Chapter Text
Two weeks.
It will go away in two weeks, she said. At least, she estimated. He wanted to kill her, but it was kind of his own fault that his chaotic spar with Deku had landed him in the middle of her practice. She hadn't been aiming for him; her friend had agreed to test how long she could make her quirk last. She really hadn't done anything wrong.
He still wanted to blast her into the sky.
Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Of course the quirk's owner knew the shell of green currently enveloping him was anxiety, but that didn't mean his dumbass friends would figure that out. If he just focused on how pissed he was about the whole situation, he could shift it back to red before anyone thought to ask questions about it anyway.
Under normal circumstances, Bakugou tried to avoid Recovery Girl as much as possible. He didn't need to be fixed up every ten minutes like fucking Deku; he didn't often get seriously hurt, and when he did he could usually tough it out until he got the chance to slip away so no one but the old nurse had to know. This was different. This he would gladly suffer through the weird kiss quirk for, if it meant even the slightest chance he wouldn’t have to deal with this mood ring bullshit.
"Bakugou, what can I do for-" she cut off at the sight of him. "You're green."
"I fucking know," he growled. "Can you fix it?"
"This isn't an injury."
Yeah, he figured. Of course she wasn't going to do anything, why the fuck was he even here?
"You're sure there's no way to get rid of it?" God, that sounded pathetic.
"It's just an aura, Bakugou." She frowned. "It won't hurt you."
He nodded tensely, finally accepting his fate.
"If your classmates give you a hard time about it, I'll make sure Aizawa puts a stop to it."
She thinks he's embarrassed, he realizes. He is, in a sense, but not about the fucking glowing. No, the problem was that the colors exposed him. How he felt wasn't anyone's fucking business.
"Whatever," he grumbled, storming away.
His friends were every bit as annoying about it as he expected.
"Whoa, that's wild!" Kaminari had been on the opposite side of the field and hadn't seen his new predicament yet.
"Eat a dick," he growled, stomping past.
"How long is it going to last?" Mina asked, unperturbed by his bad mood.
"Two weeks," he grit out through clenched teeth. He kept one of his hands in sight at all times, doing his best to maintain the red cloak of anger. At the acknowledgement of how long he would be stuck like this, the red faded to a smoky black, changing all the way to green in some spots.
"You don't need to be embarrassed," Mina guessed at the color change's meaning. "I think it's kind of cute."
"Fuck off," he spat, sinking into his seat to hopefully ignore everyone for the rest of the class.
That lasted about five minutes until they were split into groups to work on some stupid English assignment, giving his classmates the freedom to speculate.
"You think he'll still be red when Kirishima's around?" Jirou wondered. "He always seems less permanently enraged with him."
"Maybe." Mina hummed. "I wonder if different people get different color reactions. Well, maybe not a different color, but different shades of pissed-off-red."
And so began the color game. Every fucking interaction he had was observed like a goddamn science experiment.
"Hey Bakugou, do you have a pencil I could borrow?"
"Go fuck yourself."
"That was definitely lighter, almost more of a red-orange. Does that mean he's just a little peeved?"
"Whatever it meant, he's mad now ."
"Shut the fuck up and mind your own business!"
Stop watching me.
"Are you alright, Kacchan?" Deku dared.
"I'm fine, you damn nerd!"
"Whoa, what's that ?" Kaminari marvelled with a look that made Bakugou's chest pang with panic. He glanced down at his hands to find them a misty teal.
Not good.
"I don't fucking know, it didn't come with a fucking user manual!" To his horror, the teal brightened, then eased into a greener shade.
"What do ya know, Midoriya?" Kaminari teased. "Contrary to popular belief, you're the only one who doesn't piss him off."
Midoriya stared at him with that awful, analytical gaze, searching for answers Bakugou never wanted to give.
He wasn't sure he would survive two weeks.
*****
Kirishima had mixed feelings about the quirk. On one hand, Bakugou obviously hated it, and he didn't particularly want to see his best bro suffer. On the other, he liked the idea of finally gaining some insight into what on earth went on in that boy's head. While the quirk may not provide solid answers, it did give clues. It turned out Bakugou had a whole range of emotions, regardless of his seemingly one note attitude. Red, green, black, blue, it didn't matter, he always acted pissed off. And… it worried him a bit. Not enough to track down the girl who started this dilemma, but enough to start paying attention.
