(Pardon any typos. I'm too tired to proof read.)

Crazy long chapter. I kept looking for a part where I could split it into two, but I didn't want to disturb the flow. I did my best to keep Bakugou in character, but the thing with him is that it can be so easy to write him as a one-note asshole who only ever yells and makes death threats if you're not careful. But at the same time, he's not friendly and chill either. You have to get into the sweet spot between those two, and then maintain it. Needless to say, it's hard.

On the bright side, I pushed through and you guys get a surplus of Hitomi/Bakugou content! Plus, you finally get to learn their official ship name!

(Lastly, would y'all be interested in a separate fic that's a collection of oneshots in the TLH universe? I could take suggestions and stuff and write anything from drabbles, to AUs. If that's something you're interested in.)

"Let's take a moment to talk about the incident last night in Hosu."

Hitomi did her best to mask a yawn. After the message from Midoriya she hadn't gotten to sleep until he sent a follow up, hours later, confirming that he was alright.

"The Hero Killer Stain was arrested. There were also incidents with the Villains who resembled Nomu from the UA attack. You're likely worried how this all stitched together."

Oh God. It took every last shred of restraint to not gag at his themed wordplay.

"Well, I too am concerned. People tend to come apart at the seams—" (she cracked, hiding behind a Sidekick, Hitomi stuck out her tongue and pointed a finger in her mouth) "—in times like this. That's why we Heroes must remain calm despite our fears. Don't let chaos tempt you into thoughtless overreaction." Best Jeanist leveled his two interns with a look. "Remember, we're here to protect others, not seek out vengeance."

Hitomi lowered her eyes, something uncomfortable wedging itself into her throat. There was that burning heat again, but this time accompanied by something else.

She chose to ignore that something else.

"It'll be business as usual today. Standard material. May your minds and bodies be as sharp as your jeans."

"Thank you, Best Jeanist!"

Okay, that something else was gone now. Only the heat left behind.

Bakugou stood trembling in withheld rage beside her. And Hitomi felt a strange kinship start to root itself between them.

…

"Rain's coming…"

Bakugou caught the absentminded murmur, and eyed her strangely. "The hell are you talking about? There's not a cloud in sight."

Hitomi wordlessly tapped her nose, giving the blonde pause.

"You can smell it?"

"Mm-hm!"

Patrolling the busy city streets, as usual, Hitomi and Bakugou kept vigilant for any trouble, and were left with either heavy silence, or idle conversation. It was obvious which Hitomi would pick, but it took two people to talk, and Bakugou didn't seem willing.

"Now, our continuing coverage."

Hitomi stopped, craning her neck to peer up at the large monitor on the side of the building they were passing.

"Three Villains were captured in the Hosu riots. Their identities and motives are yet unknown." Photos taken of Nomu after the USJ incident popped up on screen behind the newscasters. "Based on their distinctive appearance, however, and the presence of two people our reporters filmed nearby, many are speculating they're connected to the League of Villains that attacked UA High last month."

A whole month… it hardly felt like it.

The female anchor continued on. "The Hero Killer Stain claimed many lives. In fact, he has more victims than any other criminal since All Might burst into the scene. With his arrest, everyone in this country can rest a little easier tonight."

A certain report flashed by in her mind, the words memorized after years of pouring over them obsessively. Before Nori caught her with it and took it away, too afraid of the answer if he were to ask how she obtained it.

Signs of a struggle on Mr. Saito's hands and arms. Cuts consistent with the ones on the rest of his and his wife's bodies. One blade used, 9 inches in length, 2 inches in width, and 0.45mm in thickness. In line with an average household kitchen knife. One clean slash across Mrs. Saito's throat, severing left carotid artery, leading to her d—

Hitomi's stomach turned. No. The Hero Killer wasn't around at the time of her parents' murder. It couldn't have been him.

But it would be so much simpler if it was, now that he was put away.

"It's possible some Villains were inspired by what happened in Hosu. That means they could be feeling bolder. This may just be a patrol, but keep your guard up."

"Yeah, yeah." Bakugou only sighed, showing a surprising amount of restraint.

Best Jeanist glanced back over his shoulder. "Here's a question for you. Patrols are mainly to deter Villains from committing any crimes. But they also have a secondary purpose. What is it?"

"If we see some bad guys, we can beat 'em up on the spot!" Bakugou grinned, eager for some action.

"Incorrect. Ōkami?"

Of course she knew the answer. It was to make their presence known by citizens in a laid-back manner, without the violence of a fight, so they were reassured. Nonetheless, Hitomi huffed, glaring off to the side. "You're the oh-so wise teacher. You explain it to him."

"Hey, it's Best Jeanist!" A group of middle school girls fawned over the Hero from across the street.

"Thank you so much for keeping us safe!"

Best Jeanist humored them with a dainty wave.

"I'm gonna hurl." Hitomi hissed under her breath. But going by the way Bakugou twitched next to her, he heard.

"The answer is: to remind people who we are. Our presence gives the public a peace of mind. This helps weave a tapestry of trust between the protectors and the protected."

"I think you just like getting recognized." Bakugou growled, ignoring her when Hitomi barked a laugh.

"Hey! I've seen that blonde guy on TV before!"

Three young boys ran up to them, staring up at Bakugou with wide eyes.

Bakugou clenched his jaw, tilting his head up as if asking a higher power for some patience.

