Chapter Text
He remembers sitting in a car before blacking out. Something wet patters furiously outside. Did it start raining? The boy grunts as he lifts his head, slowly opening his eyes to look out through the cracked windshield.
Water sprays up into the air by the gallons, showering the area all around. It's source appears to be a dented fire hydrant, currently embedded in the front of the car.
“Not rain then.” He mumbles out loud, leaning his head back against the seat. A sudden stab of pain shoots up from his side. He winces and reflexively grabs at the spot, feeling something sticky. He sighs, not even needing to look to know whats wrong. Even still, he reluctantly brings his hand up just to be sure. “God damn it.” He grumbles at the sight of his own blood, and drops his hand back down. After taking a couple of calming breaths, he glances out passenger's side window.
It's dark out. Apparently they had crashed near an intersection. The roads were empty, and all the nearby shops appeared to be closed and/or abandoned.
“Middle of fucking nowhere.” The boy growls, glancing over to his left at the body of the driver, which was currently slumped over the steering wheel. He was either dead or unconscious. The boy could care less at the moment. “Stupid bastard.”
He turns his attention to the car radio, currently shut off. Maybe he could at least get the time or something. He reaches out with his left hand, and presses the power button... Nothing. “Come on.” He start pressing it rapidly. When that doesn't work, he starts hitting all the other buttons as well... Still nothing. “Piece of shit.” He grits his teeth and slaps the radio twice before finally giving up, letting out a sigh of defeat.
As he starts to pull his hand back, there's a sudden BANG from inside the car, and something hits him fast, forcing his hand to the side a bit. He notices the new hole in his hand first, before spotting the now conscious driver slowly aiming a smoking gun at his head. “Ah fuck!” The boy reacts fast, reaching around with his right hand to grab the pistol by it's barrel right as it goes off again. The bullet grazes his cheek and shatters the passenger's side window. The driver's arm shakes and his veins start popping in his head as he uses every ounce of his strength trying to tilt the gun just enough to get the shot. The boy not only holds it in place, but he starts pulling the driver closer as well, using considerably less effort. His hand starts crackling with green energy, and the driver's face sinks. With a twist of his wrist, the boy snaps off the barrel of the gun. Then he turns it in his hand and thrusts forward, sticking the jagged end right into the drivers eye with a squish. The driver falls back into his seat, drops the remains of his pistol onto the floor, and slumps to the side, his head resting against the window.
The boy sits back in his seat, breathing heavily. It doesn't take long for the pain in his hand to register. “FUCK!” He shouts, slamming his fist against the passenger door, knocking it off completely. It tumbles and slides into the street, coming to a stop near the opposite curb.
The boy breathes through his teeth, angrily reaching down towards the glove box and yanking it open with enough force to break off the handle. He rummages through looking for something he can work with. In the end, all he could find was a set of broken headphones and an old issue of Hustler. He tries kicking the glove box shut but it just falls back open right away. It doesn't matter to him, as he starts tearing out pages from the magazine, and wrapping his left hand up with them. Like a grisly Christmas present, the boy chuckles to himself at the thought. He finishes up by tying a tight little “bow” with the chord of the headphones, then he takes a moment to admire his shoddy work... “What the fuck am I doing?”
“Help...”
“Fuck!” The boy jumps, dropping the magazine and turning to what he thought was the driver's corpse.
“I can't see... Why can't I see?..”
The boy scowls and tries reaching over to finish the driver off, but his seat belt holds him back, and the driver remains pressed up against his door. “God damn it.” The boy tries to unbuckle himself, but it appears to be stuck. He tugs on it a couple times, getting more and more frantic before just tearing the whole thing out of the floor and tossing it aside.
“What's that sound?..”
The boy ignores him, leaning close, and grabbing him by the back of his head.
“What's happ...?”
“Shut up.” The boy slams the drivers face into the steering wheel, using enough force to drive the barrel all the way into his skull, and setting off the air bag in the process. It blasts his body back, leaving his head hanging back with his ruined face on full display.