It wasn't a secret Bakugou was touchy about, well, touch. A few classmates tended to use that common knowledge to get a rise out of him. When Kaminari slung an arm around his pissy frienamey, they all fully expected the snarl, quickly followed by a shove.
"Fuck off," Bakugo growled, backing away until he was out of arms reach of everyone.
It was a scene Kirishima had watched play out a dozen times before. Only one part confused him. He had expected the red to flare up like gasoline on a campfire, the way it had when Midoriya scored two points higher than Bakugou on a history quiz that morning.
Instead it turned green.
"Aww, Blasty," Mina cooed. "You may act mad, but the colors don't lie."
"Go fuck yourself," he stormed away, red quickly taking over once again. They could hear his door slam from two floors down.
"So what does that make green then?" Kaminari posed.
"Don't know. Maybe confusion?" Mina suggested. "Blasty isn't particularly good with affection. I'm not sure he knows how a hug even works."
"Could be he's embarrassed," Sero guessed. "He's not exactly open about how he feels."
"Green is usually good, right?" Mina questioned. "If he's not really mad and just pretending to be, do you think he actually likes it?"
Kirishima could see Bakugou being touch starved. He had met Bakugou Mitsuki once, and she certainly didn't keep her hands to herself, but she didn't seem to offer much affection either. Grabbing, pulling, hitting, those were more her style. It felt like too delicate a thing to bring up in front of the whole class, though.
"Maybe he thinks you're hot, Kaminari," Mineta joined in. "He's probably pretty pent up. I mean, how do you masterbate with nitroglycerine hands?"
"That's disgusting," Mina disapproved.
"Maybe the emotion is disgust and he really does just hate everyone," Jirou suggested.
"You think he's a germaphobe?" Sero wondered.
"Who knows," Kaminari shrugged. "Only one way to find out."
"Guys," Kirishima warned. "He's already having a bad week."
"We just want to understand," Jirou dismissed. "For science."
"Yeah, scientific antagonism," Kaminari agreed.
"We don't even know that it's antagonism," Sero reminded.
Kirishima didn't like it, but he didn't know how to explain his reservations in a way that made sense. "If he blows you all up, don't say I didn't warn you."
Kirishima decided to give him some space for the time being. Instead of knocking on his door to check on him, he sent ignored texts until he finally saw the boy again in training.
"Hey man, you wanna pair up?" Kirishima approached the same way he always did, set on acting as normal as possible, even if he was cataloging every shade just like the rest of them.
"Whatever," Bakugou scowled a bit more aggressively than usual, gaze fixed on his hands as they turned a warm yellow.
Is that good or bad?
He didn't ask, for which Bakugou looked relieved. He was pretty sure, at least. He would have to compare notes to pin down if sunset orange-pink meant relieved.
It was a 2v2 drill, one pair trying to escape with the fake data drive of made up important information, the other trying to stop them before they could leave the building.
" Minimal collateral damage," Aizawa instructed, casting a pointed glare at Bakugou. "Proceed like there may be civilians on the premises."
For some people, like Yaomomo, it may not make that much of a difference. For a team that could easily crash through walls and fly straight from the start location into the sky, it changed the strategy completely. Bakugou's grumbles silenced quickly when their other instructor for this exercise spoke.
"Most real world situations are going to have these kinds of restrictions," Allmight informed, instantly turning Bakugou an intense shade of teal. The teal shifted to a deep purple as he added, "Heroes often need to fight with awareness of people they don't want to hurt being in the way."
It felt just a bit targeted when Aizawa assigned them to start underground. Sero and Shoji made for some laid back guards, but they both had good quirks for simply stopping people. He wasn’t sure where the other two would begin the exercise, but their best chance would be to cover as much ground as possible before Sero could set up much to keep them in.
“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asked brightly.
“Fucking leave.”
Bakugou was in an even worse mood than he thought. He didn’t argue when his aggravated partner snatched up the usb drive and shoved it in a pocket.
"It still has to be readable when we're out," Kirishima responded to the rough treatment.
"I fucking know that."
