Strength for Strength

by Dr_I_Know_All

Summary:

You know how you go through all of the Hero Course students and sometimes an idea so fun just pops into your head and you can't get it out? I was trying to find friends for Bakugo in one of my other fic ideas, and guess what? Kendo Itsuka popped into my head and refused to leave.

What happens when Shinsou replaces Mineta...but the teachers don't put him in 1-A? Why, a transfer of a classmate that everyone loves. Kendo joins the 1-A gang and tries to adopt all of them, starting with Bakugo.

OR

Kendo and Bakugo are perfect for each other, and I can prove it.

Chapter 1

One concrete pillar jutted up a short distance above the field. “In third place, Tokoyami Fumikage and Iida Tenya!” announced Midnight.   

Another pillar of cement rumbled into the sky bearing a distinctive head of dichromatic hair. “In second place, Todoroki Shouto!”   

The audience watched incredulously from the stands as the final pillar rose to show their nominal champion chained and muzzled to the stand. “And in first place, Bakugou Katsuki!”   

Those who doubted the chains and muzzle’s necessity had their doubts immediately quashed by the student’s rabid snapping and screaming. But, in the lower stands, one student in class 1-B stood up, horrified. She started for the field and was wrapped in her classmate’s vines, reluctantly stopping as when her classmates talked her down.   

This student watched with guilty teal eyes as no one, not even All Might, showed any decency towards their so-called ‘champion’.   

Cut to the teacher’s office the day after the sport’s festival, Shoda Nirengeki, Aoyama Yuga, and Ojiro Mashirao were all called in to speak with Aizawa-sensei and Vlad King. The students waited nervously for a probable dressing-down. Aoyama’s natural glittering had dulled somewhat, a symptom of his anxiety. Ojiro’s tail gave an occasional twitch, but the boy was otherwise stoic. Shoda tapped his fingers together, every now and then bouncing them farther apart with the jumped-up force. They all watched with apprehension as the 1-A homeroom teacher, Aizawa, cleared his throat. 

“You were all on a cavalry team—unwillingly—with Shinsou Hitoshi,” Aizawa stated bluntly, watching the trio. “We want you to know he is being transferred to the hero course.”   

Aizawa and Vlad King watched their reactions. Shoda was by far the most positive, giving them a nod that said, ‘He deserved it, good on him.’ Aoyama was the most childish, pouting the way he was. Ojiro, however, was going to be a problem. He was one of Aizawa’s least troubling students; he was disciplined, diligent, kind, and  quiet. Seeing anger on that normally calm face was deeply unsettling.   

“Why would you do that, sensei?” the student asked, voice measured in cadence but sharp in tone. “What has he done to deserve being a hero?”   

Aizawa pursed his lips. “You feel wronged by this.”   

“Yes!”   

“Because he used his quirk on you,” he stated bluntly, “in a competition where quirk usage is a core component and encouraged.”   

Ojiro bared his teeth. “It was violating.”   

“I can’t stop you from seeing it that way, but I will say it was a logical use of his quirk,” Aizawa pointed out. “Shinsou was the only General Education student to get past the first event, and he didn’t know anyone who would partner with him in the cavalry battle. Time was limited and teams were being formed. And, as you’re helpfully illustrating, a brainwashing quirk comes with a certain stigma.”  

Ojiro grimaced but didn’t back down. “That’s because it’s not right. He robbed us of our free will and any chance we had to do our best! It was wrong!”   

“This wasn’t an easy decision, students, but it is the one we’ve made.” Vlad King stepped in. “There’s no changing it. The only decision left is deciding which class he goes into.”   

“And we decided it would be up to you three,” Aizawa finished for him. His eyes met Ojiro’s. “I think you’ve made that decision rather easy for us.”   

“Shoda,” Vlad King addressed the rounder, light-haired boy, “could you work with Shinsou if he were to join 1-B?”   

The boy nodded.   

“Ojiro, Aoyama, would you be capable of the same?” Aizawa asked, already knowing the answer.   

“Peut-être .”   

“NO.”  

Aizawa sighed. It seemed that Vlad King once again had the more rational, well-behaved students. He’d thought that Ojiro would prove to be a good one for him, but, of course, no teenager stayed sane for long. Why did he get all the problem children?   

He sighed. “I’m disappointed in you, Ojiro, but I won’t push this right now. We’ll put him in 1-B.”  

The three were summarily dismissed, leaving Kan and Aizawa to their plans.   

“So, who’s getting transferred out?” Kan asked.    

“Mineta Minoru,” Aizawa replied, passing him the file. “He doesn’t lack potential as a hero, and the boy’s smart enough to keep up, but his behaviour is disruptive and worrisome. I can’t let him continue. It’s not fair to the female students and, frankly speaking, Shinsou deserves the spot more. He worked hard to get noticed at the Sports Festival.”   

Kan nodded along. “I would do the same.”  

“Mineta and his parents will be here soon to be informed of the transfer to 1-C. But that means someone for your class needs to be moved to 1-A. Who?”   

Vlad King shrugged. “I plan to leave it to the students. I could see it being Pony—she has no strong dislike for your class like some of the others—but I won’t force any of them to go. Some of them hate your kids more than Ojiro does Shinsou.”   

----  

“A transfer?!”   

No one in class 1-B was expecting the purple-haired boy from the Sport’s Festival to be transferred to their class or escorted in by Aizawa-sensei. Vlad King pushed the kid forward.   

“I’m Shinsou Hitoshi,” he drawled, seemingly uninterested. “My quirk is Brainwash.”  

“Shinsou will be a part of Class 1-B from now on,” Vlad King announced, cautioning authority weighing his voice. “I don’t want to hear any complaints.”   

“Yes, sensei,” the class replied dutifully.   

“But then,” Monoma looked around, “who’s getting transferred to Gen Ed?”   

The class collectively held their breaths.   

“No one from 1-B is leaving the hero course.” This time it was Aizawa-sensei who spoke, his tone eerily similar to the purple-haired kid he was standing next to. “The cut was from 1-A.”   

Monoma laughed. “Once again, it seems 1-A has proven its ineptitude! How’s that for superiority?”   

Kendo karate chopped the back of his head, making it slam into the metal desk and loll to one side. “Sorry, Aizawa-sensei. The Festival made him too competitive.”   

A deeply uncaring shrug was her only answer.   

“Wait,” another student piped in, “if the opening’s in 1-A, why is he here?”   

Eraser and Vlad shared a look. “There were some . . . issues with placing Hitoshi in class 1-A. We decided his transition would be easier in this class.”   

“So 1-A lacks heroic spirit too, huh?” Monoma whispered under his breath. Kendo silenced him with a look.   

“However, Honenuki is right,” Vlad King said to his class. “There is no room in 1-B. The only smart solution is for one of you to be transferred to 1-A.”   

Kendo and the others held their breaths. Transferred? Out of 1-B?    

“As a sign of trust, I will let you pick who gets to be transferred,” Kan continued. He smiled at them. “Although it’ll be a shame to lose any of you, someone has to make the jump. Do I have any volunteers?”  

Looking around, Kendo knew no one wanted to do it. Even Tokage, great as she was, looked a little nervous at the thought of leaving. She went through them one by one, trying to picture any of them making friends in 1-A. Pony would have a hard time leaving, she had only just started becoming comfortable speaking Japanese with them around. Fukidashi, Shoda, and Komori would be the same way. Monoma would probably get expelled within a day for bad behaviour, Kuroiro and Tokoyami would be like oil and water . . . the list went on and on in her mind. The only one who might be okay was Tetsutetsu because of how he bonded with that boy Kirishima over their similar quirks, but the look on his face told her the transfer wouldn’t be a smooth one.   

Kendo cared a lot about her friends—everyone knew that—and she knew that they each had their challenges, but she had looked at 1-A’s expressions at the Sport’s Festival and something had intrigued her. 1-B and 1-A were meant to be the same, the very reason Monoma and the others were so annoyed at them. They weren’t. 1-B’s classroom felt like a classroom, but when she had looked over to their rival section of the stands she had seen a  battlefield, with everyone willing to give 110% at a moment’s notice. Ready to fight, ready to die if the battles with Todoroki, Midoriya, Ururaka, and Bakugou were any indication. Their class was intense and brutal.  

And she could see herself there.   

So whether it was because of the worry on her classmates’ faces or the feeling of excitement at the start of something new, Kendo raised her hand.   

The class revolted.   

“Kendo?!”  

“What are you doing?!”   

“Too manly!”  

“You’re our class president! You can’t leave!”   

“Kan-sensei, say something! You can’t let her—”   

Kendo rose from her seat and bowed to the class, silencing them. “I will miss you all as well. But you all deserve to grow in strength together, and I feel like I would have the easiest time joining their class out of everyone. If you all agree, Tokage, can I count on you to look after everyone? Please make sure Shinsou feels welcome, and keep Monoma from acting out too much. I know you’ll be an excellent class president.”   

“Is this about the Festival?” Tokage asked, making the teachers look to Kendo anew. Aizawa, in particular, gave the student an assessing glance. “I know we made it seem like we didn’t care, but it’s not worth leaving over!”   

Kendo smiled at her classmates, who were now echoing the same sentiment.   

“I feel a lot of shame for that,” confessed Kendo, “but that’s not what this is about; this is so you all can stay together.”   

“We’ll miss you!”   

 The class converged on her, several people insisting they would leave instead, or that someone else would be a better fit. Some were just hugging her goodbye. But it felt like the end.  

Tsuburaba punched her arm. “We’re still going to hang out!”  

“You better sit with us at lunch sometimes!” Tokage added, poking her with a disembodied hand. “I’ll send my parts to find you if you don’t.”   

“Of course!”   

While the class said their goodbyes, Vlad King was giving Eraserhead the coldest look of his career.   

“I hate you.”   

“I know.”   

“You better take care of her, you understand me?” King jabbed a finger towards him. “I won’t let you expel her. Kendo is one of my best students. I don’t know why she chose to join your class, I don’t care, I just want you to know that she’s going to be the best student you’ve ever had and you had better recognize it.”   

Aizawa peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. He’d never taught class 1-B, but he knew how to spot problem students. This girl was the opposite of a problem student, but opposites were often just as bad. And something about the child . . . he could feel a precognitive headache coming on.   

“You take care of Shinsou; I’ll take care of Kendo,” he replied finally.   

With everyone taken care of, Kendo went to Monoma. “Hey, I’m going to be in 1-A now, so I better not hear any smack talk, got it?”   

Monoma sniffed derisively and looked away, making Itsuka sigh. Still, she had tried.   

The last person she wanted to talk to was at the front of the class. Shinsou Hitoshi, the catalyst of all of this.   

“They’re good people,” she told him. “You’ll fit right in, don’t worry. And if they give you any trouble then you know where to find me!”  

She eyed Monoma with that last remark. 

“. . . Sure.”   

And with a brusque nod of her head, she turned to her new sensei.  

“Aizawa-sensei, please accept me as your student,” she said in a bow. Just like in martial arts, she would pay all respect to her teacher. “I’m prepared to learn.”   

Aizawa nodded. “Let’s get to class. We’re picking hero names.”   

With one final wave goodbye and a few tearful smiles in return, Kendo Itsuka followed Eraserhead from the classroom.   

“A few things to keep in mind:” Aizawa told her, “first, I don’t accept anything less than a full effort at all times.” That certainly squared with Kendo’s own observations of 1-A. “Second, I’m not here to hold your hand so you better grow a thick skin. Third, observe your classmates before engaging.”   

That one drew her up short. “What do you mean?”   

Aizawa gave her a tired sigh. “Kid, your class isn’t all rainbows, but how you put down Monoma won’t work on these kids. They’re a tight-knit group, have been since the USJ attack. You’ll have to work your way in.”  

“Any suggestions on how, sensei?” she asked.   

He pursed his lips. “Midorya and Bakugou.”   

She considered. “The winner of the first event and the champion. Why?”   

Aizawa pondered for a moment. Part of being a hero was being able to navigate difficult and uncertain situations, but he also thought this girl could do some good to shift the balance in the class. Too much good to leave it to teenage intuition and chance. Mineta had been a harmful influence, pushing all the girls but Uraraka, Mina, and perhaps Asui away from the men in most circumstances, and Kendo could be the one to bring them all back a little closer.   

“The pair of them have different ideas of what it means to be a hero, but they drive themselves to the point of insanity doggedly pursuing those ideals,” Aizawa told her. “Their ferocity and drive frighten and inspire the class in equal parts. The inspiration that they provide is the heart of 1-A. They’re the driving force behind the entire class.”   

“I see,” she murmured, contemplating. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask, about Bakugou . . . I hope you weren’t the one who approved the restraints.”   

“No.” Aizawa’s angry expression lightened her heart a little. “Midnight was out of line, whether it matched her aesthetic or not. And All Might was an idiot. I’m already planning on having words  with them.” Aizawa’s tone implied that he’d do much more to the Number One than have words. 

Kendo agreed. Everyone in the stands had focused on Bakugou’s volatile nature, but no one had considered him a student and therefore a person. He had been treated like a supervillain in front of the whole world and the world had laughed. It had made her feel sick at the time and it still did. To think the faculty would do that was just . . . wrong.   

“You understand,” he nodded approvingly. “You had me worried, kid. Your classmates said something happened at the Festival?”   

Kando sighed. “When they brought him out in chains, I wanted to intervene. I started onto the field…  but my classmates told me I would get mistaken for a medal thief, and that UA’s reputation would be even worse if I did. So . . . I did nothing.”   

Aizawa considered the melancholy youth next to him. “Intervening would have been illogical.”   

Kendo nodded. “But it didn’t feel right to do nothing,  either, sensei.”   

“You have to pick your battles, but there’s usually a way. Do better next time,” he said with a shrug. “It’s good you volunteered and not one of the others, at least. I don’t want anyone goading Bakugou for this, or even mentioning it—Bakugou does not do well with pity, he’ll make sure the others don’t question what happened.   

“But he’s not the only one who’s volatile right now, either. Many are taking their losses in the Festival hard. Only a few have internship offers. One of our students needed surgery after it was done. And, to top it off, Ingenium’s brother is in this class. Tread carefully.”   

Kendo nodded fiercely. Gosh, Class 1-A is so messed up. No wonder they all seem so interdependent, so intense. How would she reach them?   

And with just that thought, she knew she was already invested in the class. She just needed a way to connect to them. To prove to them she could be relied on. 

Aizawa noticed the gleam in her eye and relaxed. This had been the right decision. The kid might be alright.   

“When we get in there, I’ll announce what happened and then you’ll introduce yourself and your quirk before you take a seat. Don’t waste time.”   

Aizawa opened the giant door and strode in, his very entrance silencing the room near-instantly. “Two seconds, you’re improving.”    

Kendo felt all eyes go to her and she smiled kindly at all of them, intent on making a good impression.   

“Aizawa-sensei,” Asui put a finger to her mouth, “your bandages are gone. I’m glad.”   

“The old lady went overboard,” he commented with an itch. “But that’s enough wasted time. Class, there are a few changes taking place. Due to disciplinary concerns and his poor performance at the festival, Mineta has been transferred out of the hero course as of today.”   

Kendo had been expecting more of them to be upset at the loss of a classmate, but very few were. In fact, several of the girls let out small cheers! She wondered just what kind of pervert he must be to elicit that reaction. One girl in particular, Yaoyorozu Momo, looked like she might cry from sheer relief.   

“This was done also to allow room for someone from our General Education department to join the Heroics course,” Aizawa continued, his stern gaze sweeping over the class.  

“However, considering the circumstances,” everyone noticed Aizawa’s eyes linger on a stiff Ojiro, “we decided Shinsou should not be placed in 1-A. Instead, you will have a new classmate transferred from 1-B.”   

Kendo gave a small bow. “I am Kendo Itsuka and my quirk is called Big Fist.”   

She demonstrated it quickly, smiling a little wider at Midoriya’s excited reaction. It wasn’t a very flashy quirk, but she was proud of it.  

“It is a transformation quirk which allows my hands to grow in size and mass, and also increases their durability.” She shrunk her hands back down. “I look forward to working with you all.”   

“We’ll take you over Mineta any day!” A pink-skinned girl yelled. “Let’s be friends!”   

“Yeah!”  

“I thought you were Class 1-B’s president? How’d we get so lucky?”   

The response was largely positive, and she didn’t have to work to keep her smile as they all clamoured to introduce themselves.   

“Tch.” Her eyes went to Bakugou, who looked at her with a sneer. “Don’t hold us back, extra.”   

Now, Kendo considered herself a people person. She was a good friend to her classmates, she listened to their problems, and she cared for their general well-being. Pony hadn’t gotten used to Japan very easily, so Kendo had gone to Lunch Rush to ask about making American food for her, ‘if that wouldn’t be too much trouble, Lunch Rush-san .’ But it was more than that.   

Kendo’s mom was a martial artist who could change the size of her limbs at will, and she’d taught her mixed martial arts. Meditation and control were mom’s domain, ensuring that every action was deliberate and calm. Most of her personality was a result of that calming influence.  

But her father was a parole officer, and his quirk was simply a light durability quirk that made it harder for him to take damage. He sometimes needed it for repeat offenders who liked to run at the very hint of official censure.   

He’d taught her to help people.   

They had broken bread with so many different types of criminals because of her father’s work. From petty thieves to accomplices to major supervillains, from addicts to dealers, everybody had a story, and very few people were just inherently bad — they all had motivations and desires. 

One who came to mind now, looking at Bakugou, was a man who kept getting arrested for assault and public quirk use. Hinoto-san had a small strength augmentation quirk that worked based off of an increase in adrenaline. He’d get into fights all the time and then his quirk would activate, leaving his opponents with some bad injuries no matter how much control he had. But Hinoto was a good person. It hadn’t made sense to her why he would fight all the time until he’d told her, ‘Fights just happen, kid. Sometimes there’s no way about it but to fight or to lay down and take it, and I won’t ever be someone’s steppingstone. I’d rather make them mine.’  That hadn’t sat right with her, so she asked her dad about it.   

The lesson she had learned from Hinoto was the one her father said in response: he’d told her, “Some people, when things get tough, need to know they are strong so they don’t have to be weak. They’d been too weak one time too many and never let it go, or they’ve told themselves they’re weak every day pushing themselves to be something they’re not. Some people need to believe they’re strong or their whole world falls apart.”   

The moment she had looked into Bakugou’s angry eyes and recognized Hinoto-san in them, she knew how to reach him. And, if she played her cards right, she would also find herself in a better place with the rest of the class too. It was time to do something stupid.   

“Bakugou?” Kendo gave him her battle smile—wide, toothy, and malicious. “Fight me.”   

Because her dad also taught her that the only way to get that type of person’s respect was to prove you were strong too. Sometimes you had to fight.   

“WHAAAAT?!”   

She knew she had made the right decision when Bakugou gave her a grin in return, almost an exact mirror of her own. It was definitely more violent, but she could see the genuine excitement in it.    

“Bring it! Let’s go, Hands!”   

“And Kan told me you weren’t a problem child,” Aizawa-sensei sighed next to her. “Sit down, Kendo. You and Bakugou can fight during heroics.”   

Kendo took her seat behind Midoriya and tucked her bag under it. Bakugou looked back once, assessing her, before turning his head back to the front, where Aizawa was beginning a lecture. Kendo was pleased to see that the rest of the class were considering her—not trying to accept her, but instead wondering about her character. That was the first step to bridging the gap between them.  

“Now, today is a special hero informatics class,” Aizawa announced. Kendo noticed everyone around her tense. Was this normal? Are his special classes to be feared?  “Code names. It’s time for you to choose hero names.”   

“It’s something exciting!”   

“So cool!”   

Apparently, he does.    

Aizawa’s eyes flashed red, hair raising, and the room went quiet again.   

“This is related to the hero draft picks I mentioned the other day,” he continued. “The drafts begin in earnest during your second and third years, after students have gained experience and can be immediate assets to pros. In other words, if they extend offers to first years like you, they are showing investment in your future. These offers are often rescinded if interest in you dies down before graduation, so it’s important to use these opportunities to prove your worth.  

“Here are the totals for those with offers.”   

A graphic appeared, going from the largest number of offers to the least. She was towards the bottom, with only a few offers to her name. How did he get her statistics so fast? The paperwork couldn’t even be filed for her transfer yet!   

The thing that hurt, though, was the ranking. Bakugou second, Todoroki first. The opposite result of the festival, and probably because of that disastrous awards ceremony.  

“In other years, the offers have been more spread out,” Aizawa told them monotonously, “but all eyes were on these two.”   

The girl with the headphone jack earlobes seemed to see what she did. “Bakugou second, and Todoroki first?”   

“The opposite of the tournament,” someone else said.   

“Some people must be too scared to ask for the guy who had to be restrained to the podium,” the tape student—Sero?—whispered to his classmates. She saw Bakugou’s back go tight with anger.   

“What are the pros scared of?!” he yelled, palms bursting with explosions.   

She hadn’t fought for Bakugou at the Festival, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t do it now.   

“He’s right, it makes no sense at all,” Kendo commented lightly. The class turned to her, including Bakugou.   

“Were you watching the same awards ceremony?”   

“Yeah, Bakugou went nuts!”   

“YOU WANNA DIE?!”   

Kendo turned to an incensed Bakugou. “I thought you only wanted to refuse the medal, right?”   

Bakugou shrugged, though he was still glaring at the offender, Kaminari. “What of it, Hands?”   

“Then the staff were wrong,” she said. It was a fine line saying this—men like Hinoto and Bakugou don’t like people defending them. “It was unnecessary and unconscionable.”  

“Didn’t he threaten Todoroki?” Jiro pointed out.   

She turned to the rest of the class. “It was a tournament; things were always going to get heated. Anything disciplinary should have happened off-stage. Or they should have had Mr Aizawa accept in his stead or claimed he was injured, something less ridiculous. Trussing up a student like a supervillain in front of all Japan isn’t the student’s fault, but the faculty’s.” 

There was a collective look of discomfort that passed over the students. It was a sweeping guilt that Kendo knew was for thinking that Bakugo has somehow deserved that treatment, or for downplaying it in their minds.  

“Honestly, I’m surprised UA’s reputation didn’t take a big hit for that,” she continued with feigned nonchalance. “They should at least have to apologize to Bakugou. And any agency that saw that as a reason to not offer for Bakugou is not an agency that I would deem heroic anyway—who wants a hero who would look at that and say that it’s acceptable?”  

Bakugo huffed, now slumping back into his seat. “Damn right. Bunch of losers who wouldn’t be worth my time.” 

Aizawa forced down a grin. As troubling as her initial declaration was, at least he finally had a student who understood what normal behaviour was outside of the class. With all the extremes, it was hard for heroes to understand the basics of life.   

“I’ll tell that to All Might, Midnight, and Cementoss myself,” Aizawa informed the class, making their jaws drop. “Kendo is right. UA owes you their apologies, Bakugou.”  

Aizawa bowed to him, and, through the door, strolled Midnight, far less peppy than normal.  

“You don’t need to tell me twice, Eraserhead,” Midnight agreed, and joined the bow. “Sorry, kid. I guess heroes can be too single-minded sometimes. I’ll work on that.”   

The class was silent for a second as both adults bowed to their student in apology. Kendo felt her heart lift in pride.  This was why they were heroes. Anyone can make a mistake; strong people make up for them.   

“Tch.” Bakugou looked away. “Just be glad you got the drop on me, or you wouldn’t have gotten me in those cuffs to begin with.”   

Translation: I’m not mad at you for doing it, I’m mad that you were able to.  Kendo was getting a good read off of the boy. She could see something about him that was . . . vulnerable. A vulnerability covered in rough-hewn stone and fire.   

“Good to know you forgive us, kid,” Midnight laughed. “Now, since I’m here already, let’s get to the fun part! Hero names!”   

The mood lightened swiftly, and Kendo smiled as her new classmates cheered. Their energy was kind of infectious.   

Eraserhead hummed in acknowledgement. “While the hero names you pick for this internship are not permanent, you should still take this seriously. Otherwise…”  

“They’ll be hell to pay later!” Midnight warned with a smile. “Now, I know that your names aren’t official until they’re printed on your hero licenses, but that doesn’t mean you can pick any old name now! The names you use during your internships tend to stick with you, for better or worse. And, since Eraserhead  here is probably the worst at choosing cool, marketable names, I am here to make sure your names and perrrfect for your future role as professional heroes!”   

Kendo rolled her eyes as some of the men in the class got starry-eyed at the professional hero.   

“When you give yourself a name, you get a more concrete image of what you want to be in the future and you can get closer to it,” Aizawa told them, sliding into a yellow sleeping bag. “Make sure your names and your nature agree.”   

With that, Aizawa-sensei was dead to the world in the corner of the class.   

“Alright!” Midnight jumped in glee. “Let’s get started! Pass down the whiteboards, write your names, and then you will all present them to the class!”   

“We’re presenting them?!”   

Midnight laughed. “Of course! What better audience can you have than your peers? If you can’t even tell them your hero name, you’ll never be able to use it in public.”   

That made sense. Every kid must have picked a dozen hero names before, and Kendo was no exception. But there was always one that stuck; for her, it was her name at the dojo.   

“Alright, who’s going first?” Midnight called. “Don’t’ be shy!”   

They went through a few of them, including a cute name of ‘Froppy’ for Asui. Kendo volunteered, but not before Bakugou stomped up with the funniest name of them all.   

“King Explosion Murder.”   

The small laugh left her mouth before she could stop it, making Bakugou look at her in fury.   

“Got something to say about it, Hands?!” he roared. “I’ll end you!”   

“We’ll fight later,” she promised, “and, I’m sorry, I just thought you were trying to be funny.”   

She didn’t, not really, but she hoped. It was such a ridiculous name that he couldn’t actually think it was good.    

“It’s a great name!” he proclaimed. “They villains will cower in fear.”   

This time she didn’t laugh, but it was close. Goodness, he was like a child. It was almost cute.   

“What are you doing?”  Kirishima whispered to her. “You’re gonna make him mad .”   

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t sound like a devastatingly powerful hero,” Kendo gave Bakugou a grin. Compliments mixed with criticism was hopefully the trick. “Someone as powerful as Bakugou doesn’t need something like that to make villains fear him. He needs something that better reflects his skill set, something civilians can call out easier. Like Kamikaze, or NaPalmer.”  

“You should listen to what the public thinks, Bakugou,” Midnight decreed. “I agree, it’s not a very serious name, and it’s a tad too violent as well. And try for something a little shorter tool."  

“Tsk.” Bakugou snatched back his board with a vein throbbing. “Well let’s hear the great  name you’ve got, Hands!”   

She nodded at him and got up to go to the board. As they passed each other, she noticed he smelled . . . sweet? Was that part of his quirk?  He bumped shoulders with her, trying to throw her off-balance, but she just ignored it. She had insulted his pride, after all.   

“My hero name is simply what they call me at the dojo,” Kendo explained as she turned her board around. “I’m Battle Fist: the Swift-Strike Hero.”   

“Oooh, it has pizzazz!” Midnight cooed. “’Swift-strike’, is that a reference to your fighting style?”   

“Yes, ma’am, I practice mixed martial arts,” Kendo proclaimed proudly. “My goal is to take the enemy down and do it fast with precision striking.”   

Midnight gushed, “Even better! What a great name!”   

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed, “lame.”   

 The rest of the class passed quickly. Bakugou finally very deliberately didn't pick anything, shooting down all her ideas with his silence. Midoriya, the other heart of the class, picked a gut-wrenching name that she didn’t understand the significance of, and they all moved on, talking about the importance of internships and the proper etiquette and rules for quirk use. The class ended with instructions to have their choice by the end of Thursday.   

“Midoriya!”   

After class they were packing up to head to the practice gym, so she wanted to take the chance to catch the other piece of class 1-A that Aizawa name-dropped.   

“Ah, Kendo,” the boy muttered shyly, “it’s, umm, nice to meet you. Did you need something?”   

“Only to say hello,” she said with a smile. “I wanted to touch base with you. Aizawa said you’re an important figure in the class.”   

As predicted, Bakugou heard that from across the room and flew into a rage. Only, she stepped between him and Midoriya and blocked an explosion with her hand. “Oh, don’t be like that. He said the same about you, King Explosion Murder.”   

That pulled him up short. “Huh?”   

“Yes, before he brought me to the classroom,” she explained to the pair of them. There was no room for deception in a heroics class, after all. They were both looking at her as if this was new information, so she was delighted to impart the compliment. “He said the pair of you together were a driving force behind the class, pushing everyone here to be great heroes.”  

The impact of the compliment was immediate. Midoriya turned into a stammering, blushing mess. And Bakugou . . . for once, he looked genuinely proud. Glad. It looked good on him.  

“I don’t know you yet, but I hope I can be a good classmate and friend to both of you.”   

“As if,” Bakugou laughed. “I don’t have time to make friends with the extras. I’m gonna be the number one hero, got it, Hands? Be friends with Deku if you want to get in someone’s way.”  

He stomped off to join his friends, leaving her with Midoriya. The poor bunny looked so apologetic.   

“Sorry about Kacchan,” Midoriya said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not that bad, honest, he’s just really focused.”   

Kendo agreed. “Oh, I know. I’m looking forward to becoming his friend.”   

Midoriya, the little sweetheart, looked confused. “But, he said . . .”   

“Why do you think I challenged him to a fight, Midoriya?” Kendo asked with a secret grin. “I saw him fight at the Sports Festival, I know it’s going to be a difficult one and potentially harmful. But I also think this could be good for the both of us.”   

“What?”   

“What do you know about my quirk, Midoriya?”   

He frowned. “Just what you said in class. Although I did wonder when you told us it increases your mass and durability, whether that meant individually or the increase in mass led to increased durability, or whether it’s just your hands or if you’ve tried to increase other parts of your body to improve you quirk—”   

“Well, I don’t know if it has to do with my increased mass or anything, but I’m pretty impact-resistant,” Kendo explained, walking him to the door. “My fists can do large amounts of damage without getting a scratch. Like Kirishima-san, but it doesn’t need activation. That translates a little to the rest of my body, but not to the same degree as my hands.”   

“Impact resistant, huh,” Midoriya considered with a nod. “That’s why you think you can fight Kacchan.”   

“But I also don’t think I could stop him either,” Kendo explained further. “I usually end fights by grabbing my opponent, but Bakugo can just release explosions if I do and force me to let him go. I’d have to get him in a hold where he couldn’t use his hands or legs, which is hard to do when your opponent doesn’t need to move to activate their quirk. I think any match between us would be a match of stamina or skill, with the winner whoever can land the most hits in the right places. I hope that if I show him I can be a fierce opponent then I can earn his respect and even, perhaps, a place as his sparring partner.”   

Midoriya looked at her with wide, bright eyes. It made her want to smile even brighter.   

“You . . . kind of get  Kacchan, don’t you?” Midoriya commented.  

She considered this, but she really didn’t like how it sounded. “I don’t really understand Bakugou yet, not really. But I want to get to know him. He reminds me of several different people I’ve met, so used to being strong for one reason or another that being anything else is unthinkable. If that’s his mindset, though, then the only way to get through to him is to fight strength with strength, if that makes any sense. You would have to show him his version of strength first, then build strength on strength until you’re showing him strength in places he’s never thought to look, like in friendship and trust . . . does that make sense, Midoriya? You’ve known him longer.”   

When she turned to him for confirmation, she just saw him, along with Uravity and Kirishima, looking at her bizarrely.   

“I overstepped, right?” She rubbed her head in embarrassment. “I shouldn’t really be guessing about a person’s motivations, and I don’t really know anyone here yet, I just want to help. Really, ask my classmates, I’m really a big sis type. I like getting along with everyone and making sure everyone else gets along too. I guess I just care because I want to get along with Bakugou too, and he’s probably going to be the hardest to do that with.”   

“That’s so . . . MANLY!” Kirishima exclaimed, grinning widely. “Hey, Kendo, as Bakugo’s main man here, I’ve got your back.”  

“You analyse people like Deku analyses quirks!” Ururaka cheered. “I like you.”  

Midoriya even smiled. “Let’s get to heroics. Kacchan will give you a really hard fight, Kendo, so you need to get ready.”   

Chapter 2

Class with Vlad King always started with personal review and goals, things like that. Nothing so formal happened with 1-A. 

“With few exceptions, your one-on-one matches were a mess of collateral damage,” Aizawa began, giving Todoroki, Bakugou, and Midoriya a particularly hard look. “In a real fight, that much wanton destruction is unacceptable. Your attacks don’t need to be big if they’re precise; this is something you all need to practice. I want you to focus on your fights on stopping your opponent as quickly as possible with as little damage as possible.”

He brought out a dummy and demonstrated. “You don’t always need to beat them senseless to immobilize them. If you have handcuffs or capture tape like you should then I expect you use them. Get in behind the target, hold the neck and press down …”

Aizawa demonstrated quite a few effective holds and submission techniques. “Practice this in partners. Kendo, a word before you and Bakugou start.”

She grinned at how the teacher assumed, accurately, that the fight would happen. After ensuring that Bakugou was waiting for her, she approached her sensei.

“I reviewed some of your exercises with 1-B,” he stated bluntly. “You recognize the techniques I showed you?”

“Yes sir. They’re martial arts hold. I think these ones are from…krav maga?”

“They’re effective,” he agreed, “but not helpful when you’re against Bakugou. Are you sure you want to fight him?”

Kendo smiled up at her sensei. “What kind of hero would I be if I made a challenge and didn’t follow through?”

Aizawa sighed. “I told you about Midoriya and Bakugou thinking you’d help merge camps, not incite a war. Next time, do as I ask and observe before you act, problem child.”

“Holding back wouldn’t have worked with your class, sensei,” she defended herself. “There’s no room for hesitation with them.”

“Just . . . go and try not to destroy the gym. Take the area furthest from the door.”

“Furthest?” she asked, curious.

He grinned maniacally. “It will give the other students a better chance to evacuate when Bakugou brings the roof down on your head.”

She rolled her eyes but agreed and jogged back over to Bakugo to get the fight underway.

“You ready, Hands?” Bakugou called, grinning manically. “I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

She gave him her fiercest battle grin in return. “Good, then I’ll repay the favour.”

With on grand sweeping motion, she chopped through the air with a massive hand aimed right for Bakugou’s chest. It was quick, but it missed. The blonde jumped and rocketed above the strike with a crazed grin—apparently, her unhesitating first move had met with his approval. Bakugou shot forward, palm sparking in her direction. She raised a hand to absorb the blow and shrank her other fist in a move that retracted it on a path through Bakugou, knocking him from the air.

Not letting up, she ran towards his downed form and tried to pin him, but he used his feet to slide away from her striking fists and right to her legs. His moves were telegraphed loudly enough that she braced herself and kicked him in his right shoulder as his blow connected with her right leg and brought her crashing down with him.

Neither of them stayed down.

Bakugou was up first and coming straight for her, this time on foot. Her hands grew and she started parrying his explosive attacks. Her hands were definitely getting impact training; the concussive force of his explosions rippled through her arms like shockwaves, throwing her off only slightly before she adjusted, only for him to avoid all rhythm and force her to be constantly bracing for the next attack. He was keeping her on the defensive successfully.

What she wanted was for him to get in a little closer, to just slightly edge past her hands and try for a frontal attack, and then she could shrink her hands enough to grab his head and get him into a clinch. With a slight change in her stance, her hands opened enough for him to blow past them in the perfect position.

He was in her clinch before he knew what happened, and she drove her knee right into his stomach, winding him, before kicking his knees out to land on top of him, holding down his arms and legs. She was worried about his legs more than his arms, as her large hands hand the arms fully secure, but she didn’t let herself be cowed.

“Yield.”

“DIE!!”

