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“Kacchan, I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink it you fuck.”

“Kacchan.”

“What?”

“You’re fussing.”

“I am not. Shut your face.”

“Quit worrying. It’s gonna go fine.”

“I don’t want it to go fine. I want it to go fucking fantastic. Get out of here with that fine shit, Deku—”

“Don’t be a drama queen. Sit down and hold my hand. I’m frightened.”

“No you’re not, you’re playing Tetris on your fucking phone!”

“I think you mean I’m demolishing your high score on my fucking phone.”

“Fuck off you fuck.”

“You should put that on my headstone. ‘Fuck off you fuck.’ It’s beautiful.”

Despite himself, Katsuki felt the anxiety leech from his bones. It was hard to be absolutely terrified when the subject of your terror was gloating about his Tetris score and sipping water from an All Might thermos. He couldn’t eat anything before surgery, so in his head Katsuki was planning a brunch to end all brunches; following what was to be the most perfectly performed open heart surgery in the history of medicine.

Deku’s Doc eventually came in. Katsuki never bothered to learn his name, so he referred to him as such in any and every situation.

“Alright, Izuku, we’re ready for you.” He smiled reassuringly, as if Deku needed it. Calmness radiated off him like he was the fucking Buddha. Meanwhile Katsuki’s own apprehension tickled his lungs.

The scrub team arrived and started their prep. Katsuki was relegated to the corner of the room, awkwardly watching them check Deku head to toe and fit him for surgical scrubs. When they were done, Deku looked to him and silently held out his hand. Katsuki strode over and took it, giving his fingers a squeeze.

No matter how many times they did this it always felt like the first time to Katsuki.

Deku’s Doc was looking over his chart one last time when Inko-san burst into the room, hair in disarray. “Izuku!?” she cried. “Thank goodness. I was afraid I missed you. Oh baby how’re you doing?”

Deku smiled his heartbreaker smile and patted her hand. “I’m fine, mom.” He said. And he was, which was the annoying thing. He never balked in the face of potentially life-changing medical procedures — bravery the likes of which Katsuki could only dream of. “You didn’t miss anything. Kacchan even skipped school to hang out with me.”

Inko smiled tearfully and kissed her son on the forehead. She shot Katsuki a grateful look, which made his face heat up in embarrassment. As if there was anywhere else he would fucking be right now.

“Okay, team, let’s do this thing.” Deku’s Doc said cheerfully. “You ready, Izuku?”

“I was born ready.” Deku replied. “Literally.” That earned him a chuckle from the room.

They wheeled him into the hall and Katsuki didn’t let go of his hand until they were outside the double doors of the surgical suite. Deku tugged him down and leaned in to his space. “Love you, Kacchan.” He whispered.

Katsuki swallowed thickly. “I know, you damn nerd.” He said back.

And then Deku was gone. Whisked away by skilled hands to have his fucking chest cut open.

Sweat gathered in Katsuki’s palms, and he very carefully wiped them dry before going to sit with Inko-san in the waiting room.


Growing up with a best friend who’s sick is a challenge not easily described. 

Katsuki and Deku’s moms had them at practically the same time, so even though they weren’t technically brothers, they were close. There was never time when Katsuki was and Deku wasn’t. 

When they were four, and Katsuki got his Quirk and Deku didn’t, Katsuki was actually relieved. It was an awful thing to be, and Katsuki felt guilty, but Deku’s heart was no good for Heroics; he could barely be outside for more than an hour because his circulation was so bad. 

When the other kids picked on Deku for being Quirkless, Katsuki punched their noses flat and blew them up. Deku never fought. He just smiled and told him it wasn’t worth it, tears and snot running down his face. 

It made Katsuki hit the bullies twice as hard. 


The first time Deku had an attack, they were in Katsuki’s room playing heroes. Deku fell facedown on the carpet, and when he didn’t get up, Katsuki panicked. 

He screamed and their parents came running. Someone called an ambulance, and a man in a black shirt strapped Deku to a board and took him away. He was floppy like a dead fish, face blue and eyes half open. 

