he let the bastard beat him up more than he should have.

That right hook got me good, his right eye twitched just before he rounded back to throw it… I need to remember that tell. He thought. He also favored his left foot, barely but now that I think about it, he definitely favored it. It would be good to aim for it the next time we face each other. His quirk was dumb, Crystallize? Really? It's a similar quirk to His, but it was way too weak…

Bakugo continued to catalog the movements of his opponent in his head when a gust of air blew through the locker room along with the sound of an old rust door slowly opening. Bakugo paused and carefully looked to see who had entered. It wouldn't be the first time an opponent sought revenge after a match. But upon seeing a chubby, greasy man in his late 40's he realized was just the owner Takayama. Bakugo rolls his eyes as he stands and approaches the man. He puts his hand out with a frown and is silently handed an envelope, Bakugo snatches it and opens it. Carefully he counted the money inside, then he counted again. A vicious sneer covering his softer features into a menacing one.

"What the hell Takayama! This isn't what we agreed on!"

The older man shrugs dismissively, "Sorry kid, that's just business."

"What the hell does that mean? We agreed on 77,000 yen. This isn't even half of that! Where is the rest of my money bitch!" Bakugo yelled.

"Watch your mouth brat! Either take the money or give it back, I'm not giving you more." Takayama yelled back.

"Fuck you!"

Takayama rolled his eyes and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, yeah…" he turned to go but paused, turning his head to look back at Bakugo, he smiled, "Oh, and while we're at it why don't you hand over 7000 back."

"For what you cheap ass!" Bakugo snapped.

"Damages, you've left dents in lockers and burn marks everywhere." he shrugged.

"I'm not paying you dip shit!"

"Then you can forget fighting here again. And I'll spread the word too, you'd have a hard time finding a fight."

"Fuck." he was trapped. Reluctantly Bakugo counts out the money and hands it over to Takayama, who in turn snatched it back.

"Good boy, now run along…oh and by the way, keep giving me sass and I'll deduct more from your pay. Bye now." Takayama laughed as he exited the room.

Rage licked up Bakugo's spin and without a second thought, he turned and punched the nearest locker, leaving a huge dent in its side. He stood there, fist throbbing against the cold steel, and slowly he regained his breath. With a long sigh, he grabs his bag and leaves the locker room. Following the long empty concrete halls he leaves through the back door. As he passes the threshold, an all too familiar beep rings and the small red light on the collar around his neck turns green. A cold shiver runs through his body, and exhaustion sweeps through him. He remembered the first time this happened, he had fallen to his knees from the sudden weight his body felt, but now, he just walked on like nothing happened.

The Summer night was cool but not cold. Bakugo took a deep breath before turning and walking up a set of concrete stairs. He walked through an alley around the building and out onto the street. As Bakugo walked down the street, what few people were left on the streets, stared and sneered at him, he ignored them all. How long has it been? Only a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty years or so since the first quirk user was born. But still, quirk users remained the minority, But this wasn't Marvel, there were no x men. Those blessed with a quirk were treated like wild animals. With the majority of the population being quirkless, great fear arose, and it didn't take long for the inhibitors to be made. Every person with a quirk, no matter how benign, was forced to wear a contraption that inhibited their ability to access their quirk. It wasn't impossible, but it sure as hell was hard. Bakugo was forced to wear it around his neck, like a dog on a chain, with his explosion quirk; they couldn't risk him trying to free himself. Others sometimes have a choice as to where their inhibitor is placed. It usually came down to a collar, a wrist cuff, or a shackle on their ankle.

The only exception was quirks with healing properties. They were usually sold to the highest bidder, or 'sponsor' as polite society calls it. If anyone asked Bakugo, they were more like whored out slaves. Their quirks are abused and only used on the rich and those related to them. This is what society has fallen to. While on the surface the world is democratic, but that is just a veil, really everything is run by gangs now, who use those with quirks to have an advantage and to control others.

After an hour-long walk, Bakugo finally stumbled into his apartment. He kicks his shoes off hard enough they hit the wall. Which already had marks on it from all the times he's done the exact same thing. He was a man of habit apparently, or the world just pissed him off way too much.

"Kacchan? Is that you?" a voice called from within.

Bakugo groaned as he rolled his sore shoulder, "Yeah, it's me."