But the boy who had spoken in the first place, continued. "Yeah, an ooze Villain caught him and he almost cried like a baby!"

Blonde hair poofing back up like a mini explosion, Bakugou rounded on them, enraged.

"What did you say!?"

The three boys' scents spiked with fear, and tears welled up in their eyes.

Hitomi sighed heavily, hand covering her face.

"Have you really forgotten everything I've taught you? Talk with them, like a Pro." Best Jeanist scolded.

"Yeah, fine." Bakugou grumbled, but relaxed his posture and strode over to the boys. "Listen up! I wasn't helpless. I was just coming up with ways to fight him. Sometimes a Hero has to pretend he's been caught. You really think I would lose? You'll eat those words when I'm the new number-one Hero! You dumb kids'll never laugh at me again if you know what's good for you!"

How did this derail so fast? He was doing so well.

While the boys cried in fright, Hitomi calmly walked over, and delivered a solid strike to the back of Bakugou's head.

"Hey! The hell—"

"I'm sorry about my friend here." Hitomi smiled gently, squatting down and balancing on the front of her feet to get on their level. "He seems mean and scary, but he's actually working really hard to become a good Hero. So please try to be patient with him. Do any of you plan to be Heroes?"

The first boy sniffled, and he nodded hesitantly.

Hitomi clasped her hands. "That's great! But you gotta remember, Heroes do their best to be nice to those around them. And bringing up a painful memory for someone isn't that nice, is it?" She didn't know what this incident was that she'd heard brought up in reference to Bakugou twice now, but it couldn't have been something small and harmless. "So, as two Heroes in training, let's make a promise, yeah? We'll both do our best to be nice and helpful to people, that way we can both become great Heroes, how's that sound?" She outstretched a hand, pinky pointed out.

The boy sniffled again, rubbing away any lingering tears, and meekly laced his pinky with hers. "P-promise."

Beaming proudly, Hitomi stood with a nod. "Alright then. Do you boys need someone to walk you home?"

One of the previously silent two, shook his head quickly, knocking his glasses askew. "No! W-we'll be okay!"

The three skittered off, casting glances back at Bakugou and Hitomi, with fear and shy hope respectively.

"While Bakugou, your attitude was abhorrent, Saito, you handled the situation well, taking charge of damage control like it was second nature."

The smile slipped off of Hitomi's face, replaced by a sneer of disdain.

"As if I want praise from you."

Best Jeanist sighed harshly, and for the first time, his scent turned sharp with anger.

"Saito—"

Hitomi's ears shot pin-straight, flicking and rotating on her head until they locked on the direction of an alarm ringing someplace downtown.

In a split-decision— probably fueled partially by her resistance to hear whatever Best Jeanist was going to say —Hitomi charged off like a shot, pumping her legs as hard as she could in an effort to lose both the Hero and her classmate. Bakugou coming would only slow her down with his Quirk prohibited. Granted, so was hers, but Aunt Rumi drilled into her head the importance of not simply relying on one's power to win a fight.

Her borrowed tennis shoes skidded on the pavement as she rounded the street corner, and she was met with the sight of broken glass littering the sidewalk, in front of the store where the alarm blared from.

Robbery. Looks like a jewelry shop. Sounds like more than one. Weapons? Quirks? Can't use Akita Inu. That means hand-to-hand against an unknown number of criminals, who may or may not be armed.

Finally, something more than just dull patrols.

The glass crunched beneath her feet, and drew the attention of the people inside. Hitomi stood in the open doorway, casually glancing around at the trashed displays and jewelry strewn around.

"The door was open, so why break the windows?"

Three men stood mid-theft, hands full of sacks meant to carry the valuables. None of them even bothered to wear any face coverings, lord knows why. Maybe they were in it for the infamy.

"So… shopping for a lady friend?" Hitomi rocked on her heels with a put-on air of nonchalance.

That seemed to do the trick, the men snapping out of their shock.

"Get her!" The scrawny one aimed the order at his accomplices, rushing to finish filling the sack.

Talk about determination.

The first to charge at her wasn't anything special. He was portly, with hair that definitely needed a wash, but in a flash he vanished from sight almost completely.

His downfall was that his clothes were still there and visible.

Going by the location of his shirt collar, Hitomi was able to deduce where his chin likely was, and delivered a clean right hook to the jaw as soon as he was in reach. The floating clothes dropped, and the man in them reappeared, his Quirk wearing off upon his quick knockout.

Did you know, a solid hit to the jaw at just the angle can render someone unconscious immediately? Aunt Rumi did, so that meant Hitomi did as well.

"You bitch!" The next man came at her, taller and fitter than the last one. He also seemed to have a more offensive Quirk, smoke billowing from his nose after he took a heaping breath.

Hitomi tensed, spotting the light crawling up the man's throat as he opened his mouth wide. Whether it was lava, or simple fire, she wasn't willing to find out. With a stride forward instead of scrambling away— taking the man aback —Hitomi snapped her fist upward, catching him with an uppercut, forcing his mouth to snap shut right as he was letting the sweltering breath go.

The man's eyes widened, and he clutched his throat, hacking as he choked on the smoke and fire he meant for her. It was almost enough to make Hitomi feel bad.

She swung a high kick, slamming it into the side of his head, his limp body sprawling out by his still unconscious colleague.