Katsuki had never felt fear like it. To this day it haunted him. Fueling his worry and making his fussing a neurotic thing. 

He learned later that Deku’s heart was broken, shaping the word “congenital” in his mouth until it made no sense. Katsuki thought it was bullshit. No one, no one, had a stronger heart than Midoriya Izuku. 


The surgery went perfectly. “Textbook” said the surgeon, but he was a pompous prick so Katsuki waited until Deku actually woke up to make his judgments. 

The little shit grinned at him in a drug-addled stupor. 

His heart monitor blipped a steady rhythm, but Katsuki still felt for the pressure point in Deku’s wrist to be sure. Inko-san smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Told ya.” Deku slurred. “Not t’day.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Congratulations. You lived.” 

“I met God.” Deku said seriously.

Katsuki smirked. “Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “How was that?”

“It was awesome. She smells like lavender. And she’s got chainsaws for hands.”

“Sounds like my kinda woman.”

“Mine too.”

Inko giggled. It made the lines around her eyes dance playfully. “You boys.” She said fondly. “I wish I’d brought my camera.”

Deku fell asleep a little while later, so Katsuki politely excused himself and went to get food from the cafeteria. He sent his parents a text updating them on Deku’s condition, which they both responded to with a disgusting number of emojis. 

He bought onigiri for himself and Inko-san, she tended not to eat when Deku was in hospital, and trudged back up to the cardiac unit feeling a little lighter. When he got to Deku’s room, Inko was putting on her coat and smoothing out the blankets around Deku’s feet.

“Oh, Katsuki dear.” She said when she saw him. “Is that for me? Thank you. I’m heading home to grab some of Izuku’s things before he wakes up again. He asked for his notebooks, silly boy. Will you watch him for me?”

“Of course.” Katsuki said. 

“You’re a lifesaver. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay, Inko-san.” 

She left and it was just him and Deku, who was utterly conked out. Katsuki sat down in Inko’s chair and pulled out the homework he’d been neglecting. He had Deku’s too, and fully intended to bully him into doing it once the bastard wasn’t high as a fucking kite. 

He couldn’t let him fall behind now, not when they were so close to graduation. They were going to the same goddamn high school; Katsuki didn’t care if he had to drag Deku there by his fucking nose tube. 


After that first attack, taking care of Deku became second nature. 

Every morning, Katsuki would go over to Deku’s place and walk him to school. If he was breathing wrong, Katsuki stopped and let him rest. If he was thirsty, Katsuki pulled a water bottle from his back pack. When Inko was at work, Deku stayed with Katsuki’s family, and he helped his mom measure out Deku’s medicine in the morning and at night. 

Another kid might have been annoyed by Katsuki’s nannying, but Deku just smiled and accepted it, letting himself be pushed and prodded into health by the world’s most explosive best friend. 

He had another attack in the middle of winter, when they were eight. That was the first time Deku had to go into surgery, and Katsuki remembers biting his fingernails into bloody stubs during the long horrendous wait. 

The doctors told them that Izuku needed a new heart. 

Everything in Katsuki rebelled at the idea. Deku’s heart was fine. It was perfect just the way it was. 


“You’re serious.”

“As a fucking heart attack.”

“Ha ha.” Deku was groggy, but lucid. “I hate to break it to you, Kacchan, but my chances of getting into U.A are about as skinny as a coked-up thin mint.”

Katsuki crossed his arms and glared. “I’m going to U.A.” He growled. “Which means you’re going to U.A. Get it through your thick skull, Deku. I’m not leaving you behind.”

“You’re so dramatic!” Deku threw his hands up, wincing when he pulled his IV. “Going to U.A is not ‘leaving me behind!’ It’s following your fucking dream. You don’t need me there pulling you down.”

“Is that was this is about? You think you’re holding me back or some shit? That’s bullcrap and you know it. You’ve wanted to go to U.A since before you could fucking walk, and this is your chance. So stop being a little bitch and say yes already!” 

