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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.  

 

Chapter Text

Inko went into labour two months early. 

In the delivery room, she dismissed questions about her husband with a stony look and ran her hands worriedly over her swollen stomach. She pushed for hours, biting her lips into a bloody mess. And then it was over. Her baby was there, paper-thin and bloody between her legs.  

He was born silent, and when Inko sat up and reached for him, a dozen hands blocked her view. She wanted to stop them. She wanted to yell snd scream and get them the fuck away from her baby. But she was weak. She fell back against the pillows and let the tears come, watching helplessly as they wrapped her son in tubes and whisked him out of the room. 


The worst thing, she thought, in the privacy of her own mind where no one could judge her for it, was that she hadn’t even wanted a child. Hisaishi was not a good man. And the Inko of yesterday hadn’t been a particularly good woman. The concept of having a child fell shriveled and dead at their feet. Unwanted. But it still happened, through carelessness or fate or whatever. Inko found out she was pregnant and everything fell apart. 

Hisaishi booked a flight to America. He said he’d send money, and that he was sorry. Inko punched him so hard her knuckles bled, and then he was gone, out the door without so much as a goodbye. They weren’t married. They were hardly anything at all. But he was still hers, for a little while. Her friend, her lover, the father of her child. 

She didn’t tell Mitsuki and Masaru until four months had passed and the baby was making her stomach bulge like she had something under her shirt. She didn’t tell her parents at all. They could continue to rot at the back of her mind where they belonged. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Mitsuki exploded. “You’re fucking pregnant and you didn’t fucking tell me!?” Inko nodded, unable to meet her eyes. Mistuki was pregnant herself and ready to pop. They were having a boy. They had a room upstairs painted blue and packed to the gills with baby things. Inko glanced up and saw Masaru rubbing his wife’s shoulders with so much love in his eyes she couldn’t take it, and burst into loud ugly sobs. 

Mitsuki wasted no time enveloping her in a crushing hug. “It’s okay.” She said on repeat. “It’s gonna be okay.” All Inko could think in that moment was “bulllshit”, but Mistuki was warm and smelled like home and so she let herself cry and be held. 

When she found out that Hisaishi had split, Mitsuki was furious. Even mild-mannered Masaru looked ready to kill something, his fists sparking as he clenched them in rage. They basically took Inko in after that, letting her crash in their spare bedroom and helping her get all her baby-related affairs in order. 

She was so grateful, and so ashamed. As her baby grew her thoughts were consumed with her own inadequacy. What kind of mother would she be if she couldn’t even take care of herself? 


Five days after he was born, Inko’s baby was still nameless. She’d had one picked out, of course, but the thought of giving it away - of speaking it into existence - was so painful it made her retch into the trashcan by her bed. 

Mitsuki, well-intentioned, let her hold baby Katsuki. At two months old, he was never still, and his tiny face was perpetually red from screaming. His weight in her arms felt wrong, too heavy, too warm, so Inko forced a smile and politely handed him back to his mother.

She waited for news. People drifted in and out of the room with unreadable expressions. Mitsuki twined their fingers together and tried to rock Katsuki with her free arm. 

“He’ll be okay.” She said. “He’s your son, after all.” 

“What does that mean?” Inko said, exhaustion making her bitter. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means—“ Mitsuki squeezed her friend’s hand so hard it hurt. “That you are the strongest, bravest, most fearless bitch I have ever met, Midorya Inko, and he’s your fucking kid. He’ll be fucking fine.” 

Tears carved lava trails down Inko’s cheeks. “No he won’t.” She sobbed. The weight of her not-quite-loss bent her in half, unwashed bangs brushing her knees. “No he won’t.” Her stomach ached. She felt sick. 

“I’m sorry.” She gasped. “I’m so sorry, Izuku.” 

“Is that his name?” Mitsuki asked. Inko nodded. “I like it. It’s got a real ‘I can do it’ vibe. How ‘bout it, Katuski? You think so too?” Baby Katsuki continued to fuss, blissfully unaware. 


It was Masaru who had the idea. 

FIve days after the birth of her son, Inko was resigned to her grief. The Bakugous were wonderful, as always, and visited every day. They were all gathered around Izuku’s incubator, keeping silent vigil over her sick child. He was so small, his heartbeats like hiccups on the monitor.  

