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Born To Different Suns

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Midoriya Izuku was four years old when he met his best friend for the first time. At the front of the classroom, he and the rest of the little class had stared at the new kid in awe, surprised someone would move to their town in the middle of the summer and start school with them in June. In a way, it worked out. At least Bakugou Katsuki wouldn’t be so far behind in the lessons.

At the first break, the other students avoided Bakugou - like any young child, once you made your friends, you didn’t bother with introducing yourself. Midoriya, however, didn’t have any close friends yet. The girls in class liked to pull him aside and make him play with dolls, and since his mother had told him not to be mean to other students, he had fallen into playing with the girls and couldn’t seem to pull away to play games like he really wanted to.

Bakugou felt like a gift from fate.

“I never would’ve guessed that you two were best friends,” Uraraka says, fiddling with a charm she had put on her phone earlier that week. “Let alone childhood friends.”

“I asked him to eat lunch with me on his first day here, and the rest was history,” Midoriya says with a small shrug.

“Pretty weird history,” Uraraka mumbles. Midoriya doesn’t give her a reply; he just glares at her, instead. “Look, I’m sorry, I really don’t see how you can still consider him a friend! He shoves you around, steals your lunch whenever he can and—”

“Kacchan doesn’t hurt me, he doesn’t steal my lunch because I make an extra one for him,” Midoriya explains, holding back a sigh, “and he’s my pitcher. We work well together. And…”

Midoriya trails off, remembering back to when he relationship was Kacchan was much simpler. There were nights when they had sleepovers, and instead of going to sleep, they would sprawl out and stare at the stars. Midoriya would point out all the constellations he could name. Bakugou didn’t know anything about the stars back then, and with Midoriya being absolutely obsessed with them, he took it upon himself to tell Bakugou everything he knew.

Bakugou never interrupted him, even when he went on and on until their parents yelled at them to go to bed. The awe in Bakugou’s eyes, then, was enough to capture Midoriya’s heart; he knew then that, no matter what, he and Bakugou would always be friends.

“Midoriya…?” Uraraka says, waving a hand in front of his face. It shocks him out of memory lane enough for Midoriya to give her an apologetic smile. “You were saying?” she prompts, and Midoriya nods.

“I used to love astronomy, but no one ever wanted to listen to me,” Midoriya explains. “Until Kacchan, that is, and he played along!”

“Played along?” Uraraka repeats, clearly amused. Midoriya opens his mouth to reply, but instead a heavy hand falls onto his head, the weight familiar and demanding.

“They were just stupid stories to make some idiot laugh,” Bakugou’s rough voice dismisses. Midoriya shivers, worried Bakugou will yank on his hair and toss him to the ground for ever bringing this up. Instead, he moves his hand around, shaking Midoriya’s head along with the movements, before shoving him away lightly. Midoriya catches himself, looking back at his old friend in surprise. “Stupid little kid shit,” he says, “stop telling transfer kids things that don’t matter.”

“It does matter!” Midoriya says, not phased by Bakugou’s scowl. Momentarily, he worries that he should stop speaking, but there’s something off with the way Bakugou looks at him. “Kacchan, your imagination was amazing!”

So amazing that he remembered the stories, even after so long. But Bakugou doesn’t need to know that…

“That way is Sakina, the largest plant in the Henshaw Galaxy,” a much younger Bakugou had once said, pointing to the sky in a random direction. “It’s similar to Earth, but most of the Syrd race live underground, now.”

Midoriya would bite his lip to keep from giggling at Bakugou’s stories. Bakugou had listened to him talk about the stars without interjecting, but those were facts! Listening to those stories had been much more entertaining.

“Oh?” Midoriya had replied. “Why do they live underground?”

“Because of—” Bakugou started, before tearing his eyes away from the stars and looking at Midoriya. His mouth was open in a little “O” in surprise.


Bakugou had looked away from him then, shrugging. “It’s nothing.”

Midoriya pushed his shoulder and laughed. “You’re funny, Kacchan!”

Bakugou didn’t talk about the underground after that, or why this “Syrd race” would need to be hiding. Midoriya had imagined all sorts of different reasons - their planet was dying and the only resources were below the surface, or another alien race had come for them and they couldn’t survive being out in the open - but nothing seemed to compare to Bakugou’s fantasy world.

For all of the amazing stories he had told, the complexities he would invent, he denied them all now.