This was going to be a frustrating class.
When the alarm signaled them to begin, Bakugou didn't even spare him a glance as he rushed forward to find the door immobile. Bakugou shoved again, harder, and still nothing budged.
“I can try to-”
Kirishima’s suggestion was lost in the resounding boom that blew the door not only open, but off its hinges. It’s trajectory stopped awkwardly short, held upright and in the way by a chaotic web of tape crisscrossing the hallway.
“Is he trying to fucking annoy us to death?” Bakugou growled, bracing himself to fire again.
“Wait!” Kirishima protested, and to his relief, Bakugoi paused. “Maybe let me do that. Since we’re not supposed to destroy the place.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes, but complied, stepping aside to give Kirishima a clear path. A running start was all he needed to bulldoze through the maze, the displaced door sparing him the annoyance of being covered in scraps of ripped tape. Bakugou followed along in the path Kirishima made. He had to give Sero credit: it went on a lot longer than he expected. At this rate, their opponent would have nothing left to fight with. Perhaps Sero had given up on the idea of containing Bakugou, or getting the drive back, and instead just aimed to hinder them long enough to run out the clock.
"This is fucking obnoxious," Bakugou complained before aiming at the ceiling.
" Bakugou," Kirishima scolded. "Civilians."
Bakugou muttered something along the lines of 'civilians can suck my fucking dick.'
"You know you're gonna have to deal with this in the f-"
The door held in front of him stopped. Admittedly, he had been running forward with pretty much zero visibility for a while now without stopping to check where he was going. It was just taking so long, he lost the patience for caution . At first he thought he hit a dead end, judging by the solidness of the impact. Then it started to move.
Shoji lifted the door and Kirishima, throwing both back down the hall, forcing Bakugou to dodge directly into a net of tape-web. While Bakugou made quick work of the sticky bands surrounding him, the distraction got him cornered by Shoji who was, admittedly, a bit unnerving to grapple with. Not because Kirishima thought he was weird or anything, he wasn't judgemental like that, but he had never really studied how to fight someone with that many arms (were they arms?). It appeared Bakugou hadn't either. Shoji's unusual anatomy combined with the close quarters, restricted damage quota, and adhesive terrain gave him the opportunity to slip past Bakugou's usually immaculate defense.
Kirishima only turned away a moment, looking for anything that could help him get Bakugou free, when he heard a guttural scream. His attention snapped back to Shoji holding Bakugou by the wrists, a dark cloud of green swirling around him. Damage control seemingly forgotten, Bakugou released a wild blast that hit more ceiling than Shoji, but it did the trick. Shoji staggered back a few feet. Bakugou kept going, explosions only growing larger.
"Bakugou!" Kirishima rushed forward. "Chill out, man, you're going to bring the whole thing down on us!"
Bakugou didn't seem to hear him, instead focused on where his leg had gotten tangled in Sero's tape. Kirishima would help if Bakugou would stop blinding him with the light show every two seconds. Kirishima reached out to tap him on the shoulder, just to get his attention, when Bakugou pulled away, black and green billowing around him. Like a reflex, Bakugou let off a blast that put a hole straight through the ceiling, finally granting him the escape he appeared so desperate for.
"This exercise is over," Aizawa's voice announced through his ear piece. "The building is no longer structurally sound and I'd rather not have any of you die on me today."
He would try to regroup with Bakugou, but his partner ran off without slowing and didn't seem likely to come back. Kirishima didn't find him until he walked into the locker room, already filled with Bakugou's shouting.
"-of your damn business!"
"Aww, are you shy ?" Kaminari teased.
"What's going on?" Kirishima stepped in.
"Bakugou is hiding in the stall to change again," Sero explained.
"You don't need to be embarrassed," Kaminari grinned. "Objectively, you are pretty hot."
"Fuck off!" Magenta flared like the northern lights from beyond the stall door.
"Well, now he's definitely not coming out," Mineta smirked. "I wouldn't want another guy mooning over me either."
"Dude, don't make it weird," Sero disapproved. "Just because it's not your taste doesn't mean you can't acknowledge when another man is a snack."
The door flung open, Bakugou storming straight from the stall to the exit as he screamed. "One more word and I'll snap your stupid fucking elbows!"