The boy stares at it briefly as he sits back down, but soon he's back to work. He picks up the magazine and tears out just a couple more pages before dropping it again. He stuffs the pages under the front and back of his hoodie, in an attempt to cover up his other wound. After one final glace at the corpse, he starts climbing out of the car. However, his foot gets caught on the open glove box, and he ends up falling out and collapsing onto the wet pavement. “Oh shit!” He cries out.
The boy tries pushing himself up, but a strong feeling of nausea suddenly overtakes him. He gags, then vomits into the flowing water. “Give me a fucking break.” The boy wheezes, spitting for a bit before rolling over onto his back, and staring up at the night sky.
He lies there for quite some time, just breathing slowly. Eventually, he hears a distant vehicle approaching. It gets closer, and closer,. and closer still, coming to a stop nearby. The boy hears a door open, followed by approaching footsteps that soon stop right at his head. A figure looks down at him. At this point, the boy's vision has gone blurry so he can't make out any of it's features. He simply raises his gift-wrapped hand, gives a half-hearted wave and a “Hey.” Then passes out.
…
One Year Later
…
“We have a new student today.” The teacher announces in front of his class, a boy standing next to him. “Come on. Introduce yourself.”
The boy steps forward. Most of the class stares in silence, while the rest continues to mind their own business. The boy has curly green hair and freckles. He wears a standard student uniform along with a pair of red fingerless gloves and matching pair of tennis shoes. He speaks.
“My name is Izuku Midoriya. It's uhh, nice to meet you all.” He steps back.
“Anything else you want to share with the class?” The teacher asks.
Izuku glances up at him. “No.”
“Oh.” The teacher blinks. “Well, your seat is back there.” He points. “By the window.”
“Alright. Thanks.” Izuku wastes no time walking over there.
He pulls out a notebook and swings his backpack under his desk before taking a seat. He takes a quick look around. A couple students continue to glance at him occasionally, but he doesn't mind. He's located in the back left corner of the classroom. The window provides a nice view of the building next door and the alleyway. To his right sits a student with blonde spiky hair and his feet kicked up on his desk.
“Hey.” Izuku gives a wave.
“Hey.” The blonde nods back.
They sit quietly for a moment.
“How is this class?” Izuku asks.
“Pretty fucking shit.” The blonde shrugs.
“Really?” Izuku smirks, taken aback slightly by that blunt response. “How so?”
“Well the teacher's a fucking idiot. So's everyone else.”
“Huh. Good to know.”
A paper ball flies through the air, heading right towards Izuku. It looks like it's about to hit him, but he notices, and simply raises a hand to catch it, no issue.
“Hmm.” Izuku tosses it up and down a bit, then balances it on a finger. “I'm starting to see what you mean.”
“I fucking told you.”
Izuku tosses the ball across the classroom. It lands in the trashcan next to the teacher's desk. The students who saw start cheering and laughing.
“Nice.” The blonde smirks.
…
The end of the school day comes quick. Izuku packs up his notebook while the blonde kid continues chilling out at his desk. Other than them, there are only a couple of other students still in the classroom. One group of three approaches Izuku and surrounds his desk.
“Can I help you?” Izuku looks up at them. The one in the middle looks to be the ringleader. The kid to his left is bald, and the one to his right has a large build.
“I didn't appreciate that stunt you pulled earlier.” The ringleader glares at him.
“What stunt?”
“What do you think?”
Izuku pauses for a moment, placing a hand on his chin. “Are you talking about the paper ball thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Were you the one who threw it?”
He doesn't respond.
“Wow.” Izuku chuckles.
“Don't you fucking laugh!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Izuku waves. “This is just a little absurd.” He looks the ringleader right in the eye. “Would it help your self esteem if I let you hit me with another one?”
The ringleader responds by taking a swing, striking Izuku in the face. “Fucking smart ass.” He scowls.
Izuku says nothing, slowly reaching for the ringleader's tie as he faces him again. “Nice punch.” He grips the fabric. “That almost hurt.”
“Wha..?”
Izuku pulls down hard on the ringleader's tie, smashing his nose on the edge of his desk. He let's go at the moment of impact, causing the ringleader's head to bounce back as he falls onto the floor.