Deku frowned mulishly. The stubborn cuss wouldn’t even look Katsuki in the eye. 

“Look.” Katsuki tried again, more gently this time. “I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to go to some big dumb hero school if you can’t come with me. That’s just how I feel.”

  Deku’s gaze flicked up to his, searching. A moment later he sighed, deflating into his bed. He looked exhausted, dark rings like charcoal around his eyes. 

“You realize that me getting in is a one in a million shot, right?” He said. “Even if it’s just the Gen. Ed Department?” 

Katsuki grinned sharply. “I’m aware.” 

Deku smiled tiredly. “Then let’s fucking do it.” 

Katsuki cackled. 

Broken heart my ass. 

 

 

Chapter Text

Deku pressed the package into his hands with a devious little smile. It was wrapped terribly, covered stickers and bows and an unholy amount of scotch tape. 

Birthdays were dangerous. He used them as an excuse to be even more freakish than normal. 

Katsuki took a deep breath and tore the paper off his gift. As predicted, it was really fucking weird. 

“…You gonna tell me what the hell this is or should I guess?” He said. Deku snickered. 

“It’s a necklace!” He grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Katsuki picked the thing up by the chain and squinted at it suspiciously. “But what the hell is it?” 

Deku took it and traced his fingers over the surface of the charm. “You know what it is, stupid.” He said. “Look. Here’s the vena cava, here’s the intraventricular septum, the pulmonary semilunar valve—and look. It’s my fucked up aorta.” 

Katsuki blinked. “Deku…” He started. “Is this… your fucking heart?” 

Deku’s smile was blinding. “Yup!”

“It’s purple!”

“Purple’s my favorite color, you dick.” 

“How did you even make this?”

“I had some of the guys from my mom’s office 3D print it for me. Isn’t it cool?”

Katsuki didn’t answer, silently running his thumb over the charm’s smooth plastic surface. 

Deku’s smile dimmed. “…Do you not like it?” He asked, suddenly unsure. “I know it’s kind of weird, but I just thought, you know, since I can’t actually fight villains and stuff with you, it might be nice if you had, um, like, a part of me to have—“

Katsuki snatched the chain out of Deku’s grip and tugged it over his head, the charm resting against his breastbone. “Of course I fucking like it.” Katsuki said thickly. “I love it, you damn nerd.” He drew Deku into an awkward one-armed hug, being careful of all the goddamn tubes. 

“I’m glad.” Deku said. “I had this whole speech planned about you valiantly carrying my heart with you into battle. It was very Viking. Guess I don’t need it now.”

“You sap.” Katsuki said. “You do realize that this is the gayest present anyone’s ever given me, right?” 

Deku snorted. “Even gayer than the hundred pack of sparkly gel pens I got you for Christmas?” 

“Way gayer.” Katsuki said. “And fuck you. I use those bitches all the time. My documents have never been more fabulous.” Deku laughed. The sound lit the room in a golden glow. 


 Deku got out of the hospital two weeks after his surgery. He immediately jumped into schoolwork and studying at Katuski’s slavic insistence. The two spent hours alone in Katsuki’s bedroom, going over formulas and vocabulary until they were blue in the face (literally in Deku’s case). 

Time sped by. Before they knew it, the U.A entrance exam was upon them. Katsuki’s mom dropped them off in front of the gate, half so she could get pictures and half so Deku didn’t have to walk. He was looking particularly peaky today, and Katsuki had drowned him in coats and scarves that morning before they left. It would be just like Deku to drop dead on a perfectly ambient Fall morning, just to spite him. 

“This is it.” Deku said excitedly, looking up at the massive gates of U.A with sparkling eyes. “The starting line.”

Katsuki draped a lazy arm around his shoulders as they walked. “For both of us.” He said, giving Deku a meaningful look.

Deku smiled. “Yeah.” He said, eyes a little sad.

“You have your water? Your bracelet on tight?” 