Hitomi turned to the last guy, opening her mouth to say some kind of witty one liner that would make even Nori proud, but she didn't get the chance.

Practically shaking hard enough to rattle, the man raised his trembling right hand, palm facing her, showing off a tiny hole sitting in the middle.

Hitomi had no time to prepare, completely at a loss for what it could possibly do to help him out of the situation.

But, then a shrill ringing pierced her ears, so high, and so, so loud.

Crying out in pain, Hitomi dropped to her knees, not even feeling the shards of glass shredding her skin. Her hands covered her ears unsuccessfully, the ringing so horrible that her head noticeably throbbed, blood filling her mouth from where she bit viciously into her tongue.

Make it stop! Make it stop! Please!

She didn't realize she was actually screaming the words, until her raw throat rasped and made her choke on them.

Then, silence. Blissful, sweet silence.

Hitomi slumped, cradling her head as a much duller ringing was left in her ears as an aftereffect. With blurry, half-lidded eyes, she saw the floor light up, the glass glittering like stars.

Burnt caramel. Bakugou.

The fact she couldn't hear his Quirk going off, made her mouth go dry.

When she managed to lift up her head— which felt weighed down by a ton of bricks, Hitomi saw her classmate staring at her with an indiscernible expression. Then, there was Best Jeanist, who had the last criminal bound tightly in his own clothes. His hands were forced together, and wrapped tightly to keep him from using his Quirk again.

He saved her.

The heat grew worse than ever.

Best Jeanist offered her a hand up, but she slapped it away, snarling to the side. Her knees stung when she straightened them standing, rivulets of blood falling down her unsteady legs.

The police arrived shortly after, taken aside by Best Jeanist and— presumably —filled in on the situation. Hitomi stood back, fists shaking at her sides.

A hot hand landed on her shoulder, the warmth strong enough to feel through her stupid jean jacket. When she turned her head she saw Bakugou next to her, staring up at her ears, his mouth moving silently.

Hitomi squinted, and thought she saw his lips shape the word "blood". She lifted a hesitant hand to her ears, feeling around at the bases of them. When she lowered it, it came back slick with blood. A lot of it.

Best Jeanist must have said something, because Bakugou gave him a nod, before taking Hitomi's wrist and pulling her along with him outside. He wasn't exactly gentle about it, but it was different from the ways he had hauled her around previous times.

It was hard to tell how long the Hero spoke with the police, but it did take enough time for all the blood on her to harden, and her hearing to slowly start to return, though everything sounded muffled.

A drop of rain hit her cheek, and Best Jeanist sauntered out of the store, completely unruffled.

It was like a pot finally boiling over.

"You— I—" Hitomi's face burned red, a visual representation of her bubbling rage. "I didn't need your help!"

Best Jeanist arched a prim brow, rain speckling his costume, forming small dark spots on the denim. "Oh really?"

"Yes!" She shouted gutturally. "God— I'd sooner die than ask for help from you! I had it handled!"

"So curling up on the floor, begging for mercy, is considered handling it?"

Thunder clapped, and somewhere distantly in her mind, Hitomi registered that she was steadily growing soaked. But none of that mattered. Not when her head was pounding and her chest felt full of lava.

"You have no idea what— Argh!" She threw up her hands, turning and stomping away a few steps, before spinning back around, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I don't care what rank you are! To me, you're nothing more than a second-rate, pathetic, joke of a Hero! And no matter how many people you have— or will save, that won't ever change! Not after what you did! So take your narcissistic "help" and shove it!"

Her body shook, and she turned her back to him—

"Saito!"

Hitomi's eyes widened, and her tail tucked.

He sounded furious.

"I have let you disrespect me and undermine my authority these past few days without saying a word. But that ends now." Best Jeanist's eyes narrowed into slits. "If all you aimed for this internship was to berate and disparage me then you have succeeded. So if that was your only goal, then I suggest you go get on the first train back home." He spoke with finality.

Hitomi felt her stomach drop to her feet.

W-wait… wait no, that wasn't— she didn't—

Bakugou watched them with barely concealed investment.

"Think about what it is you've gained from this internship, and based on the answer, leave early, or come back to the Genius Office with a new attitude." Best Jeanist turned on his heel, sauntering away. "I'd think long and hard on it. Come, Bakugou."

For what it was worth, her classmate hesitated for a second, before following after the Hero, glowering slightly.

Hitomi stood frozen in place, numbed to the cold. Her clothes and hair plastered themselves to her shivering body, sopping wet from the sudden downpour of rain.

The fire burning her from the inside out, finally died. It flickered weakly into nothing, leaving behind that previous feeling of something else.

Oh, it was shame.

By the time she blinked away the haze clouding her mind, Bakugou and Best Jeanist were gone, neither one in sight. She was left alone, standing dumbfounded in the rain.

What… what did she do now? What could she do?

If she hopped on a train back home, she had no doubt Mr. Aizawa would catch wind of it, and punish her severely for her lack of professionalism. He could even expel her, if he was feeling extreme.

But if she walked back to the Genius Office, head low in shame, would she be able to keep civil? Could she set aside all of her hate, and treat the Hero like the authority he was? Would he even accept her back? Maybe he was banking on her going home, that way he could focus more on his temperamental intern.

Hitomi was at a crossroads, quite literally.