“Maybe…putting Katsuki in with him would help?” Masaru said, lips pursed in thought. 

“What?” Mitsuki asked. “How?” In her arms, Katsuki writhed like a snake, not crying but clearly unhappy. 

“It works with twins, doesn’t it?” Masaru said. “Like, when one twin is sick, they put the healthier one next to it, and the sick one gets better. It’s a phenomenon.” 

“Izuku doesn’t have a twin.” Inko said dully. 

“No I know.” Masaru said. “But I was thinking…If he could feel someone next to him, even if its another baby, he might feel better. They’re not twins, but it’s still something. It couldn’t hurt.” 

Inko blinked, eyes the color of a stormy sea, and shrugged. “…We’ll need the doctor’s permission, but I don’t see why not.”

Masaru grinned. He scooped his son out of his wife’s arms and kissed his nose. Katsuki was, of course, disgusted by this and proceeded to screech like a banshee for the next hour. 

They got the doctor’s approval fairly easily, though at that point she was willing to do whatever Inko asked of her. Funny how having a dying child made people bend over backwards to make you happy. 

She opened the trap door of Izuku’s incubator so Masaru could gently lay his son by Izuku’s side. Katsuki was swaddled like a burrito so he couldn’t flail and accidentally hurt Izuku, and was loudly letting them know how he felt about it. At first, nothing changed. Katsuki cried and Izuku remained a motionless husk. And then it happened. 

Katsuki’s caterwauling stopped, his tantrum tapering off into curious gurgles directed at the warm body next to his. 

And then Izuku began to cry. 

It was high and reedy, like wind howling through trees, and it was the single most beautiful sound Inko had ever heard. Next to him, baby Katsuki was quiet, crimson eyes blown wide and utterly captivated by his companion.  

Inko couldn’t believe it. She covered her mouth with her hands in an attempt to stifle her sobs as Mitsuki pulled her into a crushing hug.

“Well I’ll be fucking damned.” She whispered. “Wait-to-go, son of mine.” 


Things were… better, after that. 

They weren’t great. Most days they weren’t even GOOD. But they were better. Izuku was alive, which was more than Inko had ever dared to hope for. And after a month of waiting, Inko was able to take him home. The Bakugous threw them a party, which seemed a little silly because it was just the three of them and the boys, but it was still wonderful. 

Katsuki was delighted to see Izuku again. If they were apart for more than a handful of minutes, he would cry and cry and it was heartbreaking to hear. So they kept them together as much as possible. Izuku was even a little perkier when Katsuki was near.

As they were leaving, Inko pressed a firm kiss into Katsuki’s hair. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, for she had no doubt that it was little Bakugou Katsuki who had saved her son’s life. “Please continue to watch over him. Take care of him for me, for the times when I can’t.” She said it like a prayer. Her words floated into the air above the two families, and Katsuki’s eyes shone with a strange fire that may have just been a trick of the light. 


 The Quirk Apprehension Test taught Katsuki two things; one, his teacher was a fucking psychopath. Two, there was some stiff fucking competition in class 1-A and he needed to watch his goddamn back. Deku would’ve been absolutely shitting himself had he been there. The nerd absolutely adored stumbling across new Quirks and picking them apart, second only to giving Katsuki stress-ulcers on his list of favorite pastimes. 

There was one guy with an even worse dye job than Kirishima. His ice-quirk was pretty badass, not that Katsuki would ever admit it, and he made short work of pretty much every test Aizawa threw at them. Katsuki made a mental note to watch him like a hawk. He’d be damned if he let himself get shown up by some reject anime character looking motherfucker. 

By the time everything was said and done, everyone except a short kid with grapes for hair had passed the series of tests. He cried like a little bitch as Aizawa expelled him, but Katsuki felt no pity. One less body to crawl over in his quest for absolute victory. 

They broke for lunch with a parting glare from Aizawa and the orders to “not be late for your next class you talentless scrubs.” Katsuki made to head to the cafeteria, but was stopped by an arm catching him around the neck. 

“Yo, Bakubro!” A boisterous voice sounded in his ear. “Wanna have lunch together?”

“Fuck no.” Katsuki growled. “Get lost, Shitty Hair, I’ve got places to be.” 