“Yes, mom. Behold. I am widely identifiable.” Deku rubbed his wrist against Katsuki’s face, snickering at Katsuki's annoyed growl.


The practical exam ended up being about as vicious as a stuffed animal. At least to Katsuki. He blew up so many robots he lost count. It was awesome. And a little cathartic. The other applicants watched him work with a mixture of terror and awe. 

Katsuki reveled in it. Just a little. He sneered, putting on his best tremble peons I am your God expression. 

Everyone steered clear of him after that, which was what he wanted. All except for this one guy, who ran around in Katsuki’s wake picking off the robots he missed. Shirtless. 

He had Shitty Hair; gelled as fuck and dyed badly so his roots were showing. 

After all was said and done, Katsuki stood triumphantly atop a mountain of sparking robot corpses, feeling wholly satisfied with his performance. His mind wandered to Deku. The little shit better be taking the best test of his goddamn life. If Katsuki got in to U.A and he didn’t, there was gonna be a murder. Of Deku. By him. (Which was very counterproductive considered all the manpower that had gone into keeping the little shit alive). 

“Wow, dude, that was awesome!” Someone cried. 

“Hah?” Katsuki swiveled his head to glare at the speaker. Shitty Hair was, wow, very close, leaning into Katsuki’s face with the widest and most shark-like smile he’d ever seen.

“You totally toasted those ‘bots!” He said. “It was all like — boom! Pow! Woosh! Shit, dude, that was manly as hell!” 

“…Thanks?” Katsuki said. He was used to people praising his Quirk (as they should, it was fucking sick), but this guy was taking it to the next level, practically bouncing in place as he continued to make increasingly ridiculous sound effects. 

“Ah, man, I hope we’re in the same class.” He said eagerly. “I’m Kirishima! Kirishima Eijirou. Nice to meet ya!” 

“…Bakugo Katsuki.” 

Just then someone called for Shitty Hair - Kirishima - from a ways away and he grimaced. “Aw man, that’s Mina. Gotta go, Bakubro. I’ll catch you later!” He waved and sprinted away, linking arms with a pink-skinned girl and skipping back towards the exit. 

Katsuki stared after him. He felt kinda like he’d been clubbed over the head. 

“…Bakubro?” 


 

Deku looked exhausted but proud. His freckles stood out against his pale face, and Katsuki had half a mind to piggyback him the rest of the way home. 

“Hey, Kacchan.” He said. “How was your test?” 

“Easy as shit.” Katsuki grinned. “It was robots. Fucking robots, Deku.”

“So what you’re saying is that you got to be as violent as you wanted and it was totally justified?”

“Yup.” 

“Cool.” 

They walked down the long school entrance, shoulders brushing. “How about you?” Katsuki asked. “Written test go okay?”

Deku smiled and nodded. “It wasn’t so bad. You know Present Mic actually teaches here? He proctored the exam. It was a trip - like my fourth grade dream journal come to life.” A breeze blew over them and Deku shivered. Katsuki shrugged out of his jacket and wrestled it onto Deku before he could protest. “I think I made a friend.” 

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Really? How’d you manage that?”

“Don’t be mean.” Deku pouted. “I tripped going into the written test and this girl stopped me from falling. Her Quirk is really cool, it’s like some kind of anti-gravity thing—“

“Wait, you tripped? Tripped how?”

“Here we go.” Deku deadpanned.

“Don’t give me that shit, Deku. Was it a trip or was it a trip? Damn it, I knew it was too fucking cold today, shoulda made you wear a fucking space heater—“ 

“Kacchan.” Deku laid a gloved hand on his arm, stopping him mid-rant. “It was just a trip. Just a clumsy, me-being-bad-at-walking trip. I’d tell you if something was really wrong. You know I would.” 

Katsuki didn’t pout but it was a close thing. “Yeah I know.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I just…”

“You worry. I get it. You’re kinda like a Grandma, Kacchan, anyone ever tell you that?” 

“Fucking how?” 