All four limbs let out massive explosions, bigger than he’d been using on her, and her legs were dislodged. She tried to pin him again, but he was already rocketing them both forward . . .right towards a wall.

Acting on instinct, she moved Bakugou’s arms in front of them and let him release an explosion to steer them away from the impending disaster. It rocked them backwards, and he landed on top of her this time. She made the mistake of letting go of his arms when they fell, and in a second he had flipped over and pinned her in return, front to front.

Kendo grappled and Bakugou tried to singe her into submission for a full minute before she could get a hand between them and grow it fast enough to throw Bakugou away from her. By this point, they were both breathing heavily, but Bakugou had already taken aim with his palms and ignited.

She barely had time to get her hands in front to shield her before she was barraged by a deadly blast from her opponent, the same kind that had killed Ururaka’s meteor shower in the first round. She was lucky to be far enough away from the ignition source that the shockwave didn’t knock her backwards off her feet.

She was getting her hands burnt and she couldn’t see her opponent, that wasn’t good . . . But if she can’t see him, he can’t see her.

It was her only plan. Pushing herself forward with her singed hands shielding her, she ran at him through the shockwaves of explosions . . . and rammed him like a tank.

Bakugou was knocked backwards off his feet and she grabbed him by the leg before swinging his exploding self down onto the ground face first. She was winning; she had hit him way more than he’d hit her if you didn’t count her hands. He was down. She was up. Even though her hands were starting to blister, she knew that she could finish this.

But, when she approached for a final pin or knockout strike, he rolled away and came back roaring, a blazing, manic smile on his face. And she returned it.  

This was a new feeling. Adrenaline pumping fights weren’t new, but it was clear that this boy was dangerous and Aizawa-sensei would not be stopping the match. That thrill, just knowing that this fight wouldn’t end until one of them was in the ground, made it feel like she’d never been in a real fight before. Every fight she’d had ended when she threw the opponent too hard or pinned them under her hands. Kendo was just now realizing that the fight only ended when both sides admitted it.

And she’d never surrender.

They fought hard, but from that point on neither got close enough to deal the damage they needed. She kept him just far enough that his blasts wouldn’t knock her off her feet, and he kept close enough to force her hands down a few sizes but never close enough to get pinned or clinched again.

It was brutal. The fight lasted until, exhausted, Kendo’s knees gave out and Bakugou gave one final blast to her legs that knocked her off her feet and landed Bakugou square on her hips.

Neither of them moved. Kendo wasn’t sure she could ever move again. And Bakugou . . . he had a hand raised, sparking dangerously, looking at her expecting another attack.

She didn’t have one.

But she wouldn’t say ‘yield’. That would be bowing to Bakugou. Instead, with a laugh, she gave her attacker a genuine smile. “Damn, you’re good.”

Then, like a painting come to life, his crazed grin slid down to a regular one, and the side of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to laugh himself. The harsh lines of his face softened, and with the lights above them streaming through his blonde hair he looked like an angel. What a view. Was she concussed?   

He rolled off of her and didn’t rise, which in itself was a victory.  It really had come down to a match in stamina, and she’d lost . . . barely.

Still, she couldn't be upset. She was actually feeling giddy! Kendo chuckled, “I can see why everyone thought I was crazy.”

“You are crazy!!”

Both of them looked up. Surrounding them—and giving them a noticeably large berth—was the entire class 1-A. She hadn’t even heard them, and they must have been loud because Jiro was covering her ears still.

The class was moving forward now, two groups crowding the two downed competitors. Midoriya reached her first, green eyes checking her for the worst injuries. She showed him her hands, which had started to blister.

“He didn’t manage too many hits away from my hands,” she told him proudly. “I told you it would be an even match.”

“Huh?! I hit you plenty, Big Mitts!”

The greenet buried his face in his hands to suppress a gargle of emotion that she couldn’t make out as the others came closer.

“Guys, that was amazing!”

“I thought for sure Kendo had you at the beginning, Bakubro, but you were so manly! You just didn’t stay down!”

“Kendo, I want your autograph.”

“Your performance was unexpected,” was the weirdest comment, especially coming from an intensely focused Todoroki who was eyeing her from top to bottom as if she was under a microscope.

Aizawa-sensei came with the medical stretchers for both of them. Before he could lift her, though, Bakugou stood first and hobbled over to her with a grin on his face.

“Guess you’re a pretty decent punching bag,” he goaded, bending down next to her. From him, that almost seemed like a compliment, although the complaints from the class seemed to disagree. “Come on, Hands, did I beat you so hard you can’t even get up?”

She groaned, but Kendo wasn’t oblivious to the challenge in his eyes. If she didn’t try to get back up on her own, she would be refusing to show him his version of strength. She had to grit through the pain and just do it. So she pushed herself up by her elbows, straining her every muscle to sit up.

“You couldn’t keep me down,” she shot back with a smile to mask her grimace. She tried to push up to her feet, but slipped back to the mat. Oof, that final hit had really bruised her legs. They were shaking too, probably from the adrenaline of the fight. She tried again, struggling further.

“Kendo, let me help you—” Midoriya tried, but Bakugou cut him off.

“Does she look like she needs your wimpy help, Deku?”

Deku had, intentionally or not, made the right call in trying to help her. Bakugou had seen it as a challenge and so, even though he grimaced a little himself at the pull, Bakugou was the one to yank her by her wrist up and onto her feet. It may have seemed brusque to an outside lense, but she had felt him avoid her hand entirely, avoiding all the blistering, and grab the first patch of undamaged skin.

Bakugo Katsuki was full of surprises, and his rushed but considering handling of her gave her new eyes to see him. Who would have thought he was thoughtful?

“Seriously? Bakugo, you nearly kill me on a weekly basis, why does she get a hand up?” Sero whined.

“Dude, she actually put up a fight.”

“Don’t rub it in!”

Aizawa’s hair lifted and the class quieted. “Weren’t you all practising?”

Groaning, the rest of the class continued with their paired-off fighting that they’d put on hold.  Todoroki gave her one last glance before heading back across the gym.

Ever gingerly, Kendo stepped away from Bakugou and toward the medical stretcher. Damn, she could sleep for a week.

“I must be crazy for saying this,” she told him as she sat down, “but let’s do this again. If I work on my endurance some, I think our next match will end with me on top, King Explosion Murder.”

There, the gauntlet was thrown. Bakugou’s smile grew absolutely wicked.

“Come at me any time, Hands.” Bakugou leaned back nonchalantly, but she wasn’t fooled. That smile told her that he was just as anxious as her for another good fight. “Next time, I won’t let you get in so many hits.”

Aizawa-sensei pushed Bakugou until he was on a stretcher too. “You are both problem children and I have no idea why Kan thought otherwise. You are going to Recovery Girl to make sure you didn’t do too much damage, and next time I tell you to practice holds and captures, you will do as I say.”

Even though she left on a medical stretcher, the defeat had never felt so much like victory. Makes a girl wonder what a win against him would feel like.

Notes:

Extra credit scene
---------------
Aizawa strode into the teacher’s lounge and slumped heavily into the chair next to Kan. Vlad King rose his eyebrow at him.

“What now, Aizawa?”

“You gave me a problem child,” he accused dramatically. “Kendo Itsuka is a problem child.”

Kan glared. “She’s the angel of class 1-B.”

Aizawa raised his eyebrow before ticking off her day’s achievements. “She challenged Bakugou to a fight, laughed at his attempts at a hero name, fought him to a standstill and ended up in the hospital wing with only bruises and minor burns while he, apparently, fractured a few ribs.”

“Sounds like a regular day for you,” Kan taunted.

Aizawa sighed. “Then Bakugou actually said she fought well, helped her stand up, and agreed to spar again.”

“HUH?!!!”

The rest of the teachers chimed in on that one, and Aizawa nodded.

“Your student played Bakugou’s game and won, Kan, and I didn’t even know he had a game you could play,” commented Aizawa, watching the growing grins on all the teachers’ faces. “What?”

Midnight squeeed and Yamada joined in with devastating auditory effect. “We have to reopen the betting pool! 1000 yen on Kendo and Bakugou, I’ll say, midway through their second year!”

“No way, Bakugou needs some big emotional growth before that! Third year, near graduation!”

“Before the start of their second year!” Recovery Girl hobbled in, yelling over all of them. “He kept insulting the girl to check on her health while they were in my office. He’ll wise up to it sooner than you think. Then he just has to admit it. Next time there’s a life-changing disaster in Aizawa’s class, that boy will probably kiss her.”

“Bakugou and Kendo?!” Kan sounded offended. “She’s too good for him.”

“It’s illogical,” Aizawa agreed.

The staff looked at the two teachers and shook their heads. “Denial. Poor things.”

Chapter 3

Kendo had spoken with her parents about Class 1-A after going home in bandages that night. Her mother and father wanted to meet Bakugou, and not in a bad way, either! It was more like, “He must be very interesting for you to be so focused on him,” which was funny but also ridiculously embarrassing. She flicked her sugar peas at Dad when he said it.

But they had also made her realize she was focusing too much on Bakugou and not on the rest of the class.

So, Kendo had a new plan in mind for the day; introduce herself to everyone personally and get to know them. That was always the first step in knowing if someone needed help. Bakugou was still on her list, obviously, but she had taken the first step the day before and could focus on some of the others now.

So when she entered the gigantic doors for the classroom, she took a look at the bite-sized groups of students and chose the closest one to introduce herself to.

“Hey guys!” The flamboyant Frenchman and his frog classmate looked up at him. “Heh, you know, I never really met everyone yesterday.”

The blonde bowed dramatically. “And you couldn’t help but get drawn to the brightest star in the room! Aoyama Yuga, mademoiselle. My quirk, Navel Laser, is as powerful as it is shiny! A pleasure, fair lady.”

She didn’t think he was trying to be funny, but she still had to smile. “Nice to meet you, Aoyama.”

“Asui Tsuyu,” the amphibian girl greeted. “Call me Tsu.”

“Of course, Tsu,” Kendo said “Tell me about yourselves! I know your quirks, obviously, but where are you from?”

They made small talk for a few minutes. Kendo learned that Aoyama was actually foreign like Pony, but had grown up in Japan for a little bit before moving away, then moving back here from France a few years ago. She got the feeling he needed genuine attention and was hiding his insecurities behind his flamboyant attitude. She’d make a point of greeting him every day.

Asui was an eldest child, and she was actually fairly normal. Except . . . “I’m very blunt, kero. Why did you fight Bakugo yesterday? It seemed personal.”

She saw Jiro and Shoji start to listen in, and her eyes connected with Bakugou across the room. His eyes dared her to say something.

“You know, I’m blunt as well, Tsu,” she commiserated. “So I’ll tell you, it wasn’t strictly personal, but I did want to fight him. It was important to prove myself to you all. Since Bakugou was the first person to call me out, I suppose I wanted to prove I was strong to the person in the class who values strength the most.”

Her eyes met Bakugou’s briefly, only for him to turn his head away defiantly. Tsu got her attention then with a cute little head tilt.

“You don’t need to prove yourself, kero,” Tsu said.

Kendo frowned. That wasn’t how she felt. How to communicate that to them…?

“I know that it’s not a need, per se,” Kendo considered aloud, “but you all ended up fighting villains together—there is some trust between you that you built by helping each other survive. I thought if I proved I could be there for you as well that it would help bridge the gap.”

They all seemed confused, so she continued on. “When I entered the class yesterday, I was Mineta’s replacement or the girl from Class 1-B. When I left class, I was the maybe crazy girl who could go head-to-head with Bakugou.”

“Well, that’s true.” Jiro twirled her jack around her finger. “We didn’t know you at all except for karate chopping that blonde guy at the festival.”

“Yeah, now we know you’re hardcore!” Kaminari agreed with a thumbs up. “Hey, what kind of food do you like? We could go out and get something to eat sometime.”

Jiro gagged obviously.

The door opened and a bright ball of green saw her and started walking over with his pink and blue friends in tow. “Kendo! You’re okay now, right?”

“Good morning to you too, Midoriya,” Kendo laughed at the cherub in front of her, making him blush and stammer out a similar greeting. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I just needed rest. It was a tiring fight.”

“Yeah, it was amazing!” Midoriya was practically vibrating. “I noticed your hands kept getting bigger when Kacchan was sending that steady set of explosions at you, was that the upper limit of your quirk? Do they grow with energy, or were you just protecting yourself? How big can your hands get? The mass is proportional to the size, right? Where does that come from?”

“My hands can get about four or five times my size, if I push myself,” Kendo explained. “They become a lot harder to use around that size, though, and it’s a bit harder to get that big. I only used that during the fight because I thought it would be better to try and ram Bakugou like a tank instead of stepping back or waiting for him to wear out. Normally I keep it to about three times my size or smaller, just because it’s easier to use in close combat and isn’t likely to kill people just with sheer strength. You probably will have a similar issue when you fight, Izuku; strength quirks can do a lot of damage to people very quickly.”

“Ha, Deku can’t control his quirk,” barked Bakugou. “It’s practically useless.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Kendo didn’t directly look at Bakugo, but she could imagine he was bristling. She focused on Midoriya. “You did very well in your fight with Todoroki; we just have to work on your control.”

Uraraka frowned. “We?”

“You wouldn’t help?” Kendo asked. “We’re classmates for a reason; shouldn’t we be helping each other get stronger?”

Midoriya was blushing bright red. “I-I mean, I never really asked, and I can probably figure it out—”

“Midoriya, you have a roomful of people who are working hard to hone their quirks for heroism,” Kendo pointed out. “We can help.”

 “I-I guess I never thought of that.” He was blushing furiously now. “I can’t really practice because I keep breaking my bones with it.”

“Only when you hit things,” Kendo noted. At that comment, Midoriya and the rest of the class looked at her questioningly, including Bakugou. “What?”

“That’s. . . brilliant!” Midoriya beamed. “You’re right, it only happens when I release it, not while it’s building up! That means I can practice! I can practice holding it and moderating it without even throwing a punch!”

Kendo agreed. “It could also help your body change to accommodate your quirk. If it gets used to being active, then your body will adapt as well and it’ll get ingrained into your muscle memory. You should have it active as often as you can.”

“But how do I practice it? Do I just activate my arm or my finger?” Midoriya wondered.

“Why not your whole body?” Kendo said. “Is there some sort of restriction? Is it just in your arms?”

Green eyes widened immeasurably. “It’s not just punching . . . you’re right, it’s all of me! It was in my legs too, it’s all of me!”

Kendo watched as Midoriya lit up like a Christmas tree, lightning arcing off of his body before it was abruptly cut off. Behind Midoriya, a halo of capture weapon floated above their angry-looking homeroom teacher.

“Problem child,” Aizawa intoned, red eyes fixed on Midoriya, “do not break my classroom. If you want to practice, find me after class and we’ll reserve a gym.”

His glare turned to Kendo. “And you, problem child three, do NOT encourage him. His finger blows up an arena, what would his whole body do to a classroom?”

There was no denying that she’d been reckless too, so she promised to be more thoughtful in the future.

“Get to your seats.”

They rushed to their desks and sat at attention waiting for class to begin.

Tsu, blunt as she was, asked, “If Midoriya is problem child one, and Kendo problem child three, who’s problem child two?”

“Bakugou.”

“HEY!! I’m not number two anything!”

 When class let out, Midoriya found her again and apologized furiously for getting her in trouble and trying to activate his quirk without thinking. She reassured him it was fine, but Bakugou stomped over and stuck a finger in Izuku’s face.

“Do you analyse every single damn quirk except your own, you freakin’ idiot?” he snapped. “You think you can be the best without trying, you stupid Deku, huh? Get your damned notebooks and figure out your stupid quirk before I pound your face in!”

Midoriya stammered and waved his hands, “I will Kacchan!”

“You better!” Bakugou rounded on her furiously. “And you!”

She was smiling at his aggressive concern for Midoriya but schooled her expression when he turned to her. “Yes?”

 “Stop being so buddy-buddy with everyone! It makes me sick. You’re here to fight, so stop sucking up to everyone!”

Kendo tried, really, but the angry look on his face was nothing compared to his actual words and so she had to smile, even though his glare intensified.

“What?! Something to say?”

She was still smiling, even as she linked her arm through Midoriya’s and began pulling him away from the explosive blond. “I think being friendly suits me, Bakugou. How about I come and sit with you at lunch sometime? It’d be great to talk to you.”

“Huh?!” His mouth went comically wide. “Talk about what?”

“Our next fight!” Kendo called, already almost out the door. “And my mom wants me to invite you to the dojo!”

“WHAT?!! Don’t walk away from me!”

“I’ll see you later, Bakugo!”  

Kendo was already pulling Midoriya far away from the fuss, avoiding the potential fallout from that conversation.

“Woah, I don’t think anyone has actually spoken to Kacchan like that,” Midoriya looked up at her in awe. “How did you know he wouldn’t…blow up?”

“You can’t walk on eggshells around people, Midoriya,” she replied, pulling him through the crowds. “It doesn’t matter who. A lot of people act the way people think they will act, either because they don’t see the point in doing otherwise or because it gives them permission to act that way. I think if you treat someone like a bomb about to go off, they're more likely to act that way. I'm just treating him like a guy.”

One that she wants to fight, sure, but that was beside the point.

“I’m still not sure about that buddy-buddy comment though,” Kendo said, finger to chin. “Why would he be mad I’m making friends?”

“Er, it might just be me.” Midoriya grimaced as he said it. “If you want to be Kacchan’s friend, it’s not great to spend a lot of time with someone he doesn’t like, like me.”

There was so much history behind those words that Kendo was going to ignore because their English class was right in front of them. “That’s something I’m not going to do. Unless you don’t want me around?”

“No, no, I think you’re great!” Midoriya insisted, then blushed. “Not that I don’t think everyone’s great, I do!”

“Then I’m going to be your friend too,” she announced decidedly. “Bakugou will have to deal with it.”

Aizawa took Izuku aside at the end of the day and told him that, if he wanted to work on his quirk, he’d have everything ready in two days. The days of prep was apparently necessary to ensure they had safety measures in place for any rampant destruction the little green boy would create. Kendo offered her help. She also grabbed Kaminari, much to everyone’s surprise.

“Do you want to help us practice?” Kendo asked.

“What? With Midoriya?” Kaminari frowned. “Why?”

“I actually had an idea,” she said. “Both of you have energy-related quirks, and both of you have negative side-effects when you use their full strength. You could help him to control how much energy he’s using.”

They both looked at her. “Energy?”

Aizawa looked at Midoriya and facepalmed. “Why are you all such problem children? Midoriya, is it energy or augmentation?”

It took a second for it to click, and then Izuku was bubbling over with excitement. “Kendo’s right, it’s energy, my body just uses the energy to augment my muscles! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“See?” Kendo motioned to Midoriya when she turned to Kaminari, who had a strange expression on his face. “You hurt yourself when you use full power too, Kaminari, so you can help teach Midoriya to regulate his power output. If we can get him to use a fraction of the energy, and have it displaced over his entire body—”

“Then I could use it without being self-destructive!” Midoriya jumped up happily. He ran up to Kaminari, face alight. “Can you come on Thursday too? Please?”

Kaminari threw an arm over the pair of them. “Well, gee, how can I refuse? Let’s get Midoriya into fighting shape, Kendo. And then, maybe, go out for a bite after?”

“It’s a trap!” Jiro called.

Kaminari pouted back at her. “Do you have to ruin it?”

“Outta my way, nerds,” Bakugou pushed past the group, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Waste your time on Deku, whatever, don’t waste mine.”

Kendo smiled lightly at his retreating back before leaning over to Midoriya. “Think he’d come if we asked?”

“What?” Midoriya yipped, jumping slightly. “Kacchan? No, no way!”

“Huh?” The man in question turned around, face angry. “Whatchu sayin’ about me, Deku?”

Midoriya squeaked out apologies to Bakugou, which Kendo didn’t understand completely. Why was Midoriya so scared of him? When Bakugou only rolled his eyes, Kendo decided to interject.

 “I was just asking if he wanted you to come too,” she said reasonably, although with a slight smile at his reddened face. “You control your power output really precisely. Although, perhaps it’s the wrong type of power for this training.”

“You think I can’t teach Deku?” Bakugou rounded on her fully, face contorted.

Kendo chuckled and pat Bakugou on the arm. It shocked her when he didn’t swat it away. “I don’t, not at all, I just mean you build up your power and he has to learn to hold it down. They’re two different skill sets.”

“Tch,” Bakugou turned to Aizawa. “If I come, can I use my quirk?”

Aizawa’s brows raised, but otherwise, he maintained a tired expression. “Not on Midoriya.”

Bakugou rolled his shoulders, thinking it through. “Fine. I’ll be there, nerd. You better get a plan together by then.”

Midoriya squeaked out his compliance, but Kendo wasn’t shocked. Bakugou had a way of being surprising, definitely, but this was different; it was training, something that she could tell he took religiously. If he had a chance to train his quirk after school hours, legally, all the better.  

“Man, this is going to be awesome!” Kaminari gave her a thumbs up. “Good going, Kendo.”

“I’M THE ONE WHO AGREED, SIDEKICK WANNABE!”

Chapter 4

Kendo spent that day and the next meeting her classmates some more and discussing their internship plans. It was the easiest way to really get to know them all, and she was right—everyone was eager to talk about next week and going into the field with a real hero.

 Izuku and his friends had invited them into their group, and Momo—the girl insisted on being called it by her classmates—and her had both been offered internships with Uwabami, so Momo joined them too so they could talk. It was a female pro, and those weren’t too common. And doing an internship together could be a good experience. But one look at Midoriya’s puckered face said differently.

“What’s wrong with Uwabami?” Kendo asked him, making Momo look to Midoriya as well.

“Well, nothing really, she’s really useful with rescue and reconnaissance missions, and she’s really talented,” Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “but I think she only goes on missions when she’s called in, and the rest of the time she mostly just does marketing for her agency and fashion line, as far as I know. I just think, well, neither of you have quirks like hers, and I don’t think it’s a mistake that she sent her draft picks for two r-really pretty girls. That’s all.”

Momo and her shared a significant look. Kendo knew after only a couple days that, when it came to heroes, you trusted Midoriya’s input. And he was right—women in the industry weren’t exactly respected, and even if it was a female hero, that would always be a risk. If Midoriya thought so…

“I could be completely wrong!” Midoriya backtracked. “And marketing’s a real part of the hero industry and I’m not trying to say it’s not okay, it’s fine, I just—”

“Thanks for telling us,” Kendo reassured the flustered boy. “And for calling us pretty. We both have other offers, though, so don’t worry.”

True, Kendo only had a handful of offers, but she’d rather go with a minor hero than focus her internship on marketing. She didn’t play 'pretty girl' very well.

Momo was already looking down her list for other options. “What about Fatgum?”

“Oh, you both have fat-based quirks,” Midoriya endorsed excitedly. “That could be really helpful for you, Momo. He’s also very good in combat situations and working in teams. He could be a great pro to intern with.”

Momo accepted his insight carefully and moved Fatgum’s offer to the side for further consideration. Kendo flipped to her next offer.

“What about . . . oh, 13 attached a note to this one.” Kendo read it and grinned. “They referred me to the Wild Wild Pussycats? Well, Thirteen did say my big hands are good for rescue work.”

“That would be great, Kendo!” exclaimed Uraraka.

She nodded and moved the offer to the side, where Midoriya put his hand over it, surprising them. He blushed, but kept his hand on her pile, effectively blocking her from it.

“A lot of offers come in until the last second, so you really shouldn’t decide right away,” Izuku interjected, his voice cracking with something unidentifiable to human. “I’m just saying, don’t submit the form yet, you might get more!”

It was a strange interaction from Midoriya, but Kendo didn’t get the feeling it was malicious It was more…desperate? He wanted to make sure she didn’t submit her decision immediately, which she could do. Maybe it would reveal why Midoriya felt so strongly about it.

“Deku-kun, you’re being weird. And you’re blushing!” Ururaka said, poking his face with her fork.

Midoriya yelped and stammered, finally backing away and making Kendo chuckle as she turned back to her papers. If Deku didn’t want to tell her why she wasn’t going to push. Something told her it wouldn't take that long to find out.

All the others were from lesser heroes, but she wasn’t expecting 13 to refer her to a hero team. Maybe they had assumed she wouldn’t get any good offers? Either way, the Wild Wild Pussycats were a much higher rank than any of her other offers, so to the forest she would go. It had been too long since she’d been camping, and there was always a rescue component to the provisional licensing exam. Still, if Midoriya thought she’d have other offers coming in, maybe she should hold off…

Her neck hairs stood at attention as she got the feeling of being watched. Casting a furtive eye over her shoulder, she met gazes briefly with a set of cool heterochromatic eyes. Todoroki was staring at her the same way he had after her fight with Bakugou. And in class the day before. And that morning, from his seat in the back of the room. This wasn’t the first time she’d caught him staring, and he never seemed ashamed of it. Just appraising.

They held gazes for a moment before Todoroki turned away. Kendo returned her attention to her friends.

“Does anyone know why Todoroki-san keeps staring at me?” Kendo asked the table. Multiple heads popped up to look around, but Midoriya just gave her a guilty grin. “Midoriya?”

“It’s nothing bad!” he immediately defended. “He’s just deciding something!”

Momo pressed a serviette to her lips. “Midoriya, I did not know you and Todoroki were close.”

“We, er, kind of went through it at the Festival,” the greenet admitted, holding the back of his neck. “And I’ve been giving him advice for his internship too.” His eyes went wide in Kendo’s direction. “No, not that I told him to do anything! If he does something it’s completely what he wants!”

Ururaka gave a devastating smirk. “Deku-kun, are you saying Todoroki wants something with Kendo?”

“Not like THAT! I can’t tell you!”

Ururaka pestered Deku until he was a blubbering mess in his seat, but Kendo was ready to let the poor boy have a break. If Todoroki wanted to tell her why he was staring at her since her fight with Bakugou, then he would.

“Do you know where everyone else is going?” Kendo asked, diverting attention from the bicoloured elephant in the room. “I know most of them . . . what about the people with offers? Todoroki, Iida, Tokoyami, Bakugou?”

Midoriya groaned and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Kacchan is going with Best Jeanist.”

“Oh.” She blinked. A strange combo, but… “Is that not okay?”

“No.” Well, that doesn’t sound good. “You know Best Jeanist, right? I mean, not personally, but from his interviews?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “He’s got a fashion line, a lot of sidekicks, and prefers containment . . . to . . . violence. . . Oh no.”

Momo looked at them both. “What? Bakugou could use less violence.”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Kendo shared a knowing look with Midoriya. “Best Jeanist always says—”

“’There is no excuse for villainous actions.’”

They both nodded and the Momo’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Yeah, Best Jeanist is probably as uncompromising a hero as Kacchan is stubborn; even if he doesn’t think badly of Kacchan from the podium thing, he will probably try to reform him,” explained Midoriya, “and Kacchan wouldn’t like that at all. It’s not that Best Jeanist isn’t a good hero, or that he wouldn’t help Kacchan! He would! But Kacchan would hate it. But I can’t tell that to Kacchan. He’d only get mad and go anyway.”

What Kendo heard, however, was, ‘Can someone go tell Bakugou he’s about to make a huge mistake, please?’

“Then I’m going in,” she said, picking up her tray. “Wish me luck!”

Midoriya’s eyes went wide. “What?! No, you—wait, this could actually work. Good luck, Kendo!”

So, with lunch in hand, she went and crashed Bakugou’s lunch table.

“Hey guys!” she called ahead. Ashido immediately moved from her seat to leave a space for her next to the big guy in question. She must have seen where Kendo’s eyes were looking, which was extremely thoughtful of her. Kendo gave Ashido a grateful smile as she plopped down next to her target. “What are you talking about?”

“Internships, man!” Kirishima cheered. “I’m going with Fourth Kind!”

“That’s fantastic!” And a great and convenient segue. “What about the rest of you?”

Everyone else at the table answered but Bakugou, as if he still didn’t notice she was sitting there.

“I got an offer from Uwabami,” she admitted, “but I’m going to intern with the Wild Wild Pussycats instead. I don’t fit with the girly-girl image really well, but my hands would work well for rescue work.”

She turned to her target. “Where are you going for internships, Bakugou?”

“I got an offer from the number four hero, Best Jeanist!” He boasted. “You bet I only go top five!”

So, Midoriya was right. OK, Itsuka, maybe he already knows the issue with it. Don’t judge, and engage him civilly.

“That’s impressive,” she admitted. “Why did you pick him?”

“Huh?” Katsuki’s smile turned sour. “What are you talking about? He’s number four!”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You want to go with a fashion hero just because he’s number four?”

Bakugou went from proud to angry in under a second. “And what’s wrong with that, Hands?”

“I just didn’t think you’d pick the most PC of all heroes,” she explained calmly. “I mean, Uwabami is a higher rank than the Wild Wild Pussycats, but I’m not going for her because we’d be a bad match. No one on Best Jeanist’s team swears, wears black, or does anything that isn’t by the book. That would be suffocating for most people, but especially you. For reference, they’re straight lines, you’re pure chaotic scribbles.”

She realized she may have gone a touch too far when she saw the angry pulse in his temple, so, while she refused to back down, she continued on a calmer vein. “It would be a rounding experience though, and you’ll probably get some good precision training. Speaking of, want to come over to my mom’s dojo after school? We could do some quirkless sparring, and my mom and dad want to meet you.”

“Huh?!! What’s wrong with you, Hands?!” Bakugou roared. “You freaking insult me and then you invite me over?!”

She replied placidly, “I wasn’t insulting you, Bakugou.”

“You said I’d die like some weak extra!”

“I said you’d be suffocated,” she corrected kindly, making him bluster even more. “I meant that in a good way—you are probably the best one-on-one fighter in the class, at least until I build up more stamina, and it’s at least partially because you’re such a weird contradiction of chaos and precision that it makes you hard to predict in the best way possible. Your reflexes are killer, and your timing is extremely precise, and yet, somehow, I still don’t know what’s going to come next when you attack because your precision doesn’t follow any normal techniques. You’d probably learn a lot more with a hero that focuses on that, the combat side, than you would with someone focused on public image and containment.”

Then, rather slyly, she added, “You could definitely do the internship there, but I want to beat you at your best, Bakugou.”

Kirishima held his hands up before Bakugou could reply. “Hold up, so your mom wants to meet Bakugou? You weren’t lying? I mean, you did tell her about his personality, right?”

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN, SHITTY HAIR?!”

She sighed and leaned into her hand. “You’d think she’d be annoyed that someone beat me in a fight, but I guess once your little girl comes home and asks for advice in how to pin someone who has literal rocket feet, you get curious.”

“You asked your mom how to beat Bakugou?” asked Ashido, disbelieving. “Tell me what she said. Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“Tch, can’t learn on your own, Hands?” Bakugou snarked.

“Anything to beat you, Bakugou,” she teased.

She didn’t know Bakugou well enough to tell whether the insult was genuine, but she was mostly fine with all of Bakugou’s rage and insults. She was a calm person most of the time, something her mom had seemed to pass on to her. She always said that calm was a state, not a decision, and you had to live your life that way to really have control. Good advice when dealing with an oppressive rage ball like Bakugou; no matter how angry he was, Kendo felt in control when she didn’t react to his baiting.

“Anyway, want to come learn some MMA with me?” Kendo asked. “We’d get to do a second spar, too, and this time without quirks.”

“So a kiddie fight, then,” shot Bakugou.  

Kendo shot him a raised eyebrow. “How are you going to fight in the rain, Bakugou? Are your explosions waterproof?”

He glared back. “You think I haven’t thought of that, Hands? That’s why I’ve got equipment. Fighting without quirks is still weak.”

“I get it if you don’t want to fight a fight you won’t win,” she challenged. There we go, he’s angry again. She could actually see the vein pulsing on his temple. “After all, I have home-field advantage and more training than you.”

Bakugou was too smart to not know she was goading him, but she also knew that, no matter if he recognized it or not, he was itching for another fight. It was in the twist of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. It reminded her of how alive it felt to fight him before. Oh, this will be fun.  

“Ugh, stop flirting, I’m eating here!” Kaminari complained.

“YOU WANT TO SAY THAT AGAIN YOU OVERSTUFFED PIKACHU DOLL?!”

Kendo laughed as Bakugou chased his friend around. He was an angry puppy. She wasn’t oblivious to the way he never actually laid a hand on his friend, just scared him a little.

“So, not to pry or anything, but are you, um, actually flirting?” Kirishima seemed flustered. “Like, I’ve got your back and all, but you’re just . . . talking. To Bakugou.”

Kendo’s widened eyes darted between him and Ashido, who seemed invested in this conversation as well. “You guys talk to him.”

“Nu-uh, none of us talk to Bakugou like that,” Ashido gestured vaguely in her direction. “We try, let the great Nezu bear witness, but Blasty never reacts like that! And then there’s the fighting! The only people he actually wants to spar are Deku and Todoroki, but that’s just because he kind of hates them. You . . . he fought you! And then offered you a hand up!”

She thumped her fist on the table, jostling her lunch with a bold declaration of, “You’re like a Bakugou-whisperer!”

“So, since I know how to interact with men like Bakugou, you think I’m flirting?” Kendo tried to reason it out. “I get where you’re coming from, but my goal with Bakugou is to befriend him.”

“Well, fair warning, he knows you have some agenda,” Kirishima told her. “He doesn’t always show it, but Bakugou’s super smart and observant. Some girl walks into class and the first thing she does is start a fight with him, and then seeks him out on her own? Yeah, he probably thinks you’re spying for 1-B or something.”

“That’s not it,” she reassured him. “I’ve just . . . seen his type before. People like Bakugou, it’s ride or die with them, you can’t just be a passive friend, and since I do want to be his friend I’m trying to get involved. And you know people like Bakugou aren’t that rare, right? Lots of people are like him. They could use a friend, one who cares about them and not their image. So, I guess that’s my agenda.”

Kirishima and Ashido gave her beaming smiles. “Yeah, we get that. Bakugou doesn’t get a lot of friendly-love, so we all took him on. And he’s great!”

“But you don’t have to fight him to be friends, yeah?” Kirishima added as an after-thought. “He’d be cool if you didn’t want to fight.”

Kendo felt a little embarrassed by that. “I understand that, really! It’s just . . . Alright, here’s my confession, it’s not only that I want to help. It was, but after fighting him the other day I really want to fight him again. It was just so . . . intense. I’ve never fought like that before, it was amazing! Are all your 1-A fights like that?”

“If you fight Bakugou, yes,” Ashido shivered. “The rest of us know when to stop, but he gives his all 24/7. It’s frightening.”

“It’s manly!” Kirishima hardened at the word. “I want to be half the man Bakugou is. Giving your all until you’re at the end, and then going further. Plus Ultra!”

“Well, I hope you think Bakugou is still manly when he tells you I beat him.”  

Kirishima grinned. “Confidence is also manly!”

“Overconfident,” Ashido pouted. “No one beats Bakugou in a fight.”

“I’m not overconfident, I just noticed his fighting style is based around his quirk,” she explained. “He uses it all the time, directing and redirecting his arms and legs to attack, counter-attack, dodge . . . He does use a huge amount of raw strength for that technique that will be hard to beat, but if you take away his explosions, I think my martial arts training can give me the edge I need to overpower him.”

“Oh yeah, Hands?”

Bakugou was back with a slightly mussed but uninjured Kaminari hanging in his hands by his shirt. His grin was that same devilish battle grin he’d given her the day before. “You think I’m gonna be an easy fight? Ha! Where are we doing this?”

“We can take the train after school; I live on the edge of Chiba, and mom’s dojo is in the same neighbourhood.”

“Chiba!” Ashido jumped up. “Kirishima and I live there too! We can all go together!”