“Aw c’mon, don’t be like that!” Kirishima whined. “Tell you what, I’ve got an extra bean bun with your name on it if you sit with me.” Katsuki thinks for a second. Well, he thinks, at least this way Deku can’t accuse him of being a big fat liar if he says he made a “friend” on his first day, like he promised. 

“Fine.” Katsuki grumbled. He shoved Kirishima off him but the idiot just giggled and trotted behind him like some stupid shark-toothed puppy. 

When they got to the cafeteria it was packed, students lining up out the door to get a taste of Lunch Rush’s cooking (and wasn’t that the coolest fucking thing Deku was probably geeking out somewhere). Speaking of Deku, Katsuki worried suddenly that he wouldn’t be able to find him in the crowd, and pulled out his phone to shoot him a text, when he heard a familiar voice call out. 

“Kacchan! Hey!” 

He turned and Deku was there, the biggest fucking smile on his face and a tray of Katsudon in his hands. There was a guy trailing behind him like a wraith. He had crazy purple hair and looked like he hadn’t slept a wink since the day he was born. 

“Deku.” Katsuki called back. He glared suspiciously at Purple Hair. “Who the hell is this?”

“My new friend.” Deku grinned. “Who the hell is that?” He nodded at Kirishima.

“My new…friend.” Katsuki forced out. He ignored Kirishima’s boisterous gasp. “Where do you want to sit?” 

“I don’t care.” Deku said. They found a little table in the very back of the cafeteria, crammed behind two potted plants that gave them excellent cover from the rest of the chaos. 

“Who the hell are you?” Katsuki said to the purple guy. 

Deku grinned and bumped shoulders with the guy. “This is Shinosu Hitoshi! He’s in my class. He likes Neku Atsume and contemplating his own death.” 

Shinsou, looking utterly bored, raised a hand in greeting. “Sup.” 

Katsuki snorted. “Sounds like you found your fucking clone.” He said. He jabbed a thumb at Kirishima, who looked so happy to be there it was sickening. “This is Shitty Hair Sharktooth McMike. He’s in my class. Careful, he bites.” 

“Nice yo meet you, Bros!” Kirishima exclaimed. “Wow, I didn’t know Bakubro had friends. He doesn’t really seem like the friend-having type, you know? Oh, and my name’s Kirishima. Sharktooth McMike is my maiden name.” 

Deku laughed in delight. It was in that moment Katsuki knew he had made a huge mistake in ever letting these two meet. “Nice to meet you, Kirishima-kun. Don’t let Kacchan fool you, he’s basically a walking can of stay-puft marshmallow fluff once you get to know him.” 

“Deku, you bastard, don’t you start.” Katsuki growled. “I’m six pounds of fight me in a five pound bag and you fucking know it.” 

“That seems impossible.” Shinsou deadpanned. 

“What do you know, Purple Hair.” 

“Is this just how you communicate?” Kirishima asked. “With hair-related monikers?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, cool.”  

After that their meal was filled with companionable chatter. Deku filled the air with excited questions about their first day of hero class peppered with anecdotes from his own day. Midnight sounded fucking awesome. Shinsou occasionally chimed in with his own observations, but ended up just face-planting on the table and staying that way for the remainder of lunch. Kirishima and Deku got along like a house on fire, and before he could stop it, Katsuki found himself grinning along with their over the top enthusiasm for literally every topic that came up. 

“I’d sniff it.” 

“You would not.”

“Totally would. Ask anyone.” 

“That’s bullshit. Bakugou?”

“He’s not kidding. I’ve known him since we were born, he would absolutely sniff it.”

“Nasty!” 

“Get your head out the gutter. It’s for science! Science I say!” 

“I’d sniff it.” 

“Shut it, Purple Hair, you don’t get a vote.” 

“This is voter suppression.” 

“Deal with it.”

“You can’t just sniff it! That’s against, like, all of the laws.”

“Show me the laws. I don’t believe you.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“I’m serious, show me the laws.”

Katsuki cleared all their plates because he was a nice fucking guy. When he got back to the table, Deku was lining his pills up on his empty tray like some kind of addict. Shinsou raised an eyebrow and Kirishima looked like he wanted to ask but thought it might be rude. 

“Do you need water?” Katsuki asked. 

“Nah, I’ve got it.” Deku replied. 

“Ew, don’t dry swallow you gross bitch.” 