“You nag, you worry, you knit, you’re always complaining about how cold it is, you even keep a bag of those weird hard candies in your purse—“

“It’s not a purse, it’s a manly satchel! And fuck you, Deku, Werther’s Originals are the fucking best you goddamn shit.” 

Deku snickered and leaned heavily into Katsuki’s side. “Aw, you love me, really. Tell me more about the practical exam. Did you meet anyone interesting?” 

He thought about it. Shitty Hair’s face came to mind. “Maybe.” He said finally. 

“Why Kacchan, have you made a friend? It’s a Christmas miracle!”

“It’s not even winter yet, you fuck.” 

“Whoever, this person is, I hope you see them again soon. We need more friends, Kacchan. You won’t be able to carry my casket all by yourself.” 

“That’s so fucking morbid, Deku.” 

“Speaking of which, I’ve updated my funeral playlist. I’m thinking about opening with ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ and closing on ‘Come Sail Away.’ You know. Really get them in the feels.” 

“You don’t need a fucking playlist Deku. You’re not gonna die.”

“Everyone dies, Kacchan.”

“Not you. You’re gonna live to be like, a million trillion years old. Fucking out last the heat death of the universe.” 

Deku giggled. “Alright, Kacchan, whatever you say.” 


 

They got their letters on the same day; a thick envelope for Katsuki and a significantly smaller one for Deku. At first he was afraid that meant Deku didn’t pass. But then Deku opened his and started bawling, and he knew his fears were misplaced. 

Katsuki didn’t’t bother to look at his envelope. He knew what was inside. It was his destiny. Always had been. Inko-san threw them a party with all Deku’s favorite heart-healthy foods, and Katuski didn’t stop smiling once. 

Chapter Text

To his credit, Kacchan kept his fretting to a minimum.

He still tied Izuku’s tie for him (which was very hypocritical considering Kacchan refused to even wear his), and forced two whole protein shakes down his throat. He also checked Izuku’s bracelet roughly 40 times before they left, and would have kept on checking in the car had Izuku not gotten fed up and smacked him in the face with it. 

They rode to school in thick silence. Kacchan bit his nails, teeth clicking loudly in the quiet. Izuku was still reeling. He half expected to wake up any second in a recovery room somewhere, surrounded by white coats with his mom’s worried face hovering over him. 

He’d never tell Kacchan, but he hadn’t really expected to live long enough to enter high school. 

But now, with U.A looming in the distance, hope was a hot coal in his chest.

It was a new day, and Izuku was ready. 


“Alright, Deku.” Kacchan said as they stood together outside class 1-A. He was pretending he wasn’t nervous, but his shaking hands and the taught line of his shoulders gave him away. “This is it. No turning back. I got this.”

“You got this.” 

“I got this!”

“You’re gonna do great, Kacchan.” Izuku said. “Just do your best. And try not to swear at the teacher. He’s a pro hero, he can probably punt you into the sun.”

Kacchan looked annoyed by this, but quietly promised to reign in his vulgarity. 

“One last thing, Deku.” He said. “If anyone tries to give you shit, lemme know okay? I’ll fuck ‘em up.” 

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Kacchan, I don’t need your protection.” He said. “I’m not helpless.” 

“I didn’t say you fucking were.” Kacchan growled. “I’m just done with people treating you like shit. I won’t let this place be like our fucking middle school.”

“Kacchan.” Izuku held his gaze and didn’t let him drop it. “I’ve got a new backpack, a fresh pair of bright red kicks, and my ticker has never been tickier. It’s gonna be fine. I can handle whatever these dickbags throw at me.” 

Kacchan scowled, and Izuku smiled up at him, unafraid. 

“Fucking—fine!” Kacchan huffed, angrily spinning towards the towering door. “But don’t come crying to me when your shitty head gets kicked in or your shitty feelings get hurt or your shitty — shit!” 

Izuku threw his arms around Kacchan’s middle and squeezed, forcing the air from his lungs. “Chillax, you damn worry-wart.” He said into Kacchan’s back. “Have fun, make lots of friends, and don’t text me every hour on the hour to see how I’m doing. It’s creepy.” 