Bakugo walked past the small kitchen into the main living space where his adopted brother Izuku Midoriya sat at the small blanket-less kotatsu. The kotatsu table sat in the center of the dimly lit room. The tatami mat floor was a little frayed and had a ton of stains covering it, while the walls had patches of water damage and more unknown stains. Other than that nothing else was in the room. The two shared this one tiny room together, they had their own futons at least, but those stayed in the closet during the day.

In this pathetic excuse of an apartment, Midoriya sat with his hair still dripping from his shower. He looked up at Bakugo with those annoyingly innocent eyes that held a question in them. Bakugo just glared at him.

"Fuck off deku." Bakugo grumbled as he sat across from him. "And dry your damn hair!"

Midoriya touched his head as if Bakugo was lying, his hair was wet, surprised Midoriya then stood and retreated to the bathroom grabbing a towel. He returned to his seat and as he dried his ridiculous curly hair, he looked at Bakugo.

"Bad day?" he finally asked.

"Yeah." Bakugo sighed.

"Rents due."

"Fuck already?" Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache began to form.

"How much did you get today?"

"27,650 yen," Bakugo said, looking his brother straight in the eyes.

"Oh no."

"I'm over 11,000 yen behind," he admitted, still holding Deku's stare.

"Don't worry kacchan," Midoriya soothed, "we have some savings we can use to cover the rest!"

"We shouldn't have to! I was supposed to earn enough to pay the rent myself! Those cheap bastards didn't pay me!" Bakugo yelled, slamming his fist on the table.

"Kacchan it's okay really!" Midoriya tried to appease his brother.

"No, it's not, I'm tired of using all your money!"

"Kacchan," Midoriya sighed.

"I'll start looking for another job," He concluded.

"If that's what you want." Midoriya agreed. Knowing Kacchan had already made up his mind.

"Don't give me that sad look. I'm the older one, I should be taking care of you," he argued still.

"Only by a few months! Besides, we agreed, right?" Midoriya retorted.

"Together," Bakugo grumbled, "we'll do this together."

"Exactly." Midoriya smiled.

"Alright enough you sappy bastard," Bakugo said as he stood, "I'll see what I can scrounge up for dinner."

"We have some leftover rice…" Midoriya offered.

"Omurice it is then." Bakugo sighed, taking the hint.

"Thanks, kaachan!" Midoriya beamed.

"Ch, whatever." Bakugo then retreated to their small kitchen and made Omurice, well it was missing a lot of ingredients, Bakugo could make a damn good meal if he had the supplies. But more often than not his meals were mediocre due to poverty. But it was still the best-impoverished meal one could get. Realistically that had enough for one decent meal, but with the two of them, it ended up being cut in half.

Still, Midoriya took his first bite and melted in happiness, which made Bakugo happy. At least he could cook for them both.

Midoriya did the dishes and Bakugo set up the futons, moving the table to a corner for the night. Exhausted, they both fell asleep quickly.

The next morning, Bakugo woke up alone, Midoriya often took every shift he could, even if that meant opening and closing shifts back to back. Bakugo's body had a soft ache throughout it, a common occurrence. But time waited for no one, so he stretched and took a hot shower, dressing in his button-down, tie, and slacks. He tried to look as professional as possible, and he tried his best to hide his collar behind the shirt and tie. Sighing he left.

The agency was called Nakai Partners. It was one of the few employment agencies that allowed quirk users in the door. Most kicked them out, but the owner of the place had a son with a quirk so, they were a bit more understanding. Bakugo walked in and was greeted with a tired smile from a tall woman in her 60s sitting at a desk.

"Bakugo. Back again I see?" she said, looking at Bakugo as she still clicked away at her computer.

"Don't be a bitch." Bakugo greeted her, sitting in the chair in front of her desk.

"Mind your language…" she greeted him back, turning back to her computer.

"Got anything for me?" He asked.

"Several actually, I can get you interviews today," she reported as she printed out something, the old printer groaning and creaking loudly.

"Good. Finally." Bakugo grumbled.

"But as always…" she began

"I know! I have to tell them about my inhibitor." he recited.

"Right," she reached behind her to the printer and grabbed the warm printed paper. "So here are the addresses, and times, I'll call ahead and let them know you'll be joining the long line."

"Thanks," Bakugo sighed, taking the papers from her.

"Sure, fingers crossed." she waved as he stood and left.

"Yeah yeah, you old hag," he called back as the door closed.