“They were stupid. I don’t wanna remember all the times I played up your stupid space obsession,” Bakugou says now, in present day, shaking his head. “I didn’t come here because I wanted to talk about the past,” he scoffs, before holding out his hand. “I need your literature textbook.”

“You forgot your textbook?” Midoriya says, a bit concerned as he rummages around for the said textbook.

“That’s odd,” Uraraka says, frowning a bit. Midoriya silently agrees - why would Kacchan ask him for his literature textbook? “You’re at the top of our class, why would you—?”

Her question fizzles out just as Midoriya hands over his textbook, Bakugou snatching it away easily enough.

“Nobody asked you, Round Face!” Bakugou said, turning and making his way out of the classroom. He whirls around again once he gets to the door, pointing the textbook in Midoriya’s direction. “Don’t be late for practice, Deku!” He shouts, sounding just as menacing as always, before he finally takes his leave.

“I keep telling him,” Midoriya sighs, “I’m never late.”

“I’m just surprised that he didn’t deny all the, you know, storytelling stuff,” Uraraka says with a little wave of her hand. “And that you liked astronomy,” she adds, sounding a little intrigued.

Midoriya gives a little shrug at that. He moves to explain more, but their teacher walks back into the classroom and starts the next lesson. However, he hears none of it, his mind turning back to Bakugou and his imaginary world.

Sometimes, he wished Bakugou’s imagination didn’t die as they got older. He told stories of an entire galaxy, it sounded like. Stories about a planet called Pohl and the stone forests inhabited by Gurone, and about Garion and the eternal rain shower of acid, turning the whole planet uninhabitable despite there being delicious fruit in its soil. Midoriya loved the stories about the Beherees myth on the planet Bukuret, how they would eat everything in their path and then sleep all day, but their skin was impossible to cut open to retrieve anything you lost.

Sakina, though, was Midoriya’s favorite planet to hear about. The beautiful crystal trees that grew farther than the eye could see; the rivers inhabited by glowing specs; how the Syrd race were proud people, intelligent and working their way into the next level of technology that not even humans could comprehend.

“What do they look like?” Midoriya had asked once while lying in the grass, the stars twinkling above them. He thought maybe - if he looked hard enough - he could also see the planets Bakguou was talking about. But he knew they were just stories Bakugou was making up.

“Well,” Bakugou cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “I guess they look… almost like humans. But their skin glows once the sun goes down, and their eyes are one solid color, and their hair is less… like hair?”

Midoriya laughed as Bakugou’s face scrunched up in thought, trying to describe the aliens of his imagination just right. His laugh, though, made Bakugou’s face burn red before he punched Midoriya and ran inside. Midoriya thought the description was interesting, but no matter how much he prodded, he never heard about their appearance ever again.

Midoriya eventually tried to initiate a game with his best friend, set in these fantastical worlds. Despite inventing the worlds themselves, Bakugou wasn’t a huge fan of the games. Midoriya would set up adventures and stealth missions, all geared towards trying to save the Syrd from their underground lives, but all it did was make Bakugou stop short.

“What’s wrong, Kacchan?” Midoriya would ask once he noticed his best friend wasn’t playing along.

“I don’t want to risk my life for the Syrd.”

Midoriya stared down at his friend before clambering down the tree he was already halfway up. “Why not? The Syrd seem so cool!”

“Well,” Bakugou had kicked the dirt under his feet, avoiding Midoriya’s eyes and huffing out an annoyed sound, “I guess I just don’t want you to risk your life!”

Midoriya responded by playfully shoving at Bakugou’s arm, laughing a little. “It’s just a game, Kacchan!”

“Yeah, I guess…” Bakugou had replied, still looking down at his shoes.

“We could…” Midoriya suggested, “play some other alien game?”

That was all it took for Bakugou’s eyes to light up.

“We could play the explorer game where we try to get on Garion for the Zeppionate!”

“Where do you come up with this stuff?” Midoriya asked, laughing at how quickly Bakugou’s mood changed. He never got an answer, though, as Bakugou ran off, dragging Midoriya with him as they made preparations for imaginary space travel to the planet with acid rain.

They stopped playing games that involved the Syrd, and Bakugou would come up with all sorts of alien stories to distract Midoriya from suggesting it again. The alien games were their thing, they played together as much as they could… until they stopped playing altogether.

“Midoriya-kun, do you have a moment?” a voice calls, snapping Midoriya to attention. Class was already over, and Aoyama was standing next to his next, fingers drumming almost delicately at its surface.