“You extras aren’t coming!” yelled Bakugou.

 “Woah man, we just meant taking the train together! I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Oh, I was definitely going to gate-crash,” Ashido admitted without shame, “but I guess I can study instead.”

“Yeah, you should; I’m not tutoring you if you’re too lazy to do your own work, Pinky,” growled Bakugou.

“That’s my hero name now, Bakugou, so hah!”

He still hasn’t agreed to drop the Best Jeanist internship . . .  

“Hey,” Kendo called up to him, “how about a wager, Bakugou?”

He turned to her. “What are you up to, Hands?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said with faux innocence, making him snort. “I just want to put some stakes on our fight.”

He tsked. “What stakes?”

She gave him a wide smile. “If I win, I get to help pick your internship. You still get to pick, of course, but I have to agree with you. That means you won’t be going to Best Jeanist’s agency.”

She saw Kirishima wince out of the corner of her eye while Ashido watched on excitedly.

“You won’t win, Hands,” Bakugou gruffed, but he looked interested. It means he isn’t set on Best Jeanist. There was probably another offer he liked, but he can’t be seen backing down now. “What do I get if I win?”

Kendo leaned forward. “What would make it worthwhile for you, Bakugou?”

“Tch.” He seemed disappointed in her response, which she catalogued for later. “You don’t have anything I ne—”

His mouth snapped shut suddenly, and his red eyes narrowed on her. “You got offered by Uwagami.”

“Yes?”

He gave her a devilish grin. “And you hate the damn girly nonsense, don’t you?”

She barely nodded.

“Hahaha, I’m going to enjoy making you sweat,” he laughed. “If I win, that’s gonna be your life, Hands. You know Best Jeanist and Uwagami are competitors in fashion, right? Well, my folks work in one of Jeanist’s design offices, and the hag’s got the biggest grudge for the snake-lady.”

“So, if you win. . .” she prompted.

“Then I bring you home to the old hag,” he said with an evil grin. “If she thinks you’ve got the right stuff, you hang around for the week after internships. She gets the perfect doll, and I get some damn peace for once.”

He’s using his hypothetical win for his mom, Kendo realized, her heart warming, and making sure I come over in the same breath. This guy…

“Deal.”

They shook hands and Bakugou huffed back into his seat next to her. “You won’t win, Hands.”

“Do you have any martial arts training?” she goaded, grinning when he gave her a dark glower. “Then I’ll win.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

Later, she went to see Midoriya and let him know about the wager. He looked crestfallen.

“But you’ll never beat Kacchan,” he worried. “I haven’t beaten Kacchan yet, and I’ve known him forever.”

“He’ll be fighting quirkless though,” Kendo pointed out. “How many of your fights have been that way?”

Deku considered that. “. . . None. Kacchan hates not using his quirk.”

“Which means I have a good chance,” she concluded. “If he’s so used to fighting with his quirk, fighting without it might be enough to throw him off. Either way, I’m fighting this to win. I will win. Then, when that’s done, I’ll ask him to stay for dinner so we can shrug it off with talk of his other offers.”

Midoriya’s green eyes took on a distant look, and he mumbled to himself for a minute before looking up with a gleam in his eyes. “You know what, you might be right! But, Kacchan is really good at thinking on his feet, and he learns really quick as fights go on. Kacchan learned how to fight by fighting other people, so don’t let him fight for too long. You have to take him down fast. And he usually starts with a right hook. Be careful of that.”

Kendo smiled at the greenet. He was so . . . earnest. All the time. All green eyes and green hair and baby fat on his cheeks that made him look so angelic. Is there anyone in this class that it would be hard to love? “Thanks, Midoriya. How about I get your number and I text you when it’s over, okay? I don’t want you to worry about it more than you already have.”

Midoriya blinked, then beamed up at her. “That would be great, Kendo! Thanks!”

They separated so she could grab her stuff from her locker, but when she rounded the corner. . .

“Bakugou?”

Blonde spikey hair and an angry expression that, normally, wouldn’t be frightening if it wasn’t accompanied by rage. He was propped against the wall, jaw tight and eyes seething, every part of his unapproachable.

“I knew you were up to something,” he spat. “You running errands for damn Deku now? You looking down on me?”

Kendo understood there was some kind of tension between him and Midoriya, but his behaviour was definitely . . . odd. But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Bakugou was taller, or that he was so angry that spit seemed to be gathering in his mouth. It didn’t matter that he was dangerous.

What mattered was that he had decided to stop respecting her, and that was not allowed. She had done nothing wrong.

“I wasn’t trying to hide anything, Bakugou,” she replied calmly. “You wouldn’t have heard anything if I was. What’s wrong with what I said to Midoriya?”

“You’re TEXTING Deku about our fight!” he shouted. “That nerd put you up to this! You’re nothing but a two-bit extra!”

“I decided to come talk to you by myself.”

She was not going to let him talk to her like this. The words she spoke were as calm as she wanted to be, but as strong as she thought Bakugou deserved. At least it was enough to get some words in, since from Bakugou’s twisting features he was confused by her lack of . . . something. Fear? Anger in return?

“Midoriya and I both realized you wouldn’t like the internship with Best Jeanist but I was the one who decided to act. Midoriya wouldn’t have said anything, and it felt like a bad thing to let lie, so I did it. He didn’t ask me to—at one point he told me not to—but he was worried, and I’m not going to apologize for reassuring him.”

“I’m not some weakling who needs looking after!” he snapped. “Deku should be minding his own damn business, and you should LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!!”

“I’m sorry that I overstepped, but I’m not sorry for trying to befriend you,” she stated firmly.

In the almost empty hallway after school hours was not the time for this conversation but she was not going to back down and lose even more of his respect, not even if the teachers came running.

“YOU WANNA DIE?!” he yelled, hands bursting with explosions. “Friends? I’m not making friends, not with some damn extra who doesn’t know her freaking place! I’m looking to be the number one hero, loser, and you all are too focused on playing nice to even pose a threat! I’M NOT WEAK, UNDERSTAND?! I’M NOT ONE OF YOU!”

“You’re not weak, Bakugou; we both know that so don’t insult me by insinuating I don’t.” Kendo was resolute but still calm. Calm was the key. If she let him throw her off, this encounter would end horribly. If she was calm, she was in control. Calm. Stay calm. “It’s the fact that you are so strong that makes me want to help you be stronger. It’s the same reason I’m helping Midoriya with his quirk tomorrow. If that is a weakness, then it’s mine and not yours.”

They were staring each other down. There was still a rage in his eyes, but in the face of her resolute stance, it seemed he wasn’t intent on yelling anymore. And by calling this a result of her weakness, not his, it seemed Bakugou was letting the perceived insult her concern caused go.

She chose this time to walk forward, to get closer to him. His posture got defensive again, and she maintained their strained staring contest. She had shown she wasn’t afraid of him, now he needed to believe it. And respect her for it.

“Bakugou, don’t think I’m doing this for anyone except for you and me. You, because I want you to be stronger, and me, well,” she gave him a grand smile, “you gave me the best fight I’ve ever had. I want a lot of repeats.”

That broke his angry façade. His expression flashed with a small, proud smirk which he quickly smothered into his regular scowl. “You’ve got a death wish, Hands.”

“Maybe. But maybe I don’t think you would ever kill me.”

From the way his eyes widened, Kendo could guess that it wasn’t an assumption anyone had voiced to him. Not often. Not enough to override the fears of the people around him. Her heart felt too hot with that knowledge—no one should feel or be treated like a threat 24/7.

“Sooooo, if you’re still coming tonight, you probably heard me mention that you’re invited to dinner afterwards,” she continued, looking at him expectantly. “We can even call the bet off if you want—I really just want to fight you again. Your internship is your choice.”

“It will be,” he scoffed, “’cause I’ll win. I’m not some coward that backs out of a fight. You’re just lucky I already told the old hag I wasn’t gonna be home ‘till late. But if I hear you’re running errands for damn Deku again, I’m going to murder you, got it?”

Kendo grinned. Forgiveness granted. “You’ll be the first to know if I am. I appreciate your infinite kindness, King Explosion Murder.”

“Ha,” he laughed, pushing off the lockers, “your extra ass should be bowing and scraping behind me.”

 “Oh, very well, your Highness.” She executed the perfect, mocking bow. “Lead on.”

“Hmph.”

The low rumble of Katsuki’s chuckle ran along her spine and rested with a pleasant tingle at the base of her skull. What kind of reaction is that, Kendo? Pull yourself together!  

 “Where are we meeting Ashido and Kirishima?” she asked, brushing off her strange reaction. “Did they tell you?”

“Don’t need to know—the extras are already AROUND THE CORNER ABOUT TO GET THEIR ASSES WHIPPED!!” he yelled down the hallway. She turned around and the heads of Ashido and Kirishima popped out. “KNEW IT!”

“Hah, Bakugou,” Kirishima grinned nervously, “we were just coming to find you.”

“Uh, yeah! We totally weren’t spying on you and Kendo!” lied Mina. “And we definitely weren’t going to make sure you didn’t kill her a minute ago! We just got here!”  

“YOU WANNA DIE?!”

“Kendo.”

The pair turned to see Todoroki approaching. Kendo never knew what to make of the Todoroki heir’s demeanour—icy, but with the same overall feel of Bakugou. Something vulnerable in the eyes that told her there were nerves to press if you tried hard enough.

“Whadya want, Icy-Hot?” Bakugou scowled at the interloper as if he’d sucked a sour candy.

Todoroki essentially ignored Bakugou and came towards her instead. “Kendo, can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Oh,” Kendo blinked widely between him and Bakugou, who was looking even angrier. “Umm, sure. In private?”

“Preferably.”

“Like hell you will,” Bakugou stepped forward and snarled. 

Cool eyes moved to him. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal.” Kendo stepped between the two and motioned Todoroki to lead on. A swift look up into red eyes confirmed that Bakugou was not going to fight right then. “I’ll be back in a minute, ok?”

The halls were mostly empty, and Todoroki pulled her away just around the corner from where Bakugou and his gang were waiting. They stood a little distance apart, just looking at each other.

“What did you want to talk about, Todoroki?” Kendo started.

He frowned, the first time she had seen him emote since they’d met. “I froze your team and cost you your place in the finals.”

They were both standing their stiff as boards, and, Kendo had to admit, that was not the line she’d expected from Todoroki.

“Do you think I’m upset? They gave two of my team a chance to move forward anyway,” Kendo pointed out to the dual-haired boy. “You don’t have to worry about me being bitter.”

Two-toned hair brushed over his eyes, but his eyes never wavered. “You do not have many internship offers because of that, right?”

“Right,” she agreed slowly.

Todoroki pulled a set of papers out of his bag and handed them to her stoically. Taking them gingerly, and regularly looking up at Todoroki to be sure, she flipped through them.

“Offers?” Kendo said in surprise. “From your father’s agency? I don’t understand. Endeavour never lets the heroes who work for him take interns.”

Most people do good things with a swagger or a blush, neither truly looking at the person they do it for. Todoroki’s eyes were always level with hers, always direct and intimidating.

“You are talented,” he stated as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. “Your hands could have broken my ice.”

Kendo slumped a little. “Our formation wasn’t good. If I had been one of the lower horses, I could have broken the ice on myself and then the others, but with me on top—”

“The angle of the hit would have likely broken your teammates’ legs if you tried,” he stated bluntly. She nodded, surprised. He gave a small, minuscule smile. “Midoriya is good at picking up those kinds of things.”

“I noticed.” Kendo shared the smile. Motioning to the stack, she added. “He also told me that he’d been talking to you about . . . this. What is this about, Todoroki?”

His eyes fixed on her thoughtfully. “What do you think of Endeavour?”

She couldn’t keep herself from snorting. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to insult your father, but my family aren’t his biggest fans. I know he's a professional, and very good at what he does, but he needs to be nicer to both the good guys and the bad guys. That man embodies excessive force.”

When his eyebrows raised incredulously, Kendo gave him a small smile. “My dad’s a parole officer in Endeavour’s work zone, and he talks a lot with the police department and the small-time crooks. Endeavour’s more popular with the public than he is in the force.”

That earned a small smile from Todoroki before it faded. “His reputation is well-earned. I decided to intern at my father’s agency so I could learn to control my fire, however, it will likely be an unpleasant experience.

“Some of our classmates recorded your fight with Bakugou.” Todoroki nudged the paper pile. “This is what happened when I sent that video to my father’s secretary. It didn’t take long for the heroes who work under him to send in their requests, and with a small nudge from me, Endeavor approved them. He’s not in the habit of letting his sidekicks and support heroes take interns, but I promised to intern with him if he allowed them that freedom this time around.”

Todoroki was not painting a pretty picture of his relationship with Endeavor, and Kendo’s stomach flipped. “Todoroki, why would you do that?”

For the first time, Todoroki looked hesitant. “I apologize if that was not what you wanted, but Midoriya suggested having a classmate nearby would make things bearable.”

Bearable. Well, that would be why Midoriya was acting so strange about her internship. And looking at Todoroki now, how his unfailing eyes shot a few furtive looks to the side as he said it, like he was worried about her answer, Kendo’s mind was almost immediately made up. She could intern with a rescue hero later, but right now someone needed her. She stood straighter than before.

“You are under no obligation to do so,” he clarified, undoubtedly responding to her change in stance. “I only asked Aizawa-sensei if I could deliver these to you now instead of tomorrow because of the late notice, but you don’t have to consider them. I understand if you have already decided on an internship. If nothing else, I hope this makes up for my ruining your chance for the final.”

Todoroki turned to walk away, but Kendo reached out her arm and stopped him with her giant hand. He turned to her with a question in his eyes.

“You’re having lunch with me tomorrow,” she told him firmly. The boy looked startled. “I really don’t mind interning at the same agency, Todoroki, so thank you for considering me like this. I’ll discuss it with my parents. If they agree, then when we go to lunch tomorrow you can give me your advice on which hero in Endeavour’s agency I should go with.”

She retracted her hand and he gave her a stoic—if grateful—nod before walking away again. Something light flitted in her chest, and she pulled out her phone to text Midoriya. 

‘How badly does Todoroki need me at Endeavour Agency?’ She sent quickly, rounding back around the corner.

Midoriya replied instantly. ‘Very. Please?’

Kendo gave her phone an exasperated shake. Being involved in 1-A was ridiculous. She hadn’t even been introduced to Iida Tenya yet, and already she was involved in teaching Midoriya to use his quirk, becoming friends with Bakugou, and stepping into a family mess involving Todoroki. Still, after seeing the way Todoroki shifted uncomfortably when he asked her, and from Midoriya’s own comments, she knew she’d regret it if she didn’t.

She texted back, ‘I’m on it.’

“Oi, Hands, get a move on!” Bakugou yelled. “We’re not standing around all day waiting for you!”

“Ah, right!” Kendo slipped the phone in her pocket and jogged back to the group, holding her papers tight. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Eh, that’s alright.” Kirishima gave her a thumbs up. “What did Todoroki want?”

“Oh, he was giving me some good news, I suppose,” she deflected, eyeing the papers in her hand.

 All of this, from a video of their fight? Bakugou seemed to sense her thoughts because he turned zeroed in his fire eyes to her. She gave him a smile.

“Todoroki sent a video of our fight to someone in his father’s agency, and it spread to the pros who work there.” She waved the papers in front of them. “They must have been impressed.”

“Woah, so you got more work offers?” Ashido jumped up and down in excitement. “I’m sooooooo glad I asked Momo to record it!”

“Huh?!” Bakugou growled. “You recorded that, Pinky?”

Ashido struck a pose. “Well, it’s not every day we see someone willingly fight you, Bakugou! I thought I might get a video of you losing!”

“I DON’T LOSE!”

Kendo stopped him with a happy smile. “Isn’t this good, Bakugou? You can bet any pro who was impressed with the loser of our fight will be impressed by the winner. They saw you too.”

Anger rolled back into minor irritation as Bakugou accepted her encouragement. His scowl, though, never changed. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Well, not all of us can compare to King Explosion Murder,” Kendo snarked. “I didn’t exactly get offers in the thousands. It’s good to know some pros are impressed by me even if I didn’t get to the finals.”

The group fell back into step. Kirishima and Ashido came and flanked them, but didn’t once try to jump between them. There was something. . . different about that, but what Kendo noticed most was how Bakugou relaxed now. His face was calmer, though his eyebrows were perpetually drawn together, and he walked without his sweeping glances to both sides. Even at lunch, with Ashido and Kirishima there and the same dynamic present, she hadn’t caught Bakugou’s intelligent mien.

Case and point, Ashido and Kirishima’s unsubtle glances and hand signals. They might think they were being stealthy in how they motioned to the pair behind their backs, or mouthed ‘Bakugou whisperer,’ but Kendo saw them and she could see that Bakugou did too. His body stayed perfectly composed, but there was tension in his eyes that indicated he was looking through their periphery at the goofs. He knew perfectly well what his friends were saying, and Kendo couldn’t decide if he was ignoring it because of his pride or to humour them or because he genuinely didn’t care. It could be anything.

But, when she caught his eye drifting to Kirishima’s not-so-subtle mouthing, he did give her the slightest uptick of his lips and his eyes lightened just enough that, if Kendo had to guess, told her that he was at least amused by it all. Or found them ridiculous enough for a derisive sort of amusement, at least. The difference it made in Bakugou’s face when he simply relaxed and smiled was too astonishing to process, she just couldn’t. But when she smiled back to share in his amusement, Kendo could swear she saw genuine camaraderie showing that made it even better.

Maybe fighting Bakugou really did get his respect so long as you never backed down. Even in verbal fights.

Along with that revelation, she was glad to learn that laughing at Ashido and Kirishima’s stupid friendly antics was something Bakugou enjoyed. And who would have guessed she would have loved being in on the joke so much?

 “Hey, Bakugou,” Kendo leaned an elbow on his shoulder, “should we leave these two alone?”

“What, NO!” “Dude, why would you say that?!” “I’m not interested in him!”

“Heh, don’t know, maybe we’d be better off,” he remarked snidely.

“Come on, Bakubro, you love us!” “You know we’re the only ones who can put up with you!”

Kendo was now hyperaware that she was walking alongside Bakugou while leaning on his massive shoulder muscle, and she was also aware that he not once jostled her arm from where it rested on him. In fact, Kendo felt him take a small step closer so she didn’t have too much of a reach. And when she noticed, he noticed she noticed. But with a grin and a mischievous glint in his red eye, he was challenging her. Did she want to stay that close? Would she chicken out and remove her arm? No way, pretty boy.

“Hey, Bakugou, how much can you lift?” she asked, grinning.

Too fast for an answer, Kendo pounced on Bakugou and fixed herself to his back in proper piggy-back position, her legs fastened tightly around his waist and her hands balancing her on his shoulders.

“Umph,” he grunted, hands finally out of his pockets to support her legs. “Damn, how much do you weigh, Hands? 100kg?”

“My quirk gives me a greater density,” she replied cheerfully. “You’re lucky my hands are small right now because they make me a lot heavier.”

Kirishima and Ashido were gaping at her. “Uh, Kendo, why—”

“He practically dared me to,” she told them. “You know, this would be great strength training for you, Bakugou! We should get you a weighted backpack or ankle weights, that way you can get stronger just by walking to school.”

She was deliberately poking him, seeing if he’d invite her back.

Bakugou grunted. “Why spend money on that? You’ll just hop on anyway.”

They both knew that was the invitation she wanted. Whether it was because Bakugou wanted her to or because he viewed it as a challenge, she didn’t know, but it made her smile down at him. For a second, she swore she could see a twitch of his lips saying that maybe he wanted to smile back too.

“How?” Ashido whined, stomping her feet.  “How does she do it?! Bakugou, what is Kendo doing that we haven’t done, huh? I want piggy-back rides!”

“Pfft, not gonna happen.”

“WHYYYYYY?!”

“I let you once and you'll never stop, Raccoon Eyes. I’m not an idiot,” Bakugou retorted. “'Sides, you've got acid. No way in hell I’m letting you touch me.”

Kirishima jogged forward so he could walk backwards in front of them. “What about your best bro, huh? I’d be great weight training! I’m dense as a rock!”

“You tense once my back goes through a cheese shredder,” Bakugou rejected flat-out. “’At least Hands can be quiet.”

Kendo could certainly be quiet, but she was feeling like dancing with every word Bakugou uttered in her defence. She had gotten through to him! He wanted her there!

“What about Denki?” Ashido proposed. “He doesn’t have acid or sharp rocks.”

“He’s a wimp.”

“Bro, not cool!” “Come on, Bakugou, give us some love!”

“WANNA SAY THAT AGAIN, PINKY?!”

The sudden outburst jostled her a little and Kendo’s face accidentally brushed Bakugou’s hairline, giving her a secret feel for his hair. It was soft. It smelt just like him, like burnt sugar, but it was so incredibly soft.

That’s when she realized the back of Bakugou’s neck was turning red, and his body tensed. Oh no, he hadn’t been as oblivious to the move as she thought. She couldn’t see Bakugou’s face, but Kirishima and Ashido—who were walking in front of Bakugou—could, and they looked ecstatic.

“Well, I had better get down,” Kendo said in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. She jumped off his back inelegantly and came up beside him. “We’re almost to the train station.”

“Tch, too wimpy to hold on?”

“I just don’t want to tire out my opponent before we fight,” she half-lied, looking at his red face and wondering if, just maybe, he was mad at the unwanted contact before. “And we’re almost to the train—getting mobbed by your adoring fans isn’t in my plans for today.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Kirishima nodded, “you must have been really popular on your way in. You walk to school, right?”

Bakugou took to the diversion immediately, but not in the way Kendo expected. Instead of bragging, or getting in any way arrogant, he got vaguely annoyed.

“Those dumb extras,” he huffed. “Fans don’t matter, Hair-for-Brains, they only make you a B-lister. It only matters whether you win.”

As she looked at him saying those words, the tension seeping back into his shoulder, the narrowing of his eyes, she came to understand just what those words meant to Bakugou. All that mattered was winning. It was all he could equate with value.

In a way, it was admirable. He didn’t do this for praise, attention, or glory. He did this because it was what he wanted. It was his way of being the best he could be. It warmed her heart to see.

But . . . it made her sad. Something about how defensive his posture had become, like he was expecting a challenge, made her think there was more to Bakugou’s philosophy than just “winning everything” . . . like what would happen if he truly lost. From the looks of him, she didn’t want to see it.

And she was about to make sure it happened.

What would happen if Bakugou lost their fight? He could brush it off, call it a kiddie fight like he had before and say, “of course you can’t win against my quirk,” leaving it at that. But Kendo doubted it. He was so intent on victory, any victory, even the small challenge of whether Kendo would keep her arm on his shoulder, that a defeat would be . . . impactful.

There was a spark of hope in her that she was wrong.

The train ride was uneventful, as they usually are. Relatively quiet and extremely packed since schools and work were finished. The four of them ended up being pressed together in the middle of the train after being pushed there by Bakugou’s admirers from the festival, and even Ashido and Kirishima got a fan or two calling them out.

But as many admirers as Bakugou had, he also had detractors. A few people told him to clean up his act or asked him why he was in a hero school. He yelled back at them, but then Kendo put a hand on his arm.

“They’re not right,” Kendo reminded him, earning a side-glance from the man, “and not worth the nitro-glycerin. You weren’t in the wrong.”

Katsuki twitched, hands clenching and unclenching before he turned away from the crowd pointedly. Kendo felt a great deal of pride swell in her. 

“You should be ashamed of your behaviour!” one guy yelled at Bakugou.

Instead of blowing up again, Bakugou stoically ignored him, and Kendo gave him a proud smile which he ‘tch’ed away.

Kirishima and Ashido lived pretty close to each other, so they got off first with a loud goodbye and a promise to see them the next morning. Kendo gave them her number so they could coordinate their trains and head to school as a trio. Bakugou got really red in the face at that, until she offered it to him as well.

“Huh?”

“Well?” Kendo held out her phone. “Put your number in. I’ll text you so you have mine, and then we can stay in touch.”

“Tch.”

Still, his red face returned to its regular shade and his number was aggressively punched into her phone with the name, KING EXPLOSION MURDER in all caps. One look and Itsuka laughed out loud so hard the other passengers glared, but it was worth it to see the smug satisfaction on Bakugou’s face at making her laugh that hard in the first place. He was so happy that she had laughed, it almost made her want to take a picture.

They both strolled in easy quiet to her mother’s dojo. It was nice, to be quiet occasionally in his presence. He just relaxed in the same way he did at school. Not saying a word, not reacting, just . . . existing. Bakugou was strangely peaceful to be around when he was like this. Comforting, even. She regretfully had to stop him before they entered the dojo to give him some well-earned advice.

“So,” she told him, “I don’t have to tell you that if you call my mother a hag like you do yours, I will kill you and bury you in the back.”

“I’m not an idiot,” he enforced with a glare, “and I’d like to see you try.”

“Try me, Bakugo,” she threatened seriously, but it broke too easily looking at his disturbed face, so she smiled. “This is also a dojo, so act like a student, okay? Bow to mother—sensei—and be polite, Bakugou. I did tell her about you, but I want her to still like you after this.”

“You’re getting on my nerves, Hands,” Bakugou growled. “Let’s get on with this so I can pound you.”

“Ha, well let’s get changed first,” Kendo said, pulling him into the dojo.

The dojo was a modest place for the number of students that came through its doors. The entry traditional Japanese in décor, wooden floors leading to both the changing room and the actual practice room in the back where the floors would turn into the beige tatami mats her mother liked.

Mother, predictably, wasn’t in the entrance. She would be on the mats with her older students around this time, probably grabbing at least one by the ear. It was one of the elder students that came to check who they were, and Kendo greeted him with a large wave. “Hello, senpai!”

“Kendo!” Akio was a kind boy, older than her but in her weight class when she wasn’t using her hands. They’d sparred often as senpai and kohai. They’d practically grown up in the dojo together “I heard you were bringing someone in. Introduce us.”

She brought Bakugou up next to her. “Akio, this is Bakugou Katsuki. He’ll be our guest today.”

Kendo ignored the way Bakugou’s rising anger and made the polite introductions before Kendo led Bakugou away to the changing room. “We have spare keikogi in your size in the changing room. Let’s get you suited up, hero.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes but let her pull him along to their only changing room and hold different sized keikogi up to his legs and torso. Kendo didn’t quite understand why she felt like teasing him as the sizes kept needing to be just a little bigger, but it was too fun to pass up. “You really are the big man in class, huh? Here, put these on and let me know if they're too tight. The spare lockers are on the end.”

That business done, Kendo turned to her own locker and started taking off her school uniform.

“Heh?!”

She turned to the sound and saw Bakugou staring at her like she’d grown two heads. Looking down, she realized that maybe Bakugou was concerned about her changing in front of him. She really hadn’t thought about it.

“Oh, I guess I should have asked,” Kendo gave him a small smile. “We don’t really bother with things like separate changing rooms in the dojo. I wasn’t going to look, but I can wait outside if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Bakugou cheeks were tinged with blush, but he just muttered about, ‘Not bothered with that sh*t’ and went to his locker to change . . . hiding as much behind the door as he could.

To make him feel better, Kendo rushed through her changing and was quickly dressed for the dojo.

“The pants fit, right?” she called. With his affirmative grunt, Kendo left the changing room at a brisk pace.

Akio was waiting, all sweaty curls and a Cheshire grin. “So . . . what’s the story, Kendo? Give it up; it must be good to get him here.”

Kendo gave him a scorching look. “Stop that. The rest of my class already thinks something’s going on. I just met his a few days ago, Akio, so leave it.”

He raised his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying, it’s strange for you to bring him here.”

“Mom wanted him to come,” she said, immediately regretting it when Akio gave her a mischievous grin. “Stop it.”

He whistled innocently, which Kendo elbowed him in the stomach for. 

“We’re hero students, and my mom has a dojo,” Kendo pointed out. “I could just want to practice my martial arts.”

“It better not be practice, Hands,” Bakugou growled from behind her. “I want you fighting for your life.”  

Kendo had a response ready to be flipped over her shoulder, until she caught sight of Bakugou in full keikogi, and, damn. Those were spares, they should not have looked so good on Bakugou. The white was actually bringing out highlights in his hair and lessening to the force of his scowl. Worse, his aversion to ties was obviously just an aversion for anything around his neck, because he was wearing the top piece loose enough to see his entire chest. He might as well have not worn the belt for all it did keeping the top closed. Kendo shook her head because, no, he was not allowed to look that good in the frumpy spare keikogi.

“Is the top too tight, Bakugou?” she said instead, looking poignantly at his exposed chest. “I can get you a bigger one.”

“Naw, it fits fine.” He dared to shrug it off, although his eyes gleamed. “I need room for my shoulders to move so I gotta keep it open. You have a problem with that?”

“No, why would I?” She said that but was having a tough time keeping her eyes on his face. From his smug look, he knew that, and he tensed very deliberately to flex his pecs. She bared her teeth.

“Great!” Akio clapped. “Time for you two to join the class. We’re wrapping up a little early today, so we’re just doing our cooldown. It can be your warmup.”

The actual practice room of the dojo was covered in those plain beige tatami mats, but it had its own ‘ring’ so to speak drawn out on them. There were no obvious decorations except for competition photos and awards, and it was filled with mom’s advanced students going through Tai-Chi stretches to finish. Kendo Michiko sat obviously in the middle, snow-white hair making her stand out in any crowd. She was eyeing the students sharply and speaking sharply when they broke form. When those teal eyes saw them enter, she left leading the group to her assistant and walked to the edge of the mats.

“Kendo-sensei,” Kendo said with a bow. Bakugou immediately repeated it, although she did see from the side that his bow wasn’t proper, too shallow for a proper form of respect. It was almost a nod with how little he moved.

“You do not bow properly, Bakugou,” her mother had decided to notice. Quick green eyes flashed over her classmate. “I don’t believe you bow to anyone, do you?”

“I don’t meet people worth bowing to,” he replied tersely. Kendo could see his arms twitching, probably wanting to use his quirk.

Her mother, far from being angry, just smiled. “Well, thank you for still loosely observing decorum while in my dojo. You may join us on the mats. If you feel lost, follow Kendo or raise your hand so I know you need further instruction.”

Taking their places at the back of the group, Kendo and Bakugou started going through the positions. Kendo focused on the flowing motions, controlling but releasing, moving and breathing connected. This was meditative, similar to the breathing exercises her mother did with her before matches. In, out. Sweeping motion. In, out. Arcing hands and wide stance.

She was so deep into her meditation that when she opened her eyes to see Bakugou struggling next to her, it took a moment to understand that she was supposed to help him.

“Match my breathing and my movements,” Kendo whispered to the red-faced blond. She drew in her hands and pressed them forward, letting them open like a blossom. “Breath evenly, match the motions. Breath and action connected. In, out, in, out. Smooth movements. Everything is as deliberate as your fighting. Your body is like water, flowing the path of intent.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie,” Bakugou snarled low, although he started matching her movements better. He was listening.

“Tai-Chi is about balance, Bakugou,” Kendo hushed. “Give and take, ebb and flow, defence and offense. We open and close the practices with this because it is meditative. Everyone becomes calmer and more focused when they practice it.”

“Was that a jab, Hands?” he hissed. “Think I can’t be calm?”

“You know I don’t think of you like that,” she whispered back, gladdened when she saw his tight features relax a little. Bakugou was far more vulnerable to criticism than he let on. “Just use this exercise to your advantage. Like the way you’re wearing your keikogi; take it and make it your own, use your emotions to your advantage.”

“You think I don’t?” he gruffed. “The extras’ knees knock together when they fight me.”

Oh. Kendo appraised the blond with something a lot more like interest. So, Bakugou knew he was an angry little demon when given the chance, but he also exploited it. It made sense, in a way, to be seen as nearly-homicidal by criminals. If he got called in he might activate their fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses. Immediately most will go on the defensive, while the most dangerous will fight immediately and be quickly gotten out of the way so he could proceed with whatever the mission is. It is a strategy that could work in many combat situations.

The problem was that Kendo could also see where it wouldn’t work—which was any other scenario—and it was limiting his potential. She bet Bakugou knew it too.

Their motions slowed until finally the end was called to the class. They recited their precepts and then were ordered to the changing room. Some of them hesitated, throwing looks to Kendo and Bakugou.

“Did I say to stay?” Kendo’s mother looked at the offending students with reproach. “They are having a private practice. Go.”

The remaining students scurried away under her verdant glare.

“Now,” Kendo-sensei turned to the pair, “I understand my daughter wants to fight you. You agreed to this?”

Bakugou’s chin jutted and his eyes spoke fury. “I’m not some weakling! I’ll take her on anytime.”

Her mother’s eyes filled with intent. “Why?”

“Huh?” Bakugou looked lost. “Whad’ya mean, why?”

“Why do you want this fight, Bakugou?”

Her mother addressed Bakugou with respect, but a challenge in her voice. It was a common question in their dojo—why do you fight? The responses varied. Kendo often answered with, To learn to be a better hero. A common answer was, To measure my skill, sensei. And that was acceptable too.

For this fight, Kendo knew what she would say—I’m fighting for his respect, for his growth, for his future, to stop him from making a bad decision—because her mother never allowed a fight without a reason. Kendo had been prepared to defend her choice. But . . . why did Bakugou want to fight her? To prove his strength? To respond to a challenge? What drove him? Kendo was invested in his answer.  

“I want to win,” Bakugou sneered.

Kendo’s mother raised one of her ginger-eyebrows. “I don’t quite believe you, Bakugou. You already won against my daughter a few days ago—what is the difference?”

“She challenged me!” he exclaimed. “What’s with the questions?”

Kendo made to interject, but her mother stopped her with a single motion of her head. Their identical eyes met briefly before her mother’s were focused once again on a barely contained Bakugou.  

“I do not think you fight to win,” her mother continued, making Bakugou red with rage, until she continued, “I think you fight to find out if my daughter can.”

Bakugou seemed to grind to a halt, his anxious energy sapping away like the water with the falling tide. Her mother was not a tall woman, but she was not short. She stepped closer to her classmate and watched him keenly.

A smile tickled at her lips from whatever she had found in his face. “Yes, I think that sums it up nicely. I like you, Bakugou.”

“You think I fight to lose?” Bakugou ground out. “You’re insane.”

“Think on it for a titch,” was all her mother offered. “Our family is a family of meddlers, Bakugou, and my daughter is the best of us. I see in you what she does, I believe.”

Her mother turned to her. “Why do you fight for, Itsuka?”

She bowed her head in deference. “I fight for him.”

“Huh?” Bakugo looked at her like she was crazy.

“For his respect, his growth, and for the right to meddle in a bad choice he wants to make.”

That last one was made with a small grin to the man in question, who puffed up in indignation. “Oh, screw you, Hands!”

Her mother’s lips twitched in approval before she turned towards the lines of their battleground. “Very well. To the floor with you both. Fight within the lines and without quirks. The fight ends when either of you cannot continue or if I decide you are too injured.”

Kendo took the side furthest from the window, and Bakugou took the one closest. His hair was haloed by the setting sun.

“Ready? BEGIN!”

Notes:

Bakugo: I bet Hands is just acting friendly, and she doesn't even want to be near me.
Kendo: *leans on Bakugo's shoulder*
Bakugo, hyperventilating: Shoot, why do I like that? Whatever, I bet she won't do it twice. She'll jump away once I pretend to be pissed.
Kendo: *jumps on his back*
Bakugo: ....Okay, that was on me.
Kendo: *slaps a sign saying "Reserved for Hands" on the back of his shirt on the way down*
Bakugo: *says nothing*
Kirishima and Ashido: Bakugo, give us piggy-back rides! We're your best friends.
Bakugo: Didn't you read the shirt? It says, "Reserved for Hands." Idiots.