She stood at an intersection, not having realized she was walking until she came upon it. Now, she was left facing her choices. The Genius Office was to the left, while the nearest station was to the right.

Was she strong enough to face Best Jeanist, containing her anger and shame? Was she strong enough to face Mr. Aizawa, and the disappointment he would surely feel toward her?

Hitomi never had to question if she was strong enough for something before. She didn't like the uncertainty.

There was a bench and awning a few yards away, and Hitomi— maybe trying to stall for time —meandered over and sat down. The awning shielded her from the rain, but it didn't make much of a difference since she was already thoroughly doused.

Then, she just… sat there. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, her slack expression giving away none of the turmoil eating away at her. Her heart raced, and her breathing stuttered. She felt helpless. No one else could do anything about the situation she put herself in, and it was like she couldn't either.

God, she was an idiot, wasn't she? She threw away her internship— a chance to grow and make her family proud, and instead she chose to give it up just so she could give Best Jeanist some trouble. She was the pathetic one.

A soft, high pitched gasp pulled Hitomi from her bout of indecision and self deprecation. When she whipped her head to the left in search of the one it came from, she locked eyes with a pair of incredibly wide, slitted ones. They widened even further, and vanished behind the bench, along with the rest of the girl.

She was young, probably only a year or two older than Hana, practically swimming in an oversized raincoat. Underneath the hood, two small points of fur flicked around nervously, and a long fuzzy appendage swung anxiously behind her.

A cat Quirk.

Hitomi softened, cracking a weak smile. "Hello."

The girl jumped, then slowly shuffled out from behind the bench, her face flushed red, making her whiskers stand out against her skin. A glance cast over her shoulder, brought attention to a woman standing a short distance away, an umbrella perched in her hand to keep her dry. The woman gave the girl an encouraging nod, and her tail swung faster, more erratic.

With a deep breath to steel he resolve, the girl stepped out fully into view, digging around in her backpack, then thrusted her arms out.

Hitomi blinked, then stared at the item held in the girl's hands.

A single piece of paper, dotted with a few stray drops of rain. Across the face of it was a busy crayon drawing, so big and chaotic that it took Hitomi a second to recognize what she was seeing.

Off to the side was a male figure, wearing a navy blue and white uniform, with white and red hair split down the middle, and blocks of light blue surrounding him.

And there, right in the middle, big and prominent and impossible to miss, was a big orange dog. An Akita.

Something in her chest squeezed.

"Is… is this me?"

The girl nodded meekly, paper fluttering as her hands started to shake.

Hitomi tentatively took hold of the edge, keeping the pressure light, as if it would tear if she wasn't careful.

As soon as she had a grip on it, the girl let go, and scurried back out into the rain. The woman held out a hand, and the girl took it with a small, giddy bounce. With more confidence than she had yet to show, she shot a smile at Hitomi, waving her free hand excitedly.

"Bye!"

Hitomi returned the wave slowly, the motion made weaker by her sheer shock of what just happened.

Sure, after the sports festival Hitomi had her fair share of people approaching her, some to congratulate her third place victory, some to comment on the unsettling lengths she went to escape Todoroki's ice, and some to say that they remembered her parents and the good they did.

But this was different. This was the respect of a child, signified by a single piece of paper. The girl hadn't said a word, no verbal declarations of her appreciation of Hitomi's role in the sports festival, but she didn't need to. The drawing was enough.

And it was with a pit in her stomach, that Hitomi realized she would do anything to earn that little girl's admiration. And she couldn't do it while sitting idly on a bench.

Hitomi stood, tucking the paper safely away inside her jacket, and ran.

…

The office doors opened with two slams in succession, thrown open by the panting pinkette.

Best Jeanist didn't bother to look up, continuing tapping away on his sleek computer, only deigning to raise a brow.

Hitomi gasped deep, ragged breaths, and her knees were bleeding again from the sprint to his agency.

At least the rain washed the blood out of her hair.

"J— Be— Sir." She stumbled over what to call him, Jeanist being too casual, and Best Jeanist putting a sour taste in her mouth, so Sir was probably her best option. Though a part of her writhed in disgust at the formal and respectful name.

Put it aside. Lock it up. Be bigger, and ignore the heat.

Best Jeanist finally lifted his gaze, setting it on her. It was heavy with assessment.

"Something you need?"

Hitomi closed her eyes, reaching into the jacket and brushing her fingers against the drawing.

She could do this.

The number-four Hero stared, taken aback as Hitomi leaned down in a deep bow.

"Sir, I truly hate you. As a person, and as a Hero. I find it incredibly difficult to consider you an authority and show you respect as a result."

"Go on." His tone wasn't offended, but curious.

Now came the hard part.

"That being said… you're still the number-four Hero, and I'm only a first-year student. The internships are meant to be a chance to learn, and I've disregarded that. No matter what I think of you personally, my goal is to become a great Hero, and that outweighs any grudges I may have. With the two days we have left, would you please continue to teach me what you can?"

Not once during her speech did she stand straight again, keeping her eyes focused solely on her wet shoes.

"You sincerely hate me?"

"Very much. I'd go so far as to use the word despise."

"Will you refrain from making any more remarks about me, and at least keep the pretenses that you consider me a Hero deserving of respect?"

"Yes."

"Alright then."

Hitomi jolted, looking up in shock. "Wait— just like that?"