“O-oh, hey Aoyama-kun… what’s up?” Midoriya asks. He stands up and starts packing away all his stuff.

“Have you heard anything from Mina-chan about cheer practice tomorrow?” Aoyama asks.

“I haven’t,” Midoriya says, scratching his head. “Are you worried she doesn’t want to be on the cheer squad anymore?”

Aoyama shakes his head before striking a melancholic pose. “I am more concerned about Momo-chan, actually. She seems to stress out a bit too much for the reasons why Mina-chan won’t come to practice.”

Midoriya lets out a sigh, dragging a hand over his face.

“Mineta’s still harassing the cheer squad?” he asks.

“Last time I saw him, he was peeking through the bleachers with a pair of binoculars,” Aoyama reports, sounding a bit grim. “Mina-chan does not want to be subject to his… rather pervy eyes, and Momo-chan feels conflicted about going to practice and being spied on. Really, I understand both their positions, but… there is a game in a weeks’ time.”

Midoriya thinks for a moment, slinging his backpack across his shoulders before checking the time. Baseball practice was soon.

“Try asking the men’s volleyball team if you can practice in their gym for tomorrow,” Midoriya says. “They’ve let small groups share the gym before, and I don’t think they like Mineta either… and if they say no, then…” He gives Aoyama a frank look. “I guess, prepare for the worst.”

Aoyama nods, standing up straight and nodding at his, almost regally. “I shall try my best for them not to worry, Midoriya-kun,” he says.

“Thanks, Aoyama-kun,” Midoriya says.

They walk out of the classroom together and say their goodbyes as they make their way down the hall. Midoriya knew he should shake the memories that held him close all day, knowing it would only make him distracted during practice, but he couldn’t help it.

By the time they were in middle school, any mention of the Syrd race and the planet Sakina had come to an end, along with the easy-going friendship they maintained through elementary. Midoriya never knew why or how they grew distant, and while it bothered Midoriya slightly, they always had baseball to fall back on.

He actually wonders if their preoccupation spurred on Bakugou pushing away his childhood fantasies. They were older, a battery, taking on the responsibility of practice and teamwork and games… maybe Bakugou didn’t want that childishness to follow him.

Still, Midoriya never forgot about the stories, revelling in their details, even trying to doodle what the planets all looked like. He kept the doodles hidden, of course, because if Bakugou was denying they existed, what would he do with physical proof?

There were times, though, that Bakugou brought them up again. Once, they were at training camp with the baseball team. It was middle school, just a couple months after Midoriya’s dad left one night on an errand and didn’t come back. He couldn’t sleep, choosing to sit on the old, decrepit porch of the cabin they were all staying at, when Bakugou silently sat next to him.

It felt like hours upon hours of silence between them, before Bakugou bumped his shoulder and pointed up to the sky, murmuring, “There’s Sakina.”

Midoriya laughed, then, just before he started crying. Bakugou just slung a deft arm around his shoulders and held him close until he had no more tears to let out.

No matter what their relationship looked like to everyone else, Bakugou was always there for Midoriya, and Midoriya tried to be there for Bakugou, too. He started making lunches for Bakugou in middle school, when he realized that Bakugou didn’t have any of his own. He paired up with Bakugou and caught his pitches, no matter how hard they were thrown, because everyone else on the team didn’t dare. Midoriya appreciated every moment they spent together, even if now baseball was their only pretext to be around each other, these days.

He bumps into Kirishima on his way to the club room. They make small talk about how much homework they need to do before Kirishima stops short. “You alright, Midoriya?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” Kirishima says, raising his eyebrows at him. “You wanna talk about it?”

Midoriya shrugs, and Kirishima gives him a look. “Just reminiscing about my childhood, I guess.”

Kirishima huffs out a laugh. “Oh, yeah? What did you get up to when you were a kid?”

“I played aliens with Kacchan,” Midoriya says, as blunt as possible. “Even though he made everything up, it never seemed like he wanted to play.”

Kirishima hums, nodding a little. “He does draw some pretty weird stuff. It’s never really good but… I bet he has some interesting ideas in that crazy brain of his.”

“He’s not crazy,” Midoriya says, trying hard not to laugh as they walk into the club room.