---
I'm having way too much fun with this, hahaha. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it! Up next, the Kendo/Bakugo quirkless fight! It'll be a slightly shorter chapter, but still fun. Tell me what you think about Bakugo's unspoken challenge to Kendo? What on earth does he think of this ginger menace? Thank you so much for the reviews and the kudos!

Chapter 5

“BEGIN!”  

Katsuki struck immediately. He had to ignore the bull spewing from the strange woman—Hands was confident in her win, so he would show her. That calm look in her springtime eyes made his blood boil. Where was her fire? The spark of competition? He was going to make her lose, so she had better start showing that determination she had before so he could beat her when it mattered.  

He had her in size, but she was heavier than him. That meant keeping her at arm’s length and getting in more hits than she could. So that meant lashing out, punching and kicking to keep her from getting in close, and if she did get in range, he needed to strike her on her way out. He had to pin her for this to end, so his goal was to knock her back or send her to her knees. He had to make sure he didn’t get hit with those hands, though, and aimed for her centre or legs—no way could he win if he got a blow from one of the metal-crunching hands, even shrunk. 

She expected a right hook, so he sent a left kick. His foot skimmed her ponytail when she weaved under his leg and shoved him off balance. She was trying to send him to the ground, but he rolled and turned around again. His eyes connected with her and he felt satisfaction rise in him when he saw the spark was racing through her gaze.  

He fought ferociously. Hands was used to fighting, so he was sticking to sharp movements that weren’t telegraphed. They were still blocked or dodged by his skilled opponent. Any punch was returned twicefold, and he watched in growing excitement as their fight grew more vicious, and Hands got more into it. She was starting to actually give him a fight, and it was exhilarating to finally let loose and just hit something.  

He didn’t care about the stupid internship. It was all about the fight. The fire in Hands that blew to life when facing him down, the hero in her eyes there for him to beat, to prove himself against.  

Suddenly, Hands lashed out and got into his offensive circle. She blocked his attack and ducked in with a flurry of punches. He could have dodged, he saw the move coming and had a chance to block it. But his hands had started sparking and he had paused, holding back as he instinctually tried to activate his quirk to redirect his body. It was a no quirks fight, damn it, and he had nearly used his.  

Kendo used that split second where he had to pause and correct to get in a devastating punch. He nearly puked. Hands was definitely in a higher weight class. She caught his hand as he righted himself and tossed him over her shoulder and onto the mats, where she landed on top of him in a pin.  

He struggled against her hold for more than a minute, but she was a brick and the angles were too awkward to get any kind of leverage against her. He started to panic. He couldn’t lose, he couldn’t lose!!  

Kendo felt awful as Bakugo fought and snarled underneath her, but they were fighting, she couldn’t do anything until her mother called the match or Bakugo tapped out. He was really thrashing, trying anything he could to shake her, but it wasn’t working and she could see him start to lose it.  

That’s when her mother stepped onto the mats.  

“Bakugo, can you get free?” her mother called.  

He thrashed even harder. “I’m not gonna LOSE!!”  

In a firmer voice, her mother called again. “Can you get free?”  

“AAAGH!”  

Both women waited to see if Bakugou would relent. Finally, his body went lax underneath her and Kendo felt the defeat in the air.  

“Can you get free?” Her mother called one last time.  

Bakugo didn’t say anything. Not a word.  

“Match to Kendo!”  

Those words punched Katsuki in the throat. He could hardly breathe for the humiliation. He hadn’t lost a fight yet. He’d lost a team exercise, sure, against stupid Deku and Round Face, but never a one-on-one fight. He had obliterated the nerd once when he’d tried to fight him head-on. And he’d beat Half-and-Half, even if it didn’t count. How could he lose?  

He got to his feet when Hands jumped off of him and started to march towards the exit. Humiliated tears pricked his eyes and he didn’t need that, he wouldn’t show that. He needed to go blow something up, he needed to hit something. He was almost to the door, when Hand’s giant, quirked mitt grabbed him.  

“Oi, let me go!” He rounded on her, but she was looking at him with the same determined look she had during their fight. He knew she could see his teary eyes, so why wasn’t she saying anything? “What’re you looking at Hands?! You want to gloat?! You want to rub it in that I lost, huh?! Well, guess what, you won this time, but it won’t happen again, understand?! You got lucky!! Next time round, you won’t stand a chance!”  

“I look forward to it.”  

Huh? Bakugo couldn’t believe his ears. He’d lost, why wasn’t she looking down on him? Why wasn’t she gloating or cheering or anything? She was looking at him the exact same way she had right before the fight, that daring look that made her jump on his back or challenge him to a fight. It was a look he was starting to like quite a bit on her, and it hadn’t gone away. She was just there. There and grinning at his challenge.  

“Sensei has pointers for us,” said Hands, motioning to her mother. Katsuki felt hot with shame. The woman had seen him nearly storm off in a fit, she probably hated him for it, thought he was weak. “We always debrief after a fight. Come on, we do this and then we’ll go through some fighting techniques. It’s better to fix things when the fight is still fresh.”   

Katsuki had no idea what to make of Hands. There was nothing there that was gloating or boastful or demeaning. Nothing that indicated any sort of pity. She was acting like he hadn’t even lost. Distracted by the weirdness, he let himself get brought back onto the mats.  

From Kendo’s perspective, Bakugo looked fragile. He was slightly teary, his hands were clenching and unclenching dangerously in time with his jaw, and his whole body was tense enough to snap in a second. With Bakugo’s focus on winning, the philosophy that he had so vigorously defended just a few hours earlier, losing like this … she couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. But pitying him wouldn’t do anything. He didn’t need pity, and losing wasn’t anything to pity in the first place. 

So she repeated his invite to dinner and brought him over to her mother for the debriefing. It was normal for both the loser and the winner to get eviscerated verbally on their performance by her mother, so winning and losing both felt like education and not proof of any superiority.  

And her mother didn’t hold back.  

“What was that, Kendo?” her mother laid into her first. As the winner, she would be getting the harshest critique. “You spent too much time defending! When you have an opponent like Bakugo, you can expect to take hits but do not bend to them! You are durable, act like it! And your form was all over the place! Your school fighting should be enhancing your technique, not worsening it! Maintain your balance and form next time, or you’ll be practising your katas until you are grey!”  

“Yes, sensei!” she bowed at the correction.  

Katsuki watched the interaction in disbelief. 

“Bakugo,” her mother turned to the silent blond, “your form was different from our dojo, but that does not mean it was not competent. Your style is very controlled and spontaneous, but too wide for Kendo’s approach, and your hesitation did not do you justice! You must be versatile and prepared for any form of attack! Balance, Bakugo! Your form is so tuned to the offensive that your defence is weak without your quirk. Practice your defensive stances if you want any chance of victory in the future.”  

“Tch.”  

Her mother strode up to Bakugo at the disrespect, making Bakugo glare up at her mother. Kendo wondered, briefly, if Bakugo would not be joining their family tonight after all.  

“Your strength does you credit.”  

Instead of correction, mom had decided to give advice. Kendo stood down, even as Bakugo’s hackles raised. 

“It does,” Kendo-sensei affirmed, “but do not equate your strength with perfection or you will be disappointed. Strength is something you build, not something you achieve. In each failure, you find the opportunity to build yourself even greater. If you take that opportunity every time and you will become stronger than you think.”  

 Bakugo sneered at her mother. “You think I don’t know strength?”  

Her mother smiled softly at Bakugo, which made Kendo’s heart sing a little. That smile meant her mother saw the same thing she did in him: potential.  

“It’s just some food for thought,” her mother said lightly, backing off of her classmate with the grace she was always known for. “I want to see you two fight again. Take your positions on the mat.”  

It was something Kendo expected, but Bakugo was looking absolutely thrilled like it was a rematch. It wasn’t.  

“Every time you make contact, you will freeze,” Kendo-sensei told them, and Bakugo’s previously manic expression pursed into one of frustration. “We’ll look at the move, ways to improve it, any defence against it, and then we’ll continue. We have twenty minutes for this exercise, then you can have another match at the end.”  

They started again and again and again. Sometimes Bakugo would make the first move and sometimes she’d be the one running across the mats, but no matter what, they froze whenever their fists, legs, or feet made contact. They’d freeze, forearms touching from a blocked chop, and stand there while her mother came over to correct their stances, their reactions, and move them through the most efficient defence. But there were many long moments where they just looked right at each other.  

This wasn’t an exercise Kendo was new to—in fact, her mother did this at least once every two weeks for each student in the dojo—but it felt new whenever she froze and Bakugo looked right into her soul. There was a look in his eyes that clearly said, “ You beat me, and you ain’t doing it again, Hands!” Even when they froze, he pushed back a little against her just like when you squeeze too hard in a handshake to prove your strength. Worse, she could have sworn he was sizing her up, and after losing the fight, she wasn’t surprised. This exercise with her mom wasn’t something he wanted to do, that was obvious, but he was willing to do it because he was gearing up for another fight.  

It was exhilarating. Even in these quiet moments where it was only the give and take of blows, the correction, and the form, he was treating her like a fierce opponent.  

It was also very worrying because he was incredibly intelligent. Any correction her mother made, any small tap moving his foot back and any small move that would increase his efficiency was learned within moments. Each move he learned ended with him meeting her eyes and grinning that feral grin.  

She gave back as good as she got. If he bared his teeth, she bared them back. If he pushed, she pushed back. Mom had to force them apart sometimes because they’d be shoving against each other to make the other one step back first and ruin their frozen pose. But it worked. The insecurities that had popped to the surface after he’d been beaten were all but gone when they finally stopped the lesson and took to the mat a second time.  

Self-loathing had been put aside and it was Bakugo Katsuki, self-proclaimed future Number One Hero, who faced her again. And that man was frothing at the mouth for a second chance at victory.  

“Begin!”  

She moved first this time with a leap and fists raised high. Easy to dodge, but not easy to use against her. It would let her close enough to get some hits in. 

Kacchan dodged to the left and made to grab her fist, but she elbowed his arm out of the way and spun, trying to get him with her right. Both of his hands wrapped around her wrists trapping her back to his front.  

“That’s it, Hands?! You’ve gotta do better than—hurk!”  

Her leg swept under him and knocked the wind from him when his back slammed into the mat with Kendo on top of him.  

“That’s not it,” she announced, flipping over. “I’m going to win again.” 

“FAT CHANCE! I’LL CRUSH YOU!”   

He threw her off before she could get the pin, and soon they were back on their feet and battling head-on. Teal and red flashed dangerously.  

On the sidelines, the Kendo mother watched on with a small smile tipping up her lips’ corners. Fighting sometimes became perfunctory in martial arts. It became less intense and more professional after a while. Kendo had mostly refused that easy path, but this boy called Bakugo Katsuki seemed to bring even more fire into her eyes.  

It was close again, but Bakugo’s quick reflexes did help him when Kendo managed to get her inflexible grip around his arms and bring him to the ground.  

This second defeat seemed to hit Bakugo even harder than before; Bakugo sat up slowly, body slumped and not even looking up at her or her mother. When they debriefed, his eyes were far away and his jaw was so tightly clenched he could be crushing rocks between his teeth. She’d expected anger, but silent fury? Quiet dejection? Far less so.  

Her mother noticed too and kept the debrief, well, brief.  

“You can go shower, Bakugo. My daughter and I will meet you in the lobby afterwards.”  

The glare he gave on his way out didn’t have his usual venom. Kendo worried about him when he disappeared from sight. Would he be upset? Would he leave?  

“He doesn’t take any hit to his pride well, does he?” her mom said, more of a statement than a question. Even so, Kendo nodded. “I like him. Once he realizes his anger and perfectionism don’t do him justice, he’ll be an honourable hero.”  

“I don’t want this to hurt the progress I’ve made with him,” Kendo admitted. “Mom, I...I think he really needs friends. There’s this feeling about him. I don’t know what it is, but he’s just so...” 

Kaiya-san smiled down at her daughter. “There are people in our lives that we connect with easily, and those people can make us better or worse, and we can do the same with them. You want to affect and be affected in turn. To make a connection.”  

“Yes.”  

“Well,” her mother huffed a laugh, “you certainly picked a firecracker, but I think he has a kind heart in there. If you don’t give up on him, I don’t think he’ll give up on you. And you’ll never see another young man quite so passionate.”  

Kendo felt surprised at the second-hand pride that welled up inside her at the compliment. She ignored it for the time being and headed to the cleaning closet. “Time to close up?”  

“Just the floor and locker room,” her mother instructed. “The rest can wait until we don’t have a young man waiting for us.”  

The mother and daughter duo worked together at a steady rate to clean the mats of all the sweat and dirt of the day. People would be shocked at how black the water can get from just bare feet and sweaty bodies. Bakugo was quick in the shower, coming back out and staring oddly at them as they cleaned up the dojo.  

“Oi, where do I put these?” He held out the spare keikogi .  

“Wherever!” Kendo called, mid-mop. “We’re going to take them with us and wash them at home.”  

Her mother nodded. “You can wait at the entrance, Bakugo. It will be another ten or twenty minutes until we can close the dojo for the evening.” 

 Kendo got back to task mopping the mats, expecting Bakugo to do as her mother said. She really should learn that Bakugo didn’t take direction well. He came up behind her and plucked the mop right out of her grip, only intoning a hard ‘tch’ as explanation before he picked up where she left off.  

“You don’t have to do that.” Kendo reached for the mop but was blocked by his elbow. “You’re our guest. I couldn’t ask—”  

“You didn’t,” he snapped. “It’ll go quicker if I do this, right? So shut up about it!” 

Why did she continue to let him surprise her? Kendo certainly hadn’t expected Bakugo to be the chivalrous type, but the proof lay in front of her as he moved the mop efficiently over the mats.  

“Thank you, then,” Kendo accepted. “I’ll go clean out the locker room.”  

 Kendo grabbed the rest of the cleaning supplies and made her way to the showers. Those were definitely on the list of things to clean every night. With her hands and some expanding gloves that doubled as sponges, she was able to clean floor to ceiling quickly, only needing to get truly down and dirty with the drains and handles. She showered quickly while she was at it, cleaning her stall last on her way out.  

Finally, it was time to close the dojo for the night. Mother sent them ahead while she did the final sweep, so they began their trek to Kendo’s home.  

Off-handedly, Bakugo asked, “Don’t these places usually stay open later?”  

“Most of the time,” Kendo agreed. “But that’s kind of the selling point for us; everyone else teaches later evening classes during the week, but aren’t open on weekends. Mom only teaches two classes after school’s out Monday through Thursday, but she opens up the dojo for a larger number of classes on the weekends. It’s so more of the students can attend without being exhausted from school. And it helps her be home for the family in the evenings when dad has to work late. Perks of family-owned places, you know. We set our own hours.” 

 Bakugo was silent once again, but this one wasn’t calm as it had been prior to their fight. This one was heavy with contemplation. The dark shadow that her victory had brought over Bakugo’s face hadn’t gone away. And Kendo really didn’t want him to overthink things, so she broke the silence.  

“Fighting you is fantastic.”  

He stared at her as if she was the most incomprehensible thing on the planet, but that suited her fine. She just smiled at him.  

“I can feel myself becoming better every time we fight,” she explained. “I can’t do anything but give it 110% when I fight you because anything less and I’ll lose. I can really let go and give it my all without having to worry about scaring or hurting someone. We should keep doing this.”  

“I. Lost.” He punctuated the phrase angrily, no longer looking at her. “You making fun of me, Hands?”  

Kendo knew why he asked—his pride had taken a hit, of course anyone else having pride in him would be intolerable—but she couldn’t stand that.  

“Hey,” she nudged his side, at least making him look at her even if he was glaring, “I’ve lost way too much in that room to look down on you for losing your first fight there. Losing here is better than losing in the real world. Fighting without quirks is new to you, so my win isn’t because you didn’t meet me strength for strength. You’re strong, Bakugo; you don’t have to prove it to me or anyone else.” 

He was about to interject, but she beat him to it with a small glare. “But don’t insult me by thinking I’d say anything I don’t mean. I like fighting you. Why don’t you just agree to be my sparring partner already and get over it?”  

There was such a fascinating shift of pride and anger flashing on his face, Kendo could only smile at him. That just made the anger part worse. Finally, he looked away.  

“Fine. You want to get beat so bad, I ain’t gonna say no,” he acceded snidely. “But you’ve gotta put up a decent fight, ‘cause I’m not wasting my time. Got it?”  

It was a big victory. A heady feeling of accomplishment and happiness pumped through her when she realized exactly what it meant; she was in, and he had accepted her despite their fight. In his own way, Bakugo was acknowledging her properly.  

Kendo jumped on his back in excitement, earning a big Bakugo ‘oomph.’  

“Let’s get stronger together,” Kendo cheered. “Starting with weight training!”  

“Pfft.” Even though he sounded annoyed, he still braced her legs with his extra-warm hands. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Hands.”  

“I would never accuse Bakugo Katsuki of being dumb,” she swore on her honour, earning an over-the-shoulder glare. “Are you going to stop me?”  

They maintained a level gaze, each one trying to understand what the other was thinking. Finally, Bakugo shrugged and turned back around. “Do what you want.”  

And that’s how Bakugo ended up carrying her home.  

 

Chapter 6

Summary:

Meet the Kendos!

“You should jump on my back sometime.” It was mostly teasing, but they were also approaching Kendo’s house and Bakugo seemed to be getting more tired by the step. “For equality.”  

“Not fooling anyone, Hands,” Bakugo grunted.  

“I’d never dream of it.”  

“STOP PATRONIZING ME!”  

“Then let me carry you!”  

“I’M NOT A BABY!”  

“Neither am I, your highness , but I’m letting you carry me.”  

“You want to go again, Hands?!”  

“Any day of the week, Bakugo.” 

A door creaked open in front of them and two heads popped out. “ Oneechan !”  

“Kimi! Miki!” She jumped from Bakugo’s back and ran up to her baby twin sisters, scooping them up with one giant hand and trapping them in a hug. “You can’t be this excited just to see me, you little imps.”  

The girls giggled. “You brought a boy! Dad told us!” 

She felt the red creep up her cheeks and she shook the little girls, forcing a shriek form them. “It’s not like that, sillies! Now, promise to behave or you’re not meeting him.”  

“We promise!” They wailed, laughing their little heads off.  “We wanna see the wolf boy!”  

That sobered her mood almost immediately. “Kimi! Miki!”  

“Wolf boy?” Bakugo strolled up behind her and folded his arms, glaring down at her little sisters with a sneer. “Do I look like Hound Dog to you?”  

The girl’s eyes went wide, and they shook their heads. “No, mister. We meant the muzzle!”  

Kendo’s heart hurt when those thoughtless words hit Bakugo hard as a sledgehammer. She hated watching the boy flinch and his eyes darken with simmering hatred. “So I’m some kind of animal, huh?!”  

Kendo pulled her sisters in close and knelt in front of them, making sure she drew their pretty blue eyes to her. “Kimi, Miki, this is Bakugo Katsuki, not wolf boy. You are not going to call him that in front of me, understood?”  

Both girls nodded, their straight white hair shimmering as they bounced. They responded to the serious tone of her voice, at least.  

“He’s a good guy, and he’s in my hero class,” Kendo said as she pushed them in his direction. The girls hesitated, no longer so excited after their scolding, and Bakugo’s folded arms and dark demeanour didn’t help. “Say hello properly now. He’s not as scary as he looks.”  

Bakugo turned his glare to her. “You wanna say that again?! I’ll show you scary, Hands!”  

“Hands?” Miki, the more assertive one questioned. Bakugo looked startled. “You call big sis ‘Hands’?"  

“What of it?” he snapped.  

This is going wonderfully, Kendo thought, mentally throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.  

“It’s ‘cause of her quirk, right?” Kimi jumped in. “Do you call everyone their quirks? Cause ours are our feet!”  

Both twins, as if they coordinated it, activated their quirks at the same time, ballooning their feet an extra foot and growing several inches in leg-length in the process, putting this nearly up to her height. They also shredded their pink shoes...AGAIN, Kendo could add. They went through more shoes in a month than she normally bought in two years. 

 Bakugo snorted at the large-footed girls.  

“Nah, I’d call you Baby Giants,” he poked them, and both flopped backwards, working hard to right themselves. They couldn’t move their feet yet when they got too big, and they’d been showing off for him. Kendo laughed at the hilarious picture they made. “Babies that can’t even walk yet.”  

“Hey!”  

But they didn’t shrink their feet either, both girls liking the game they’d created acting as little rocking punching bags for Bakugo to push over and then to bounce right back up into his face. They shrieked and giggled with every push and return, and finally the fire in Bakugo’s eyes was back and the shadows fell away as he kept up with the two bundles of energy. 

The porch door opened again, and a much taller figure strolled out. 

“Itsuka? Ah, I thought I heard you.”  

Her dad looked like an Irishman, not a Japanese man, but the red hair was from one of their grandparent’s mutation gene. The blue eyes were all him though, and he was tall as a pine tree. While his eyes were honest and face kind, he had sleeve tattoos and a criminal background, which made his aura was more than a little threatening to people who didn’t know him.  

“Dad!”  

“Oomph,” he grunted when she slammed them together. “You’re getting too strong, squirt. Heh, how was school? And where’s your mother?”  

“School was great, Mom’s coming, she was just locking up, and this ,” she dropped him and reached back, using one enlarged hand to scoop the dumbfounded teen forward, “is Bakugo Katsuki.”  

Bakugo had a girl on either leg holding onto him but still managed to appear nonchalant while meeting her dad. Shoving his hands in his pockets and mutely looking up at him. Dad didn’t hesitate to give a short bow in greeting. “Hello there, Bakugo. Kendo Katashi’s my name. Welcome to the Kendo home—glad you could make it.” 

Just like back in the dojo, Bakugo gave a small nod in return—not once showing a hint of a proper bow in return—but didn’t say a word. When Bakugo met a strange adult, Kendo could see him go momentarily mute. It was a strange thing to grasp. It made her wonder whether Bakugo likes or dislikes adults more than his peers.  

“Come on in!” Her dad held open the door for them as they shuffled inside. Kendo took Bakugo’s school bag and stashed it away in the closet. “We have a hot pot going. We figured after a day of hero training and fighting. I thought you could use some extra calories. We can make something else if that doesn’t sound good, though—we never asked Ituska what foods you liked.”  

 Bakugo ducked his head. “S’fine.”  

This was…different. Kendo had no idea what to do with a quiet Bakugo. Luckily, her father did.  

To help Bakugo into the house, Kendo and her Dad plucked the tiny twins off of Bakugo’s legs, tickled them, and waved them off to play until the table was set and Mom was home, which made Bakugo relax just a little bit more.  

“Let’s all sit down while we wait for my gorgeous, wonderful wife.” Kendo nearly died when Dad winked at Bakugo, turning him beet red. Still, no explosions from Bakugo meant so far, so good. “So, how did your fight go?”  

Bakugo scowled. “Fighting without quirks is lame.”  

She elbowed his side. “You can’t tell me you didn’t learn anything from mom. She taught you how to get out of holds, right?”  

“I got out of your holds day one, WITH MY QUIRK,” he snapped back. “Weak, quirkless bull.”  

“Woah, son,” her dad interjected, lifting the hot pot from the stove and bringing it over, “we don’t think well of that kind of talk here. We learn a lot from every experience we have—negativity like that makes us blind to what you can gain, even from the ‘weak’ things in life.” 

“Heh?” Bakugo pulled a face and plopped cross-legged on the ground. Well, polite Bakugo had left the building. “What’re you talking about, old man?”  

See, Kendo might have been annoyed at that, but from how he was looking at her dad, she got the idea that he was sincerely asking. The sharp interest in his gaze, maybe, or the way his eyes flickered to her.  

“Old man, huh?” Her dad hummed, placing the pot on the table. “Well, this old man learned a lot from everyone’s fights at the Sport’s Festival. Your class made a really good showing.” 

“I said I was going to win,” Bakugo snapped.  

Her father laughed from his gut, putting down the rice, and Kendo jumped up to help grab the bowls utensils for the food so her father could sit at the table. He chose to sit next to Bakugo. “I can respect a man who keeps his word. That was a bold choice, but it looked like they took your challenge to heart. From my perspective, at least, it seemed that your little declaration lit a fire under everyone there. Well done.”  

Bakugo, far from being pleased with the conversation, looked angry. And Kendo didn’t blame him—it wasn’t his proudest moment or his best win. So, as she started putting down the bowls on the table, she got her dad’s attention with a small shake of the head.  

He acknowledged her but also shook his head like a promise that he wouldn’t push too far, but that he needed to push a little more. Then he turned back to Bakugo.  

“So, what did you learn from the Sport’s Festival?”  

Bakugo’s eyebrows shot up. “Heh?”  

Kendo turned her back to grab some more plates, trusting that her dad wouldn’t mess up their budding friendship, but also worried about what was going on in Bakugo’s mind.  

“Don’t be shy.” Kendo loved that nothing fazed her father, and that he didn’t hesitate to speak how he liked no matter who was in front of him. “For the ordinary man looking on, those fights were brutal. You were all pushing yourself hard—you must have learnt several good lessons from them. Kendo says you’re a good student.” 

Kendo took her time grabbing the chopsticks, waiting for his response.  

“....” A mumbled phrase, then, a little louder. “Trying to be sneaky got ‘em nowhere, but it threw me off a little. That 1-B brat shoulda gotten knocked out earlier—then I coulda gotten Deku.”  

He was talking about Monoma, Kendo realized. 

“Situational awareness is something you learn through practice,” her father agreed. “And it’s good to know that you are picking things up, even from quote-unquote weakness.” 

Dad was trying to help him realize his weaknesses too, Kendo realized with a small smile in her heart but not on her lips. The happy feeling only grew when she noticed that Bakugo wasn’t preparing to argue, but just looking at her father impassively, eyes sharp and paying full attention.  

“You know I’ve had to learn to always know how many people are around and where they are in my job,” Dad shared. “It'll save your life someday if you can focus on your job but still know what happening around you.”  

“Yeah? What do you do?” Bakugo was being so polite that Kendo was thrown off. It was nice to see him so calm.  

“I’m a parole officer.” Her dad nodded his thanks to her as she set the chopsticks in front of them and sat back down. “It can be a tough job at times. Some repeat offenders easily fall in with old friend groups or old habits and you have to be the one to report them, or—if they try something with you—bring them in yourself. Sometimes they just want you out of the way so they can go back to how they were. Or they get angry and lash out, not even meaning to.” 

It seemed something about that struck the wrong chord with Bakugo, and his so far light mien turned to a sneer. “They’re idiots, then.”  

“They’re proud,” her father corrected, taking another sip of water. “Hah. Sometimes they’re idiots too. No matter how many people tell them they’re on the wrong track, some of them just never learn to listen. Or they’re too used to how they are that changing scares them. A bit of both, I think. No one wants to become someone they don’t recognize—in some ways, it's the same as losing control. But many of them will get there if given the chance.”  

Her father shot Bakugo a soft smile. “Call me an optimist, but everyone deserves a second, third, or even fourth chance in my book. If they show that they’re willing to learn, I help them along best I can. I love that part of the job.”  

Tension was rising in Bakugo’s shoulders, and, just then, the front door opened. 

“Ah, love!” Dad rose and gathered her mother in his arms, a very affectionate greeting, especially in front of guests. Kendo blushed nearly as brightly as Bakugo when her parents kissed in front of them both of them. “The food’s ready. I’ll grab the girls—I was just getting to know our daughter’s friend.”  

Kendo Kaiya, with her beautiful teal eyes, turned to Bakugo, grinned. “Don’t let him bore you with talk of work—this man could go on forever about the ‘honour’ of helping his fellow men and the many daring adventures it has taken him on.” 

“Come on, love,” her father laughed his way down the hallway, “the Expedition for the Kookaburra was a page-turner!”  

“From over a year ago,” her mom reminded him, washing up in the sink.  

The twins ran downstairs, hugged their mom for a second, and then made a beeline for Bakugo, plopping themselves on his lap without a single thought. Which, since Bakugo wasn’t her or her dad, meant he had two very heavy weights on either leg that would eventually cut off his circulation.  

“Oi, get off of me, brats!”  

“We want an autograph!”  

“HEH?!”  

“You won the Sports Festival!” Kimi piped up. “And aneki says you’re going to be a hero—we want to have your first autographs!” 

“ Please, Wolf Man?” Miki jumped on his leg, making Bakugo wince at the pressure.  

“Only if you brats get off of me!”  

They jumped off before Kendo could reach them and whipped out their autograph books and glitter pens with wide, innocent-yet-devilish smiles. Bakugo was practically forced to sign with GLITTER PEN. Kendo snorted before she could help herself, and Bakugo glared daggers at her as he wrote.  

“There,” he shoved them back at them. “I made ‘em out to 'the Baby Sasquatches.’” 

“Let me see, girls,” Kendo knelt next to them as they opened their autograph books, and promptly laughed her eyebrows off. “’To the baby sasquatches, here's your damn autograph— haha —signed, King Explosion Murder.’ Bakugo, hahaha! " 

Kendo smothered her giggles in her hand and closed the books. “Such a good role model, Bakugo—name-calling and swearing all in one autograph. You realize they’re seven, right?” 

“So?” he gruffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m not gonna put on airs for some brats.”  

Kendo stood and flicked his forehead. “I’m pretty sure you mean ‘kids’ when you say brats, but just in case, I’m going to say ‘bad boy’ and tell you to behave.”  

They gathered at the table for dinner, and with her parents asking the questions, she learned a lot more about Bakugo.  

“What do your parents do?”  

“Fashion. Design and stuff in one of Jeanist’s offices.” 

“How do you like the food?” Her dad asked. “Don’t mince your words—this old recipe can take some criticism.”  

“S’fine. Could use more spice.”  

“What’s your favourite subject at UA? Besides Heroics, of course.”  

Bakugo chewed slowly on his piece of meat. “...Science. Math whenever they start talking about astronomy or whatever useless side-study they force us to do.” 

Like the traitor she was, her mother laughed. “Finally! Maybe you and Itsuka can study together—chemistry and physics are her Achilles’ heels in school.”  

 “Mom! I’m not that bad! I’m not doing badly. ” Turning to Bakugo, she gave an apologetic smile to his dumbfounded face. “Don’t worry about it—they're teasing me, and you absolutely should not agree to anything they say.”  

He slurped his soup. “How bad’re we talking, here?”  

Well, she wasn’t getting out of it. “I’m still an honour student, Bakugo. Science brings it down a bit—”  

“She’s getting consistent D’s in anything related to chemistry,” her mother interjected, not even sugar-coating it. “A’s across the board, but not with chemistry.”  

“Labs don’t make sense!” Kendo threw her arms into the air in frustration. “And lab write-ups are impossible if I don’t understand the labs. That’s nearly half of the grade!”  

Bakugo snorted into his soup. “Seriously, Hands? The labs ? Those are the easiest part! You see literally everything.” 

Kendo groaned into her palms. “I know that, Bakugo. Everyone loves the hands-on exercises, but I don’t. I feel like an idiot every time there’s a lab because I don’t even know where I’m messing up. I understand the theory just fine, but everyone else thinks it’s easy so they don’t know where I’m going wrong.” 

With a snicker, Bakugo picked up a piece of meat and waved it at her. “It is easy, Hands.”  

“If it was easy, I’d do it,” she countered with a snap. “If you’re going to say it’s easy, you’re going to have to prove it.”  

Bakugo rolled his eyes and shoved the meat in his mouth. “Fine. I’ll show you what’s up, but only cause you can’t be worse than Lame Hair.”  

“Lame Hair?” Kimi piped up.  

Kendo patted her sister’s hair. “Bakugo’s bad with names.” 

“WHAT?!”  

“He means the rock guy from the festival,” she continued. “His real name is Kirishima Eijirou.”   

“I know his name, Hands!”  

She shot him a look. “Okay, but do you know everyone else’s?”  

Bakugo ground his teeth together and took a loud slurp of the soup. “They’re extras—I'm not wasting my time with that.”  

“Do you know my name?” she followed up. He glared back. “I’m Itsuka. You can call me that if you want. Or keep with Hands or Kendo; I don’t mind.”  

Bakugo rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything about her offer specifically. She didn’t mind. If he hated the idea, he would have probably protested or yelled or any number of things, but it looked like he didn’t care one way or another. Maybe one day.  

After dinner, Bakugo was roped into helping prepare the dessert with Dad while she and her mother and sisters were on dish duty. The kitchen was close quarters, which made the atmosphere chaotic and homey all at once. Kendo loved it.  

But she could see Bakugo was losing his mind a little. It wasn’t hard to see that he was fidgeting more, getting quieter, and clenching his jaw more and more. Especially when her little sisters hung off of his legs or her Dad had to squeeze past him in the tight space.  

So, when dessert was done, she deliberately didn’t touch him and instead motion him to follow her before calling to her family. “We’re going to my room!”  

“Door open!”  

“Don’t try and pull that on me!” Kendo called back with a laugh. “You can come check on us if you’re so worried!”  

Kendo grabbed their bookbags from the front closet and led Bakugo upstairs, thinking about what to do next. She knew Bakugo probably wanted to get the internship thing out of the way, but she felt like he needed a second to unwind. Pushing him and bringing up his loss—even indirectly—wouldn’t lead to a pleasant evening. 

Her room was pretty normal. She had her martial arts medals hanging on the walls, her belts in a lovely frame, hardwood floors one fuzzy carpet in the middle. She usually laid on that carpet with her homework. 

She decided to act on impulse. Which meant falling face-first into her fluffy, sheepskin carpet.  

“Heh?”  

She rolled over and peered up at the dumbstruck Bakugo. Smiling, she pat the space next to her.  

“I need a second of quiet before we keep going.” That’s the right way—make it about my feelings, not his . “Let’s just lie here for a second.”  

He gave her an incredulous you-can't-be-serious look, but she just laughed. “Come on! It’s comfortable, and clean, I swear. Vacuumed and everything.”  

Crossed arms and a tilted head, he stared down at her like she was the strangest thing in the world before he shrugged. “Ugh, fine.”  

Kendo looked up at the ceiling, counting the spackle, but she saw Bakugo close her eyes in her periphery, arms behind his head. It looked like he would take the excuse to relax.  

“I can hear you thinking, Hands,” he gruffed, eyes still closed. “What?”  

She chuckled. “I’m just glad to see you relaxing, that’s all. My family gets kind of loud, huh?”  

“Your twin brats are annoying,” he seemed to agree, opening his left eye just to give her a side-eye. “Wonder where they get it?” 

That brought a snort out. “Oh yeah. They are little show-offs, and I love them. ”  

He relaxed back, eyes closed. “Sure. But, er, your folks are...fine, I guess.” 

“They liked you already,” admitted Kendo. “I told them about you, remember. They know I respect you and wanted to jump out of the crowd at the sports festival and break your chains. If their daughter cares about someone. . . you know how that goes.” 

“I didn’t need your help.” His angry voice was unusually soft, although the bite was still there. “Why bother?”  

Kendo looked over at his now deeply tense face. “I told you, didn’t I? What they did was wrong. And I’ve never been good at sitting back when someone’s being wronged. It’s why I want to be a hero.” 

Bakugou opened his eyes and considered her, eyeing her up some as whatever thoughts he had on the subject fell through his head. “ That’s why you wanna be a hero?”  

“I mean, I also like fighting, obviously,” she said, motioning to him and earning a grin. “I’m good at it. But I want to do something important, do something great with my life. I want to be someone everyone can look up to. Someone they can trust to always do the right thing. I can change the world and so I will, even if it’s just for one person.” 