Izuku stands up, glancing at the other two kids now. “What about you guys? You have any real stakes in this, or are you just his fucking entourage?”
The large kid takes a swing that Izuku easily ducks under, following up with a punch to the large kid's gut, knocking the wind out of him. Izuku stands over him as he's hunched over in pain. “Entourage.” Izuku mumbles, pushing the large kid onto the floor.
He turns to the bald kid, who immediately starts waving his hands and stepping back. “I'm not with him.” He says before running out of the classroom.
The blonde kid stands up, admiring the carnage. “You sure wiped the floor with these fucking idiots.”
The ringleader glances up at him still clutching his bloody nose. “Bakugo. What the fuck?”
“What the fuck what?”
“Aren't you going to help us?”
Bakugo scoffs. “Why the fuck would I help you? You started this shit.”
Izuku looks at Bakugo. “Are these guys your friends?”
He shakes his head. “No, not really.”
“Dude.” The ringleader groans.
“Acquaintances at best.”
“What the fuck dude?”
“Oh thank god.” Izuku sighed. “I was about to feel bad for a sec.”
“These guys are fucking morons, don't.”
“Go fuck yourself dude.” The ringleader rolls over.
“Uh-huh.” Bakugo looks back at Izuku. “Anyway, you wanna go the arcade?”
“Yeah sure... Why?”
“Well I was going to go with these dipshits.” He gestures at the two guys on the floor. “But you kind of put them out of commission and I've been getting sick of hanging out with them anyway.” He shrugs. “So yeah, do you want to fucking come or not?”
“Sure. I've got nothing planned.”
“Cool.” Bakugo points his thumb at the door. “Let's go.”
“Wait!”
Bakugo stops moving, and Izuku steps up with a hand extended.
“Izuku Midoriya.”
Bakugo stares at the hand. “You know I already know your name, right?”
Izuku shrugs. “Yeah, but this is like a more formal introduction.”
Bakugo chuckles. “Fair enough.” He grabs Izuku's hand and shakes it. “Katsuki Bakugo.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Their hands drop back down.
“You guys look like a couple of fags!” The ringleader spits.
“Shut the fuck up!” They both kick him in the ribs.
…
I'll be out for a bit. Hanging out with at the arcade with a... friend?.. Maybe?..
I'll keep you posted on that.
“You done yet?”
Izuku looks up at Bakugo, who's currently holding two plastic guns in front of the House of the Dead cabinet.
“Yeah, just a sec.” Izuku sends the text, and pocket's his phone. “Alright, I'm good.”
Bakugo hands him the red gun. “Did you type out a fucking paragraph?” He starts pushing in some tokens.
“No.” Izuku shakes his head. “I was just trying to figure out what to say.”
Bakugo blinks. “What?”
“Well I still think it's too early to call you my friend, but it also sounds weird if I just say I'm hanging out with some guy at the arcade, you know?”
Bakugo just stares at him. “All you had to say was, I'm hanging out at the arcade. You don't have to mention anybody else.”
Izuku pauses for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”
“Yeah. No shit.” He presses the start button.
As they play for a bit, Izuku notices Bakugo's occasional glances at his gloves.
A zombie with a chainsaw charges at them both, but they shoot it dead almost instantly.
“Are you new to this area, or just new to the school?” Bakugo asks as they gun down two more zombies.
“Just new to the school. I've lived around here for about a year now.”
“Where was your last school?”
Izuku unloads a clip into a zombie's head. “Home. I was home schooled for a while.”
“Really? How was that shit?”
“I thought it was pretty cool.” Izuku shoots an axe out of the air. “No idiot classmates to deal with.”
“I guess that's a positive.” Bakugo shoots the thrower in the head. “I think I'd go insane being home schooled.”
“What? Don't like your parents?”
“No, I love them, it's just..” They kill another chainsaw guy. “I can only handle so much of them a day before I want to fucking shoot myself.”
“Oh, I can get that.”
They shoot two more zombies in a hallway. “You ever been to this arcade before?”
“Yeah. A couple times with my sister.”
