Chapter Text
“What the f—what did you just say?”
Bakugou gaped at Recovery Girl, upper lip twitching in barely contained rage and some other concoction of emotions he didn’t want to address. Normally, he made something of an attempt not to be so disrespectful to the old woman, but his control was slipping.
She just laughed lightly, gathering up various pamphlets and sample packets from around the office. “I said, you’re experiencing the symptoms of pre-heat. You should have your first heat in the coming days. We usually have students go home during their cycles, especially when they first present, but take note of the heat-rut rooms on campus for the future.” She thrusted the armful of materials into Bakugou’s tense hands, smiling pleasantly. “We will inform your parents and add your second gender to your forms. Your teachers will be notified of your absence. You shouldn’t need to miss more than two or so days, but call if you think you need more time.”
“I’m not an omega!” Bakugou insisted, voice just short of cracking. Maybe saying it loudly and aggressively would somehow make it more true. “Check again, old hag! It’s a mistake!”
“I’d have to be pretty senile to make that mistake, young Bakugou,” Recovery Girl chirped, already moving on to pull up Bakugou’s file on the computer.
“But—that can’t—have you fucking met me?” Bakugou stood, dropping all of the items in his arms to gesture at himself.
Recovery Girl clicked her tongue and looked him over. “You’re one of the most emotionally volatile youths in the building, not to mention flashy and unreasonably defensive. I know all the silly, ‘soft-spoken’ stereotypes, but I’ve seen plenty like you over the years. You presenting as an omega doesn’t shock me in the slightest.”
Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.
“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” She clicked through his file, adding the symbol for omega in a previously empty slot. “But after a while, it will become easier for you to control your scent and mask the signs, if you feel uncomfortable with others knowing. Most kids your age have barely begun to smell the pheromones of second genders, so I doubt any of your classmates will be able to distinguish who is what for some time.” She turned to Bakugou, smile soft and reassuring. “It’s not uncommon for heroes to keep their second genders private, regardless of their presentation. This shouldn’t hold you back in the slightest.”
Bakugou stared at her, anger seeping somewhere deeper into him as she talked. Other emotions threatened to demand his attention, things like shock and dread and shame and betrayal, and putting a lid on that minefield almost circled back to making him calm. She nodded, turning back to the computer to save his file and update it across the network.
“Make sure to take all the materials with you! They’ll help. Congratulations, and good luck!”
And with that, Bakugou numbly picked up the pamphlets and packets, threw them into his bag, and left for home.
- - - - -
Bakugou was not calm.
Bakugou was seething.
His trek home was a warpath, full of stomping and grinding teeth, and everyone left him a pretty wide berth even in the busier areas on his route. He caught a few of them glancing at him with scrunched-up noses, which only served to piss him off even more. Not only was he not an alpha, which everyone had no doubt he would be, but everyone could tell...they could smell it on him. He always told himself that he didn’t give a shit about second genders or any of the drama and bullshit that came with it, but that’s because he knew what he was going to be. And now that he wasn’t that, suddenly the entire image of himself, of his future, of the way others see and relate to him, all of that was up in flames. And he was pissed.
Sure, he expected that he was presenting when he walked into Recovery Girl’s office. He had been feeling a little off for a few days, and the past month had been filled with an awareness of weird, faint smells and ghost sensations that he’d never noticed before. Those smells gradually became nearly unbearable, loud and demanding, and he still wasn’t quite used to being assaulted with scent whenever one of his other presented classmates got riled up. He’d be irritable, a little achy, and randomly more pissed off than normal at only select people for seemingly no reason. It was especially obvious when he got mad at Kirishima, one of the few people he could actually stand, over something stupid for the third time in a day. Kirishima presented as an alpha (and made sure everyone in class knew about it) about two months ago, joining others like Yaoyorozu, Mina, and Sero, so he figured he was getting pissed at the guy because he was about to present as an alpha and was being territorial or whatever the fuck.
But no, apparently it was just some omega bitchfit.
He knew half the class hadn’t even presented yet. It was obvious when someone did, given that they would miss a few days of class to get through their first heat or rut. He knew that everyone would know that he presented, and everyone would ask questions. And he’d have to say, out loud, with his own mouth, that he was an omega. They were going to have a goddamn field day about it too, all at his expense.
Someone passing him on the sidewalk made eye contact with him, and he barely restrained himself from screaming at them to eat shit and die...Or, he thought he did, except the way they jumped and jogged away from him meant he probably actually did scream out loud. Whatever, serves them right.
He mulled over what Recovery Girl said, trying to think of a way he could tell his classmates to fuck off and never ask again without making it obvious he was hiding an omega status. If they weren’t going to be able to smell the difference between an omega, an alpha, or a beta until they got more practice, that might give him enough time to mask any and all signs...but at the same time, why the fuck should he care? Why did he care? It didn’t change the fact that he could still kick all of their asses, and does so routinely. It shouldn’t matter.
But...did it? How much effort would he be willing to put into keeping it a secret, for how long? And would that be the kind of weakness he was willing to let some stupid, outdated notions force on him?
He scrubbed at his hair, snarling as the useless chain of thoughts failed to become productive. He glowered at the world, resolutely deciding that this wouldn’t change anything, and if it did, he’d destroy whatever tried to hold him back. None of this extra bullshit mattered anyway, as long as he was at the top.
He didn’t feel any less pissed off, but at least this anger felt familiar. Fuck the world, go to hell, and die. He set his shoulders and finished the last leg of his journey home, planning how he was going to avoid having any sort of obnoxious “talk” about sex ed and secondary genders with his parents, taking no note of the world around him.
- - - - -
A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. The air wafting from him had an obvious scent of pre-heat, but it was twisted with the slightly off-putting sourness of youth, like the taste of a fruit that wasn’t quite ripe yet—he probably presented pretty recently. Clearly, he wasn’t too happy about it.
The owner of the gaze smiled and casually pushed away from the wall he was leaning against, following without any sense of urgency. He didn’t want the omega to catch wind of his rather prominent alpha stench, and he had time, after all. Normally the jobs he took required a brief period of intense planning and activity, and the rest of his days were spent waiting for word of another promising hit to come through the pipelines. That left a lot of time for other...hobbies.
He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity.
It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega. The man could hardly believe it when he first spotted him. He was having such a boring day up until this point, but that lingering scent of pre-heat made it suddenly delightful.
In the modern day, all a hero needed was a flashy quirk to get all the spotlight, pushing people around as they pleased. There was no order to the mess, no sense of hierarchy or respect for the way things were meant to be in the world. However, with the celebrated beta All Might fallen and the rise of powerhouse alpha Endeavor as number one hero, things were about to change. Villain activity was stirring, and uppity little breeder punks with impressive quirks who were used to ignoring the proper status quo would no longer be acceptable. It would be irresponsible to turn away from such a golden opportunity to re-educate the next generation of heroes.
The man tagged just far enough behind to remain unnoticed until the agitated omega turned towards the doorway of a rather impressive house. With a quick note of the street and number, the man turned away, making a few plans for tomorrow. He had time, and there was no need to rush when all the doors in the world were made for him to open.