Iida and Todoroki are already there to greet them as they step inside, along with some first years that Midoriya hasn’t learned the names of - well, not yet, at least. He waves cheerfully at them anyways as he makes his way to his locker, the two nodding back before leaving the locker room together. Last he heard, coach had given them special assignments for improving Todoroki’s pitching by working with other third years.

Once he opens his locker, Bakugou meanders into the room. He barely acknowledges those who greet him. Midoriya waits until Bakugou is at his side, in front of the locker next to Midoriya’s own, before he moves to pull on his practice uniform.

“You’re fuckin’ quiet,” Bakugou murmurs, his voice gruff as always, but low. His eyes don’t stray from his own locker as he starts to change, as well.

“You seemed mad when I brought up the stories, earlier,” Midoriya replies, just as low, with a shrug.

“They were dumb,” is all he gets in response before Bakugou turns his back on Midoriya.

Baseball practice goes as well as usual, Bakugou breaking away and helping the prospective first year pitchers… if you could call yelling and barely veiled insults as help. Still, he was the best pitcher they had, and he knew what he was talking about. He watches from the sidelines, standing next to Kirishima and Kaminari as their coach gives them their instructions. Instructions that Midoriya barely catches.

“Sound good, boys?” their coach says, gruffly. The other two answer affirmative, while Midoriya snaps back to attention. “Did ya hear me, Midoriya?”

Hesitating for a moment, Midoriya nods. “Yeah, sounds good, Coach.”

He gets narrowed eyes and a stiff nod before their coach turns away from the three of them.

“You didn’t hear a word he said, did ya, handler?” Kirishima says, smirking a bit as he rocks on his heels.

“Too busy staring at his - excuse me - our sexy ace,” Kaminari quips. The both of them laugh while Midoriya just rolls his eyes.

Midoriya’s been hearing their jokes since first year. Back then, the jokes made him blush and stutter, denying anything and everything, but now… Midoriya can hardly care what the rest of the team thinks of him and Bakugou, so long as Bakugou didn’t hear anything about it.

“Whatever,” Midoriya dismisses softly, “what did Coach say?”

“We’re supposed to stand in as batters for the two first years Bakugou’s taken under his wing,” Kaminari says, giving a little shrug. “Honestly, I don’t mind a couple three-at-bat challenges from practice but…”

“They need to get used to what it’s like to be pitching to some serious batters,” Midoriya says, nudging Kaminari with his elbow. “Don’t go easy on them just because they’re first years.”

“Go easy when Bakugou is right behind them?” Kirishima said, shuddering a bit. “I’d rather not.”

“Exactly,” Midoriya says, nodding.

“You okay?” Kaminari asks, out of the blue, stopping him right before he dipped into the dug out for his catching gear. “It’s not like you to miss Coach’s orders.”

Kirishima claps his shoulder before Midoriya can answer. “Off day. He’ll snap out of it behind a batter, ain’t that right, handler?”

Midoriya nods, smiling at the two of them. Really, it felt nice knowing his teammates cared about him, even when they used the silly nickname about him being the only catcher to handle Bakugou. He just hoped Kirishima was right; spacing out and missing a test fastball thrown by Bakugou himself would be the least of his worries if he wasn’t.

The pitching practice goes well. The first years have a long way to go before they’ll start, but it wasn’t like they would be taking Todoroki’s starting position anyways, or overpowering Bakguou as the ace.

Coach calls the team over just as the last pitch is thrown, Kaminari swinging and missing, distracted by the call. Bakugou smacks Kaminari over the head as they put away their gear for missing on a decent pitch. Midoriya hears the way Bakugou said it loud enough that the first year who pitched last could hear it, and looked away to quietly grin as he saw the first year preen.

They jog their after-practice laps with the usual hubris. Bakugou and Kirishima are leagues ahead of everyone, racing as they almost always do. Kirishima’s laugh echoes across the pitch as Midoriya follows them with his eyes, keeping pace with the underclassmen and talking with them. They were a lot more out-of-breath than he was.

As the silence settles in as the team runs, the monotonous motions of running lulls Midoriya into his memories once more. This time, though, the memory was more recent. Last year, when their team was defeated once again on their way to the Koshien. The game had run into extra innings, and they fought as hard as they could, but they weren’t good enough. The bus on the way home was silent, their teammates either asleep or too upset to make any noise as they head back to their city.

Midoriya, though, was up, sitting at the back of the bus and trying to stifle his tears. He knew it wasn’t his fault, that either a win or a loss was the team’s, not the individual’s, but he still felt like he could’ve done more.