That seemed to throw Bakugo, and his silence spoke volumes. Thinking back on her life and on all the people her father had brought home, all the cocky boys who thought martial arts was the place to fight, the rulebreakers and fighters, her heart throbbed. In every case, something inside of her just ignited with a deep-seated need to show them, to set the example, to be the person they could look up to and trust to lead them the right way. Sometimes, that desire became selfish. Sometimes she just wanted to be important enough that people would listen to her. Sometimes she wanted for the world to look at her.  

But her selfishness, she had learned, was more than that—it was the flipside of her greatest strength. Every strength had a weakness, and her heroic heart could turn selfish and glory-hungry if she didn’t tend it properly. That’s why she wanted to go to UA. That’s why she was the way she was, why she took martial arts and disciplined herself the way she did.  

For the people who had no hope or direction, she wanted to give them that and more. For the people who were afraid, she wanted to be a place of shelter. For herself, she wanted to be the person she’d always dreamt of being: a mindful warrior, the kind who fought with the fury of a dragon and protected with the care of a mother...or big sister, as her classmates had dubbed her. That was what would make her happy in life.  

For that reason, she sighed into the silent room. “I’m actually ashamed I didn’t jump in at the festival, Bakugou. That wasn’t me—not the me I want to be. I don't want to be the person to sit back and watch when something’s wrong, but I let myself get talked down by my classmates and let myself down in the process. I didn’t live up to my own ideals.” 

She met his eyes and was surprised not to see anger like she had whenever she mentioned the festival, but instead consideration. He was looking at her like he saw exactly what she was feeling and knew what she wanted. Something about this moment told her that her ideals weren’t an ocean away from his own, but instead were close enough to jump towards. They both wanted the same thing—to be their best. Their versions might be different, but they wanted to be strong enough to do anything, save anyone, win any fight.  

They both wanted to be enough. 

“You could have handled things better at the Festival too,” she found herself saying, “but at least you stood by your ideals and never stopped fighting. To take the medal that everyone fought for when you didn’t feel you’d done your best didn’t feel right to you, and so you refused, and kept refusing, and never gave up. I admire that about you.” 

 Bakugo jerked back as if tugged by a rope, all tense and straight. He hadn’t been expecting her praise, and even though he closed his eyes, Kendo could clearly see a blush passing across his face and smiled across at him.  

It had clearly gotten too heavy for Bakugo. To lift the mood, she chuckled, “Maybe don’t threaten an unconscious person next time, though, okay? Wait until he’s awake, at least.”  

“Screw you.”  

That rebuttal was weak, but she didn’t point it out. 

He opened his eyes enough to peer at her. “That’s why you’re trying to get in good with me? Feeling guilty?”  

She punched him in the closest buff shoulder.  

“Ow!” 

“Don’t you dare,” Kendo huffed. “I wouldn’t invite you over if it was about guilt. It’s normal to invite friends over.”  

He stiffened, but pointedly kept his hands behind his head and his eyes closed without a response. It was a start. And the pointed lack of refusal was as good as Bakugo saying, I guess you’re not completely wrong, which had her feeling a little fuzzy.  

“We should at least talk about internships before you have to go.” She sat up and reached for her bag. “And if you want to make it fair, you can help me pick from the heroes at Endeavor agency. I’d love to hear your thoughts on them.” 

“You’re gonna to do it?” Bakugo interrupted with some sort of dark anger.  

Kendo took a deep breath, feeling the fight coming on. “Todoroki asked me to. I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”  

With all the empathy of a giant to an ant, Bakugo went straight for the kill, “Cause they don’t want you, they want in good with the legacy kid!” 

“Todoroki says it was because of the fight,” she countered. “I don’t have any reason not to believe him.”   

Bakugo spasmed angrily, clearly holding back some choice words for her, but then nearly snapped his neck to look away from her. “Whatever. Be a freakin’ coffee runner if you want.” 

Kendo hesitated. “Bakugo, I’m needed there.”  

That might have been a bit much to say in front of Bakugo, but he grit his teeth with some knowledge in his eyes that showed how, maybe, he knew exactly what was convincing her to go. And he disagreed.  

“You’re giving up just to cater to frickin’ Half-n-Half,” Bakugo growled lowly. “You won’t get stronger if you’re busy babysitting him.”  

It would be hypocritical of her not to listen to Bakugo about her internship when she had put herself front and centre in the discussion of his own, but she also knew from his words that he knew that Todoroki—at least as far as babysitting could be interpreted—needed help.  

Which meant that, as much as she wished she could, she wouldn’t be changing her mind.  

“I know you don't like Todoroki,” Kendo replied, and Bakugo went stiff, “and normally I would listen to you, but if I’m needed somewhere, I won’t go anywhere else. That’s the hero I want to be, and I’ve already failed to live up to it just last week.”  

His teeth clicked and Kendo could see the last of his patience snap. “Stop being such an idiot! He can take care of himself!” 

“Probably,” she acceded, shutting him up. “He can take care of himself. But if I can help someone, why wouldn’t I?” 

He sat up, clenching his fists angrily. “You saying I wouldn’t?!”  

“You would.” Kendo rested a hand on his shoulder, and he whipped his head over to glare at her. “Come on, Bakugo, you know I don’t mean it like that. I just don’t understand why you’re upset—it’s not out of my way and it might even be repaying the favour of him showing my fighting to the pros, and it's still the office of the Number Two Hero, so I’m sure I’ll learn. Why do you think I shouldn’t go?” 

He looked like he sucked on a lemon, but didn’t say anything. He turned away with a huff. “Do what you want. Just don’t come crying to me when you get stepped on.”  

If Kendo had to guess, Bakugo seemed...worried about her going there. In his gruff way, he was caring about her.  

But he was also questioning her strength, which was a big no-no.  

Kendo shoved him over with one heavy hand. He landed with a grunt and he glared, but she glared right back.  

“Do you think I can’t handle it, Bakugo?” she accused. “I can handle anything they dish out, and don’t you dare think I can’t.” 

He rolled whatever words he was about to say around in his mouth, before clicking his tongue and sitting up, getting right in her face. “Prove it.”  

“I will,” she shot back. “I’ll come back with a dozen new things to beat you with.”  

“And not a scratch from anyone,” he added the condition with fury. “You get hurt, you lose.”  

From the way his eyes drilled into hers, that was the most important part of the bet.  

Her lips drew tights over her teeth. “I only lose if you don’t get hurt either. Quid pro quo , Bakugo. If this applies to me, it applies to you.”  

“Yeah?” He chuffed, shaking his head. “The stakes?”  

She considered thoughtfully. Something they could both do, something that would be fun....Ooh! There was something her friends had done that would be hilarious if either of them lost.  

“Sidekick for the day,” Kendo decided. Bakugo crossed his arms incredulously. “It’s easy—you follow the other person around and do their menial tasks for them. Get their lunch, fill their water bottle, carry their bookbags, shine up their hero gear—it was for shoes in high school, but same principle—things like that. You’d get to boss me around or, ” she put her finger to his chest, “I’d get to boss you around.”  

He smacked her hand away. “Whatever. Just don’t throw cause you want to be useful, Hands.”  

“Never,” she swore hand-over-heart, making a small ripple of humour cross his face. “But that means we’ve got to pick someone tough for you to intern with—I want a fair chance here.”  

He scowled. “They better be tough to take me on.” 

“Who else were you thinking for your internship?” Kendo asked. He snorted. “You didn’t seem set on Jeanist, so you must have had some other amazing offers.” 

Bakugo rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow to peer at her. “So what if I did? I’ll meet the strongest and surpass them all, starting as high as I can. Doesn’t matter who I go with—I'll show them that Bakugo Katsuki is the next number one hero, no contest.”  

Kendo shoved him over again, making him splutter. “Don’t be too confident, King Explosion Murder. You won the Sport’s Festival, but we’ve all tasted defeat now and won’t let you win again so easily. You’re in for a fight.”  

The manic smile was back. “I’m counting on it.”  

Her smile started to match his own, she knew, but it felt nice to share the love of the fight with someone.  

“So, who else were you offered an internship with?” she asked again. 

“A bunch of extras, but I got ten offers from the top twenty,” he puffed up proudly. “I got offers from Edgeshot, Ryuku, Crust, Miruko, Shishido, Gang Orca—”  

“Gang Orca! That’s it!” Perfect! “He’s the one for you, no doubt.”  

“Huh?!” Little explosions popped in his hand. “Why d’you say that?”  

“Well, he is the only one on the list with an emitter type that isn’t defensive, but it’s because he’s all about force.” The more she thought about it, the better it seemed. “Best Jeanist is too stiff and focuses on containment, but Gang Orca is tough and handles things with either overwhelming the enemy or through close combat.”  

And Gang Orca is used to being seen as villainous, Kendo thought, without voicing it. Gang Orca was undoubtedly powerful, but it was his personality that she thought would mesh well with Bakugou. Gang Orca has a public image that he has very carefully managed in order to keep his ranking, helped in part because he doesn’t try to be something he’s not. He’s not cute, he’s not cuddly, but he is a good hero and person. Either he’d help Bakugou’s attitude, or he’d just help with his hero identity, or he’d only help with combat. Any combination of those would work in her classmate’s favour.  

"Edgeshot would be good too,” she put in as another option. Bakugou looked like he was at least thinking about her words some. “He would be good at training your close and mid-range combat and he’d be great for your aerial manoeuvres. I just don’t think you’d get along as well as you would with Gang Orca. You don’t just want someone to teach you, you want to make enough of a connection that you can reach out once you have your provisional license and get a real internship, either with them or someone they know. Gang Orca’s a good bet for that since he’s been in the top twenty for ten years now; he’s bound to have some great connections in the industry.” 

“I don’t care about connections!” yelled Bakugou. “I just want to be the best, no contest!” 

“Then pick him for combat and get the connections as an extra perk on the side,” she argued. “Best Jeanist and Ryuku are the older ones with connections, but they’re both unlikely to help you with combat. Ryuku doesn’t have an emitter type and gets too big to focus on the agility you need, and, well, Best Jeanist—”  

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, he has a stick in his ass,” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “But what about Miruko? Bunny’s got some good moves.”  

“Yeah, but she only has a tiny agency, and she hasn’t been in the industry long enough to have the same connections Gang Orca does,” Kendo argued. “If you’re looking for a foot in the door, Miruko’s not the best bet. She has, what, five sidekicks? Enough that one of them is on shift and one is in the office, that’s it because Miruko works alone when she’s in the field. Although, she’d probably like you and your independent streak.”  

Bakugou grinned. “You’re damned right she would.” 

“So, Miruko or Gang Orca,” Kendo agreed. “Let’s pick between the two. The ‘Lone Wolf in Bunny’s Clothing’ or the ‘Pod Predator’.”  

“Was that a joke, Hands?” Bakugou barked. “Fine, I’ll pick the whale. He had better be good, though, or I’m coming for you when we get back, got it?”  

“Got it,” she smiled. “And when you get back and you have a whole new bag of tricks, I’ll get to say ‘I told you so’ to your face.”  

He quirked a brow. “I can still pick the bunny if you’re gonna be smug, Hands.”  

She laughed and waved her hands. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Although, now comes the tough part of this.” 

“What?”  

“Follow up letters,” she said with some sadistic glee. “We don’t want the other heroes to get offended you that you didn’t accept their offers, do you? So we’re going to write a lovely letter saying that, sorry, you could only pick one hero to intern with and hopefully you can work with them in the future.”  

Bakugou looked so horrified that she wanted to push her luck a little more. “And since you don’t need any help, I’m sure you’ll be able to send your four thousand some-odd letters before internships start. All. On. Your. Own.”  

“Grrrr,” Bakugou growled. “Those extras ain't worth the time.”  

“But I’m sure you don’t want to alienate anyone in, say, the top 200, at least,” Kendo giggled as his face contorted. “Wow, I wouldn’t know what to do if I had that many offers to reject. And to do it politely too. Well, good luck.”  

His hands were popping now, and she smiled innocently as the room started smelling like caramel and ozone. 

“I don’t need help,” he snapped.  

“Oh, I know,” she lilted. “But, maybe, you could have a rival keep you company.”  

“Rival?” His face contorted into an extremely un-pretty expression, half-sneering and half-disbelieving. “Don’t punch above your weight class, Hands. Half-n-Half, Deku, they’re frickin’ rivals.”  

She grinned. “But Midoriya never beat you before.” 

The teasing was supposed to bring him out of his shell, but it sent him back in. He hunched over a little, and explosions left his palms. His eyes looked just as angry as they had when she had pinned him to the mat, just as vulnerable.  

“He did, first day at UA,” he admitted, voice tense. “Two on two exercise, he played me, and I just let him. But that ain’t happening again. He and Half-n-Half made an ass out of me. I’m gonna DESTROY them.” 

Kendo nodded. So, rival might be a negative word in Bakugou’s books. All this time, that was what she’d been aiming for, but maybe that wasn’t right. After all, even if Midoriya cared for Bakugou, it seemed friendship was far from what the pair had even if they did have a rivalry. Alright then. Finding a new title.   

“How about a partner, then? Homework buddy, improvement specialist, accessory to murder... any of these working for you, big guy?” 

Bakugou rolled his eyes and reached for his bag. “You’re obvious, Hands, just like the rest of them. Trying to be friendly and stuff.”  

“I’m not trying to hide it,” she pointed out. 

Bakugou couldn’t help but shake his head. “I don’t get you. Fine. Call yourself my damn friend, then, if you’re going to be so freaking persistent.” 

Kendo couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face, even though Bakugou was looking away. She swore she could see a bit of red creeping up his cheeks, even so. Bakugou said she was his friend . After only a couple of days! 

Bakugo waved his finger in her face. “But you’ve gotta earn it! Starting with putting your stupid mouth to good use.”  

For a second, her body buzzed with electricity and her face flushed hot. She couldn’t even think of any other interpretation of his words except for a sudden image of them kissing.  

Bakugo’s face went just as red before he turned and yelled, “You’ll be licking envelopes for hours, extra! Don’t get any ideas!”  

Oh. Okay. That was a perfectly in-character comment for Bakugo in that context, but without context... No! Kendo shook the thought out of her head. Friends. She had only just earned the title of friend. He had no idea what he was saying.  

“Of course I can help! I’m just glad you asked.” 

“I didn’t ask, Big Mitts, so shut up!”  

“Oh, I should come to your place after school tomorrow for the letter—you'll want to send them out before the internships start. I can’t wait to meet your parents!”  

“HANDS!!”  

“If you ask nicely, I might still model for your mom, too.”  

“OH, SCREW YOU!!” 

--- 

Walking someone to the train station didn’t happen every day for her, and for some reason, it felt different from bringing him home. The silence that it seemed Bakugo was accustomed to had been peaceful, almost, in the walk from the train station, walking back the silence seemed charged. There had been a lot thrown at Bakugo tonight—Kendo felt a little thrown too, to be honest. She’d seen him defensive, relaxed, happy….all these faces she didn’t think she’d see. She had known there was more to Bakugo, but even with this deeper look, it felt like she wasn’t seeing deep enough, and it worried her just how invested she’d become in figuring him out. She wanted to see him. All of him.  

It was too much to say she was anxious to spend more time with him, but she wasn’t going to hold back either. So when they finally reached the stop, she put a hand on his wrist, stilling him just a little.  

“What?”  

She sucked in a deep breath. “I know you’ll be fine—you’re strong, and I don’t have to worry about you. But I’d be lying if I said I wanted to leave you here either.”  

His eyebrows shot up, but besides that, his face didn’t change. “So?”  

“You have my number.” She looked him in the eyes, determined. “Just text me, okay? To let me know you got home.”  

He scowled. “I’m not gonna get lost or kidnapped like a frickin’ kid, Hands.”  

“No,” she agreed, “you aren’t. But just because I know that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see a text from you, Bakugo. A simple text—‘You are an idiot’—when you get home, and I’m done bothering you for the night.” 

Bakugo clenched his teeth with a hard clack and glared down at her. “Hands, what are you trying to pull? Why do you even care?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” she shot back, hand never leaving his arm. 

He snarled and got into her face. “I’m getting tired of you looking at me like that, Hands.”  

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m some sort of…” he trailed off, sentence dying on his tongue. “I’m not like the extras, Hands. You don't know a thing about me.”  

He yanked his arm from her and stomped off. Kendo hung around until she saw the train leaving with Bakugo deliberately turned from the windows before heading home, vaguely remembering everything that had happened and her newfound relationship with Bakugo. Friends. Closer than she’d hope to be anytime soon.  

She hadn’t held out any hope that Bakugo would text her that night, so when her phone lit up while she was working on her English exercises, she assumed it was Midoriya replying to her update on their fight.  

King Explosion Murder: You’re an idiot. There. Does that make you feel special?  

She hopped on her phone immediately. 

Itsuka: Absolutely.  

King Explosion Murder: Don’t get cocky.  

 Itsuka: When the King texts me, how could I not get a big head?  

Three dots for a long while.  

King Explosion Murder: Keep that head smaller than your hands, Hands. Now leave me alone! The old hag is pestering me about this and I’ve gotta study.  

Itsuka: I’m already excited to meet her, you didn’t need to talk her up. 😊 

King Explosion Murder: SHUT UP, HANDS!  

 

Chapter 7

Notes:

This chapter went from me writing light and crack-y interactions to full-on angst, and I was not expecting it. That being said, enjoy!

“Bakugo!” Kendo waved at him from the gates. Other students were giving the slumped, angry student a wide berth, but Kendo ran past the perimeter and pounced, landing on Bakugo with a mighty THUD. Bakugo had used his brain and reflexes to move his backpack in time for her heavy body to jump onto him without obstruction. “How are you today?”

“Lugging around a deadweight,” he huffed without rancour. “You eat an elephant for breakfast or something?”

Kendo bonked his head with a fist. “If you can’t carry me then just drop me, King Explosion Murder.”

“Naw. Just saying, you don’t want to gain more weight, hands.” He shot a smirk over his shoulder. “You’ll ruin that pretty girl image.”

“You’re saying I’m FAT?! Oh, you’re dead!”

You shouldn’t insult the person hitching a ride on your back. Kendo grabbed his head and noogied into his head with a slightly larger hand, making his gurgle and roar underneath her. She laughed and Bakugo was shaking too until they heard,

“KENDO?!”

Some of Class B were standing in uniform, staring at their bizarre scene with mouths wide open. From 1-A, she saw Jirou coasting into the school, eyebrow raised.

“Bakugo, run!”

“Hold on!”

She did, and Bakugo ignites his palms and they shot across the school lawn. Wind in her hair, tiny explosions driving them forward, it was almost like riding her dad’s motorcycle. She bowed low to keep the drag low, pressing tight to Bakugo’s broad shoulders and laughing the whole way.

Bakugo stopped only after they were at their classroom door, launching them inside and slamming the door behind with a bark of a laugh.

“Take that, stooges!” he roared at the door as if 1-B was right behind it. He was playing. Kendo laughed right along with it. “You can’t catch me!”

“What a hero!” Kendo faux-swooned forward, flipping herself off his front so he had to catch her, which he did at the last second. He set her on the ground by the hips, and they gave each other matching cheeky grins. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Ha, I’ll charge you next time,” Bakugo gruffed. 

“Umm, guys?”

 A cold wave of realization hit them both at the same time. Their eyes widened at each other, then at their classmates who were in the room, staring at them like three-headed dogs, and then to the hands that had caught Kendo mid-fall and were now resting on her hips.

“Oi, stop your thinkin’, extras!” Bakugo ripped his hands away and waved them around menacingly. “You’ve got something to say, say it!”

It felt like Bakugo’s handprints were burnt onto her sides, and her stomach flipped uncomfortably at the thought. It wasn’t anything. Nothing. Just adrenalin and friendship, that’s all.

“Dude, you have game!” Kaminari whistled, earning a sharp elbow from Kirishima. “Aww, come on!”

Bakugo was in his face in a second, but Kendo wasn’t going to let him punish the boy. So she intervened first, karate-chopping Kaminari’s neck and forcing him prone into Kirishima.

“Are you calling me a game animal?” she asked sardonically. Some of her happiness returned at seeing Bakugo relaxing a little bit at her joke. “Only my dad gets to call me ‘deer.’”

Kaminari whined and rubbed his head. “Maaan, now I know how that copy-kid feels. That hurt!”

“Be lucky she got you first, Pikachu,” Bakugo menaced. “Keep griping and I’ll blow your face in too just in case you didn’t get the memo.”

She tried hard not to smile at Bakugo, but she was never good at hiding her emotions. This was…fun. It had been just one moment in her morning, but it felt good to have that start her day.

“We were weight training,” she gave the broad explanation to the class, getting the proper levels of disbelief. Even Bakugo scoffed a laugh.  “I’m heavy! Bakugo needs to gain all the muscle he can.”

From grins to snarls in a second, it was amazing to see the whiplash Bakugo could give himself.

“Oh, yeah, you guys fought yesterday!” Kirishima realized with a snap of his finger. The class gasped. “Who won?”

Kendo met Bakugo’s eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He didn’t want to admit it, not in the slightest, but hiding it made it a big deal, a dirty secret. But if Kendo said anything, it would make him look like a sore loser as well. After a second of tense eye contact, he rolled his shoulders back and looked up to the sky.

“Hands put up a decent fight,” he finally said, and she smiled wide.

“KENDO WON?!”

For a second, no one said anything. Then Mina fell out of her seat and bowed.

“Queen, take me under your wing!” she wailed. “Teach me to be the crazy Bakugo-tamer that you are!”

“Mina,” she laughed aloud, “you’re ridiculous! Give Bakugo a little credit, here, he’s not a beast! You don’t want to be me.”

Bakugo snorted. “If only.”

Kendo didn’t get a chance to analyze that comment before Mina popped up and clasped both her hands between hers. Her wide scleras were bright and eager.

She insisted, “Tell me what your secret is. Tell me, tell me! Give me the inside scoop on Kendo Itsuka. Come on, pretend this is an interview after a big villain fight!”

Mina adjusted her necktie and presented a pen to her face. “Pro Hero Battle Fist, do you have a statement for the press?”

Kendo grinned and leaned into the fake mic. “Thank you for all your support, but I’m not the only person who could have done this. If we’re the better person, if we act better than we think we are, and if we do better every day, next time, you could be standing in my place. Let’s all aim to be the best!”

Mina, Kirishima, and Kaminari brushed fake tears from their eyes. “It’s so beautiful. You almost forget that Kendo’s basically encouraging us to beat Bakugo's face in.”

She shook her head but didn’t contradict it. Instead, she ducked her head around them and shot a cheeky grin at Bakugo. “You can take the challenge, right?”

He leaned back on his seat with folded arms. “What’d’you think, Hands? I can take anything.”

The challenge was there in his red eyes, an ever-burning flame that never went cold. When she felt like it was time to slow down, that look was there, burning through her complacency and driving her resolve. This boy was the real deal, and she could never unsee that potential in him.

“That,” she told Mina, “is the attitude I’m looking for. Tell me that you can do anything, Mina.”

The raucous energy stilled a little, and Mina gave her a genuine smile. “I can do anything! Even beat Bakugo!”

“Oi, no you can’t!” 

Kendo laughed and continued past Bakugo to her desk, setting up with legs crossed under the seat.

Even with Mina’s boisterous interjection, Kendo didn’t think either she or Bakugo could ignore the open stares of the rest of the class, and that was fair. She understood that it must seem strange. The rest of the class seemed to have built Bakugo up as some sort of drastic, chaotic, violent figurehead, and how he was acting didn’t quite follow that path. It natural. Well, to her. Bakugo was grinding his teeth and strangling his pencil every second one of his classmates looked at him.

Jiro had walked in with a knowing look on her face and a blushing Midoriya, which Kendo realized meant Midoriya had been watching their grand escape from 1-B and had been caught by the girl in question. Kendo couldn’t help but equate him to a lost puppy the way he kept looking down then back up at Bakugo in a frenetic curiosity.

“Midoriya.” Izuku jumped in his seat, and Kendo couldn’t help her small chuckle when the boy looked at her shyly. “Don’t’ be so nervous. Remember what I said yesterday?”

It took a second for the boy to remember, but then his eyes lit up, and he recited, “‘You can’t walk on eggshells around people?’”

“That’s the one,” Kendo affirmed. It felt nice to give Midoriya some positive feedback since the boy lit up a little bit with just that one bit of encouragement. “I saw you fighting Todoroki, so I know you have it in you to be just that assertive. So, tell me what you want to know.”

It was interesting to see her words sink in and his nervousness die, replaced by a kind of determined confidence.

“I guess I want to know how you beat Kacchan,” he explained, and she could tell he was trying not to look at Bakugo’s tense back when he said it.

She hummed thoughtfully for a second, watching Midoriya and, just behind him, seeing Bakugo’s shoulder rise and fall with his deep breathing.

“To be honest, if I wasn’t in a higher weight class, it would have been much, much harder, and it was already a pretty even fight,” she finally decided on. “And the first time we fought, I won because Bakugo wasn’t used to fighting without a quirk, not because he wasn’t giving me a run for my money. Right, Bakugo?”

He didn’t look back, instead extending on hand and flipping her off. Kendo’s laugh couldn’t be repressed.

“Yeah, that’s what I’d expect from the guy who wrote a curse word in his autographs to my seven-year-old sisters,” Kendo teased, and she could hear his scoff from two seats away. She turned back to a wide-eyed Midoriya. “Anyway, the second fight was even harder because Bakugo got more used to it, but he’s very top-heavy, so once his stance shifted a little too high, I went for the legs and pinned him. He never managed to push me off.”

“Lucky...” she heard Kaminari say to her right. She enlarged her hand and made direct eye contact, and he looked away.

“Your ass is grass next class, Hands,” Bakugo growled over his shoulder. “I’ll show you top-heavy! If anyone’s top-heavy, it’s you!”

 This time, about four people in the class sputtered, and Jiro spit out her soda before laughing. Kendo felt her face turn red.

“Huh?! What’s so funny, extras?!” Bakugo had no idea that what his head was such an innuendo, and goodness if that wasn’t cute. But the other found his innocence hilarious, and Kaminari was banging his fist on the desk and gasping for breath. “Oi, I asked you a question!”

“Bakugo, you don’t want to know,” Kendo warned him with red cheeks. He glared at her and then did a double-take when he saw her embarrassment.

“It’s an innuendo, kero,” Tsuyu said with a straight face. “It’s either that Kendo has large breasts or that you would bottom for Kendo.”

“Tsu!” Ochako threw a hand over Tsu’s mouth, but screeched and pulled back, “You licked me!”

The classroom was in chaos and Kendo had no idea how to stop it when they were freaking out about her, and while her cheeks were so red.

She watched as slowly, Bakugou’s light turned on upstairs and his whole body reddened, rising last to his cheeks like an oversized thermometer. She needed to calm them down before someone ended up fighting him.

“I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU! YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT, YOU ASSES!”

“It’s a tacky joke,” Kendo agreed, which took a bit of wind out of their mockers’ sails. “Sexist, too. You wouldn’t let a girl top you, gentlemen? You wouldn’t switch around? You don’t want your partner taking care of you and taking care of her in return?”

The hilarity simmered down at her words, either because they felt awkward or because Kendo had drawn their attention. Kendo tutted a patronizingly at Kaminari, the boy who was most into this and drew his eyes with a smile.

“Come on, Kaminari, you wouldn’t want to lay back and let someone love you?” she murmured, deliberately low. Kaminari’s eyes blew wide open, and she saw multiple guys' mouths drop. “To put yourself at the mercy of someone else? Consider it for a moment—it wouldn’t be so bad to come home from a hard day of heroism, muscles aching and adrenaline fading fast, and have your partner lay you down softly, soothe your muscles and care for your wounds, then maybe a kiss. Then maybe more. You’re too sore to move, but she doesn’t mind. Wouldn’t you want to share that tender moment with her?”

Kaminari fizzled, sparked up, and short-circuited right in front of her. He slid down his chair thumbs-up and with a weak, ‘wheeey’. Jirou snorted and wheezed into her hand, and Kendo leaned back, satisfied.

“Hands,” she turned and Bakugo was openly gaping, “the hell?”

She shrugged with a little satisfied smile dancing across her lips. “It’s sexist to assume the bottom is the female every time—I wasn’t going to let that slide. You boys deserve to be taken care of too.”

There were too many red faces, and Bakugo looked ready to send the red in his face down to his hands and blow everything up. So she shrugged. “It’s certainly easier to make my point like that than with a diagram or something.”

Half the class choked.

“But I’m no Midnight,” Kendo grinned wickedly at the shorted-out boy buzzing in his seat. “If I was, I would have mentioned how easy it would be to step on him.”

“I’ll tell Midnight she has a new protégé.”

Kendo jumped clear out of her seat when Aizawa popped up from under his desk. Her new teacher had been in the room the whole time they were talking. And from his face, he’d heard everything. His impassive face all but screamed death to anyone who dared question it.

“Sensei—”

He lifted a hand. “I really, really don’t want to hear anymore. However, I recommend getting some additional training in hostage negotiations, Kendo. It suits you.”

“Huh?”

“Why?”

Kirishima raised his hand, “What do you mean, sensei?”

He looked over the class and sighed.

“You were all being rowdy and antagonizing Bakugo because he was an easy target,” he stated bluntly. There were a few denials—especially from Bakugo—but he ignored them. “Kendo was a peripheral target, but she didn’t let your comments faze her and actively countered them. She turned the words around on you and took control of the situation. It was unconventional, but it worked, and she did it deliberately. Correct?”

Her heart unclenched when she realized her teacher wasn’t upset, just more discomfited. “Fighting back wasn’t going to do anything—if you’re unbothered and play along, you can command the attention you need to turn the situation around. Being unbreachable is half the battle. Playing along, in this case, meant diving into their chosen topic until they regretted even bringing it up.”

The class stared at her openly.

Aizawa looked at her. “Were you targeting Kaminari specifically?”

“Well, yes,” Kendo huffed, grinning slightly at the shocked-out boy. “He was the easiest to get a rise out of.”

“And none of you questioned it because the topic was uncomfortable,” Aizawa pointed out to the class, to which they all nodded. “It was a good move. Midnight’s done it more times than I can count. While I say that, keep your love lives—and lack thereof—out of this class. Working with Midnight is already irritating enough.”

Well, Kendo was more than a little embarrassed, but it looked like Aizawa didn’t look down on her for it. Still, slipping under her desk sounded pretty good right now.

“And Kaminari, fix that little bug with your quirk—there will be dozens of villains happy to throw you off with a little flirting or innuendo. Many make it their MO. That little speech Kendo gave is tame compared to their methods, so you need to pull it together.”

“Wheeeey.”

Midnight had been told, they found out in art history.

“Oh, Kendo, my little ingénue!” Midnight had squealed, throwing an arm around her. “I hear good things. It’s good to see another young lady embracing her power.”

Bakugo had snorted so loudly that Midnight offered him a tissue for his “allergies,” giving Kendo the opportunity to laugh in turn at Bakugo’s affronted face. Midnight sent a sneaky wink her way.

----

Freakin’ Hands. Bakugo could hardly look at her after what she’d pulled with Sparky, he was so confused. She fought like a lioness last night but then turns around with that soft bull about love and romance, and Sensei had complimented her for it. What the hell? How can she go from one to the other so easily? Like it’s no big deal? No one calls her on it either.

Then she just goes on like normal, smiling at him and laughing when he’s embarrassed and not caring when he snarls or snaps back. Like everything she does is so frickin’ ordinary to her. It’s not ordinary. Hands is the most confusing person in 1-A.

Obviously, that’s the only reason he was annoyed when Hands grabbed Half-n-Half and started walking with that bastard to the cafeteria; because he wants to stop being confused about her and she was wasting time with Half-n-Half instead of being the so-called friend she claimed to be.

“Uh oh, Bakugo looks like someone kicked his puppy,” Pinky dared to say, and he growled. “Actually, no, kicking puppies is probably a hobby of yours.”

Sparks for Brains looked interested. “Yeah, what gives with that face, man?”

“I’ll tell you what.” Mina stage-whispered, “He’s jealous that Kendo went to lunch with Todoroki instead of him.”

“Hah?” He was so shocked that it took a second to sink in what she’d said. “JEALOUS?! What the hell?! You got acid in your brain now? I’m not jealous of IcyHot!”

Sparky whistled. “Man, I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”

“You definitely wouldn’t,” Kirishima snorted. “Dude, you short-circuited for her.”

Sparky planted both hands on his face and groaned. “I didn’t know girls could sound like that in real life! I panicked! Now Mr. Aizawa thinks I’m a screw-up.”

“He didn’t already?” Bakugo sneered, and Sparky clutched his heart in mock pain.

The idiots dropped the jealousy thing, but Bakugo kept thinking it over, getting angrier and angrier. He wasn’t jealous! That implied that he wanted Hands around! He didn’t! She’d been forcing him to keep her company, that’s it, and she kept challenging him. He let her call them friends, but that’s cause it didn’t mean anything except letting her stick around.

He was angry cause she ditched him the day after he let her have the title. That didn’t make him jealous! All these nerds just wanted to lump any guy and girl together into some makeshift couple, didn’t matter if the guy was him. Seriously, why would they think Bakugo Katsuki would date someone like Hands? He wanted to beat her up!

What did people do when they were dating, anyway? It was like being friends, but more touching. Nah, get that stuff away from him.

“Oh, hey,” Kirishima looked at him curiously when they’d say down at the table, “you and Kendo talked about internship yesterday, right? Who’re you going with?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Since Best Jeanist was out, I picked Gang Orca.”

“Ohohoho, I’m hardly surprised,” a haughty voice mocked over his shoulder. “Of course the rabid champion would choose such an animal to intern with.”

Bakugo’s neck creaked as he slowly turned to glare at the impassive, snake-like face of Copy Kid.

“Dude, not cool,” Kirishima protested. “Gang Orca is an awesome pro.”

From the corner of his eye, Bakugo saw the orange hair of Hands and took a deep breath, remembering what she’d said. “They were wrong.” He wouldn’t blow up Copy Kid. He wouldn’t blow up Copy Kid.

Copy Kid brushed a hand through his hair. “Oh, forgive me. I did not mean to insult Gang Orca. Only the feral child who never grew out of his breaking toys phase. Did you have many admirers from the Sport’s Festival, Bakugo?”

Not as many as stupid Half-n-Half. The ass didn’t even try and I’m the one they hate. He clenched his fists but didn’t use his quirk. “Shut up and go away. I don’t care what you have to say.” 

“How uncivilized,” Monoma placed his tray at their table and took a seat. “I’m just making small talk. I wouldn’t want to go unintroduced to the one who corrupted our fearless leader.”

Bakugo snorted before he could help it. “Hands? You don’t know her if you think that.”

Blond eyebrows shifted upwards, and a smile poked at the idiot’s cheeks. “Oh, and you do? Excuse me, I forgot, you do. You were so close this morning, weren’t you? Laughing together and giving her a ride on your back like a common pack mule.”

Any good humour he was using to entertain the idiot quickly died and the anger he’d been building for Todoroki was quickly shifted. “HEH?! I’ll kill you!"

Copy Kid smirked. “How did a boy like you win the Sport’s Festival? Look at you, so villainous and yet so easily manipulated. I tricked you at the festival and now Kendo has you wrapped around her little finger.”

There was a scuffle and before he knew it, he had the Copy Kid lifted in the air by the scruff and had little pops going off in his face. “SHUT YOUR SEWAGE-STUFFED STINKHOLE OF A FACE!”

His face contorted and he laughed as a demon possessed. “See! See! You’re a common thug! A blemish on UA! You reacted exactly how I thought you would!”

“Did you plan to DIE?!”