Bakugo looked at each of the papers, manual labor jobs mostly, a few custodial jobs, and a construction company needed some guys. Nothing out of the ordinary. Clenching his fist Bakugo took a deep breath.

Just smile through the bullshit. He reminded himself.

But as the day dragged on, his temper only grew worse. The first few interviews let him have a proper conversation, but they all smiled and said he wasn't a good fit for their team. Fine, he could handle that, he's done it plenty of times. Besides, he knew his resume was shit. Bakugo always had a hard time finding a place to get hired, so he always fell back on ring fights to pay bills, which he couldn't put down as a legal job, and the fact he barely finished middle school before his parents died left him undesirable in the workforce.

It was the other kind of interview he couldn't deal with. As soon as they saw the inhibitor they slammed the door in his face. Not even giving him the chance to say a single word. It was ridiculous, infuriating, and boiled his damn blood.

The only reason Deku got a job at the convenience store was due to being quirkless. He's been working there since he was 15. Now they're hitting 26 and yet the status quo has stayed the same. Which would be fine except, something has always come up just when they start getting a little savings. Katsuki breaks a bone, gets arrested, and has to pay a fine for fighting, that or Deku just can't help but give up some money to the street rat kids with quirks. Always the charitable one. Not that Bakugo can be too angry at that. He is one of them after all.

Most kids are just abandoned by their quickless parents. Bakugo was one of the lucky few to have parents who hadn't, they accepted and loved him. Sure he and his mom's personalities were way too similar, so they butted heads a lot, but his parents never made him a lesser person. They encouraged him to accept his quirk and be proud of it. But that damn car wreck killed them, and any money they had was stolen by greedy relatives. Leaving Bakugo all alone, he lived on the streets for several weeks before meeting Inko and Izuku Midoriya by chance. Inko recognized him as his mom's old friend and she happily took him in. That didn't last long either, she was a good woman and mother. She sent both boys to school, A low-income one known for fights, but education was still education. Deku tried to help as best he could with a part-time job at the convenience store, and Bakugo started working at the Shura Tora fighting ring at night, but by then she was too far gone. She got sick due to overwork and died. Then it was just him and Deku….they both quit school and sold what they could to pay for Inko's funeral. They were still left with a hospital bill and a loan debt.

After another fruitless day of searching for proper work, Katsuki returned home and began doing their checking. The balance was in the red as always. As night finally fell, Deku returned home.

"Kacchan," He called as he entered. "you won't believe it!"

"What fuck face?" Katsuki called back.

Deku came into view with a bag of groceries, "The owner promoted me! I'm going to be the evening manager!"

A wicked smile spread across Bakugo's face. "Well, it's about damn time! You only worked for the guy for 10 years!"

"How was the job hunt today?" he smiled, still far too hopeful.

"Same as ever." Katsuki scoffed, taking the bag and beginning to put things away.

"I'm sorry Kacchan. Is there any way to get more money from the ring?" He asked, sitting down at the table, he looked through the checkbook.

"We can't bet on ourselves, so that's out the damn window," Bakugo answered. Sighing, he looked at his brother, "The only way to guarantee a paycheck from those bastards is to join a gang."

"No! You can't join a gang Kacchan!" He shot down quickly.

"I know that dumbass! I'd have to be real fucking desperate to ever join those fuckers."

"What does that leave then?" Midoriya sighed.

"I'll keep looking for a regular job, but I'll also keep fighting, some money is better than none I guess." Bakugo sighed as he finished putting things away and took a seat.

Midoriya smiled and jumped from his position, "Yeah. We can do this! My pay raise is going to be a big help too!" His words were enthusiastic and his eyes glittered with excitement and hope.

"How much are you even getting?" Bakugo scoffed.

"2,166 yen an hour." He proudly declared.

"Not bad. Maybe in another ten years, you'll make it to 2200." Bakugo laughed.

"Shut up Kacchan!" Midoriya laughed. The two had a good dinner that night and began planning out their new base budget.

Endnotes

Yen Conversion reference, I do round up to the nearest dollar in most cases.

77000 Yen - $498

7000 Yen - $46

27,650 yen - $179

11,000 yen - $72

2,166 yen - $14

2,200 yen - $14.21

Damn Extras!

Takayama - owner of Shura Tora (fighting tiger) quirk fighting ring.

Nakai - Older woman who works at the job agency