“A short girl with white hair, right?”
They enter a room and save a civilian. “Yeah... Have you been spying on me?”
“Don't be stupid.” Bakugo shoots two barrels out of the air. “I just remember spotting you with her a few months back.”
“I never thought I had any memorable features.” Izuku shoots the two throwers.
“Those gloves of yours stand out more than you think.”
Izuku glances at them for a sec. “Do they?”
“Yeah. What's with them anyway?”
“They're just there to hide a couple scars. Also I like them.”
“Did you have an accident or something?”
“Yeah, a long time ago.”
“You going to elaborate?”
“Not really.” He kills two more zombies. “It's not something I like to talk about.”
Bakugo glances at him, noticing the hollow look in his eyes. “I wont bother you about it then.”
They enter the boss room. It drops from the ceiling and swings it's axe, knocking a lady across the room.
“Nooo, Sophie.” Izuku deadpans causing Bakugo to chuckle.
“She was so well developed.” He smirks, before they both absolutely annihilate the boss.
Later, they've moved on to skee ball. Izuku watches as Bakugo takes his turn rolling the balls up.
“Fuck!” He curses, missing all of the holes.
“Hey what's your quirk?” Izuku asks him.
“Huh?.. Oh. I can create explosions with my hands. Fuck!”
“Holy shit, really?”
“Yeah.”
“Are we talking about some actual fucking explosions, or just some sparkler shit?”
“Fuck! I can do both.”
“That's really cool man.”
“I know. Fuck! What about you, what's your quirk?”
“Nothing special, just some basic enhancing shit.”
“Elaborate.”
“Ah, you know. It lets me hit harder, move faster, jump further, etc, when I want. Simple, but effective.”
“That's better than weird and useless.” Bakugo picks up his last ball and turns to Izuku. “That bald kid who pussed out earlier today, you know what his quirk is?”
“What is it?”
“He can pull his eyes out of their sockets.”
Izuku pauses, then shakes his head. “That's it?”
“That's it... It's fucking worthless.”
“If anything, he'd just be putting his eyes in more danger.”
“Fucking right?” Bakugo glances at the ball in his hand. “I fucking hate skee ball by the way!”
“Oh boo hoo, it's the last ball and you're done.”
“Stupid fucking game.” He grumbles as he rolls the last ball. It flies off the ramp, straight into the corner hole.
“Oh shit, you actually got it.” Izuku chuckles.
Bakugo stares blankly at the tickets being dispensed, then starts walking away.
“Aren't you grabbing your tickets?”
“You can fucking have them.” Bakugo stomps off.
“Alright.” Izuku takes them without a second thought.
He exchanges them for a small eraser.
…
“What kind of music do you like?” Bakugo asks Izuku.
It's much later in the day, and the sun is starting to set in the distance. The two of them stand, leaning against the wall by the back exit of the arcade.
“I like good music.” Izuku smirks. “Genre doesn't really matter.”
“Alright asshole. What music are you currently listening to?”
“Slayer, Judas Priest. I've also started listening to Strapping Young Lad and Cavalera Conspiracy.”
“No fucking shit. Whats your favorite Priest album?”
“Is it cliché to say Painkiller?”
“Kind of, but not really.” Bakugo shakes his head.
“I mean, it's the right answer.”
“It's the right fucking answer.” Bakugo grins. “What about Slayer?”
“God Hates Us All, closely followed by Show No Mercy.”
Bakugo looks down. “Shit man.”
“What?” Izuku looks down at him. “What's up?”
“I think we might be fucking friends.” He looks back up at him.
“Ah, no shit.”
“Yeah. No shit.” He pushes himself off the wall. “It's getting late. I've got to head home.”
“Me too actually.” Izuku pushes himself off as well. “See you tomorrow?”
“We sit next to each other in class, idiot.”
“I knew that.”
Bakugo chuckles and starts walking away. “See ya.” He gives a wave.
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” Izuku waves back, before heading home himself.
On the way there, he checks his phone.
Any updates?
Izuku thinks for a moment, then responds.
Yeah, he's a friend.
He smiles to himself.
I made a friend today.