His quirk warmed his palm and he was about to blow the creep away...until a giant hand covered his, holding it. Ginger hair and teal eyes had arrived.

“He’s not worth it.”

“Heh?!” He turned on her, but her face was grave. “You telling me you’re the only one who gets to knock some sense into him?”

Hands’ face pinched, but she shook her head. “There’s a difference. I do it to stop him, but you're doing this to hurt him.”

“You didn’t hear the BS spewing from his trap!” Bakugo glared at the still elevated bipedal rodent. “I’d be doing everyone a favour by blowing it off.”

“Everyone except for you.” She pulled at his hand, getting his attention again. “You don’t deserve to get punished for this, which you will be if you hurt him. And you don’t deserve to feel this anger when you didn’t do anything. You deserve to keep the moral high ground. You deserve to win this fight.”

It pissed him off. It pissed him off that she was right and he knew it. It pissed him off that her hand was covering his and was working to calm him down more every second. It pissed him off that without the anger in his ears, he could see everyone turned to stare at him holding the jerk like the cretin he was. It pissed him off that Hands didn’t look desperate, afraid, pitying, or anything that people normally looked when he got angry. It pissed him off that she looked so freakin confident in him as if he couldn’t do anything but the right thing.

But he couldn’t admit he was wrong. He couldn’t let them know his shaking was in shame and not in anger. So he took the kid and shoved him at her, toppling both and finally getting his hand out from hers. Her eyes had to look away from him to the Copy Kid in her lap and Bakugo finally felt free from her expectations.

“You take care of him, then,” he growled, stomping back to his seat and swiping up his bag. “If I hear his stupid, girly voice again, he’s going to lose his jaw.”

Maybe literally. Probably not, but the kid was asking for a beating and for some reason, no one wanted him to give it to him. Whatever. He needed to get away from all these people—

“Kacchan! Wait!”

It keeps getting worse.

---

Kendo had sat with Todoroki at lunch and discussed internships in a slightly distant but informative discussion. It hadn’t taken long to settle on being an intern to Kido, since he was close to Endeavor—according to Shoto—and would be able to help her learn more about restraining techniques thanks to his bandages.

“He’s also on the daytime rotation this week too, with Endeavor,” Todoroki muttered lowly. “I asked.”

 The offer number and name were put on her form, and she’d hand it in to Aizawa after lunch. It was a quick decision.

They were talking about logistics and sleeping situations—Todoroki said she would likely be housed at the agency, which left to her asking about the inside of the agency—when a big commotion drew their attention. Monoma and Bakugo. And from the looks of it, Monoma was about to need Recovery Girl.

Kendo was running before she even knew what she was doing.

She could hear Monoma taunting him as if he wasn’t hoisted up the air. “See! See! You’re a common thug! A blemish on UA! You reacted exactly how I thought you would!”

Righteous fury rose up in her. Monoma always knew exactly which buttons to press, and he used them with impunity. It was a role in a play to him, the wild rogue who exposed everyone to their own failings, poking and prodding until they either corrected or made horrible mistakes. It often led to growth when used in battle, but here?

“Did you plan to DIE?!” Bakugo roared, raising a sparking palm.

She couldn’t let him get in trouble. She grew her hands and captured his within her own, feeling the pops die against her skin. “He’s not worth it.”

“Heh?!” He turned on her, enraged. “You telling me you’re the only one who gets to knock some sense into him?”

Curse her and her double standards, but she had to shake her head. “There’s a difference. I do it to stop him, but you're doing this to hurt him.”

“You didn’t hear the BS spewing from his trap!” Bakugo shook Monoma in his grip, probably not even realizing he was doing it. “I’d be doing everyone a favour by blowing it off.”

“Everyone except for you.” She pulled at his hand, getting his attention again. Correcting him in public wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t just let him hurt Monoma. “You don’t deserve to get punished for this, which you will be if you hurt him. And you don’t deserve to feel this anger when you didn’t do anything. You deserve to keep the moral high ground. You deserve to win this fight.”

A million different expressions on his face for the next ten seconds, until he angrily shoved her away with Monoma’s body, throwing them both to the floor.

“You take care of him, then,” he growled, stomping back to his seat and swiping up his bag. “If I hear his stupid, girly voice again, he’s going to lose his jaw.”

The rage was still simmering in Bakugo, barely contained. She saw him deliberately look down and away and recognized the shame in his body language. Her heart filled with empathy—of course, he’d feel shame for losing control, for playing into someone else’s hands, and for that happening in front of all the first-years...

She shoved Monoma off of her, but before she could go after him, she saw Midoriya already running behind him. Well, at least he wouldn’t be alone.

And she had a certain pompous brat to deal with first.

“What is wrong with you?” Kendo shook Monoma in an enlarged fist. “You don’t get to insult other hero students and call them thugs! Why were you fighting with Bakugo in the first place?”

Monoma smiled wide. “Me? Fighting? No, I am the victim! I was only talking with Bakugo about his internship and he turned absolutely feral!”

“Shut up,” Kirishima stood up and came next to her. “Don’t listen to him. He came up to Bakugo and started taunting him from nowhere. Really nasty stuff too.”

“Yeah, and your name came up,” Kaminari added, looking properly upset. 

Kendo glared at Monoma. “Mine, huh? What did you say, Monoma?”

Monoma laughed hysterically. “You really are his new white knight, Kendo, huh? You’re trying to tame the beast with your beauty? How cliché!”

“Quiet, you,” Kirishima snapped, turning to Kendo now. “Look, you should probably go after Bakugo. This creep kept saying things like you using him or manipulating him. He’s going to be upset.”

She felt her fury return. “Tokage!”

Her classmate ran up and hung her head. “I’m sorry, Kendo.”

“Keep a better eye on him,” she dropped the boy at her feet. “If he goes around provoking everyone that he’s jealous of, he’s going to make a lot of enemies. You should take him to Vlad King for discipline.”

Tokage nodded seriously. “Of course. I’m sorry for not realizing this was coming, Kendo; I knew they were in a mood about what they saw this morning, but I didn’t think they’d take it up with Bakugo.”

Kendo sighed. “I understand. I know there isn’t a lot of love between 1-A and 1-B, but is it bad for me to try to make friends in this class?”

With wide eyes, Tokage vehemently denied it. “No, no. We’re glad you’re settling in, Kendo, and that you’re happy.”

“Then make sure they all respect that.”

Kendo grabbed her own bag and went for the door. If she hurried, maybe she’d be able to find Bakugo before the bell rang for Heroics Class.

It didn’t take long. Bakugo was probably headed closer to the classroom, but not in it, and wanted to find a quiet place to restore himself. He’d take the stairs up to the classroom, and—

“—chan, I never lied to you!” she heard Midoriya say, voice trembling. “I’m not looking down on you!”

“Leave me the hell alone, Deku!” She heard the crackling of explosions; Bakugo was gearing up to use his quirk. “You wanna fight?! Huh?! I’ll make you wish you were never born!”

“I’m not scared of you anymore, Kacchan! I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were alr—”

SNAP!

Kendo arrived at the top of the steps in time to see Bakugo’s fist connect and break Midoriya’s nose with that sickening crack. There was still smoke in the air and a singed handprint on the front of Midoriya’s uniform. Midoriya cried out and cradled his injured face as Bakugo’s chest heaved in anger.

“Always trying to follow after me, always there, always waiting for me to give you the time of day,” Bakugo wheezed. “That’ll teach you, Deku. Hah, you think I’m weak? You think I’m like you? YOU THINK I NEED SOME WEAK LITTLE NERD THINKING I NEED CHECKING ON?! GOT IT?! I HATE YOU, DEKU! EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU PISSES ME OFF! YOU’RE STUPID AND USELESS AND YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN TO QUIT!”

Kendo couldn’t' believe the malice she was seeing.

She couldn’t let it continue.

“Bakugo.”

Both boys froze and looked up to where Kendo was standing, and she walked deliberately down each step.

“Kendgo-crk-kun,” Midoriya greeted with a wave, words coming hard as she knew blood was going down his throat and his nose would let him use his nasal. “Ibt’s, grk, not bwhat it looks ligke—”

“I saw Bakugo break your nose, Midoriya,” Kendo stopped in front of him and had him lift his nose to examine the wound. It was bleeding down to his shirt, and Kendo pulled tissues out from her bag and gave him the packet. “Hold a few of those on gently and then we’ll go see Recovery Girl. You need that healed before Heroics.”

“It’s not—”

She levelled a severe look at him, and the small boy swallowed harshly. “Yes, ma’amb.”

She nodded, then took a deep breath. Her heart hurt from everything that had happened, she wouldn’t lie, but she needed to lock that away for a second and deal with Bakugo calmly. Like every time.

“Bakugo,” she turned to the boy who was still shaking with anger, “take a few minutes to calm down, then go to Aizawa-sensei and tell him what happened. Tell him what happened with Monoma, then tell him what you did to Midoriya. I understand that you’re at the end of your rope, but you are out of line and it’s sensei’s job to bring you back in line.”

Little pops in his fist and Bakugo’s angry clenched expression never looked up.

“I don’t know your history, you two,” Kendo looked between them, “but whatever it is, it’s no excuse for your actions or words, Bakugo. I’m...”

She felt herself getting emotional, so she buckled up tight. “I expected better from you. That wasn’t the man I thought you wanted to be.”

He didn’t look up, but Kendo had to look away. Midoriya needed to go to Recovery Girl.

“Come on, let’s get you healed up,” Kendo said, moving his head forward. “Don’t lean your head back—it's better for it to go out than go down your throat. Don’t press so hard either.”

Kendo didn’t see Bakugo move at all in her periphery, seemingly frozen in place. It hurt her only a fraction of how he must be feeling. She’d need to ask her dad what to do next about the volatile boy.

“Kemdo,” Midoriya said through his tissue, and she met his wobbly smile and sad eyes, “Kabchaan is bedter now. Dom’pt gib up on himb.”

Softly, she wrapped an arm around Midoriya and supported him forward. “I won’t. Bakugo was having a bad day, and you two have a history that I won’t even try to understand right now—this wasn’t him at his best. But that doesn’t mean I will accept his behaviour, Midoriya. Friends call you out when you’re wrong. He doesn’t get a pass from me to be horrible to you.”

Midoriya teared up, although it might have been partially from the harsh step they took on the landing jostling his hand against his nose. “No, Kemdo, I shouldm’t hab followed. But you are so brabe wiph him, I wanted to be brabe.”

Kendo understood. “You were brave, Midoriya, but you were also kind of foolish. Bakugo communicates harder emotions differently. You know that. That means you shouldn’t use language that shows any sort of pity or care when he would be embarrassed. Shame feeds into pride, and Bakugo has a whopping helping of both.”

He nodded, but Kendo wasn’t done. She waggled a finger in his face. “But that doesn’t excuse him either. Just because we empathize with him doesn’t mean he can’t have empathy for us in return. You were concerned, and he could have taken that as a reflection of you and not a reason to be insecure in himself. You didn’t deserve to be a punching bag for him to let his anger out on.”

Midoriya rubbed his eyes and looked up at her with determined eyes. “I’mb not. Not anymore. I’ll do bedder next timeb.”

‘Not anymore,’ huh? Kendo tucked that observation away. It seemed like Bakugo’s anger was not a recent or unexpected development. And apparently, it wasn’t the first time he’s hit Midoriya. The thought dug hurtfully into her heart.

She opened the door to Recovery Girl’s office and met her unflinching gaze.

“You again, Midoriya?”

Midoriya apologized often and hurriedly to their nurse for being back in her office—how many bones has he broken in just the first month of school?—but Kendo’s mind was on Bakugo. The frozen, trembling anger, the shame she knew he felt but had no idea how to help him through it, it was all so hard to see. Whether he wanted to be friends with her when she’d seen him at such a low moment was unclear. And to top it all off, she didn’t know how much trouble he would get into with Aizawa-sensei, or whether he’d blame her for forcing him to tell their homeroom teacher what had happened.

 Either way, Midoriya was right—she couldn’t let this affect their relationship. Not in a negative way, at least.

So she shot a short message to her dad and asked, as vaguely as possible, what to do when you’ve reprimanded a friend for something very serious. How you react.

His reply was immediate.

Dad: You disapprove of the action but not the person. That means that outside of whatever discipline or help they might need, you should treat them the same way you normally would. There will be natural consequences in your relationship and you may need to talk about it, but there’s no need to make things more difficult by holding onto hurt. Just make sure they’re on the same page as you. Does that help, honey? 

Kendo’s heart fluttered softly in agreement. Her friendship with Bakugo was very new, but she didn’t want to lose it, and knowing that going on as normally as possible was an option soothed her. She could do that.

Itsuka: Yeah, dad. Thanks.

Unfortunately for Kendo, Bakugo got sent home early and was assigned a one-day suspension for fighting (so was Monoma). And since it was Thursday and Monday morning was when they’d be leaving on internships, Kendo wouldn’t see him until they were all set to get on the train that day.

But she wanted to try. Or at least give him the option to make things better.

Itsuka: Hey, Bakugo, am I still allowed by your magnanimous highness to come over and lick envelopes tonight?

King Explosion Murder: You’d better. Here’s the address.

It was amazing how quickly that reply came and how out of character it sounded for Bakugo. Shouldn’t he be more upset? It probably didn’t matter—Kendo was just happy to be invited. And sending letters might be the perfect chance to talk.

Chapter 8

Summary:

Say hello to Mitsuki, everyone!

Midoriya still had his training session, and neither of them mentioned how Bakugo was supposed to be there. Kaminari tried, but Kendo cut him off immediately with a chop to the neck before Midoriya could get upset.

The better news was that Midoriya made progress! He didn’t break any bones, and they started him at the lowest power setting he could activate his quirk at—the aptly dubbed 1%, as per Midoriya. After what she’d said in class, Midoriya had apparently taken to heart the need to distribute his quirk all over his body, and it gave him much more stable control over it. Mr Aizawa, although devoid of expression, seemed happy with the improvement. By the end, he was slowly making his way up to 3% by their teachers recommendation.

Her day wasn’t over when training was, however. She hopped on a train with Midoriya to go to Bakugo’s, which was interesting. Midoriya tended to mumble nervously when anxious, and Kendo had to link arms with him to pull him off the train when he got distracted by the throngs of people still commenting on the Sport’s Festival. She even walked him home and waved hello to his mother.

When she got to Bakugo’s she took a moment on the doorstep to center herself. The text hadn’t sounded like him, and that meant something was wrong. She had to be prepared for whatever lay ahead.

It turns out she was right.

Bakugo didn’t text like that.

His mother, however, did.

“You must be Hands!” Mrs. Bakugo grinned from the doorway. Kendo was stunned to see Bakugo’s face on a woman’s body. The same sharp red eyes that seemed to see everything, the same killer jaw, the same hair. Except for Mrs. Bakugo was a bombshell while Bakugo was just a bomb, full stop. “Sorry, the brat didn’t save your name in his phone, just one of his silly nicknames.”

“Heh, that sounds like him,” Kendo agreed, still slightly confused. “I’m Kendo Itsuka. You must be—”

“HANDS?!” Bakugo appeared behind his mother in sweatpants and a skull t-shirt, gaping at the door. “The hell?! I never gave you my address!”

“No, but I did,” Mitsuki teased, holding up his phone. Oh, that's why I got the text back. Bakugo seethed as his mother taunted him with his phone, barely holding it between two fingers. “Sorry for tricking you, sweetie, but when one of his friends texts him on his confiscated phone and says they still want to come over, well, I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Do you know what the best punishment is for an introverted brat like Katsuki? Embarrassment and socialization.”

Mitsuki turned around, leaving the door open. “Come on in, Kendo. You're very welcome here. Oh, and call me Mitsuki; you deserve it for putting up with him.”

Kendo bowed and followed the matriarch into the house under the seething eyes of Bakugo.

“Thank you for having me over, Mitsuki-san,” Kendo offered while slipping into the guest slippers.

Mitsuki tutted. “Don’t thank me. I’m grateful to have an extra person here now that the brat’s in a stink. Suspended for fighting, did you know?”

Kendo hesitated, then put her bag down. “I do know. I was there.”

“Oh, really?” Mitsuki led her over to the front room a little too hurriedly and sat next to her on one of the leather couches. Her host leaned in dramatically. “The brat’s being tight-lipped about the whole thing. They told us he broke another student’s nose! Why don’t you tell me what happened? I need the dramatic details.”

Bakugo stomped over in a rage. “Hag! If I wanted you to know, I would have told you!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me!” Mitsuki snapped. Looking at them reminded Kendo of two dogs gnashing teeth at each other. “If you’re not going to own up to your mistakes like an adult, I have to ask someone else to rat you out like a child!”

“Hell no!” he roared.

Kendo deliberately cleared her throat, focusing them on her. She bowed her head. “Mitsuki-san, with all due respect, it isn’t my responsibility to tell you what happened. He was definitely wrong to hurt someone like he did, but that’s something he should be admitting to. The authorities in his life are responsible for his discipline, but I’m responsible for his support. Even if I don’t like what he did, I do like having him as a friend and I needed him to know that. That's the reason I'm here.”

Mitsuki stared at her, lips parted as if unsure of what to say. Behind her, Bakugo was staring at her with hard eyes and a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, which made her wonder how often his feelings had been validated when he’d acted out. His actions were horrible, but the anger and frustration behind them were things he needed acceptance and help with. Censure the action, validate the person. 

“Katsuki,” Mitsuki-san turned around, “the hell?! Brat, how were you able to pull off a friend like this, huh? She’s darling!”

Bakugo bared his teeth. “Who said we were friends, hag?”

“Says the fact that you went to her place last night,” Mitsuki-san waved in her direction, and she grinned a little perniciously. “Are you going to tell me what happened now, huh? Or are you going to keep acting like a toddler in front of your friend?”

Bakugo sighed like a whiny teenager but sat down next to her at last, slumped over and not looking at either of them. It was strange how some proximity reassured Kendo. Bakugo hasn’t fought her presence yet, so she basked in his very distinct caramel and crème brûlée scented presence, waiting for him to say something.

“It ain’t a big deal. That Copy Kid shoulda been the one getting wrecked,” Bakugo growled.

“Monoma,” Kendo elaborated for both Bakugos. “He’s in my old class, 1-B. He got suspended too for provoking Bakugo and being, well, hateful. You should know that Bakugo didn't start this.”

"Well, that's reassuring, at least," Mitsuki-san snarked. "Well, brat? What happened?"

“He was picking a fight with me,” Bakugo snapped. “I was inches from blasting him to kingdom come. Idiot.”

“Your other friends told me a little of what he said,” Kendo interjected, earning a sharp look from him and an appreciative glance from his mother. “You know Monoma lies all the time, right? Never ones you can prove, but all the doubts you have in your head, he somehow guesses. Sometimes he’s off, but he’s made it an artform to get into people’s heads and bring out the worst in them—it makes him feel good. Not to mention he felt butthurt that I was actually having fun in the despised 1-A.”

“Tch.” Bakugo rolled his eyes and looked away. “Of course I figured that out, Hands. I’m not an idiot. It just pissed me off.”

Kendo nodded. “You’d have to be a saint not to get a little angry.”

“Pfft, a saint,” Mitsuki-san laughed. “That’s certainly not my kid.”

“Shut up, hag!” Bakugo adjusted in his seat. “Hands here was around, so I shoved the bastard off onto her to deal with and left. I didn’t blow him up even though he was asking for it. And then frickin’ DEKU FOLLOWED ME.”

His mother interjected then. “Little ‘Zuku? He’s the kid you socked in the nose? Brat, I thought you were over bullying the kid! Over a year with no calls about him and then you go and do this? AGAIN?! I’ll have to call Inko and apologize for you since I know you won’t do it yourself. That poor boy.”

Bullying?

Bakugo sneered. “It ain’t my fault! Deku’s always getting in my way! Making me babysit his feelings, and I’d had it! So what if I punched him?! He can take it! He deserved—”

“He didn’t,” Kendo interrupted, grabbing his arm and turning him until he was looking her in the eyes. “You didn’t deserve the abuse Monoma said to you, and Midoriya didn’t deserve to have his care for you returned with a fist and harsh abuse in turn. Stop lying to yourself just to avoid the uncomfortable truth that you were wrong.”

Mitsuki-san looked between them and nodded. “She’s right. So, are you going to man up and talk to Izuku, or am I going to have to apologize for you again?”

Bakugo glared up at his mother with venom. “I’m not making you do anything! Deku got what was coming to him!”

Mitsuki pursed her lips but didn’t respond. She just pulled out a phone and left the room. Kendo got the feeling she really was calling Midoriya’s mother, and part of it was just to spite Bakugo for refusing to do it himself.

“Is what Midoriya did so bad?” Kendo asked, glancing over at him. “Did he really, in your words, ‘deserve it’?”

His jaw snapped shut and he ground his words between his teeth. “You don’t frickin’ know a thing about it, Hands.”

“I don’t have to,” she pressed gently. “It’s not my job to judge you or to make up for your behaviour, that’s yours. I’m just trying to understand. Objectively, Midoriya asked you if you were okay and then you punched him in the nose. That's what I heard and saw. And you were shaking, Bakugo. You can’t tell me you were fully in control of yourself. Honestly, I wouldn’t believe you if you did.”

Bakugo ground his teeth tight, and Kendo couldn’t help but point you, “You know, you might need a mouth guard soon. All that grinding has to give you some wicked headaches.”

Some tension faded as Bakugo alternated between loosening and tightening his jaw like he was trying both out, or maybe like he knew she was right but wouldn’t implement under the duress of her words but still wanted to fix it. Cute.

“Shove off, Hands.”

“And lose a sparring partner?” She gave him a playful nudge. “Not a chance.”

Sensing that Bakugo was reaching his limit, she let them sit in silence for a while. In the background, you could vaguely hear Mitsuki-san on the phone, but that wasn’t a good thing for Bakugo’s temper. She needed to do something to make it better, somehow.

Yet, the only thing that could make it better was Bakugo’s acceptance, and that was wedged somewhere between his pride and his anger and his impossible expectations.

“R’you expecting me to apologize or something?” he huffed. 

“I wish you would apologize,” she said softly. The tension felt like static against her skin. “You’re so much better than what I saw today.”

He looked as if he’d just sucked a lemon, so she nudged him. “Remember what my mom said? Strength is something you build, not something you are. Admitting when you’re wrong? It’s a part of that.”

He finally looked at her, but it was with a wild snap of his neck that she was sure would hurt in the morning. “Are you saying I’m weak just because I’m not going to get all touchy-feely with Deku?!”

Kendo shook her head. “What? No! I’m trying to say that when we’re wrong, the strongest and most heroic thing we can do is apologize and make it right.”

Whatever patience she’d been dancing on with Bakugo snapped suddenly and without any warning. One second was all it took for Bakugo to shoot to his feet and round on her.

“Now I’m not heroic?!” he snapped, fists clenched. “If you don't like it, then get out of here! I told you and Deku to leave me alone! I told you! You don’t get it! I don’t want your help, your pity, your idiotic, stupid feelings trying to distract me and make me the same as you dumb, weak, EXTRAS!”

He was livid. Face red, spewing what seemed like fire but was just a few bits of spittle with his ranting, and small pops coming from his hands. He was shaking with rage the same way he had this morning.

“I’m not trying to give you any of that,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m not trying to do anything to you, just be there for you.”

His red cheeks darkened into a near-purple hue. “THE HELL?! Don’t try that BS on me! You’re just like everyone else! You see some angry kid and you want to what, fix me? What’ll it take, huh?! When will you get the memo that it ain’t happening?! Do I need to deck you too, Hands?! I’LL BEAT YOU BLOODY!”

Kendo stayed seated and simply said, “Would I deserve it, too?”

A vein looked set to burst on his temple, but his body locked in place at her accusation.

“I am not going to condone your behaviour, Bakugo,” Kendo asserted firmly. “You don’t get a pass to yell and throw a fit just because I’m your friend. I care about you, yes, but that means I want you to be better. You were wrong. Why can’t you accept that?”

This would be a pivotal moment, she could feel it, but she had to stay in control. She had to refuse to rise to his baits. And yet, underneath, her blood was boiling dangerously. She wanted to call him out, fight him, make him see that he was wrong.

“I’m not WRONG!” He was in his fighting stance now, palms up and out, eyes lit with fury, and she felt herself get angry right along with him. “Little bugs like Deku don’t matter! Who cares what I do to some cockroach that keeps getting up no matter how many times he gets squashed?!”

“I do.” Kendo interrupted his tirade with words before she had to interrupt it with her fist to Bakugo’s face. She was getting angrier and angrier the longer he spoke about Midoriya. Something dark lived inside this boy when it came to their classmate, and she was repulsed by its ugliness. “Don’t talk about him like that. He’s not a bug, he’s a human being!”

Bakugo snarled, “So what? Either way, he’s a useless Deku! Everything would be great if he just keeled over and did us the favour of dying!”

Kendo was on her feet in a second, in his face, so close she was nearly forehead to forehead. It was that or slap him. “Don’t say things you’ll regret, Bakugo. Other people matter! You are not the beginning and the end! You’re not special! You’re gifted, you’re talented, but you’re also just like everyone else, and that means you’re not perfect! And that’s okay! It’s okay to be imperfect so long as you ACCEPT IT and TRY TO BE BETTER, instead of living in this angry denial that hurts you and everyone around you!”

Bakugo backed up a step and his sneer turned satsifed in an ugly, ugly way.

“So, that’s what it takes to make you lose it, Hands,” he gloated. “You’re no better than me now, are you?”

A frisson of cold hit her heart, and she stepped back. How dare he? “I’m not better than you. But, unlike you, I never claimed to be. Unlike you, I believe I’m allowed to be less than perfect now and again. And I don’t try to tear people down just to feel better about my anger issues, Bakugo.”

Bakugo’s hands popped dangerously, and the room started to smell like burnt sugar and ozone. “Still calling me your friend, Hands? Hah! Give it up! I know what you really think of me now! YOU HATE ME! YOU THINK I’M WEAK! YOU THINK THAT I’M A VILLAIN WHEN YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE ARE JUST TOO WEAK TO REACH MY LEVEL!”

 Kendo clenched her fists by her side. “Is that why you want me angry? To prove I have a weakness? Because guess what, that just proves that you know your anger is wrong and refuse to be the bigger man. I’m being more of a man than you are!”

“You—”

“SHUT UP!” Kendo screamed. “I don’t hate you! I don’t think you’re weak! I want to be your friend! But I think you better get yourself checked out because if you keep going on like this no one in Japan will trust you to save them! You’ll never be a hero if you can’t see that people need you to be more than just a glorified grenade launcher! They need a leader, not a bully, and I don’t think you know the difference!”

She’d crossed a line and she could see it in his face. It went from crazed to dangerously, obviously blank. There was a twitch in hi right arm. Two twitches in his face. Words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t spew them. In the time it took for her to blink, Bakugo had sped past her and was already by the stairs. Silent like a spectre, Bakugo climbed them and left her alone.

The silence made the distance seem even wider than any of their yelling. Without him there, her rage dimmed to an ember in seconds and guilt replaced it. She really, truly, didn’t think she would ever fully understand Bakugo Katsuki. One minute he was raging with anger, seconds—by his admission—from hitting her the same way he’d hit Midoriya, but then he was silent and walking away with all the severity of a priest coming from a dark confession.

That had been ugly, and it hadn’t just been Bakugo. Her heightened emotions towards Bakugo turned inward without hi there, and all it left was a bitter guilt. She’d escalated it. She’d lost her cool for once and yelled and screamed and was genuinely hurtful. She’d called him a glorified grenade launcher, which had felt like such a sweet comeback line in the moment but had demeaned him in the same way he’d demeaned Midoriya; it had made him into less of a person. She felt sick at the thought.

Maybe…maybe this would be good? Friendships can get stronger with arguments and maybe she could apologize? Show him that it doesn’t make you weak?

But the biggest blow was that he had probably lost all respect for her. He respected her for her strength, for her ability to face him down, but this time…this time she had taken his bait and shown him weakness. She might have blown her chance. Would he respect her less for apologizing? More? Would it do any good at all?

“Well, that was unpleasant, bra—” Mitsuki-san came back into the room and looked around. “Where’d Katsuki go off to?”

Kendo looked up the stairs. “He…needed some time alone.”

 “That boy.” Mitsuki flung herself into the armchair. “Alright, lay it on me, how upset is he? I want to know if he’ll need new windows again.”

Kendo mulled it over. “Bakugo was completely silent when he left.”

“Ah, in this house, that’s a Code Blue,” Mitsuki peeked at her with one eye and tired but joking grin, like Ms. Joke after a long fight. “You guys went at it too, right? I can hear his dulcet tones from anywhere in this house nowadays. Yelling then quiet is a bad combo, but at least he won’t be destroying any windows or furniture this way. I like to think he does that so he doesn’t blow us up, like one final attempt to control his temper, but who knows what goes on in that head of his?”

Kendo agreed wholeheartedly, though her heart hurt. “I wasn’t very kind to him, Mitsuki-san. My temper got the better of me.”

Mitsuki snorted. “Yeah, that tends to happen around the brat. Heaven knows, I try to keep my cool, but the brat knows I match him in anger and always finds his way under my skin. Honestly, he probably does it on purpose. It’s always when you’re trying to teach him something important that he’ll go off on his own growl at anyone who tries to follow. He’s too independent for his own good. Don’t worry about it.”

As reassuring as it was to hear, it didn’t help her feel much better. “I want to apologize to him. This was the last straw for him today, and I wanted to come here and help him feel better, not worse. I know how much being a hero means to him, to all of us, and I can’t let him believe I doubt him. He can be a good hero, I just...”

 Mitsuki-san looked her over with a surprisingly soft expression like she understood the feeling better than anyone. She felt some solidarity with the woman, even though neither addressed it.

Mitsuki made to stand.

“If you want to apologize, well, I won’t stop you. But it’s better to let the brat think a bit when he’s gone non-verbal. Tell you what, I was going to invite you to stay for dinner anyways—want to help out with it? You can bring some to Katsuki when it’s done, make it a part of your apology too. It’ll give him a chance to cool down.” She sent a soft, forlorn look at the ceiling. “I get the feeling he won’t be coming down again tonight anyway.”

Kendo bowed, hand over her heart. “It would be an honour, Mitsuki-san. Thank you.”

So she and Mitsuki-san chatted genially over dinner preparations. She learned that Mitsuki was actually a nice, soft sort of woman with a high-class background and formal upbringing, attending a private school as a child that she claimed to have hated with a passion, which is why she sent Katsuki to the local public school where he would be a little freer to be himself. Though she seemed to think it backfired a little. But, Mitsuki-san said, it reminded her of herself. Mitsuki-san had been a volatile child, especially in her classy family. She’d defied her family’s expectations and married a more common man, Masaru, and that she had chosen to model for a while as a rejection of her upbringing.

“But that freer part of my life helped me find a passion for fashion, and I could finally appreciate the life I’d been given with all the music lessons and private tutoring, even if it wasn’t what I wanted at the time. When I finally settled down, I reached out and reconciled,” she told Kendo proudly. “I honestly thought they hated me, but I’ve always been a lot more touchy than my family. They seemed so cold to me while we were growing up. But they were happy to have me back, sensible and happy and settled into my own skin.”

Mitsuki gave a self-deprecating snort. “Katsuki could use the same lesson. Rebellious twerp is going to get it one day, I swear. He’s rejecting everyone and trying to get the whole world to reject him so he can claim he made it on his own, but all he’s going to be is lonely in the end.”

Her eyes raised to the ceiling. “The brat and I are more alike than he’ll admit.”

Mitsuki also asked about her and her family, which she was happy to talk about. It seemed Mitsuki appreciated how ordinary her family was, and when she told her that Bakugo had been courteous and respectful—“Quite a testament to your raising him, Mitsuki-san.”—the Bakugo matriarch had beamed.

Bakugo’s dad—“Call him Masaru! Don’t be so formal!” Mitsuki had insisted—arrived just as the fish finished cooking, and had gone up first to see if Bakugo would come down. There wasn’t any yelling, but Masaru-san came down without his son. It was understood that Bakugo was still very, very upset.

Kendo ate with Bakugo’s parents without him present, and even though it should have been slightly awkward, Mitsuki didn’t let it be that way. She introduced Masaru properly and kept the atmosphere friendly as they got to know each other. The mild-mannered father was a very comfortable man to be around, the tension bleeding out while he was around. He was genuinely interested to hear about her upcoming internship and school so far and was just a pleasant guy.

When they’d all eaten, Mitsuki helped her put together a plate and sent her up the stairs. “Right in the corner on the left. You have my complete permission to go into his room if he doesn’t answer. Go get him, tiger. And chin up.”

With that encouragement, Kendo took the tray up to Bakugo’s room.

Regardless of permission, she knocked. Once. Then twice.

The third time she knocked, Bakugo barked, “What d’you want, old man?! I told you, I’m not coming!”

“Bakugo, it’s me.”

Things went quiet again, and she sighed.

“Your mother and I made food, so I thought I’d bring you some.” She chuckled. “It was weird for me to eat with your parents without you there. I wish you had come down.”

Still nothing. Kendo worried her lip.

“Your mother thinks I should just walk right in and put the food on your lap,” she chuckled into the wood. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate that, so you’re welcome for not just bursting in on you.”

Still nothing.  

Well, now or never. “Bakugo, I’m sorry. My temper got the better of me. I was hurtful and mean, and I said some things that I wish I could take back. I came here to remind you that you’re my friend, but I ended up fighting with you instead. I guess I’m worse at being your friend than I thought.

“I’ll do better,” she said into the wood, hoping he hadn’t covered his ears and was listening to her. “I hope this apology shows you that. You can still expect me to bug you and tease you and fight you. That is if you decide to keep me around. I can’t force you to be my friend or to tolerate me being yours. But I don’t think any less of you, you know—you will be amazing one day.”

Still nothing, but Kendo wasn’t expecting him to say anything at this point. She could only hope he was listening.

“I’ll leave the food in front of your door, fair warning, so don’t step on it when you leave to go to the bathroom or anything,” Kendo said, carefully placing the tray down. “I helped make this food, you know. That’s probably why you’re not interested in it, but you could call it a peace offering between our warring tribes, haha. Maybe you can make me food one day. I know you hate owing anyone anything, so we’ll call it square after that.”

Still nothing.

Even though it wasn’t fruitful, her heart was a little lighter, though, when she left his doorway. There was nothing else to do. She’d apologized, tried to make things right, and was vulnerably open to him the whole while. It was all she could do.

It wasn’t long after that before she said her goodbyes to Mitsuki and Masaru, getting a big mama bear hug from the former, and a teasing ruffle of her bangs.

“For what it’s worth,” Mitsuki-san offered, “the brat doesn’t walk away from fights very often. Shocker, I know. The only times I’ve seen him do that is with me and Masaru, so the fact that he did that with you, well, he probably does respect you, however little it shows.”

Kendo nodded but didn’t comment. It seemed inappropriate to guess at what Bakugo was thinking when he was this upset—this was one of the times she’d have to wait for him to show her or tell her what he was feeling.  

When Kendo didn’t immediately accept her verbal comfort, Mitsuki offered her a hug. Kendo didn’t hesitate to take it. Honestly, the Bakugo matriarch was really helping fill the hole her son had left behind. Something about these Bakugo’s felt like home. Welcoming. She felt like a matching part of the set.

That thought had her smiling as she left the family home. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice a certain boy perched on his window ledge, watching her go with his palms crackling and throwing light onto his furrowed face.

Chapter 9

Summary:

It's time for the first 36 hours of Bakugo's internship. Let's meet Gang Orca and the team! How are they going to teach Bakugo?