"Aw, no fair." Sero took the threat in stride. "I'm out of tape, I can't even defend myself."
"Serves you right for that dumbass spiderweb shit," Bakugou snapped back. The magenta fluttering around him erupted with green again.
“And here I thought you were so one dimensional,” Aoyama commented, watching the colors with fascination. “Who knew you were such an emotional being.”
Bakugou’s unintelligible snarl accompanied the magenta flaring wildly, a darker purple emerging just over his skin. He glared at Aoyama, mouth open to start yelling again when he walked directly into Koda.
“Fuck!” Bakugou jumped back, flinching almost as hard as Koda did.
Green again.
Mina had theorized green was a good thing, but to Kirishima it radiated an unsettling hum. Like something toxic.
“Get the hell out of my way!” Bakugou shoved past hastily.
“Hey, man, not cool!” Sero accused, as Koda shied away. Bakugou ignored the complaint, stomping forward until Shoji reached out, halting him with a grip around his wrist.
“You should not treat your classmates so harshly,” Shoji advised calmly. “Koda did not mean to startle you. You weren’t looking where you were going.”
“Don’t touch me!” Bakugou growled with a wince, sickly green darkening. Kirishima expected him to pull away, but instead he seemed frozen, staring at the large hand around his wrist like it was a live snake about to bite him.
“Shoji-” Midoriya began.
“Stay out of this, Deku!” Bakugou cut him off like a reflex. Still, Shoji got the message and let go, dark eyes following Bakugou curiously as he backed away. A few tense moments, he watched Shoji like a cornered cat, then darted out of the locker room.
Kirishima was really starting to hate the color green.
“We’re gonna have to start taking notes,” Sero shook his head. “I still can’t tell what the hell is up with him.”
“I have been, but I’m still confused about a few,” Midoriya replied.
“That’s a little creepy, dude,” Ojirou disapproved.
“We’ll just have to keep at it,” Kaminari declared. “If we keep fucking with him, Midoriya will figure it out eventually.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kirishima insisted. The past hour had made his concern a steadfast conviction. Fucking with Bakugou about this would only end in disaster.
He wished they had listened.
At first, it wasn't so bad. The usual nudging and leaning of high schoolers, resulting in the usual Bakugou reactions.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
"Get the hell off me, asswipe!"
"I'll kill you."
As time went on, he seemed more and more frazzled by the casual contact. Not enough for the words to change, but a tremor shook in his voice. Slowly, the green grew brighter until it never quite entirely went away. As Bakugou stood in the kitchen waiting for water to boil, Kaminari made a particularly daring move of throwing his arms over Bakugou’s shoulders from behind.
“Hey, Bakubro!”
Instead of yelling, Bakugou went perfectly still for a moment. All at once, his hands exploded, knocking both Kaminari and himself off balance.
"Would you fucking stop! " Bakugou finally screamed. "What is with everyone today? Fucking weirdos need to back the fuck off !"
"But you're not really mad," Jirou pointed out. Bakugou's jaw snapped shut, teeth grinding. The quirk said he wasn't mad, but with the green growing brighter at each interaction, he clearly felt something about it. Kirishima had a growing suspicion it wasn't anything good.
As Bakugou formulated a reply, the red reappeared, scattered with splotches of dark purple.
"You want me to get pissed?!" he shrieked, the haze of red exploding, as did his palms . "Fine then, I'll get fucking pissed! Don't FUCKING TOUCH ME! "
He stormed away, leaving Jirou and Kaminari stunned silent. Kirishima followed quietly, waiting to turn down the hall until he heard Bakugou's door slam shut. Maybe it was a little creepy that he was so practiced at listening to Bakugou's tantrums through the wall, but it wasn't like he could just ask if he was okay without getting blown up and screamed at.
The usual desk-kick came first, along with a few pops. Something hit the wall right where Kirishima's head rested on the other side. Then it got quiet. Kirishima had to press his ear against the drywall to hear the much softer sound of… crying?
It was soft and sharp at once, constricted breath pitched high with strain. A rare sound Kirishima had only heard before in the dead of night, followed by weary silence in the morning.
Something was wrong. Really wrong, and this game needed to end now.