Best Jeanist leaned forward in his chair, putting his elbows on his desk, and steepling his hands. "Not quite. There is one thing you have to do first, as punishment for the comments you've made.

Hitomi frowned, swallowing down any refusals sitting on the tip of her tongue.

It would have been so much easier to go home.

…

Several sturdy knocks wrapped on his door, and Katsuki glowered with suspicion.

With a flick of his wrist, he turned the heat down on the stovetop, giving one last stir before stepping away.

When he flung the door open, ready to snap at whoever was interrupting his cooking, he was surprised to see who was on the other side. (Though he masked the emotion well.)

Saito's face was flushed all the way down to her neck, and her chest rattled with desperates breaths. Her hands were on her bloody knees, her body bent over, clearly over exerted. Her hair and clothes were darkened considerably, completely drenched— likely from the storm raging outside. It didn't look like there was an inch of her that was remotely dry, a theory supported by the way she trembled hard enough that flecks of water flew off of her.

Katsuki opened his mouth to ask what the hell she wanted, but he didn't get the chance.

Saito removed her hands from her knees, only to lean down in a deep and proper bow, similarly to how the class rep tended to do.

"I'm sorry! I prioritized my bitterness and resentment over your internship. I jeopardized yours and Best Jeanist's time by causing trouble. I'm sorry!"

Katsuki stared. Her words ran together, taking him a second to grasp it all as a result.

Well, he wasn't really expecting an apology from her. To be honest, he didn't really consider that he needed one.

Saito stood, watching him hopefully.

Oh god, she wanted reassurance that he forgave her. Fucking hell.

"Whatever, who the hell cares?"

Her shoulders went lax, and her breathing evened out— but still came in pants.

"Oh thank goodness." She put a hand to her chest, as if his "forgiveness" eased some kind of weight. "I already talked to Best Jeanist, and he agreed to keep me as an intern."

Whoopty-fuckin-do. It wasn't like either of them were even learning anything from the Hero in the first place, she probably would have been just as well off if she left. Katsuki rolled his eyes, moving to slam the door in her face.

A vicious growl rumbled from her stomach.

Saito pursed her lips, flushing sheepishly.

Rightfully so. It sounded like a fucking lion roaring.

"Have you eaten anything?" Katsuki huffed, the question coming from a place of judgement, not concern.

Saito shifted side to side on her feet, which she kept her gaze aimed toward. "Erm, no, not yet. Best Jeanist made me run one hundred laps around the building after I talked to him. Soon as I was finished I came here to apologize to you."

Well, that explained why she was so wet.

He spotted the way her nose twitched, and eyes widened with unconcealed hunger. Even he could smell his stir fry while standing in the door of his suite, so it was no wonder that she could. She wasn't exactly subtle about it.

"You can smell the rain?"

"Mm-hm!"

A small part of him— that he set aside as irrational —was very glad he took a shower before starting on dinner.

Speaking of…

Inhaling sharply in resignation, Katsuki took stock of the girl in front of him, who just presented a solution to a nonproblem he was faced with only a few moments ago.

"I'm making stir fry. You want some?"

Saito's mouth fell open, and she fixed him with a stunned look.

"Seriously? That's so nice!"

Did she have to sound so goddamned surprised by that?

"Tch, I'm used to cooking for more people, so there's extra! That's all! Besides, doesn't your stupid Quirk not even work if you don't eat? I won't have you slowing me down tomorrow because you were a dumbass!"

But despite his angry explanation, Saito grinned pleasantly, her tail blurring behind her as it wagged excitedly.

"Thanks Bakugou!"

Katsuki grumbled something irritably under his breath, trudging back to the kitchen and his— thankfully not burnt —stir fry. Without looking back, he scolded her over his shoulder.

"You're dragging water in. Should've dried off before coming over here."

(The fact that his admonishment would encourage Saito into drying off and warming up had nothing to do with why he said anything. Katsuki just didn't want there to be trails of rain water around his suite. That's all.)

Saito made a quiet noise that he interpreted as something embarrassed, which was proven the case when he glanced her way.

She stood stock-still, staring down at herself with a guilty frown. It seemed that she was stuck between staying right where she was, to avoid spreading the water further, or going back to her room, and making her previous trail even worse.

Did he have to do everything?

"There's towels in the bathroom, idiot. Hurry up." Katsuki ordered, removing the large pan from the burner.

He heard Saito let out a relieved sigh, before tiptoeing away, as if being quieter would help keep from tracking in water.

What a fucking dumbass.

By the time she came back— a towel pulled over her shoulders like a cape, and another draped over her head —Katsuki was already finished plating the food.

"It smells delicious." She chirped, sitting herself down on one of the barstools lining the island counter, pulling one of the two plates toward her. But as she picked up a pair of chopsticks, an odd expression settled on her face.

"Um… is there any onion or garlic in this?"

Already eating his, Katsuki chewed and swallowed a bite, arching an unimpressed brow. "Why?"

Saito fidgeted in her seat, a hand coming up to twirl her hair in a nervous tick. "Ah, well, I'm kinda… really allergic."

Katsuki paused, the next bite poised halfway to his mouth. Usually he would put those very two things in his stir fry, but the lackluster stock in his pantry was missing them and several others. The so few options were actually the reason he even made the dish, with it's simple ingredients.

"No, there's not. And aren't those deadly for dogs?"

