Chapter Text
Katsuki and Izuku have always just- been . There wasn't any build up to their first meeting, or their last, they were always just constants in eachothers lives; ghosts that can't help but wander familiar halls.
If anything, it was odd if the other wasn't there. If their mothers met up and they were missing a son, there was a noticeable dent. As kids, there were never any direct feelings involved, only acceptance. This is how it was, and that was all.
When they got older, things changed as they always would; Katsuki was angry at the world, Izuku felt foreign in his own skin, and eventually, having to interact became a choice. They no longer passed each other in the school halls, and they were old enough that their parents were happy to leave them home alone.
They still spoke, weirdly. Even with the choice being there, somehow they always chose each other. Though most of their communication consisted of arguing and fighting and the most brutal words, it eventually started to balance out as healthy competition.
Then, cars become part of the equation. Mitsuki was one of the best mechanics their city has ever seen, and the profits from it mean Katsuki gets an early start. He gets a car before his time; he gets proper, professional lessons before his time and Izuku is left with the scrap he can carry.
Of course, it blew up in his face eventually. Katsuki cannot do things casually- it's a deep rooted trait that he gives all or nothing. He became obsessive, pushed past his limit, and paid for it.
It sends Inko into a spiral. She cannot see Izuku meet the same fate, so she cries in his arms and begs him to give up this dream.
“This is not a game.” His mother had said , eyes wet with tears. When she extended her hand to him, it trembled, and something sick and heavy landed in his gut, “I’m serious, Izuku.”
He knows she was. Even now, he pictures the look on her face and knows every word gone unsaid. Implicitly, her eyes tell the story of Katsuki, laid comatose at the age of sixteen because of his own arrogant driving. Katsuki Bakugou; who Izuku used to think could do anything, had now just ruined his own life.
“I know.” He says aloud, “I know.”
Her tears came harder. She has always been good at reading him, and she knew he was lying. Izuku had always been into driving, long before he had his licence and long before he realised that it could get competitive. His father thought he was the king of the road; he drove like he would never see tomorrow and that kind of confidence was contagious.
“I don’t think you do.” Inko pressed, “Mitsuki is putting on a brave face, but I know she is in bits with guilt.”
He stayed quiet- he learnt early to not fan this fire a long time ago.
“She taught Katsuki to drive, and now he has taken it too far. I can’t help picturing your face when I see him laid on that bed because it is so horrifically similar.”
Izuku feels a tad sick, “Mom-”
“You have always admired him, Izuku, but do not go down this road.” She snaps, “I cannot take another heartbreak.”
“I know.” He parrots meekly, “I won’t. I promise.”
Izuku realises that lies taste bitter, but he is young and dumb and is so sure that accomplishment will taste sweeter.
—-
Hisashi Midoriya died in November of the same year. His body is found aflame, and his death only blows on the embers in Izuku’s heart. They held his funeral on the northside ridge, overlooking the mountain track he passed on, and let his ashes go with the wind. Izuku wonders if the ghost of him will walk this track for eternity.
Katsuki is there too, surprisingly. He looks worse for wear, casts on both his arm and his leg, and he has a lumpy outline under his shirt that looks like a brace around his spine. Izuku passively hears Mitsuki mumble that she is showing him what could have happened, had the accident been a little worse, but Katsuki shrugs her off and follows the lead of his own father.
Their usual yelling is noticeably absent.
Izuku manages to catch Katsuki’s eye midway through the ceremony, but that is the furthest their interaction goes. They don’t exchange pleasantries, but Izuku is glad he came.
When he gets home, there’s a car in the driveway. It’s a tacky, discoloured, beat up Civic and he bursts into tears at the sight of it. His mother hugs him tight, and explains that is for after he gets his licence, and not a second before. She lays him some thick ground rules, but ultimately, she trusts him.
It has some rust and a loosely fitted spoiler, so he tinkers with it in the driveway in the meantime. It’s beautiful.
—-
He gets his official drivers licence three weeks after his eighteenth birthday. His mother is sceptical, though she knew this day was coming, and only lets him drive with her in the car for the first few months. He doesn’t know what she expects him to do , but he ties her actions to the lingering grief.
She was right to be sceptical, Izuku realised not long after. It only takes him a day up in the mountains to wonder if his little clunker can go faster , can turn sharper . He starts to fall back into muscle memory of the late night drives with his dad, and he can almost hear him in the passenger seat, warning him that there’s a sharp upcoming turn.
He doesn’t see Katsuki once, the entire time he owns the car, and although they haven’t spoken properly in years there is a burning, childish desire to show him all the modifications he has made, and how far he has come.
—-
His first accident isn’t technically his fault. The girl behind him was coming in too fast, and he wasn’t paying enough attention to see the lights change above him until the last second. He slammed on the brakes too late, and she was tailing too close. She slammed into the back of him.
She’s crying when she gets out, and although neither of them are hurt, she is a mess. He spends the first ten minutes nursing his wounded car, before he realises what she’s saying.
They argue for a little while, about who’s at fault, but eventually they settle on the curb to inspect the damage. She bursts out laughing when she sees she is missing the entirety of her own front bumper, and then bursts into tears again when she sees his.
Her name is Ochako, and he orders her a taxi home. She promises she will text him and make sure the damages are paid for; he believes her, and nods.
They meet the next day with intentions of settling compensation between themselves, but end up laughing so hard they forget about the topic completely. They rearrange, and during the settling dust he realises maybe the car is just worth letting go. It’s old, rusted and has done its duty.