He didn’t hear Bakguou make his way down the bus’s narrow aisle and plop into the seat next to him, but he felt the gentle push at his head. When he looked up, Bakguou looked just as pained as he did, his eyes red, but not in the way Midoriya’s were.

“Kacchan…” he sniffled, trying to mop his tears away with his wrists. It did nothing to help, then.

“There aren’t formal sports up there,” Bakugou said, his gaze moving from Midoriya’s face and out the window, to the dark barely-star-spotted sky outside. “But, if they saw our game, I think they would’ve called it an honorable defeat.”

“Wh-what…” Midoriya blinked, thinking Bakugou was crazy. Until Bakugou pointed to the sky, at a cluster of stars that looked familiar and forgien all at once.

“Sakina,” he said, giving Midoriya a weak smile.

That time, Midoriya laughed and laughed, a hand clamped over his mouth to keep the rest of the team in the dark about their chat, the other hand clutching at Bakugou’s.

Midoriya smiles at the memory now, lifting his water bottle and taking a huge gulp from it.

That day, after their lost, wasn’t the first time Midoriya was aware of his feelings for Bakugou, but it was the first instance where he decided that he had to play his feelings off a little better. At this point, he was certain he was in love with his childhood best friend, but it wasn’t like he was going to act on them.

Silent, he follows as the team files into the club room, the air in the tiny room tinged distinctly with sweat as he walks in. He catches sight of Bakugou’s usual necklace hanging against his chest as he changes, and Midoriya forces himself to look away. He’s just taking off his practice jersey as Kaminari jumps at him, grasping his shoulders and shaking him a bit. Midoriya can’t help the little yelp that comes out of him at the shock. Kaminari laughs it off and Bakugou rolls his eyes, before Kaminari lets him go.

“Midoriya, I’ve got a new riddle today!” he announces, standing tall and proud despite the sweat dripping down his forehead.

“What is it this time?” Midoriya asks, smiling.

“I am a mother and a father, but have never given birth. I’m rarely still, but I never wander. What am I?” Kaminari recites, his grin growing at Midoriya’s confusion.


“It’s a tree!” Kirishima announces after a moment of silence, slamming his locker as he turns around with a toothy grin on his face. “He told me this earlier,” he explains with a shrug as Midoriya gives him an awed expression.

Bakugou chuckles a little as he buttons up his school uniform shirt. “Tree, huh? I thought you fucked up repeating it or something.”

“Hey!” Kaminari says, obviously offended.

“I wasn’t sure about it, either,” Midoriya says with a shrug, sheepishly looking to Bakugou as he smiles. He smiles back, though it’s easy to miss if you don’t know what to look for.

Midoriya breathes easier, seeing that small smile and knowing today would end on a positive note with Bakugou for once.

It isn’t long until their teammates trickle out of the club room, saying their customary goodbyes as they head home for the day. Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, and Kaminari are the last ones to leave, Bakugou locking the door behind them as they meander their way across the school’s campus and onto the streets surrounding it.

Their chatter is mostly lost on Midoriya, but he knows Bakugou reluctantly agrees to arm wrestle with Kirishima the next day. Kaminari ruffles Midoriya’s hair and Kirishima gives him a small, albeit sarcastic, salute as the two break off towards their homes. Alone with Bakugou, Midoriya starts to hum a broken sort of tune, just happy to know that the other seems as though he’s no longer annoyed with him.

“How was practice?” Bakugou says, glancing at him.

“It was fine,” Midoriya says, meeting his gaze with a smile. Bakugou only huffs, holding back a smile of his own as he nods. Something is off about him, really has been all day, and Midoriya hopes whatever oddities between them will end soon enough. “I’m… sorry about bringing up the alien stuff, by the way. I shouldn’t have been—”

“You said sorry already,” Bakugou dismisses.

“I didn’t!”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Bakugou goes right on, like he didn’t even hear him. “We were kids, of course we were going to make up all kinds of stupid-ass stories. It’s just fuckin’ weird to admit that I was probably the reason your space obsession got out of hand.”

His voice turned gruff at the end, the most depressed Bakugou Katsuki ever let himself sound. It makes Midoriya shift his gaze to their shoes as they continue down the familiar roads.

They don’t talk about the time Midoriya fell out the tree in his backyard, during one of the space exploration games. They don’t talk about how his right arm, his throwing arm, was broken in several places. They don’t talk about how the doctor’s discouraged him from playing sports. They don’t talk about how that was practically the last time they played their space games.