Saito's ears went back, tucking close to her head. And for a second, Katsuki wondered if they were still hurting.

"Yeah, they are. I also can't have chocolate, grapes and raisins, avocados, macadamia nuts, and alcohol or caffeine." Saito listed the things off with her fingers, grimacing with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. "Oh, and large amounts of sodium. Basically, if it's harmful to a dog, then it is to me too."

Katsuki wouldn't outright say it, but inwardly he acknowledged that that sounded pretty shitty to deal with.

Every Quirk comes with a price.

There was an unfamiliar chime, coming from somewhere on her person. Saito sat up, rummaging around in her jacket pocket and pulling out her ridiculous looking phone. The case was bright and cluttered, with way too many cutesy charms hanging off one corner. She tapped on something, and Katsuki kept his face neutral when he saw her brows furrow in disbelief.

"Bakugou, have you seen this?"

She turned the screen to face him, and suddenly, he was staring into the face of the Hero Killer.

"What the hell is it?" His voice was tight, the title of the video not doing anything to ease his concern with what it was.

The twisted but just ideology of the Hero Killer Stain.

The fuck was this?

Saito leaned over the counter so they could both see the screen, and tapped play.

"The Hero Killer Stain. Real name, Chizome Akaguro." What sounded like a teenage boy spoke over news footage of the Hero Killer. "As a child he was greatly inspired by All Might's debut. He enrolled in a private Hero high school, but was dismayed by what he viewed as the educational system's skewed understanding of what it meant to be a Hero. Throughout his teenage years, Chizome advocated for a return to the early days of Heroes, but quickly realized that words had no power. For the next ten years, he trained in killing techniques in order to fulfill his self-appointed duty. During this time his parents passed away in what police eventually ruled as a tragic accident. His focus was on a return to the old days. He believed Heroes should not seek compensation. That one should epitomize the idea of self-sacrifice. He believed that present-day Pros were frauds. Through his violent purges he hoped society would eventually side with him."

Then, to both his and Saito's chilling shock, it cut to a clip of poor video taken the night of his arrest. And there, standing in the street beside a dead Nomu, The Hero Killer towered over the downed form of a certain green haired boy.

Deku, dressed in that stupid fucking costume, was prone on the ground right next to the man who singlehandedly murdered a dozen of Pro Heroes. What the fuck was he doing there?

Then, the deep and raspy voice of the Hero Killer replaced the teenage narrator. And Katsuki couldn't fight down the shudder that wracked his body.

"These streets must run with the blood of hypocrites! Hero! I will reclaim that word! Come on! Just try and stop me, you fakes! There is only one man I'll let kill me. He is a true Hero. All Might is worthy!"

The video cut off abruptly after that. Maybe driven by some sick curiosity to see just how many bastards were siding with the bullshit, Saito clicked on the comments section. But when the page reloaded upon her cautious tap, the video was gone. Already deleted, or taken down by the website. Probably the latter.

"Well, that was…" Saito trailed off. She didn't need to say it, the discomfort and nerves clear as day on her face.

It was bad, to say the least. Because even Katsuki could pick up on the allure of what the Hero Killer was spouting. The thought of a world where Heroes just went about their lives saving people without the responsibility of having to provide them with compensation for their work, sounded like a dream for those who didn't want to enter that field. But it just wasn't sustainable. Being a Hero was a job— a noble one, but a job nonetheless, and people needed to be paid for doing their job.

The Hero Killer was a fucking idiot if he thought he could make a positive change by killing people for just doing their job.

"That night— the one he was arrested, that was the night Midoriya sent his location." Saito slowly said, her voice shaky and riddled with fear. Not for herself, but for what could have happened to Deku.

Katsuki shoved some more food in his mouth, using it as an excuse not to say anything.

Mercifully, Saito didn't speak up again until both their plates were close to empty. Katsuki appreciated the reprieve for the little time it lasted.

…

"Hey, Bakugou? How do you…" Hitomi toyed with her chopsticks, looking anywhere but at him. "How do you handle being angry all the time?"

The scent of burnt caramel spiked, and she rushed to elaborate.

"I-I mean— you just—" Hitomi waved her hands around as if hoping to physically grasp the right words. "You're angry a lot, but you also, like, keep a lid on it?"

The children from earlier in the day would disagree, but Hitomi knew better. Yeah, he had plenty of outbursts, but to be as irritated as Bakugou was as often as he was, it was impressive that he kept civil a lot of the time.

"Is this about Jeanist?"

Hitomi looked up, nodding once reluctantly. But her gaze soon fell back to the counter. Just to do something with them, her hands gripped the edge.

"I'm not… used to being angry. It's foreign to me. So when I am, it's kinda hard to, uh…"

"Keep from blowing a fuse?" Bakugou's voice was gruff, but held a note of understanding.

"Exactly. I've never hated someone as much as I do him, and it's just— I want to—"

Something cracked, and Hitomi jumped. Looking down, she was dismayed to see the marble countertop splintered with fractures. It must have been faux marble— cheaply made, at that.

"Ah, sorry!" She pulled her hands away, holding them close to her chest.

But Bakugou didn't seem upset, despite this being much worse than dragging water in. He stared at the counter considerately, then pushed the empty plates aside. Leaning forward, he placed his right arm on the counter, elbow down and hand held out to her, palm facing to his left.