She pays for a truck, and they take it to be crushed. Izuku sheds a few tears while they watch it, a bottle of wine split between them.
They continue to hang out, despite the odd meeting circumstances, and are able to laugh about it nowadays.
—-
He inherits Hisashi’s car. It’s a beast of a machine, and kept polished in a storage unit downtown. When he first gets in the driver's seat, the seat is unaltered from when his father last used it, and the realisation that Izuku is now the same size as he was is a little daunting.
He nearly kills himself on his first drive, but the rush of adrenaline that boots through his system is almost worth it. He has to pull up in an empty car park and take a moment to breathe.
You never really realise the power you were lacking until you have it in your hands.
Inko loses her mind. She doesn’t want him to have the car, and she doesn’t want him anywhere near the mountain track.
Too much danger, she says. She doesn’t trust him.
They argue. For the first time in his life, he and his mother have a proper, real fight. He’s desperate to keep the car, keep Hisashi’s memory- and he’s desperate to be better. And to be better, he has to be a little dangerous. Within his one track mind, there is not an alternate choice. Inko wraps him in her arms and sobs, and Izuku cries too.
—-
Izuku sees Mitsuki on a warm June morning, hands full with bags she cannot carry and a split across her lip. He doesn’t think- he just runs and grabs them out of her hands as he always has done, fishes the spare key out of the plant pot and lets them both into the Bakugou residence. Mitsuki thanks him, but it’s meek and unfamiliar.
“Izuku.” She says, as she lays the bags on the kitchen table. She’s staring at him hard enough to puncture holes, “Are you in college?”
He flushes down to his toes, ashamed, and mumbles, “Uh, no.”
Mitsuki hums, and leans back against the fridge, “Why not?”
“It just… didn’t happen. I guess.” Izuku answers, though he feels it’s the wrong one. He doesn’t mention the nights of tears, and tears, and tears while he planned for something that was definitely not graduating. The wound is too fresh to poke. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” She replies, “Empty nest syndrome. I’m just wondering how Inko is coping with it but now I see that’s not the case.”
Izuku blinks, “What?”
“You’re worrying her sick, kid.” Mitsuki says, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but she is losing her damn mind. Get it together.”
“Right.” He says, looking down at the bag still in his hands; milk and eggs, “Sure, sorry.”
His eyes catch on a frame, sitting adjacent to the stove. He picked it up, and Mitsuki doesn’t need prompting.
“That’s the day after he woke up in the hospital.” Mitsuki said, “Any one would think the kid just came back from war.”
She wasn’t far off. In the picture, Katsuki had scratches on his chin and a purple, swollen eye. There were stitches on his cheekbone, too. Naturally, there’s a scowl on his face; half of his hair is shaved, still stained with traces of his own blood, and he’s holding a tacky, crumpled All Might magazine on his lap. Masaru is beside him, grinning like a fool- there’s some shine on his cheeks that Izuku deduces is the residue of tears.
Somehow, even then, he is stunning.
“He fractured eight bones in his face. I didn’t even know that was possible.” Mitsuki explains, putting away tins in the cupboard, her back to him, “On top of the broken femur, the broken wrist, and fractured spin… he wasn’t a happy bunny.”
“Wow.” Izuku cannot help himself from asking, “How is he?”
Mitsuki smiles at him over his shoulder, “He’s doing as well as he can be, I guess. His bones have healed- he’s off doing some mechanical engineering degree nowadays.”
It’s no surprise, Katsuki has always been the best at his trade. Cars are his expertise; even as a child he would be able to dismantle and rebuild one from scratch, and figure out the issue from sound alone. It went beyond passion and bordered on obsession, and Izuku can imagine now it’s only gotten worse.
Izuku always wanted to learn from him; he would follow him around like a poor lost duckling. He was desperate to know what Katsuki did, desperate to have his skill but it felt like Katsuki was just… was born with it.
It was only when he saw Mitsuki one cold night, rubbing the grease from Katsuki’s chubby little face with a flannel and explaining to him why his solution was wrong, that Izuku realised Katsuki was learning just as much as he was. It stirred a fire under him. After that, Izuku clung to his dad, and worked day and night on his notebook spreads to hopefully rival his knowledge one day. He supposes it was useless in the end, because Katsuki turned his back on him anyway
“I’m glad you’re here, Izuku.” Mitsuki says, and she doesn’t mean the kitchen. She means here in this city, safe, where her son is not.
Izuku nods, “Me too.”
It’s a lie.
—-
He gets a job in the city outskirts, and it’s easier to move into a shoddy little flat than to commute everyday. His mother cries that he’s leaving, but she’s happy he is taking initiative and growing up. She thinks he has forgotten the childish dream he had during his youth, and he thinks the shock might kill her if she ever found out what he gets up to.
“I am so proud of you.” She says, “I wish I could come with you.”
She can, Izuku wants to point out. There’s no reason why she can’t move too, but she won’t. He knows this house holds too many memories and she will die here. The thought is unnerving, and he holds her a bit tighter.
“Thank you.” He says. He means thank you for everything. Thank you for the support, thank you for this life she has given him that he is now on his way to betray.
“Thank you.” He says again, because the guilt is tearing him apart, “I’ll be safe.”
She nods, and lets him go.
He knows, that she knows somewhere in her heart, that it’s not true.
He doesn’t look back at the city as he leaves it behind.