Kacchan leaned back into his hold. “… Fine. Whatever.” He muttered. “You too, I guess.” 

Izuku gave him one last squeeze before releasing him into the unknown wilds of the U.A hero program. He had his own appointment to keep, and checked the map on his phone to make sure he was going in the right direction. This school was a goddamn labyrinth. 

Soon enough, he found himself in front of the famous and oft-used U.A Nurse’s Office. It kinda sucked that he had to check in with the staff - like he was a freaking suitcase - but it made sense. His heart was still a fickle bitch on the best of days, and the more the healthcare providers of U.A knew about his physiological nonsense, the better. 

He entered quietly, hoping to get this whole thing over with as soon as possible. He was in class 1-C, which was all the way on the other side of the school, and he didn’t fancy being late on his first day. 

“Hello, young man.” A kind voice called out. “I certainly wasn’t expecting any patients on the first day of class, but welcome.” 

A tiny woman in a lab coat and goggles sat at a desk poring over what looked like student medical files. With her gray hair tied up in a neat bun, she looked every bit the kind and loving grandmother that Kacchan was not. 

“Are you Ms. Recovery Girl?” Izuku asked. “I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’m supposed to talk with the nurses before I go to class?”

“Ah!” Her face lit up in recognition. “You must be the boy I’ve heard so much about. Sit, sit, would you like some tea? I’m afraid we have a few things to get out of the way before I can turn you loose, so you best get comfortable, dear.”  

Izuku sat on one of the empty beds and began to disrobe, resigning himself to the physical exam that followed. Recovery Girl was gentle and efficient, not even batting an eye at the gigantic scar that ran vertically down his sternum. She checked all the standard things, marking them in a blue folder for her records, and once she’d finished she gave him a handful of gummy bears and left him behind the curtain to re-dress.

“Congratulations, Midoriya-kun, you seem to be in fine health, relatively speaking.” Recovery girl said cheerfully. “All I have left are a few questions for you to answer and then you’re free to go.”

“Okay.” Izuku said absently. His gaze was caught on the impressive collection of medical textbooks and surgical manuals that lined the bookcase in the corner. “Shoot.”

Recovery Girl followed his eyes and smiled, kindly calling back his full attention. Izuku blushed. “Do you fancy a career in medicine, Izuku-kun?” She asked. 

 

Izuku laughed. “More like a career in medicine fancies me.” He said, a little self-deprecating. “I’ve been in and out of hospital most of my life, so I guess I’m pretty familiar with… stuff. I don’t think I have what it takes to actually do medicine though. I hate blood.”

Recovery winked conspiriatorially. “I’m a little squeamish myself.” Recovery Girl said. “Still, it pays the bills. And it’s quite the rewarding field. Perhaps we could chat about it sometime, if you’re interested.”

Izuku really wasn’t, but he politely accepted the invitation anyway. Recovery Girl was nice, and it might be interesting to talk with her in a non-Izuku’s-heart related capacity. 

She asked her questions, most of them relating to his medication, warning signs, triggers, and diet. When all was said and done, Izuku had a pocket full of gummies and a promise to come back and have tea, still fifteen minutes early for class. 

Walking into class 1-C felt a lot like jumping from a plane, his stomach bottoming out and wind rushing in his ears. Nobody else was there yet, not even the teacher, and Izuku was grateful. He needed time to go over his game plan. Operation: Make Some Fucking Friends (copyright Bakugo Katsuki).

Izuku picked a seat and took some calming breaths. It was ridiculous to be this nervous, even without Kacchan’s warm yet violent presence at his back. Izuku took out his phone and started a fresh game of Tetris, the only gaming app on his phone besides Neko Atsume. Right away the rhythmic dropping of the blocks soothed his creeping anxiety, helping him focus on the task at hand. 

He also crushed Kacchan’s high score. Again. 