Katsuki laid on his bed, tossing a handball mindlessly into the air. 

Toss. 

“You’ll never be a hero if you can’t see that people need you to be more than just a glorified grenade launcher!”   

Catch.  

“They need a leader, not a bully, and I don’t think you know the difference!”  

Toss.  

“I’m sorry.”   

Catch.    

How dare that goody-goody apologize to me!  His hands crackled and pops, blackening a palm onto the ball. He felt better for only a second before shame and anger filled him to the brim and he felt like blowing the ball sky high.  

“I don’t think any less of you, you know—you will be amazing one day.”  

Toss, too hard and too high. He grit his teeth.  

Yeah, right. That was the biggest lie he had ever heard. Hands saying she didn’t think less of him? It had to be a lie. She’d seen him go off on Deku. She’d heard him bully him and push him down. He’d goaded her until she showed her true colours only to have her retract it like it wasn’t what she really felt.  

Catch.  

There was no way Hands still respected him after all of that. She probably thought he was some loser who couldn’t control himself. She’d called him a bully, so, yeah, like he was going to believe that she still wanted to stick around. 

Toss.  

He should send her packing. Hell, she had practically told him to. Unlike Deku, she seemed okay to leave him alone if that’s what he wanted. Maybe that offer is why he didn’t quite feel like cutting the cord yet. Maybe it was how he knew her anger was his fault, maybe it was her offer to stop being his friend, but he felt a little sick thinking of treating Hands like an extra again. He hated the hollow feeling in his stomach. Maybe he should eat something? Maybe he was just hungry. He couldn't actually care what Hands thought. Right?   

Catch. 

Maybe he'd let her stick around. Still, he could let her squirm. Hands seemed to care too much about everyone, and they had a whole week of internships where he could let her worry her pretty head about whether he’d magnanimously let her keep on being friendly with him.  

Toss. 

Maybe they could fight? She said she liked it. If he told her he'd fight her, she wouldn't question it. He wouldn't even have to apologize. She'd get it. She always did. They could fight it out and go from there. 

Katsuki grinned. That was a good idea. Gang Orca was bound to teach him something to use against Hands, and he’d show her that he was amazing right now, no asterisk or qualifier. He’d prove to her that he didn’t need to be some sensitive loser to be a good hero. He’d show her he could win anytime, anywhere.  

He had to show her that he was strong. Then she’d respect him again. 

The handball was tossed onto the desk as he went to get his stuff together and his homework done. The blackened handprint sat there and mocked him until he finally lost it and blew the ball to smithereens.  

---- 

That’s what he decided. Come Monday, he was right there with his class at the train station, uniform in one hand and overnight suitcase in his other—he was going to be in uniform most of the time anyway, so who needed more than a couple sets of clothes?—getting sent off like kids to summer camps instead of off to be heroes.  

“You represent UA when you’re out there,” Aizawa said solemnly. “Don’t give a bad showing. Learn everything you can. We want you to throw yourselves into these experiences. Plus Ultra.”  

“Plus Ultra!” 

“Get going, then.” Aizawa dismissed them all with a wave. “And if you get lost on your way, you’re another hero’s problem this week. Let them know what they’re dealing with and have them rescue you.” 

Sparky actually fell over, worried, and Bakugo might have snorted if Hands hadn’t laughed first. That noise just filled him with determination. He was going to show her. He was going to ace this.  

 And he wouldn’t ace it if he stood around with these losers and waited for goodbyes. He turned and stomped towards his train stop.  

“Wait, Bakugo!” 

Four syllables was all it took for his determination to burn with anger. Maybe it had just taken one,  “Wait.”  Like he could be bossed around.  

He rounded on Hands, ready to chew her out, but he was arrested by the way her teal eyes were narrowed in determination, the way her smile turned to a savage grin akin to his own. She didn’t look angry, sad, desperate, or anything like he thought she would after hearing her apologize through his bedroom door; she was still the same, and it knocked the winds right out of his sails and the breath from his lungs as something new trembled in his gut.  

“Show them what you’ve got, King Explosion Murder.” She said it like a goodbye, but without the stupid words. “Show them what the next top hero could look like.” 

Later, on the train, he would curse Hands to every god in every religion, just to make sure he offended whichever one she prayed to. He would rage about how she had played him like a fiddle and made him feel so speechless. He would secretly—and perhaps, not even consciously—curse himself for being so terrible and weak that he couldn’t say the same thing back to her.  

But right then, his mouth couldn’t open. Katsuki hadn’t beaten his internship yet, didn’t have the new skills he needed, hadn’t proven a thing to her. Any words died before his tongue could taste them.  

All he could do was turn around without a word and head to the train.  Hands would be fine. She was mature enough to not let him distract her from her own internship just cause he didn’t say anything back. He’d show her a hero, no words necessary.  

She could watch Katsuki’s back like everyone else as he rose to the top.  

Katsuki arrived at Gang Orca’s agency like an angry ball of forward momentum, ready to move forward and give 200%. Plus Ultra. But the big man wasn’t there.  

“Huh?!” His jaw clenched. “What do you mean, 'he's not here'?! I'm interning with him!”  

Pro hero sidekick Woman-of-War—so named because of her many dark blue, prehensile stinging tentacles that made up her hair that resembled the similarly named man-of-war—gave him a sympathetic look that just made him angrier.  

“He had to go out on a small mission before you arrived,” she explained, waving him after her and leading him down the hallways. “Gang Orca is the Number 12 Hero, after all, and he’s a busy man. He said he would greet you properly after he returned. Until then, you’re going to be getting familiar with the agency and our ever-favourite demon, paperwork.”  

Katsuki was going to kill someone. “Paperwork?!”  

Her curly blue tentacles flopped a little as she turned her head, a noise so wet and gross that it made Katuski’s vein pop in his temple. Her light-as-white-yet-blue eyes looked eerie as they stared down on him.  

“You want to see what it’s like to be a hero, right?” she asked. He nodded. “Then you’re joining the rest of us sidekicks.” 

“I’m no sidekick, jellyhead.”  

He was ignored by the jellyfish, ratcheting his anger up to 10.  

‘The Fishbowl’ was what the heroes called their main office space. Glass walls and glass, key-carded doors separated the giant center from the main hallways, and it was almost like a waiting room mixed with a clerk’s office. Desks and filing cabinets everywhere, but also couches, fridges, everything. It was all mixed together in one space like no one had any shred of privacy. 

There were also pools in all four corners of the room, which had Katsuki irritated by the waste of space they were.  

“We have a lot of water mutation quirks working here,” Woman-of-War explained, pointing to the various pools. “We considered keeping these facilities in the training rooms, but it’s easier for everyone if we can rehydrate between missions and debrief at the same time, with the extra benefit that teams can bond together while waiting for their calls. The left is salt water, the right is freshwater, that one’s a heated pool, and the final one is as close to ice-water as we could get. Don’t let the others push you in, okay? It’s bbbrrrrracing.”  

The pun was awful, so he just ignored it. So, most of Gang Orca’s sidekicks were mutations, huh? And water-based?  

“I don't think Gang Orca planned to put together this kind of menagerie, just so you know,” Woman-of-War explained, leading him around. “This is a coastal city, and we have a dock in the marina, so the agency naturally attracts the more ocean-faring heroes even if we have to be versatile and good in urban combat situations since those are most of our cases. More than that, though, Gang Orca has a soft spot for mutation quirks. We’re not exactly the prettiest faces in the business. Efficient fighters and predators, definitely, but we can be off-putting without the right marketing, costumes, so on and so forth. Being part of an  aquarium  of sorts is a really good way to stop being the weird ones and get appreciation for our strengths instead of judgement for our faces.”   

Then why had the fish put in for him? Katsuki wasn’t a mutation, he wasn’t even related to anything water-based, and he sure as hell wasn’t ugly. Not that every hero in the office was some kind of fish or mutant, but it was a clear majority. This place was designed for people like the frog-girl, and something about it made his hackles raise. 

 The fish puns continued throughout the tour. The administration was dubbed ‘The Run,’ the legal team the ‘The School,’ and their in-house support team’s office was named ‘The Tank.’  

“We outsource any big or creative projects to support companies, but most of the costumes and gear come out of here. When our  Pod Leader  clears you for field work, here’s where you will pick up an earpiece and some extra bits and pieces for your suit.” 

The sidekicks also had a name, ‘The Pod,’ which was meant to be some sort of loyalty thing to the big man himself. Stupid, if you asked Katsuki. There were even subgroups. 

“Obviously, teams depend on quirks and availability in some cases,” Woman-of-War explained, walking them back into the Fishbowl, “but we have a couple of designated teams. Obviously, Gang Orca has his core sidekicks that go with him on most missions. Me, Needle Eye...” 

Katsuki let the names of the sidekicks in one ear and out the other. Who cared about a bunch of sidekicks? This was insulting. Gang Orca wasn’t even bothered to be here, and now she was spouting off names like they were supposed to mean anything. No one but Deku paid any attention to the sidekicks.  

“Interns are usually hanging onto Gang Orca’s cape,” Woman-of-War shot at him, laughing when he scowled back, “but since we can’t just leave you alone in his office, you’ll come work at a sidekick station. You’ll even get to meet the top sidekick here.”  

“I ain’t a sidekick, lady,” he sneered. “Don’t lump me with you.”  

Her tentacles lifted dangerously as if they were going to lash out, but her face stayed serene. “You’re right. You haven’t earned  that title yet.”  

He grit his teeth at the insult, then remembered Hands’s comment about a mouthguard and stopped himself.  Instead, he bared his healthy, not ground  teeth, don’t you doubt it. Who would need a mouthguard? Not him.  

“I’m not the only one looking out for you while Gang Orca is out,” Jellyhead said, leading him to their station. There was a large group of sidekicks, and by large group, he meant  large  group. Some of them cleared seven feet tall, some of them were as wide as a truck, and all of them looked buff. “Gents! Meet our intern.”  

The group turned to him and they all assessed him carefully. Each hulking member was wearing a matching costume that looks a lot like a wetsuit, smooth and formfitting, and you could see every bulging muscle. He spotted a hippo quirk, some type of shark, someone with water legs, a guy with bulbous rainbow eyes and massive claws, and a few other  tanks  of men. He felt his fingers stretch out and a grin grow on his face. Yes. These were the kind of people he could fight.  

“These tough guys are unofficially ‘The Shiver,’” Jellyhead introduced. “They’re our elite tactical group for the larger operations that Gang Orca is known for. And their leader—”  

“That’s me!”  

From the middle of these big, hulking men popped out a flat-faced, energetic kid that couldn’t be taller than his waist. He had two fins behind each ear and wide, fin-like arms that looked a little bit like sails, and a fish-like tail grew out of the back of his head and plopped down to his baby waist.  

Katsuki blinked hard as the midget stepped forward with a beaming smile.  

“I’m Remora, leader of The Shiver,” said the baby fish. Katsuki blinked hard again.  “You know, ‘cause a shiver is another name for a pack of sharks? And I’m a remora-type mutation? We thought it was clever.” 

Deciding he was done blinking at the stranger, he pursed his lips. “Is that it? You’re a fish?” 

There was no way someone with that kind of authourity was this tiny  and  powerless. Katsuki figured that he must have an amazing quirk.  

The big, hulking group of men behind the midget flexed their muscles and curious looks turned to scowls, but the baby himself didn’t seem offended. He just smiled.  

“I have an emitter quirk too," he corrected. Katsuki smirked. See? He was right. A leader had to be strong. Their quirk had to be powerful, and— “I can glide over smooth or wet surfaces.”  

His temple throbbed. “What?”  

Remora decided to show him. With the grace of a stupid ballerina, he stepped forward with a pointed toe and started gliding around the desk. Then he shifted and fell forward onto his flat face but didn’t change speed, only got faster as he moved the flooring as if he were a fish in water instead of land. The little tyke was fast, sure, but Katsuki still couldn’t believe it. This tiny person with this lame, non-combative quirk was a leader of his own team?  

Remora rocketed back to the group and slid right up the leg of one of his team members and up his back, hanging on like a monkey now. The smile seemed even more genuine after showing off his quirk, something Katsuki thought should be illegal when you’re quirk is so weak.  

“This is a waste of time,” he muttered angrily under his breath. “Hands is gonna die for this.” 

“What was that?” Remora piped up from some shark behemoth’s back. The challenge in his eyes was misplaced with his power level, according to Bakugo. “Something to say, greenie?”  

He clenched his fists to keep from popping off.  

“You're wasting my time,” he growled. “Just give me something to do already until your boss gets back.”  

There were a few noises of indignation from the knucklehead squad, but their guppy leader slid back down Sharkhead and motioned for him to sit across the metal desk from him.  

“It’s paperwork day for my team,” Remora chittered. “We know you go over all the government legalese in your senior year at UA, but you’re going to get a head start by learning how we submit reports, request pay, etcetera. There will be lots to learn, so you better pay attention! It’s our duty to report our actions so that we don’t accidentally become vigilantes, haha!” 

I’m about to intentionally become a murderer,  Katuski thought, vision filling with red.  

He refused to let them win, though. Katsuki could see their glances. He could see the jellyfish’s disbelief, the giant sidekicks giving him the stink-eye for any implied insult to their tiny leader, and then the patronizing smile from the brat himself as if they were all just waiting for him to blow up.  

So he got to work instead. Katuski paid stupid levels of attention to the fish’s teaching and the repetitive paperwork. It took him less than two hours to perfect the mundane task. Sure, Remora corrected him every so often and it made him want to scream and rip his hair out, but his extra-dark pen marks and furious scribbling were his chosen outlet. He ignored any attempts from the fish to make small talk and just got to work.  

He knew if he spoke, he would rip into everyone, so Katsuki stayed silent and internally raged at them all for testing his patience like this and looking down on him. They had even said it! He’d learn this junk at UA! It was wasting his time!  

His only satisfaction was knowing that Hands was probably having a worse time. Endeavour didn’t want her around—no way he would after what he’d heard from HAlf-n-Half—so she was probably stuck on desk duty or running around taking drink orders. At least his desk duty was only temporary. Gang Orca would be back and would show him what it was like to be a real pro.  

------ 

Gang Orca wasn’t back that day. Baby fish and Jellyhead showed him where he was going to sleep and shower, got him food, and took him through mountains of paperwork with no sign of the big man the entire day. No one even mentioned him, and when he demanded to know when he’d come back, the little baby fish had smiled and said, “When his mission is done.”  

 He’d never wanted to blow up a sidekick more.  

Katsuki’s temper became dangerously thin when Gang Orca still didn’t show the next morning and, again, the  shrimp  of a leader took him to that same metal desk with the same stack of work and the same patronizing smile on his smug little face.  

He got to work, but this time his fury wouldn’t be quelled. One day lost, fine, but two? Two days lost because Gang Orca was gone and these sidekicks wanted a desk monkey?  

By mid-afternoon, he was frothing at the mouth in frustration at his supposed mentor for the week and his unexplained, ill-timed mission. What kind of hero takes that long to stop some lame villain? Gang Orca must be weak. He must be stupid. He probably couldn’t show him a thing.  

“Don’t worry,” Remora chirped, and he could feel his blood pressure rise. “I have a feeling that it won’t be much longer.”  

That was it. He was done being well-behaved!  

“I didn’t come here to learn how to do bookwork that any monkey can do!” he snapped, and the floor stilled. Good. Remora looked up at him with the same patronizing smile and he towered over him. “I came to see what a pro can do! This busywork is a waste of time! I’m not looking to be some sidekick! I’m going to be the number one hero!”  

The glass doors were pushed open and in strolled Gang Orca, big and imposing. The office rose when he entered and watched as he walked over to where Katsuki stood, hands sparking off.  

His fury didn’t disappear when the hero appeared. This hero, only the Number 12 hero, had kept him locked in here and expected him to be happy about it. 

“About time!” he snapped.  

Remora bowed in front of him and Gang Orca stopped in front of them with one final clack of his shoes. He towered over Katsuki the same way Katsuki towered over the pocket-sized sidekick that was bowing next to him.  

“29 hours.”  

Gang Orca clasped his hands behind his back and stared down at him through his predatory eyes. Katsuki hated that it made him feel weak, so he glared right back.  

“29 hours is how long you lasted before you lashed out at my most trusted sidekick,” Gang Orca rumbled. “I had hoped you’d make it even one more hour, but it seems I have my work cut out for me, don’t I? You’re a very angry child, Bakugo.”  

Katsuki’s body rocked with the fire of his anger. “YOU WERE TESTING ME?! WASTING MY TIME ON PURPOSE?!” 

“Paperwork is part of heroism,” Gang Orca stated simply. “Like it or not Bakugo, your internship would have included it anyway. However, it was a rare opportunity to test your character. You failed.”  

His hands slicked up and he had to pop his hands off to keep his nitroglycerin from dripping to the floor in his anger.  

“I don’t fail,” Katsuki snarled, stepping up to the tall hero. “I don’t lose! I fight and I win! And if you think you're getting in my way, I’ll send you to the moon, you over-sized dolphin!”  

Several gasps around the office, but Gang Orca just looked down at him and chuckled. It was deep and low, and his cape rippled with the motion of his humour. It angered Katsuki even more.  

“Oh, you will, will you?” Gang Orca bent over, meeting his eyes. His orca teeth moved into some mockery of a smile. “Very well. If you want to fight, then you’ll fight. You’ve secured a sparring match with the Number 12 Hero. Unless...you don’t feel like you could win?”  

He matched his antagonist’s wide posture and stepped forward, so close he could headbutt the stupid hero. “You’re dead, Moby Dick.”  

“I’ll give you what you want, then,” Gang Orca said, turning with a rustle of his cape. “Follow me. Remora, you and your team, Woman-of-War, and anyone else who isn’t on rotation right now will be joining us. Let’s indulge this young man, hmmm?”  

“Yes, sir!”  

That led him to where he was. Katsuki, in full uniform, was standing a wide training gym away from Gang Orca. Two dozen or more sidekicks sat or stood on the sidelines, taking bets and  mocking him  for doing this, but Katsuki couldn’t focus on them. His body was front-facing and braced to fight the giant hero across from him.  

Gang Orca dropped a pair of wrist cuffs into his hand and tucked a pair of his own into his cape. The rules were simple: if you’re cuffed you’re done. 

“So, you think you’re top of the food chain, hmmm?” Gang Orca adjusted his cufflinks, letting their reflection glint into his eyes directly. Katsuki refused to flinch. “You’re ready for the big, open ocean of the hero world, and you think you’re never going to get bit because you’re the best beastie out there.”  

He ground his teeth. “I’m gonna be the number one hero, you useless wet panda.”  

Gang Orca snorted at his insult. “Is that so? Number One? A lofty goal. Well, you should know that in the ocean, the  orca  is number one. Do you think you can beat the apex predator, maggot?”  

This wasn’t paperwork. This wasn’t talking and playing nice. This was a challenge.  

This, he could do.  

A feral smile hit his face. “Bring it on, fish stick.”  

“Attack when you’re read—”  

Katsuki launched himself at his enemy without hesitation and blasted him in the face. Gang Orca’s quirk included his emitter of sonic waves, so he needed to get the forward momentum to take him out before he could hit him. He needed to get in close and keep out of the way of his quirk. Fire was a weakness, so Gang Orca would step back, avoid his blasts, and then he could blow him off-balance... 

Gang Orca did step back from his frontal assault, but Katsuki didn’t get the chance to take his feet out from under him since he was grabbed out of the air and slammed onto the mat with both hands restrained above his face-down head.  

When they called the fight, he rounded on the whale.  

“AGAIN!”  

They did it again. Bakugo darted around, moving erratically around the arena with both eyes peeling for movement from Gang Orca. He landed one blow on his shoulder before he was wrestled to the ground again and his arms and legs were restrained under his superior strength.  

“I thought you said you would win,” Gang Orca said simply, releasing him and standing up. He straightened his tie. “I’m disappointed.”  

Bakugo jumped to his feet.  “I will! FIGHT ME!”  

Gang Orca sneered at him. “No. You’re nothing but a bottom feeder, and I don’t have the time to waste beating you again.”  

“I’ll win!”  

“Like you have the last two rounds?” Gang Orca snorted. “Now you’re insulting me even more. No. I only spar with whomever I choose, and I choose those who benefit me. You’re not a  challenge,  maggot.” 

His throat burned and his eyes stung with humiliation, but he grit his teeth against it all. This idiot beat him. Fine. He was top twelve. But he had beaten him too  easily.  He needed to prove it was a fluke. He could put up more of a fight than that.  

“You fight your sidekicks, yeah?” Bakugo hissed. “They ain’t worth your time more than me! I can beat all of them!”  

Gang Orca looking him over, appraising him. “You still have fight in you, hmm? Very well. As I said, I will give you what you want, Bakugo. Let’s see just where you rank in my agency.”  

With a dramatic turn of his cape, Gang Orca opened his arm to his sidekicks. “Who wants to go first?”  

Excited volunteering, but Katsuki couldn’t believe it when the weak little shrimp stepped forward.  

“Let me try, boss!” chirped Remora, fishtail bouncing on his back. “I want to fight a fire-type today! It’s been too long since the last one.”  

Gang Orca chuckled. “Very well. We’ll have him work down the ranks from the very top. He deserves the best first, after all. Right, Bakugo?”  

Bakugo scoffed. “The munchkin is the best? At what? Fitting through cracks?”  

Several people laughed, including Gang Orca, but said munchkin only looked at him with a serious and dark look that he hadn’t seen yet.  

“This munchkin is going to show you why villains are afraid of me.”  

It wasn’t too scary coming from a baby like him, but Bakugo wasn’t going to underestimate him. He couldn’t lose again. He couldn’t lose.  

He lost.  

Again.  

Turns out, Remora’s quirk let him move across the training floor with more speed that Katsuki expected, but more importantly, the fish was smart. Katsuki had gone high to avoid the floor where his enemy was skating around, letting out explosion after explosion after the slippery bastard. One chunk of debris was thrown in his face and he blew it up, but the short second without Remora in his sight gave his enemy time to slide up the walls and across the ceiling so he could jump down onto him.  

“I didn’t get to where I am,” Remora slammed his fist into Bakugo’s throat with the feral energy of a piranha, “by letting bigger heroes bully me!” 

The fight had lasted a few minutes longer, but it was over after that. It was Katsuki desperately trying to regain control that Remora had already taken, and then the cuffs being secured to his wrists.  Bully.  He’d been called a bully again. Not a leader. Not strong. A  bully.    

“ They need a leader, not a bully, and I don’t think you know the difference!”  

The next sidekick came up. Woman-of-War's stinging tentacles were worrisome, but Katsuki had to beat her. She couldn’t possibly defend against his explosions well enough to win. 

Her whip-like tentacles managed to grab him, leaving painful lines all along his unclothed arms, stinging them until he lost feeling in his hands. 

He had lost.  

Again.  

A small amount of first aid for the jellyfish wounds, enough to feel his arms, and he insisted on going on fighting. Gang Orca still looked down at him like nothing more than pond scum, but agreed.  

“You  will  fight,” the orca promised, voice forbidding. “You will fight until you win, or until you yield. It’s up to you how long this goes on, Bakugo.”  

So he took on the next sidekick. 

And lost.  

Again.  

And again.  

And again.  

It made him burn with fury every time they managed to cuff him. Whether it was because they knocked him from the air and winded him, whether they actually got him pinned first, or whether they were sneaky enough to get around him, one by one the sidekicks all took down Bakugo.  

--- 

On the sidelines, Gang Orca watched as the next sidekick squared up with the fiery young man. Bakugo was a marvel. He’d already fought and lost to his top ten sidekicks and was still covered in bruises and Woman-of-War’s whip-like handiwork, but he wasn’t going to give in.  

Well, he’d never expected the lad to. Not really. He wanted to humble Bakugo so he would get the most out of the days they had left, learning not just from him but from Remora and the other sidekicks as well. Why Bakugo had chosen his agency was a mystery he wondered about. He and Best Jeanist and a few other friends had all put in for Bakugo, but since his ranking was not so high, he hadn’t expected to be chosen. When he had, well, his interest in the boy rose exponentially in the following days.  

What made a ball of pride like Bakugo choose someone lower ranked than his other offers? What made such a boy choose the forbidding hero that the public made him out to be?  

Gang Orca nearly sighed when Bakugo missed  another  opportunity to cuff his opponent and instead tried to blow him up. Whether he was ignoring the cuffs on purpose or if he thought they would hinder his fighting didn’t matter—it was the boy’s pride that was making him lose time and time again and not his combat. Admittedly, he would still have lost to Remora and Woman-of-War, cuffs or not, but his combat prowess was impressive enough that it would have carried him through a few of the other fights. No, he could have been done already, but the silver cuffs he’d given the boy were dangling useless from his belt. Unused. Untouched.  

“I can’t believe he hasn’t won one yet,” Remora murmured at his side. His eyes were unfocused, but that was normal for him when watching a fight. He would see the combat, then his mind would also think through several other ways it could go or would go. Gang Orca was often envious of his amazing mind. “There have been so many chances that he didn’t see.”  

“Or ignored.” Gang Orca lowered his voice. “He lacks experience, and pride is clouding his judgement.” 

Remora nodded, humming. “I don’t think he’ll make it through many more sidekicks. We haven’t been pulling punches, sir, and he’s looking more than a little shaky. You still don’t plan on stopping him?”   

His eyes zeroed in on Bakugo’s face. It was contorted horribly with effort and anger, and his body was shaking like a leaf in the wind with every movement, but he couldn’t tell if the rage was going it or the bruises that littered his body.  

“I’m not the one who needs to admit defeat,” Gang Orca decided. “Bakugo is the one who decides what happens next, and he has decided to fight. I must respect his decision if he is to respect us in turn.”  

“Will he respect us after this?” Remora asked, still looking a ways off into the middle distance. “We’re beating him into the ground, sir. He could hate us instead.” 

In Gang Orca’s vision, Bakugo was cuffed once again and yanked from the air mid-jump, crashing to the floor. In his face was pained, but not from the impact.  

“I don’t believe it is us whom he hates,” he whispered. His heart clenched as Bakugo shook his head, wiped away his wobbly lip, and stood up once more to demand another fight. The boy was close to cracking. “No, the person he hates is much closer to home.”  

----- 

He roared wordlessly into the mats as the cuffs once again wrapped around his wrists.  This is pathetic, Katuski! Get up! Blow them off! Blast everyone watching to hell for seeing this!  

Every part of him hurt. His hands were spasming with overuse and disobeying his commands. Shame and humiliation burnt through him like a wildfire, but no amount of anger cowed his opponents. He just. Kept. Losing.  

“Bakugo loses again.”  

Katsuki flinched as the cuffs came off and the humiliation burned brighter.  

Gang Orca strode smoothly in from the sidelines. “Are you ready to admit defeat?”  

“NOT IN THIS LIFE, YOU DISCOLOURED GREENLAND SHARK!”  

Gang Orca paused mid-hulking-step. “Did you really just reference a nearly extinct species of shark simply to imply that I’m slow, lethargic, and blind? Because if so, that might be the most impressive thing I’ve seen or heard from you tonight. You’re exceptionally creative.”  

His emotions raged between humiliation and pride, landing firmly on humiliation.  

“YOU HAVEN’T SEEN A THING!” he screeched.  

The bastard grinned, showing his large teeth. “Then it is you who has failed to show me.”  

His vision filled with red.  

“I’LL SHOW YOU!” he roared. “GIMME ANOTHER ONE!”  

With a mighty sigh, Gang Orca turned and sent another faceless extra into his range.  

“Three, two, fight!”  

All he was thinking about was beating the extra in front of him to a pulp as soon as possible. All he could think of was showing that stupid. Blubbery. IDIOT of the twelfth hero exactly what he had, and he launched himself at the extra as if it was the black-and-white smug, patronizing, self-righteous image of every lost fight he’d had. 

This fight was closer than the other, but he felt too close to losing. Too close to getting caught by a stupid hippo, and he didn’t want to hold back. IT didn’t matter that they were in a training room, he was going to win!  

He had been playing it safe, not wanting to destroy the fish's agency. But he wasnt going to win by staying safe. He needed to push. Then the hippo managed to land a hit.  

Pain and rage whipped through him and he let the red haze fill his vision. He wouldn't lose! Not this time! No matter what!

“HOWITZER—” Katsuki whirled in the air, his fury fueling his explosions, ignoring the yells to stop, “—IMPACT!!”  

The room had filled with flames, burning out much of the oxygen, and the air filled with smoke. But he could feel it. Victory on his tongue as he collided with his hippo opponent and launched him into the wall. His opponents rolled forward and slumped to the floor with only his hippo-sized imprint on the wall.  

“YES!” he roared. “TAKE THAT!”  

This was it! He’d shown them all! He’d used his quirk to its extreme and landed it perfectly! That had to do it! It proved that he was a challenge, that he was worthy of being here. That whale would have to acknowledge him! Bakugo Katsuki was the winner, and he had proven himself beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

“BAKUGO!”  

 He whirled, expecting shock and awe, but Gang Orca wasn’t standing where he had been before. He was kneeling over several sidekicks and Katsuki felt his stomach drop. He saw  blood.  And it wasn’t from their previous fights.  

“I—”  I did that.  He’d let off his Howitzer Impact inside, in an enclosed area, with no barrier between him and the other people. He... He’d won against the hippo, though! And they were sidekicks! They should have, the could have dodged, or protected themselves! He wasn’t responsible for, for... 

No matter what he told himself, he felt sick. He felt the sting of failure. The horror and anger and fear from using his quirk and making people collateral damage.  

Gang Orca turned and glared at the boy. “Congratulations. You won your battle. Now get over here and deal with the war that you lost in the process.” 

He couldn’t process anything but the order, so he obeyed. Katsuki was next to Gang Orca in a moment, hands clenching and unclenching as he waited for some way to do  something  in this situation. Several of the sidekicks were fine, but burnt, but others had been thrown against the training room walls and were now wearing bloody wounds, broken limbs, and obvious head trauma with probable concussions. Gang Orca had a first aid box in hand to help.  

“Here.” Rolls of gauze were shoved into his hands. “You know how to bandage wounds?” 

“Yes.” Even if his hands felt numb, he remembered the basic first aid he picked up.  

“Then do it!”  

Gang Orca’s harsh tone was, Katsuki could admit through his warring feelings, deserved. So he said nothing. He knelt next to one of the sidekicks with a nasty headwound and starting bandaging it in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.  

The sidekick chuckled. “You got some firepower there, kid.”  

“You’ve got a head wound,” he grumbled. “Shut up.”  

“BAKUGO.”  

His mouth sealed shut. Now was not the time to test Gang Orca’s patience.  

 He moved sidekick to sidekick, wrapping up each of their wounds the best he could with his shaking, overworked hands (he told himself he was only shaking from quirk overuse, no matter what the knot in his throat said). One of the sidekicks, just a regular guy with water for arms, had managed fine, but had a bloody nose and was leaning his head back to try and stop the bleeding.  

He remembered Deku and the broken nose he’d given the nerd just before this internship, and Hands giving him that tissue and leaning him forward.

“Here,” he gave a small piece of gauze the to the hero. Sidekick? He has his hero license, all sidekicks did so he wasn’t sure what to call them in his head. “Lean forward, idiot—you want the blood going down your throat?”  

“ Bakugo .”  

Even though Gang Orca didn’t appreciate his tone, the hero did as he said and leaned forward so the blood went into the gauze instead. The hero even gave him a thumbs up. Bakugo looked away. No sense taking that to heart when the guy probably had a concussion. Stupid sidekick must have one; no one who was thinking straight would thank him when he’d done this to them.  

The tiny fi— Remora,  his brain corrected when the knot in his throat threatened to choke him, slid back into the room like a bullet and joined in the first aid efforts, applying burn cream to wounds and keeping them sterile until the Gang Orca Agency medical team came in. They took over, healing whomever they could and transporting any heroes they couldn’t to their medical bay. Katsuki stepped back when he was told, not oblivious to the condescending or angry looks he got from the healers.  

Gang Orca spoke with the lead healer as they moved the heroes. He heard a few key phrases, but not much, and he wasn’t going to move. He stood still and stiff as a board as everyone moved around him.  

“They’ll be alright?” “...yes, he did...” “...with him. Thank you...” “...call in our on-call list, Remora. I have to deal with...”   

His fists clenched as he heard Gang Orca’s heavy steps approach him, but he kept his eyes firmly shut. Katsuki was no coward, but his eyes were stinging, so he had to. It wasn’t cowardice. It wasn’t.  

“Bakugo.” He flinched. “Come with me.”  

He could hear his funeral dirge playing in the background as he followed the hero, never actually looking at him and following the tail of his cape instead. It wasn’t cowardice, he told himself. He was, he was...something. It felt better than looking at him, so he did it. It wasn’t ‘cause he was afraid.  

He was led higher and higher up the building, and with the altitude rising so was the tension. It festered in the silence. What was going to happen? Would he...would he call UA? Would he be going home? Did he blow his chance? Would Eraserhead...would he be suspended? Worse?  

Gang Orca led him out of the office entirely and onto the roof of his building where the sun was setting and the building was bathed in an orange as bright as his hero costume. Gang Orca stood at the roof railings, looking out onto the sunset. Katsuki stood back, waiting.  

“You’re not going to speak?” Gang Orca asked. “Make your case? Justify your actions?”  

Katsuki swallowed. “You told me to win.” 

“Do you call what happened downstairs a win, Bakugo?”  

He stepped forward with clenched fists. “If you’re gonna tell me to pack my bags, just do it!”  

Gang Orca turned and motioned him forward, not relenting until Katsuki was standing next to him and the whale looked huge to his view.  

“You didn’t answer the question,” Gang Orca said, not answering Katsuki’s question either. “Do you think you won?”  

Silence was the only answer Katsuki could give, and the only one Gang Orca got. The pro hero hummed and looked out to the sunset again.  

“Tell me, Bakugo;” he said, “what is a hero’s duty?” 

“To fight and win.”  

 Gang Orca tilted his head in thought, mulling over his answer. It made Katsuki feel like a baby.  

“If it’s about winning,” the whale slowly considered, “then why were you so upset at the Sport’s Festival?”  

More silence. Katsuki’s tongue was as knotted as his thoughts, trying to follow the logic Gang Orca was setting out in front of him.  

“Eraserhead contacted me on Friday, you know.” Katsuki’s head snapped up and Gang Orca nodded back. “He told me you had been suspended for attacking a fellow student and asked me if I would still take you.”  

The lump in his throat was getting ridiculously big. Katsuki felt like he could barely breathe, and it was making his eyes water.  

Gang Orca placed a hand on his shoulder and met him head-on, the glow of the sun casting a strangely softening light on the hero. Or maybe it wasn’t the light. Maybe Gang Orca was looking at him that way on purpose.  

“I told him that it was my duty to take you on,” Gang Orca said. “That I understood what it meant and that I would help you. What kind of hero would I be if I rejected a young man whom I’d already accepted into my pod? What kind of hero would I be to refuse to help you reach your potential? You needed a mentor, and I had already resolved to be that for you. It was the right thing to do. I would have let myself down if I had refused. It was the best thing I could do. The best thing.

“So,” Gang Orca said, “I’ll ask you again; what is the duty of a hero?”  

Katsuki felt the answer before he said it, like a bullet that shot straight into him, now lodged there forever, metal fused to bone. "To be the best."

“To be your best,” Gang Orca emphasized. “Failure, then is...?”  

The knot in his throat returned, and he looked away. His voice was quiet when he answered, “When you aren't the best. When you don’t do your duty. When you...fail.”  

“So, what is the duty of a hero in combat? What would the best hero have done in that fight that you did not?”  

He thought about the fight downstairs. “He wouldn't have had casualties.” 