“Bite me, Kacchan.” 

Deku popped each pill in the order he’d laid them out, then finished by taking a bite of his half-empty pudding cup. He grimaced at the taste and Katsuki felt for him. 

“You can ask if you want.” Deku said to Kirishima. “I don’t mind.” 

Kirishima blushed and sputtered. “No it’s fine! Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just—“

Deku chuckled. “It’s cool.”  He said. “I have to take medicine for my heart. It’s kinda, um—” 

“Fucked beyond all reason?” 

“Yeah, that’s it. Thanks Kacchan.” Deku fiddled with his pill case. “Sorry if it weirds you out.”

“It doesn’t weird me out!” Kirishima said quickly. “I swear. You do you, man, and screw anyone who gets on your case about it.” 

Katsuki didn’t realize he was clenching his fists until they loosened at Kirishima’s words. He’d been worried, he realized. Worried that UA was going to be exactly like all the other shitty schools they’d had over the years. Where the kids all laughed at Deku and his mountain of pills or made fun of him when he had to come to class in a wheelchair. And the teasing. Teasing him about how skinny he was. How sicklt he was. How Quirkless he was. It made Katsuki’s blood boil. 

There was none of that in Kirishima’s eyes, or Shinsou’s for that matter. Both of them looked a little uncomfortable, but more because they were afraid they’s stumbled across a taboo subject. It gave Katsuki hope. And Deku was smiling so openly and so happily Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to be cynical. 

“Thank you, Kirishima-kun.” Deku said warmly. “You’re a very nice person. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful hero.” Kirishima’s face turned as red as his hair and Katsuki snorted. 

The bell rang and the four of them split to return to their respective classes. Kirishima had a funny little smile on his face the whole way back and he skipped a little with every step. 

“What crawled up your ass?” Katsuki grumbled. 

“Nothing!” Kirishima sing-songed. “I’m just happy.” 

“Fucking why?” 

“It’s just good to know that UA’s full of really cool people. I was kinda nervous when I first applied, I thought maybe… I dunno, all the glitz and glamour of being an ultra-exclusive hero school might’ve gone to people’s heads. But it hasn’t and I’m really glad.”

“You were worried you were gonna show up and everyone was gonna be a huge asshole.” 

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Well I’m happy for you.” 

“…I think I’m starting to see it.”

“See what?”

“Your super-soft marshmallow filling.” 

Kirishima shrieked and ran and Katsuki gave chase, blasting all the way. 


Izuku was walking on air. Two friends. In one day. TWO WHOLE FRIENDS. That was twice what his yearly friend budget had been for fifteen consecutive years. He felt giddy. Briefly, he checked his pulse to make sure it was really giddiness and not heart palpitations. 

“Stop smiling it’s exhausting.” Shinsou droned. 

“Can’t help it.” Izuku said. “Kacchan made a friend. You don’t know his tragic backstory so you can’t really appreciate what a monumental occasion this is.” 

“I can extrapolate.” Shinsou said. “He seems like the kind of guy that would punch you in the face and wish you happy birthday in the same breath.”

“He is! Wow, Shinsou, you’ve got Kacchan down pat.”

“‘Happy Birthday motherfucker.’” 

“Good, but your impression needs work. You’re not projecting nearly enough contempt for humanity.” 

Izuku dipped off to the bathroom with five minutes left until class so he could take his blood pressure in peace. It was a Soft Yikes, which was actually pretty good for him, and he packed up to leave. As he was coming out of the stall, he saw a man crouched over one of the sinks. He looked pale, and his face was skeletal and sickly. There was blood dripping from his mouth into the porcelain below.

Other students might have freaked out and rushed to fetch the nurse. Izuku walked calmly up to the man and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Excuse me, sir, do you need some help?” He asked. The man started and coughed, causing blood to fleck on the mirror. 

“Oh dear, I apologize young man, did I get you?” 

“No sir.” Izuku smiled. “You don’t look like you’re feeling too well, would you like me to go get Recovery Girl?” 

The man chuckled and smiled in a way that let Izuku know his next words would be a lie.

“I’m fine, young man, just bit my tongue.” He said. “Nothing to be worried about, I assure you.” 