Hitomi blinked, recognizing the position, and frowned unsurely.

"Um, Bakugou, I don't think that's a good idea…"

Of course, the blonde took this poorly. "The fuck is that supposed to mean, huh!?"

Hitomi's brow twitched. "Bakugou, I just broke the counter with my bare hands, I don't think an arm wrestling match could end well."

A feral grin split across his face. "Wanna bet?"

Hitomi opened her mouth, then paused. A bet?

Suddenly, the idea of crushing him in overwhelming defeat sounded pretty good.

"Alright, but if I break something, I'm not paying the hospital bill." Hitomi put a finger to her chin, gaze skyward in thought. "Hmm… let's see. If I win, you have to come up with a new nickname for me. And it can't be as or more derogatory than my current one." She tacked on the second part knowing he very well might pick something like "Mangy" or "Bitch" if he chose while still bitter over the loss.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, but didn't voice any outright refusal. His eyes narrowed in a calculating glower, and he made his wager.

"Fine. When I win, you have to tell me what the hell your problem is with Best Jeanist."

Hitomi's ears went back, her head dipping down, while Bakugou watched the reaction closely.

That… that was a tough wager. Were they close enough for her to go and dump all her baggage on him? Even if he was asking? She did consider him as something like a friend, but was that enough?

"Or you can just admit I'm stronger and forget about the stupid bet."

Hitomi's head snapped up, ears now pinned toward him. Because unlike what you would expect from the seemingly abrasive sentence, Bakugou's voice was... calm? No, that wasn't right, it sounded almost… careful.

It was careful. He knew he was in uncharted territory, and was giving her the opportunity to usher him out. It was uncharacteristically sweet.

First the food, and now this.

Hitomi smiled, leaning forward and putting her right elbow atop the counter, her hand held out for him to take.

"I just have one favor to ask."

Bakugou smirked, sitting straighter and taking her hand in an already crushing grip. "I'm not going easy on you."

"I know." Hitomi was unfazed. "I just wanted to ask you not to blow up my hand."

"I don't need my Quirk to kick your ass."

She let herself smirk at that.

"I'll let you count down."

"Tch, I don't need to count down. You do it." Bakugou scoffed in offense at the perceived handicap.

"Alright, I'll say three, two, one, go. And we'll both start at the go, okay?"

"I know how a countdown works!"

Hitomi giggled.

"Okay then. Three. Two. One. Go!"

…

His hand was still bruised.

Hitomi did her best not to stare at it, not wanting to set him off again, as he would assume her prolonged gaze was some kind of taunt. And he was already furious enough, with his hair refusing to go back to normal.

She was getting pretty good at figuring out Bakugou's triggers.

"I'd like to think I've imparted some valuable lessons upon you both, despite the two of you fraying my patience."

Hitomi rocked on her heels, back in her regular school uniform, her costume case held over her shoulder, and backpack hanging at her side in her other hand.

Best Jeanist rubbed his temple, eyes shut in exasperation. "Only time will tell." When he reopened them, they settled sternly on the two. "Just try to remember, it's important to keep favorable in the public eye. And you should alway do your best to keep personal feelings outside of Hero work. Lastly, Bakugou, try to think about what I said."

Clueless as to what he was referring to, Hitomi started toward the train, ready to go home where she wouldn't have to hear any more fabric related puns.

There were no more words exchanged between her and the Hero, just his vague warning, and a mutual understanding that she hated him, but was willing to use him as a tool for her growth.

"Your hair's really stuck like that, huh?" Hitomi couldn't help but smile at the blonde in guilty amusement.

Bakugou snarled, smoke billowing from his clenched hands. It was lucky his case handle didn't melt, or his dufflebag strap didn't catch fire.

She was sure if she asked how his hand was doing, he really would explode.

Like the first day of their internship, the two walked the length of the train until coming upon a nearly empty car. But starkly different this time, was how Bakugou seemed unfazed by Hitomi taking the seat across from him.

Hitomi felt a sense of deja vu, wishing she could open the window next to them so she could smell the morning air.

The train started to pick up speed, and she watched the city pass in a blur, with the beautiful backdrop of a pink and orange sunrise. A lot had happened during their internship, some of which she never would have expected. She hadn't forgiven Best Jeanist for anything, just as she had told him, and likely never would. But at least in the end she had tried to learn something from him instead of just using the trip as an outlet for so much of her pent up anger and grief.

Then there was the other thing she didn't anticipate working out when the trip started.

Discreetly glancing across from her, Hitomi studied her friend and classmate.

He was stewing silently, irritably running his hands through his stubborn hair. But despite his best efforts it was refusing to go back to the tall spikes she was used to seeing.

(It usually looked pretty soft. And if it were literally anyone else she would have asked to touch it by now. But the darn hairspray had turned it into an immovable helmet. Shame.)

She could hear the beginnings of a storm of swears through his clenched teeth, and sighed in resignation.

Well, she was supposedly getting a new nickname, so why not go all in?

After all, they were friends, right?

Just when a growl bubbled up from Bakugou's throat, she spoke and brought him to a complete halt.

…

"My parents died on my eighth birthday."

Katsuki froze, hands stilling in his hair. When he looked over, he saw Saito staring out her window with a far off glaze in her eyes.