Five minutes went by, and the first of Izuku’s new classmates walked in. Right away, Izuku noticed some interesting things. First off, his hair was purple, which was fantastic because it was Izuku’s favorite color. Secondly, he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink since the day he was born, and the big ol’ bags under his eyes rivaled Izuku’s post-surgery aesthetic. He looked nice enough, so Izuku steeled himself against his nerves and put on his best and biggest smile. 

“Hi!” He said, waving. “I’m Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku. What’s your name?” 

Purple-hair stared him down with dull gray eyes. “Shinshou. Hitoshi.” He said simply. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Hitoshi-kun!” 

Shinsou grunted in response and chose a seat on the opposite side of the room near the front. Not one to be deterred, Izuku picked up his things and settled down in the seat directly behind him. 

“So…” Izuku began, leaning forward. “First day of school. You nervous?”

“No.” Shinsou deadpanned.

“Not even a little?” 

“No.” 

“Not even a teeny weeny little itty bit —“

“Do you need something?” Shinosu spun around, annoyed. “Because I am tired, hungry, and really not in the mood for mind games.” 

Izuku frowned. “I’m not playing mind games.” 

Shinsou let out a harsh breath. “Did someone put you up to this? Tell you to bug me until I went insane?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Why?”

“Because you have purple hair and I like your face.” 

“Huh?” Shinsou’s expression contorted.

“I’m just gonna be upfront about this. I have no friends. I would like to make friends. You look vaguely friend-shaped, soooo…” 

Shinsou looked unimpressed. “You wanna be friends with me, Midoriya?” 

Izuku nodded. “I do.” 

“And nobody’s paying you to, like, tape signs to my back or spit in my bento when I’m not looking?”

“They are not.” 

“Huh.” Shinsou looked thoughtful, searching Izuku’s face for malice. “Okay then. What the hell. Let’s be friends.” 

Izuku fist pumped the air. Victory. 

“So, ‘friend’,” Izuku grinned. “Do people usually pay other people to give you a hard time?” 

“It has been known to happen.” 

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“I kinda get it though.”

“Really.”

“Oh, yeah. One time, I had a kid stick my lunchtime meds to the ceiling so I couldn’t get to them. My mom almost sued the school. It was awesome.” 

“No shit? Last fall my whole class pretended I was dead. Like, they put flowers on my desk and everything. Whenever I walked into a room they’d all look away and say stuff like ‘is it drafty in here? Must be Shinshou’s fucking ghost!’” 

Izuku tried to stifle his giggles but ultimately failed. 

“Tragic.” He said. “I can’t believe you’re fucking dead.”

“I know right?” Shinsou smirked. 

After that, they got along famously. Shinsou was an avid Neko Atsume fan, yet another box to check on Izuku’s reasons-to-like-Hitoshi list. They chatted until the room began to fill with the other Class 1-C students, followed by their teacher, Midnight, dressed as scandalously as ever. 

“Allright, listen up!” She shouted, cracking her whip and making everyone jump. “This is class 1-C of the General Education department, and from here on out there will be no fucking around!”

(“Is she allowed to swear at us?” - “I dunno, maybe?”)

Midnight grinned sadistically. “Everyone in this room is here for their own reasons. Some of you are aspiring professionals, some of you just want something impressive to put on your college apps. Some of you tried and failed to get into the hero program. I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t fucking matter. I don’t give a rat’s ass one way or another. Do I make myself clear?” She cracked the whip again for emphasis. 

“Yes ma’am!” The whole class answered. 

“Good. Here at U.A, your peers will be like your family. We build each other up, working together to better ourselves and our school. People look down on General Education because we’re not flashy like heroics, inventive like support, or profitable like marketing. I say fuck that! You have every opportunity to prove them wrong! You will show the world what you can do, boys and girls., or die trying. That’s an order!” Another crack, another round of half-inspired half-terrified affirmations. 

Izuku leaned into Shinsou’s ear. “This is so cool!” He whispered. Shinsou flicked him in the nose and told him to settle down. 