Izuku fought back a sigh. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s obviously not true.” He said. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Izuku reached into his backpack and pulled out his blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. His doctor had offered him an electronic one way back when, but Izuku was a little old fashioned. He liked the feel of taking it himself, of knowing that the numbers he saw were truly his and not the guess of a mechanized mind.  

“I’ll make a deal with you, sir.” Izuku said. 

“Deal?” 

“I’ll take your blood pressure for you, and if it looks funky, I’ll take you to see Recovery Girl.” 

“Young man, I don’t think—“

“Sir.” Izuku fixed with him with the look he gave Kacchan when he was being a particular kind of stubborn. The man wiped his mouth and flicked his gaze towards the exit, like he was pondering if he could body Izuku out the way and make an escape. Izuku softened his expression. “Please?” 

After a brief staring contest, the man relented, and held out his arm with a mighty sigh. Izuku grinned and asked him if could please roll up his sleeve. 

It took him two seconds to get a dead accurate reading. He was better than some of the nurses on the cardiac ward, and he knew so because they’d had competitions in the dead of night when every other self respecting sick person should’ve been sleeping. 

Izuku hung the stethoscope around his neck and crossed his arms. “You’re blood pressure sucks, sir, we’re going to see Recovery Girl.” He half-expected the man to put up a fight, but all he got was another heaving sigh and a nod. 

“Don’t you have class right about now?” The man asked. 

“I do, sir, but I need to check in with Recovery Girl at the end of the day anyway and I’m sorry but I don’t trust you not to run away the second I turn my back.” This startled a laugh out of the man which in turn caused him to spiral into a mild coughing fit. 

“I’m impressed by your…dedication to the health of others.” He said after he got his breathing under control. “How long have you been Recovery Girl’s apprentice?” 

“Apprentice?” Izuku said in confusion. “I’m not her apprentice. I’m a student in General Studies.” 

The man looked surprised. “My apologies.” He said. “Not many students carry a blood pressure cuff in their bag so I just assumed.” 

Izuku shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s my cuff. I brought it from home.” 

“May I ask why?” 

“I need it. My heart isn’t great, so I need my blood pressure checked a couple times a day. I could just go to Recovery Girl, but I’m used to doing it myself.” 

“…I see.” He didn’t ask any follow up questions, and Izuku was secretly glad. Being an invalid sucked, but pity was even worse. 

They arrived at Recovery Girl’s office and she immediately moved to examine both of them, making them sit on the bed closest to the door. 

“Oh dear,” she said. “What’s happened now?” 

“It’s really nothing!” The man said quickly. “I had a mild attack and this young man insisted on escorting me here, despite the fact that he should absolutely be in class right now.” He tried to shoot Izuku a look, but Izuku just smiled unapologetically.

“A deal’s a deal, sir, it was out of my hands.” He said. 

“Deal?” Recovery Girl asked. 

“I told him that if his blood pressure wasn’t great, I’d make him come see you, ma’am, and I just have to say, his is really terrible right now.” 

“You took his blood pressure?” She said. “With what tools?” 

“My own.” Izuku showed her his gear, and she took on a strange expression. “…Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all, child.” She smiled warmly. “In fact I’m quite impressed.” Izuku blushed and dropped his gaze. “As for you, Toshi, you’re lucky this boy got a hold of you before I did. Pushing yourself this far on the first day of school, I can’t believe you!” 

‘Toshi’ practically shriveled under her disapproving stare. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll endeavor not to let it happen again.” 

“See that you do.” She sniffed and turned back to Izuku. “Well, child, thank you for bringing me this stubborn man, if you’re all set I’ll write you a note to go back to class.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” Izuku said. “I hope you feel better sir!” He called over his shoulder as he was leaving.

“Wait!” Toshi called. “May I ask your name?”

“It’s Midoriya! Midoriya Izuku.” 

“Young Midoriya…my thanks.” 

“You’re welcome, sir.” 


As soon as the strange boy had left, Toshinori turned to Shuuezenji-san and asked “Do you know that young man?” 

Shuuzenji smiled fondly. “I do. I only met him today, but he seems like a remarkable boy. He’s incredibly smart, and so polite.” 

“I thought he might be your apprentice, he seemed so at ease using those devices.” Shuuzenji’s hand stilled on the paper she was using to record his vitals.

“Apprentice, hm?” She said thoughtfully. “What an interesting idea.”