Oh fuck this. He never agreed to listen to her sob story. Overhearing Icy-hot's during the sports festival was bad enough.

But no matter how hard he tried, Katsuki couldn't get his damned mouth to open to tell her to stop.

(To tell her she didn't owe him this.)

She drew in a breath, and to his discomfort it sounded nothing like any noise he had ever heard from her before. How the fuck did she manage to make an inhale sound heartbroken?

"I woke up that morning, and everything was normal. Happy." She continued on, never once checking to see if he was even listening.

How could he not be?

A smile graced her lips, but it was mirthless. "My brother made Belgian waffles. Momo was there from a sleepover. Everything was perfect." The smile slipped away, and even though it had been weak to begin with, once it was gone she looked wrong without it. Her face blank. "But Mama and Papa were called in by a different agency. They wanted help with something, and if I'm being honest, I don't even remember what that thing was. They felt bad about working on my birthday, but I told them that they were Heroes, that it was fine and that I understood. So they left to catch an early train, and said they would be back sometime later in the evening. But…"

Katsuki frowned, unable to keep staring at her mournful expression, choosing to follow her example and watch the world fly by.

"I woke up some time in the night from some thunder, and got up to get a glass of water. I had a bad feeling though, saw it was almost midnight, and knew they weren't home yet… They would always come into our rooms and let us know they were home safe, no matter the time." Her voice wavered, going softer. "So… I turned on a TV, changed it to the news, and there it was. Plastered all over the screen, Silver Shifter and Golden Giest found dead. In an alley right by the very agency that asked for their assistance."

"The Genius Office." Katsuki quietly finished for her, already figuring it out. It made sense, why she held such hatred for the number-four Hero, and found it hard to judge her for her behavior towards the man. He may fight constantly with his mother, but he knew if something happened to both his parents, in the same night no less, he would be destroyed.

Saito took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When they opened, they had regained some of the spark he had grown used to seeing. "So, that's why I hate Best Jeanist. And that's why I wasted my internship just to give him trouble."

Katsuki forced out a scoff, hoping she wouldn't notice the lack of heat in it. "The guy put in an application for you. He knew what he was signing up for."

That wrangled a thin smile from her, and Katsuki ignored the way it made it just that much easier to breathe. The almost tangible cloud of grief hanging over her made the car feel stifling.

"Yeah. Maybe." Saito said under her breath, clasping her hands on her lap.

Katsuki scowled. "Tsk, no maybe about it Cherry, he was askin' for you to come and ream his ass."

It was probably some weird guilt thing. Like the Hero felt he deserved for her to knock him down a peg, after the role he played in her parents' deaths.

Saito started to nod, until her ears flicked and her eyes widened. Her head snapped up, and she blinked at him in shock.

Katsuki tensed. What— what did he say? Why was she—

"Cherry?" She whispered, a genuine and unhindered smile spreading across her face.

Did he say that? Did he call her Cherry of all fucking things?!

Katsuki bit back every curse tumbling around in the back of his mind, instead plastering on a sneer. "Yeah, so what?! You won the damn bet and said you wanted a different name!"

Saito giggled. "I did. But… why Cherry?"

Katsuki growled, and his face was not getting warmer, fuck off it wasn't— "Your hair is fucking pink! That's all!"

"But Bakugou, cherries are red!" Saito broke into full-on laughter.

Any of that lingering sadness darkening her eyes was gone now, replaced by something much lighter.

And Katsuki was not relieved. He wasn't.

(But his shoulders did lower, and his hands did unclench.)

"Well, I like it anyway." She announced once calmed down. "Thank you, Bakugou." Saito said with a minute tilt of her head, eyes closing with a grin.

Katsuki huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back, looking away out the window. "Whatever. It's not a big deal or anything."

(Fun fact: it actually was.)

…

Katsuki could already hear his mother's cackled laughter, brought by the state of his hair. But no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't just skip out on going home. If only his fucking hair would just—

Something landed on his head, pulled down over his eyes with a firm tug.

Katsuki stumbled back, hands crackling. "The hell—"

"See you tomorrow!" Saito's annoying voice chirped, before he heard her running footsteps dash away.

He angrily ripped off whatever it was that she put on his head, and paused upon seeing it.

A plain white beanie.

Katsuki stared at it, a bit stunned. He hadn't thought to put a hat on to hide the horrible hairstyle, and he felt somewhat flustered that the thought never crossed his mind.

Saito was already long gone, so it wasn't like he could return it. And tossing it away would be a waste.

With a weak grumble, Katsuki put it back on, making sure it covered most of his hair.

With that, he started toward home.

He didn't live far from the station, so he didn't bother calling one of his parents for a ride. But maybe he should've, just to avoid a certain stretch of the way.

Katsuki glared upward, his right hand tightening around the strap of his bag. The wisps of his hair that were sticking out from the beanie swayed lightly from the breeze, and his glare only grew stronger when the soft wind rustled the canopy above.

He scoffed, clicking his tongue irritably at himself, and shook his head. He kept his gaze studiously forward the rest of the way, refusing to lift it any higher, and catch another glimpse. But as if to taunt him, another gust of wind blew by, knocking some off of the branches and down into view.

"But Bakugou, cherries are red!"

The bright pink cherry blossoms fluttered their way into his path, and were pointedly ignored.

Cherry-Bomb. The ship name is Cherry-Bomb. I've peaked.