 

Katsuki was trying his best to be zen, but the four eyed-fucker lecturing him about the proper way to sit in a fucking chair was making it really fucking difficult. 

“Have you no respect for the honorable upperclassmen who came before us!?” Four-eyes chirped. “Lower your feet immediately! This is unbecoming of a U.A student!” 

Katsuki sneered. “What fuckin’ middle school’d you go to, hah?” He said, letting some delinquency slip into his speech. 

Four-eyes sniffed. “I attended Soumei Junior High.” He said. He probably couldn’t stand straighter if he tried. Katsuki was tempted to take a picture as a reference for Deku; he slouched like a motherfucker. 

Uninvited, thoughts of Deku began to circulate through his head. Was he fitting in okay? Did he have his water bottle? It was chilly as fuck, what if the teacher made him take off his scarf—

“Are you listening to me?” Four-eyes growled. 

“Nope.” Katsuki said. “And I’m not gonna. How ‘bout you worry about you, and I worry about me, m’kay? You damn elite?” Irritation oozed from the kid like lava and Katsuki held back a snicker. As fun as it was to wind him up and watch him go, he knew Deku would be disappointed if he found out he was tormenting a classmate before he even knew the guy’s name.

Reluctantly, he withdrew his feet from the desk and opened his mouth to try and make nice, when suddenly a voice called out - “Hey, it’s you! Splodey dude!” 

Katsuki turned and saw none other than Shitty Hair himself strutting across the room, wearing the second biggest grin he’d ever seen. 

“You again.” Katsuki said. “Guess you made it.” 

Shitty Hair smiled wider, showing off his creepy-ass teeth. “Yeah, guess I did,” He chuckled. “It was rough, but I pulled through. You’re name’s Bakugo, right? Man, I’m still not over the practical, you’re performance was just so damn manly!” 

Once again, Shitty Hair breezed into Katsuki’s space and made himself at home, sitting in the seat where he’d had his feet up and displacing a flustered Four-eyes - still in hardcore lecture mode.

“So, tell me about yourself!” Kirishima, that was his name, said brightly. “I know we just met, but I’ve got a good feeling about you. I bet we’re gonna be total bros!”

Right. Yes. Bros. Deku said to make friends, so here went nothing. 

“I am…Bakugo. Katsuki.” He said awkwardly. “But you fucking knew that already. I dunno what you want me to say, I’m here to kick ass and take names - and maybe kick some more ass on top of that.”

“That’s a lot of ass.”

“Better believe it.” Katsuki grinned wickedly. “I’m gonna be the best there ever was, Shitty Hair. Everyone else better stay out of my goddamn way.”

“Wait, ‘Shitty Hair?’” Kirishima cried. “What’s that supposed to mean? I did my roots, like, yesterday!” 

“Yeah, and you did them piss-fucking-poorly. A fucking blind armadillo coulda done a better dye job than you.” 

Kirishima groaned in dismay. “Arg! Mina!” He yelled. The pink-skinned chick from the exam looked over from where she was talking to another chick with earphones for earlobes. “You said it looked fine! You lied, you traitorous wench!”

Pinky blew a loud raspberry at him. “Sorry not sorry, bitch!” She cackled. She then vaulted over a desk and army-rolled behind the teacher’s podium. Katsuki decided then and there that she was his favorite person in the room.  

Kirishima still looked a little miffed, pawing mournfully at his spiky locks. Katsuki poked him in the forehead. “It’s not that bad, idiot.” 

“You called me, and I quote ‘Shitty Hair.’” 

“Get over yourself. You can fix it when you get home.” 

“Not if I die of utter follicular embarrassment.” 

Katsuki couldn’t help it. He laughed a little. Kirishima’s face lit up at the sound and soon they were grinning at each other like a couple of lunatics. Friendship: Established. Take that, Deku. 

Kirishima looked like he was going to say something else, but just then a gigantic yellow caterpillar flopped lifelessly into the room, and Katsuki’s first day of hero class began.