It still sits over them, though, and while Midoriya wouldn’t have changed a thing, he knew Bakugou still felt somewhat guilty for the incident.

“It’s like you said,” Midoriya says, giving a little shug, “we were kids. And we had fun. It was so boring until you came into my life.”

“Then maybe you’re just boring,” Bakugou said with a shrug, dodging the lighthearted slap Midoriya tries to land on his upper arm. “And I’m not sorry about the aliens, then.”

“Good,” Midoriya says, bumping his shoulder to Bakugou’s as they walk. “Aliens are pretty cool. I just used to think the idea was weird but… we really can’t be alone in the universe here, can we?”

“Not again with your conspiracy theories,” Bakugou says, and Midoriya doesn’t need to look to know he’s rolling his eyes. “How much homework do you have?” he asks, awkwardly changing the subject.

Midoriya thinks, looking up to the sky as he hums a few long notes to his broken tune. “I think I just have English and math. You?”

“Same, except I’ve got to finish something for classical lit,” Bakugou says, grimacing at the admission. Midoriya stifles a laugh as Bakugou stretches his arms up, yawning a bit.

“You’ve always been behind on lit, what’s that about?”

“I’m never been a fast reader, you know this, Deku.”

Midoriya nods as they fall into silence once more. Bakugou was one of the smartest people Midoriya has ever known, it always seemed strange that he struggled with reading or other languages. Bakugou yawns again, and Midoriya wonders if he’s been sleeping enough.

“Do you…?” Midoriya starts, before the words catch in his throat. Bakugou is giving him a questioning look, pushing Midoriya to continue. “Do you want to spend the night? We could study together…”

Bakugou just stares at him for a while, until he turns his eyes back towards the road in front of them. “Sure, it might help.”

Midoriya fights the smile that threatens to take over his face. That has to be the first time in many years Bakugou agreed to come over, let alone sleep at his place. Things may have been strained, but recently, things were getting better between them. These last few days even seemed to be getting them back on track of where they once were, and sure, Bakugou was acting strange today, but… maybe Midoriya could find the courage to say something about the feelings that sit like a permanent weight in his chest tonight.

Bakugou’s house comes into view, and Midoriya gestures towards it. “Do you want to grab something from home?”

“Yeah,” Bakugou sighs, before clicking his tongue, “should probably tell the old hag I’m staying at your place.”

Midoriya gasps, “I should to! Ask, I mean. Not that my mom would have a problem with it, just that it’s kind of last minute and I don’t even know if the extra futon we have is clean and—”

He stops as he bumps into Bakguou’s back, stumbling back a couple steps. He blinks, looking around and wondering why Bakugou stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

Bakugou doesn’t answer, he just keeps staring at his house. Midoriya watches him for a moment, nervous.


Get down!” Bakugou shouts then, turning around and shoving himself into Midoriya, body slamming him into a small patch of grass. Midoriya loses his breath at the impact, and feels a small pain shoot into his back.


An explosion comes from the house, so powerful it shakes the ground beneath them. Midoriya stares in horror over Bakugou’s shoulder until the heat radiating from the blast becomes too much. Bakugou’s body over his protects him from falling debris, but Midoriya feels a few things fall beside his head.

When the sound of things falling and the heat seem to subside, Midoriya tries to open his eyes. Smoke envelopes the two of them, burning his eyes as they strain to see beyond Bakugou’s worried expression over him.


“Stay quiet, and don’t move,” Bakugou whispers, his eyes fierce with determination. It’s all Midoriya can do to nod and purse his lips shut.

Moments pass, before Bakugou pushes himself to his feet, looking around amidst the smoke. Midoriya briefly wonders what he’s doing before lasers are trained on him from all angles.

Something weird and unintelligible is yelled then, and in the distance Midoriya can hear sirens. Despite the unfamiliar voice and language, Bakugou seems to understand what was said.

“He’s not who you’re looking for!” Bakugou yells out, and Midoriya stares up at him in awe. “He’s just some Human, he’s useless!”

The response is some more jumbled words of confusion.

Bakugou hesitates, his eyes meeting Midoriya’s for a split second. Midoriya can almost see his throat bob as he swallows. “I am Haezuubil Waemeset,” Bakugou declares, before gulping thickly again, “of the planet Sakina!”

Midoriya’s ears ring when he hears the first shot.