“Heroes save people,” Gang Orca said simply. “You failed the moment you let bystanders get hurt, whether you were the cause or not, because the difference between a hero and a villain is this—a villain fights to attack, to tear down, but a hero fights to defend.” 

Gang Orca let him go and turned to the sunset, now just a sliver of light on the horizon. “Life isn’t as simple as that, but start from there. We don’t fight to win—we fight as a means to save. If we don’t fight, it is still our duty to tend to the wounded. It’s still our duty to aid in rescue efforts. It’s still our duty to stand as an example to those around us. Fighting is, as they say, a means to an end. You won the fight, Bakugo, no doubt. What you lost was the ability to say you were a hero.”  

 Then Gang Orca shrugged. “That’s my definition of hero. Of course, some may say differently. Some may say that the sole duty of a hero is to uphold the law and do as the government says. If that’s your definition—”  

“No.” Katsuki looked away, ear burning. “No.”  

Gang Orca didn’t push him to say more, but they both understood what he meant. Bakugo wasn’t content to be just some monkey. He wouldn’t stop at just being some police officer, no, he wanted to be the best. This wasn’t a job. This was more.  

After the sun finally set and the glow turned from orange to purple, Gang Orca finally spoke.  

“What do you think you should do, Bakugo?” Confused, he turned to the big man who had his hands folded thoughtfully under his snout. “You did a lot of damage today. To my people  and  my training room. What would a hero do if they caused such damage?” 

Bakugo looked out, following his mentor’s eyeline to the darkening sky over the open Pacific Ocean.  

For some reason, he thought of Hands. Before their fight, she’d been talking about him apologizing to Deku, and she’d said something. What was it?  “When we’re wrong, the strongest and most heroic thing we can do is apologize and make it right.”  

He remembered Eraserhead, at the head of the classroom, bowing to him and saying that UA was wrong to muzzle him. Midnight coming in and doing the same. All Might had found him later that day and done the same thing, giving him a bow and an apology. He asked if he needed anything, if he could do anything to make it right.  

“I’ll make it right.”  

Then, for the first time, he saw a genuine smile on the orca’s face. It made him look away, feeling fuzzy.  

“Quit it,” he griped. “You look freaky. You smell fish or something?”   

Gang Orca let out a low, rumbling chuckle, like thunder crackling behind a rainbow in the last few moments of a storm. “Creative, once again. I’m glad you see things my way. Since you do agree, you won’t mind spending the next little while working with the medical team, and then working to repair our training room with your own two hands.”  

He opened his mouth to protest, but Gang Orca shot him a look. “Consider it your punishment as well, Bakugo. Once the room is fixed, we’ll continue your internship.”  

“It could take all week!” he exclaimed. “Longer!”  

Gang Orca just gave him a secretive smile. “We’ll see, won’t we? Tonight, though, you should head to the medical bay. Help heal the injuries you caused. And you’ll pick up a few things about first aid while you’re down there. Quite an invaluable skill when saving people, wouldn’t you agree?” 

The stars were coming out and Gang Orca finally made to leave the roof, but Bakugo had something niggling in his chest. Watching Gang Orca’s back annoyed him.  

“Oi!”  

Gang Orca turned to him and looked down his snout to him. The confusion in his chest seemed to grow uncontainable under his knowing eyes. “Yes, Bakugo? Is there something else?”  

Everything from the last week, the Sports Festival, Hands’s  everything , it all festered in his chest and he just had to know. “I’m going to be a hero. Not just some sidekick, not just some nobody, not a, a  screwup . What do you say to that, huh? I’m gonna be the Number One Hero. Me, Bakugo Katsuki! The best hero!”  

Gang Orca seemed to understand what he was saying. “What kind of hero is that, Bakugo?”  

The first picture in his head wasn’t himself, it was All Might. It was like watching reruns of the old All Might footage he’d watched religiously as a kid. All Might would win, he’d beat the villains, and then the world would cheer.  

To his shame, the next image he had was of Deku. Deku with his hand always reaching out, standing above everyone with fear in his eyes but his feet ready to run right into the fray. Run after him if he even thought that he needed saving.  

Then there was Hands. That spark in her eyes when they fought, the way she wouldn’t back down, but then how she brought him into her life without a thought. She’d taken every challenge he’d given her and come out on top, and he couldn’t even be angry because he was the one testing her. Even when she’d finally broke, she hadn’t run and had only met him where he was again. Always in control, always there, always ready to…he gulped. Ready to throw her hand over his, meet his eyes, and keep him from blowing up suicidal idiots. 

Why couldn’t he picture it?! He wanted to be a hero, and he knew he could do it. But he put himself in All Might’s place, and the cheering faces were replaced by sneering Copy Kids and crying Dekus. They’d cheer when he beat the villain, but then he’d turn around from his beaten foe and they’d step back in fear. The harder he tried to force himself to picture a smiling crowd, the darker their faces and the more horrible their stares. People thought he was powerful, but he wasn’t All Might. He wasn’t Deku. He wasn’t Hands. Nobody actually liked him, and no one would. 

He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone to smile at him when he won. Katsuki was a winner, and he’d win. 

“There is a difference,” Gang Orca ripped him from his inner struggle with soft words, “a rather large difference that I’ve found between being true to yourself and being defined by your flaws. The boy I see before me is honest, hard-working, and capable. He’s a skilled fighter that will only improve with experience.” 

Katsuki’s fists clenched at his sides because he knew, he  knew  what was coming next.  “Katsuki’s so strong, he’ll be such a powerful hero.” “But he’s a bit too aggressive.” “He’ll grow up and when that attitude sorts itself out, he’ll be great.” “Brat! How many times do I have to apologize for you? When are you going to stop being, being, being so YOU?!”   

“But,” Gang Orca came closer and leaned over the balcony, looking out to the coastline, “that same boy, the one with so much to offer, is holding himself back because the way he is now is how he has always been. It’s his identity. If he changes into the person he wants to be, what happens to Bakugo Katsuki?”  

His throat clenched tight and he quickly turned away from his mentor to hide the wet in his eyes.  

“Bakugo.” Gang Orca placed a hand on his shoulder. “Think hard on what I’m saying now; your image of the perfect hero is unrealistic, and that’s not because I don’t think you can be the Number One Hero. It’s because I know it isn’t a picture of you. It never is. Not for anyone.” 

Katsuki hated that he was right.  

“The image you have, it’s a composite of everything you’ve ever admired,” the solid hand turned him around so he was facing him again, and despite everything that Gang Orca appeared, he was leaning down, lowering himself to meet Bakugo. Bakugo hated that too, but his throat was too tight to say it. “It is good to admire people. Good to recognize good around you. But you will never be truly at peace until you stop looking outside of yourself for your virtues. They don’t live there.”  

Gang Orca grinned, baring his teeth as the moon glinted in his red eyes. “The world looks at me and sees a stern hero, a predator. I’m strong. But here I am. I’m standing here with you, I’m leading my team, and I’m a big ol’ softie.”  

Bakugo snorted, but the noise caught and his eyes wet as the feelings started to spill over.  

“A strong hero,” said Gang Orca gently, “is nothing less and nothing more that the best version of himself. Not stronger that All Might, not better than your friends, none of those silly comparisons, but the epitome of what makes Bakugo Katsuki so great. He is your definition of a hero: the best. But his best, not All Might’s best. I’ll tell you now that I look forward to seeing you free from that expectation. You have a fire in you that is so undeniable and so  yours  that not even the strongest tsunami can put out. If you're true to that, you can be great without the fear of losing yourself. You will become a strong hero and a great leader.”  

He was already ready to cry, and he shook the small pools of water out of his eyes. “You saw me today! What makes someone like me a leader, huh? I nearly killed them!” 

He’d avoided the thought for so long, but it spilled out without his consent and stuck in his brain, refusing to leave. It hammered him in the head until it ached from the blunt hurt it caused. 

“What will make you a leader isn’t fancy speeches or charming smiles,” Gang Orca declared. “You’re a fire—you’re burning hot, but it won’t take much to make you burn bright as well. Bright enough that everyone can see and everyone can follow. The example they can follow. A leader. Because that fire? They’ll know from where it chooses to shine that they can trust it.”  

Bakugo’s laugh was much wetter than he wanted. “Trust? Me? Ha!”  

“They will.” Gang Orca’s tone left no room for doubt. “They will because you will show them that they can. Come lightning, earthquake, or hail, if you show them your heart, they will trust its course and let you lead them on. Show them your fire. Show them your heart. Show them how bright they both can shine.”  

“How?”  

His voice was scratchy and thick with emotion, and he felt like clawing his throat out for its betrayal. How dare it sound so weak? 

“You’ll figure it out, just as you are doing now. You’re very intuitive, Bakugo—when you feel it’s right, you’ll know. You just need to use your courage in those moments and choose the harder path. Take the risk of failing. Then take it again. And again. Strength won’t grow in your comfort zone.”  

If the fire burned as much as his heart did right then, Bakugo wondered if he’d every feel sane. He felt so out of control, so full of the burning desire to do what he was asking, and yet it felt so temporary. The words spoken out here in the moonlight felt like they’d disappear the second the sun came out again, and nothing he could do would stop it. Tomorrow would still happen, and he’d have to try all over again. It would all be locked away and he would fail again.   

“It’s a daily choice,” Gang Orca said. “So choose.”  

The knot in his throat, the wet in his eyes, they both loosened and his control over them slipped. The knot moved to his chest and he was sobbing. The wetness that had pooled in his eyes spilled over onto his cheeks.  

Then his face was pressed into a crisp suit and pink tie.  

He sputtered for a second, but his sobs choked out his complaints.  

“I'll let you hide your face here,” Gang Orca murmured, hand around his shoulders. “It’s safe, I promise.” 

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this, fish stick,” he gurgled. “Hazing me like this. I’ll kill you.”  

Gang Orca’s chuckle went through his chest right into Katsuki. “Believe what you will, Bakugo. You can always move away.”  

That would be admitting defeat, Katsuki determined, and so he stayed. He let the fish hug him. Vengefully, he rubbed his snot and tears onto the man’s tie.  Take that, you stupid dolphin.  He stayed there until Mr Number Twelve wouldn’t be able to catch any tears on his face. Not that he was crying, shut up.  

“Down to the med bay with you, now,” Gang Orca said with a hearty pat on his back. “It’s time to show me and your fellow heroes the hero you’re going to be.” 

He squared his shoulders, steadied his feet on the rough rooftop concrete, and nodded. He’d do it. Bakugo Katsuki was a hero, and he was going to be the best hero there was.  

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who has subscribed, kudosed, or reviewed the fic. It's so great to know that people do like my writing, even if it's an uncommon premise. I'll try to update a little quicker next time, but no promises. Until then, have a fish-tastic time! (I couldn't resist.)

Chapter 10

Summary:

My advice for writer's block--just write what happens without thinking about whether you're being descriptive enough. (I'm saying this chapter isn't great, but it does what it's supposed to.)

Chapter 10  

Despite her heavy feelings about the fight with Bakugo, Kendo wanted to go into her internship clear-minded. Bakugo wouldn’t be around, so her attention should be focused on Todoroki and his father, maybe her mentor, and no one else. She had written in her journal what had happened with Bakugo and then stashed the journal away in her bag along with the fight. Her focus was on her heroism.  

Still, seeing Bakugo at the train station reminded her of the fist in her stomach. He looked angry and tired. Bags rested under his eyes, his fingers were white around his duffel, and his scowl was so deep that his lips had its own mountain range.   

Kendo would spend the whole week focused on her heroism. She would be focused and dedicated. Yet, seeing her friend so angry made her want to try one last time to reach him before the week started.  

“You represent UA when you’re out there,” Aizawa-sensei stated. “Don’t give a bad showing. Learn everything you can. We want you to throw yourselves into these experiences. Plus Ultra.”   

“Plus Ultra!”  

“Get going, then.” Aizawa dismissed them all with a wave. “And if you get lost on your way, you’re another hero’s problem this week. Let them know what they’re dealing with and have them rescue you.”

Kaminari whined and fell back, anguished, and Kendo laughed at his silliness until she caught sight of Bakugo in the corner of the eye, and saw him leaving. Bakugo didn’t stay with them. He turned with military precision in his steps and stalked towards the train without a word goodbye.   

Kendo reached out.  “Wait, Bakugo!”  

She felt eyes on her, but the only two that mattered were the red, angry ones that whipped around and burnt holes in her head. For a moment, neither said anything. Bakugo’s words seemed tucked behind his gritted teeth, with Kendo unworthy of hearing them, and Kendo was trying to find the right words in front of his fury. In the end, all she could do was be kind and hope that was enough.  

“Show them what you’ve got, King Explosion Murder.” She met his anger with a challenge of her own, daring him to be his best. “Show them what the next top hero could look like.”  

Bakugo stared at her for a moment, still despite the words she could see pushing to make it past his teeth, but then he turned away. Bakugo always had some comeback, some words for everyone, but for her? Now? She realized it hurt to not hear anything from him. It was like he didn’t think she was worth any words now.   

It was with a start that Kendo realized that she had really, truly, wanted to hear his voice again. What that meant, she didn’t know, but watching him walk away without saying anything hurt more than she had thought it could.   

She watched his broad shoulders shove through the throngs of people as he went and hoped that her words had gotten through. Maybe with a week to think about things, Bakugo would be ready to talk about it.   

“Kendo.” Todoroki appeared over her shoulder. “Are you ready?”   

She looked out again into the sea of people, but Bakugo’s spikey blond hair was lost in the crowd.   

“Yeah, I’m ready.” She turned to Todoroki with a grin. “Let’s do this!”   

The pair of them turned to go to their own train but were stopped by Aizawa-sensei.   

“Kendo, Todoroki, a word.” He pulled them to the side and gave them both a look of tired resignation. “Look, you know what an internship entails, but you need to know one of the rules is that the head of the agency is the one officially responsible for you. Regardless of who submitted the request.”   

Kendo’s brows went up. “Endeavour?”   

“Is responsible for you,” he affirmed. “When I spoke to him, he was…less than convincing, I’ll say, that he would take that responsibility seriously, Kendo.”  

Her gaze flashed to Todoroki. His fists had tightened on his bags until the knuckles turned white, and Kendo quickly looked away from his dark look and steely expression. Endeavour’s casual dismissal of her was clearly affecting Todoroki more than it affected her. It hurt to think of possible reason why.  

“Which is why,” announced Aizawa with a small smirk on his lips, “I told him I approved your internship as partners. ”   

In unison, Kendo and Todoroki stared open-mouthed at Aizawa, then each other, then Aizawa again like shocked little guppies. Their teacher’s smile shrank and he dipped lower, meeting their eyes.   

“Nezu decided, in your case, to make a change to how we run internships,” he said lowly. “Endeavor was told that you two elected to remain together during your internship, and that I approved your internship conditionally as partners . Endeavour has been explicitly told not to keep you apart for longer than is absolutely necessary. Kendo, you are responsible for Todoroki, and Todoroki is responsible for you. Todoroki, he may be your father, but I want you to look out for your classmate first.”   

Kendo didn’t think he’d put Endeavor first, not from the dark look in his eyes or the words on his lips. He bowed his head shortly. “You have my word, sensei.”   

“I can handle it,” Kendo promised, standing firm and tall. “I will not disappoint you, sensei.”    

Aizawa reached into his pocket and pulled out a list. “This a is a short list of the rules that each agency is given when they accept interns from UA. Endeavor is personally responsible for your health and safety, must know your location at all times within reason, and must be able to submit a detailed data sheet tracking your learning and progress. That includes your diet, physical activity, and sleep. Any injuries must be reported, even non-fatal or minor ones. Within reason, but if he knows about the injury, it should be recorded. The data sheet must also include references to conferences had between the two of you where you discussed your training. Meaning that you are expected to be cared for, and he is expected to speak to you multiple times during your stay to confirm that. In addition, when it comes to partnership, individual trainings may be separate, but any field work, community service, or other activities like meals are to be taken together, and the two of you must be easily able to reach the other in and out of office hours.”   

Aizawa put it away and looked both of them in the eyes. “I’m telling you now that the second you check in at Endeavor Agency, he is expected to follow these directions, and if Endeavor tries to shirk his responsibilities, I expect you to tell me. BOTH OF YOU. Endeavor may be the Number Two Hero, but he is to treat both of you equally regardless of familial connection or expectations. He has been told to keep you together as often as he can. And he knows that if any injury befalls you at his hands, I will personally come for him.” 

The way Aizawa spoke, it seemed as if he knew something more about the situation than Kendo did or knew something she had maybe guessed. Todoroki seemed to think the same thing.   

“Sensei, what prompted this level of caution?” Todoroki asked. He shifted the bag on his shoulder and looked at the bag, not at the teacher. “Was it the USJ?”  

Aizawa raised one, bored brow at Todoroki, his lips pursed. The bustle of the train station filled the air until Aizawa decided what to say.   

“Never assume that Nezu doesn’t have cameras everywhere at UA,” he finally said. Todoroki stiffened straight up, and Aizawa’s eyes went serious. “You trusted Midoriya, but know that should you choose to trust the faculty, Todoroki, we would do everything in our power to help you.”   

It was kind of funny watching the two of them interact, Kendo thought. Aizawa-sensei couldn’t say something sentimental without hiding in his scarf after, and Todoroki now stood still and straight as a scarecrow at the small bit of consideration shown by his teacher. The end result was the two of them standing there in awkward silence while they both avoided eye contact, waiting for the other to end the interaction.   

Kendo elbowed Todoroki to snap him out of it, motioning for him to speak and release Aizawa-sensei from the conversation. He shook his head clear and bowed his head to their teacher.   

“Thank you for you concern,” he said in a low voice, “but I do not require your assistance.”    

Aizawa peered down at him, considering, before nodding. “Alright. Look after each other while you’re there. And Kendo? He may not want you as an intern, but he does want Todoroki. Consider that your tactical advantage.”  

She bowed. “Yes, sensei.”   

“Now, shoo. Go catch your train. Both of you.”   

He shooed them like flies to their train, and Kendo chuckled under her breath at how uncomfortable he looked the whole time. Turns out, the terrifying, underground hero of 1-A was actually a bit soft for his students. Who would have thought?   

Todoroki was stiff beside her for too much of their journey. AS much as Kendo wanted to ask, there was a thoughtfulness in his unfocused eyes that told her he was thinking seriously about what was to come, and she didn’t want to ruin his train of thought. So she took out her phone and sent a few messages to her folks, telling them she was on the train and that she’d send them another message after she was settled. She debated whether to text Bakugo, but she closed her phone instead. Her internship was not the time to delve into that problem.   

They were about an hour into their 2-hour journey when Todoroki turned his gaze to her, the same thoughtful look on his face. “Kendo, can I ask you a question?”   

“Sure,” she said. “What’s been on your mind?”  

He peered over at her cautiously. “You never asked why I wanted you to come with me. Even after Aizawa-sensei said what he did, you haven’t acted curious about my reasons. You haven’t even posed a single question. Why?”  

The train stopped, and the influx of passengers gave her a moment to think until the train got moving again. It seemed like Todoroki was worried about her, either that she would want an explanation for all the mystery surrounding his life with Endeavor or that she was worried for her own safety. It was probably the first one, she figured, but what to say…?   

“It’s not my business, Todoroki,” was how she decided to phrase it. “When you asked me to come, I agreed because it was a good opportunity….and because it looked like you needed help.”   

Kendo checked his expression at that, but nothing changed. He was observing her with hardly an expression on his face. She continued, “I have guesses for what’s going on, and the fact that Midoriya seemed so invested in my decision might have made me wonder what could be so important, but I didn’t come for answers; I came to help. I’ll support you in any way I can. If that means you want to talk about it, we can, but if it means you need me to just be there , I can do that too. I don’t need answers to fulfill my purpose.”  

Todoroki silently considered her words, then looked out the window, hiding most of his face. “That sounds unfair to you, Kendo.”   

It sounded unfair for Todoroki to be going through whatever he was going through alone, Kendo thought, but she didn’t say it out loud. Todoroki’s apparent guilt at asking for help grated on her. If he needed help, there were at least 19 people there to help him.   

“It isn’t unfair,” she promised. “You asked, I said yes. That’s it. All we have to do now is to have each other’s backs in this. Can I count on you, partner? ”   

An almost-invisible, short-lived smile graced Todoroki’s face. “You have my word.”  

Kendo grinned over at him. “Then I don’t think we have anything to worry about. I’ll look after you, and you’ll look after me.”   

Todoroki didn’t answer with words, opting for a small nod, but Kendo could tell it wasn’t because he didn’t agree, but because the emotions were becoming a little too intense for a simple train ride. So she pulled out her pack of cards.   

“We still have half an hour of commute left.” Kendo wiggled the card pack in front of Todoroki. “Want to play a few rounds?”   

He regarded the cards curiously. “What is the penalty for losing?”   

“Penalty?” Kendo shook her head. “There doesn’t have to be any.”  

That didn’t seem to answer his question, but he agreed to play some rounds with her.  

To her surprise, Todoroki knew exactly ZERO card games to play, so she taught him the very simple game of slapjack to pass the time. Todoroki’s reflexes were incredibly precise, so despite her best efforts, he managed to catch up to her lead once he got into the game, easily stealing pile after pile of cards from under her hand until she was left with nothing.   

“I should play with my other hand next,” he considered as she shuffled. “You should as well. No point in training one arm and not the other.”   

Kendo paused in shuffling. “Wait, training? Todoroki, this isn’t training. This is a game.”   

He tilted his head like a baffled cat. “It’s a game that tests and hones your reaction time. Is that not why you had us play?”   

Kendo actually felt her soul reach out and claim Todoroki and wrap the image of him in a blanket. That was…heartbreaking that Todoroki could be genuinely confused as to why someone was playing a game with him. This boy made her want to mother him to death—it was almost disturbing how quickly she had become protective of him. Big Sister, Class Mom, same difference. Todoroki was making all sorts of protective instincts rear their heads.  

“It’s for fun,” she told him bluntly. “We can play with our left hands if you want to, though. That’s an interesting challenge! But this is just a bit of friendly competition.”   

Todoroki blinked hard, uncomprehending, and Kendo just wanted to shake him. He took the cards into his right hand and stretched his left. “Very well.”   

Oh, she was going to befriend this boy. If it was the last thing she did, she would become friends with him and drag him to all sorts of places to have every bit of fun they could. This week would be about becoming a great hero, of course, but it would also give her lots of opportunities to get closer to him. If she wasn’t his friend by the end of the week, she would need to rethink her life.   

They played a few more rounds, one of which had Kendo losing her mind because the train kept moving direction exactly when they tried to slap their hands down on the deck, making them either miss completely or knock the piles onto the ground.   

“You’re right this couldn’t be training,” he said dryly when they had to hurriedly pick up their cards. “Training isn’t so messy.”   

She laughed heartily at that.   

Finally, they were at the Yusha Tora Station and disembarked with a sea of people. According to their internship letters, they were meant to report to Endeavor’s agency before noon, so they didn’t have too much time to walk there. Todoroki offered to call a cab to take them—using his dad’s credit card—and Kendo agreed, but before they could, they spotted a sign in the station reading, “Todoroki Shoto,” held by a formally dressed man in the classic sunglasses, suit, and leather shoes.   

 “Todoroki-san,” the man bowed formally, “I am to take you to your father.”   

Kendo saw her classmates dark grimace and intervened with a friendly smile. “That is very kind of you. And it was very considerate of Endeavor to welcome us like this.”   

The man’s face remained blank as they slid away from hers and back to Todoroki, making it clear she wasn’t part of his duties. She tried hard not to bristle at the dismissal.   

“There is an urgent mission he wants you to be a part of,” the man continued, motioning Todoroki forward. “He is set to leave the moment you arrive. We cannot be late. Come, young master Todoroki.”   

They were herded over to an unmarked car and their belongings swiftly taken by the driver to put in the back.   

“Did you know about this?” Kendo whispered.   

Todoroki shook his head. “Not at all. It’s odd—Endeavour nearly always comes to retrieve me himself. He must be busy preparing for the mission.”  

Kendo squirmed at the thought that neither of them knew about the pickup and that Todoroki himself saw this as unusual behaviour. Still, they had no reason to distrust the driver until a second man opened the back seat. Kendo halted before the vehicle. One person? Two hero students like them could work together and beat if they were untrustworthy. Two? That was a risk. They didn’t know who these men were, and she didn’t like the look in either of their eyes.   

“Todoroki,” Kendo whispered. “Maybe we shouldn’t. This seems…strange. We can find our own way to the agency.”  

Leaning back on his feet, he considered her carefully. “You suspect something? If it reassures you, I do know the driver.”   

It was reassuring, but still, she shook her head. “Something’s off.”   

Whether it was the way the two men were looking at her and Todoroki, or the tactical disadvantage they would both be at within the vehicle, or how Todoroki had said his father’s absence was unusual, the situation had Kendo on edge.   

After a moment of consideration, Todoroki nodded. “Alright. We’ll take a cab.”   

“I don’t think Endeavour would like that,” the man in the back seat warned them. “He sent us because wants you there as soon as possible.”   

“Then we’ll find a cab quickly,” Todoroki stated blandly.   

The man looked hesitant to push, but he still shook his head in the end. “I can’t let you do that.”   

Kendo took a step back, pulling Todoroki with her. “That sounds like a threat.”   

 It was quick, too quick, but Todoroki was swept up by some invisible force and stuffed into the car with a muffled yelp. The driver started driving before the door was even closed, leaving Kendo behind to watch the unmarked car drive away with Todoroki as its unwilling captive.   

Todoroki had been kidnapped.   

Her first thought was to call for help. But her phone was in her bag that had been taken by the very driver who now had her classmate, and the car itself was unmarked, meaning there was no identification to give to any heroes or officers. Her second thought? A man with a motorcycle was getting off about 30 feet to her right.   

She had to chase down that car.   

Her father had a motorcycle in the garage, and they had been building one for her to practice with and eventually ride to school when she got her license at sixteen. She wasn’t old enough to get a license, but it wasn’t about to stop her now.  

“Sir!” she yelled, running up to the man. “I’m Battle Fist, intern at Endeavor agency. There’s a kidnapping in progress—I need to borrow your vehicle.”   

She promised him quickly that she’d look up his plates and return his vehicle with help from Endeavor Agency later. Popping on his, frankly, sweaty helmet, she put the bike in gear, started the engine, and with a squeeze of the clutch, took off after the black sedan.   

It had a head start, but with city traffic, it couldn’t go as fast as a motorcycle could by darting between vehicles. Kendo’s heart was pumping fast, but she focused on the sight of the black car and the rumble of the cycle underneath her. She couldn’t be anxious, not when Todoroki needed her. There was no time for much thought except for cataloguing how cold the cold rush of wind on her hands was and tracking the sharp turns of the unmarked car.   

She was finally able to pull up next to the vehicle, saw Todoroki fighting someone in the back seat.   

“Let him go!” she shouted.   

She raised a fist and prepared to punch through the side door, but the driver noticed the enlarged fist and made a sharp turn to the left, down a narrow alleyway.   

Kendo was set to miss that turn, but she couldn’t afford to do a loop around. She smashed her enlarged palm onto the ground, hoping that it didn’t hurt the road too badly, and lifted herself and the motorcycle off of the ground and around, making the sharpest turn of her life to follow the vehicle.   

“URGH!” she roared. Her shoulder strained and tried to tear with the speed, and while she was strong, her shoulders were not used to being the main actors. She’d need to practice some of Bakugo’s fitness routine when this was over.   

Now that the driver had seen her, she was having a hard time getting close. If she came up to his tail, he would veer side to side and nearly crash into her front, dissuading her from pulling up next to them again. She’d been nearly run into other traffic by the dangerous driving of the other vehicle, but she couldn’t afford to stop.  

Todoroki was part of Class 1-A: the class of disaster after disaster. She was now part of that class too, and now that she was thrown into danger with him, she couldn’t let him down. She wouldn’t let any of her classmates down. Kendo wouldn’t let a single classmate go missing on her watch.   

She zipped between cars again and right up behind them, tailing them closely. She could theoretically lift the car herself if she wasn’t on the motorcycle—a single car with one hand was more than doable when she was clocking in at 2.5 tons per hand during rescue training—which meant that if the villains paused, she might be able to keep it from moving, but her target was Todoroki only. Engaging with villains as a civilian was illegal. If she could punch through the side of the doors and pull him out, that was the end of her mission, and she would get him to safety before calling the heroes in to find that car. It would still be technically using her quirk against property, but if it’s an unmarked and unlicensed vehicle, chances were low it even technically belonged to anyone, and she would be in the clear. Especially when weighed against a kidnapping in progress.  

The car wove through a break in traffic and Kendo’s eyes narrowed after them. She wove through the same gap and through the same turns, watching vigilantly. Kendo could do this; she just needed a clear shot.   

And from how they sped up the second traffic let them, they seemed to understand her intent. She was forced to play catchup to them for several blocks of the city. Any traffic was forcibly slowed by their chase as the car ahead of her dangerously slid between bumpers and fenders. Kendo was easily more maneuverable, but she didn’t want to endanger the drivers on the road, which was something those two kidnappers were clearly ignoring in their bid to escape. Cars were breaking left and right to stay out of the way, and she felt lucky that she didn’t hear the creak and crash of metal that would sound at a collision.   

A car nearly rammed right into her when she dodged after the unmarked vehicle, throwing her off as she veered to the side. Her eyes connected with the dark sunglasses in the car mirror as Todoroki was driven even further away.   

That hit, though, gave her an opening. The driver in shades had clearly seen her near-fall and assumed that she would stop, right herself, or need time to recover. Instead of continuing his deadly evasive movements through traffic, the driver pulled far off to the side and snuck discreetly into a hidey hole on the side of the road, an underground parking lot where she never would have checked if she hadn’t seen them drive in.   

Especially since the man had to scan a pass to open the metal gate to get inside.  

Kendo saw the gate rise and twisted the throttle back. The motorcycle went off like a rocket, speeding towards the timed gate that the black car—and Todoroki—were disappearing through. The gate starting clinking down in time with the sweat on her forehead.   

Clink.   

She wove through the final lane.   

Clink.   

Kendo used a giant hand to turn the motorcycle without losing speed.   

Clink.   

She rushed down the incline, and…  

“RAAAAAAGH!” She threw herself forward and let the bike land on top of her until they both skidded through the crack in the garage door, that shuttered closed with a final clank . Her body felt the impact, and she knew she’d be sore, but she wasn’t about to break her word and damage a civilian’s bike, right? She could take a few blows.   

And she needed the motorcycle for the getaway. The driver was pulling the car up to a parking spot already, and she rushed to sit back on the bike and get it running.   

With another rumble from the bike, she took them by surprise, pulling up next to their nearly parked vehicle and ripping the back door right off of the car to a surprised Todoroki and kidnapper.   

“Didn’t expect me, did you?!” she roared like a battle cry. Her hand dipped into the car to yank out the bewildered Todoroki. “You’ll have to do better than that!”  

She dropped Todoroki behind her and swung the motorcycle around as the gale of wind started up. The sidekick was gearing for another strike. “Hang on! I’m getting us out of here!”   

Todoroki had no time to say anything as she squeezed the throttle and shot toward the exit.  

“Kendo? What are you doing?” Todoroki didn’t clutch to her, just put his hands calmly on her shoulders. Even his voice was calm. It was unnerving when her whole body was pumped with adrenaline.   

“Rescuing you!” she called back. “We’ll head to Endeavor’s agency, send a hero after these guys! They probably targeted you because of Endeavor!”   

Kendo lifted the garage doors with one hand to drive them out faster than they would open, and she was feeling pretty good about their chances of escape until a fiery figure cut in front of them, landing with heavy feet. Flames rippled from their massive form and Todoroki explained too calmly in her ear:   

“They aren’t working against Endeavor.”   

Endeavour stood in front of them with fire in his face and eyes, making every civilian in the area stop and stare. Kendo felt 12 inches tall under his critical gaze.    

Todoroki released her shoulder and sighed as they halted before Endeavor himself. “They were working for him . Welcome to your internship at Endeavor Agency. ”    

The adrenaline and the thrill that had been raging in her blood and in the air stilled and she cast her eyes back at Todoroki in shock. His lifeless eyes stunned her.   

“Todoroki?”   

He sighed, and pulled her hand from the throttle, his eyes hidden beneath his bangs. “I am sorry, Kendo. I should have known.”  

Endeavor’s booming voice cried in thunderous refrain, “SHOTOOOOO!!!”   

Both UA students turned to the hero whose displeasure was obvious in every exaggerated muscle. His flames flickered dangerously along his suit and face, casting dark shadows on his disapproving snarl.   

“Inside. Now.”   

Clearly, he didn’t want to deal with them in public with everyone pointing and whispering. Kendo took off her helmet and, with little thought, shot a smile at the nearest civilian.   

“Don’t worry, everyone!” she called with a wave. “Training exercise! Endeavor does everything he can to ensure the next generation of heroes are the best in their class!”   

People relaxed immediately, giving excited waves and clapping at Endeavor’s dedication. The glower on said hero’s face deepened.   

“I said, INSIDE.”   

Kendo gave a final wave before turning around and heading back into the parking garage. The stillness in there compared to the energy of the city had her discomforted. She brought the motorcycle to a stop next to the wrecked, unmarked car and the two henchmen who were standing next to it with crossed arms. She refused to let her posture sag under their harsh eyes, keeping herself pin-straight and ready to fight.  When Endeavor came up, the men went to him and started whispering in his ear and pointing between her and the car door she’d destroyed and thrown to the garage floor.   

“Shoto!” Endeavor stomped over to them. “Stand up, boy. Greet your father.”   

The lifelessness she’d seen before in Todoroki’s eyes made sense now as she saw him rise to meet Endeavor, still as a ghost and just as passive, his head bowed. On their ride up, she’d sworn that Todoroki had built up some fire in him and was prepared for the internship. Maybe being forcibly kidnapped by your own father did this, or maybe it was the way he kept his head tilted so she was always in his periphery, protecting her, but Todoroki made no sound of protest. It was so…wrong.   

And Kendo was never good at standing back when someone was being wronged.   

“Endeavor-san!” Kendo shoved down the brakes and slid from the motorcycle in one graceful motion to stand in front of him and give him a proper bow that her mother would be proud of. She heard a small, stifled word from Todoroki beside her, but focused on the bow. “Intern Battle Fist, reporting for training. I must admit, sir, that even your tough-as-nails reputation couldn’t have prepared me for such an intense first test, but I am eager to hear your review of my performance.”   

She felt the flare in heat before Endeavor could hide his irritation and smiled at the ground.   

“Test?”   

“That was the point, wasn’t it?” Kendo looked up with innocence written in her every feature. Endeavor’s glare was intimidating, but she was not going to be bullied. “Make it look like Todoroki was kidnapped, then see what I would do? You wouldn’t need to assess Todoroki because he’s your son and would know his limitations, of course, so it was a test for me as your new intern. It’s good to know you’re taking this so seriously. I admit, we haven’t gone over car chases and kidnappings in class yet, but I hope I exceeded your expectations, sir.”   

“You are foolish, girl,” Endeavour rumbled through his sneer. “Why would this be a test?”  

Kendo straightened up from her bow, leveling her gaze with his. “Maybe because, if this wasn’t a test, it would mean you deliberately had your sidekicks steal my belongings, shove your son into a car, and leave me behind with the distinct impression he was kidnapped for no reason, sir.”  

Endeavor glowered down at her and Todoroki shot her a warning glance, but she wasn’t going to stop.   

“If it wasn’t a test,” she said with her chin held up high, “then I am forced to consider this a deeply disrespectful action not only against me but also your son and the countless civilians whom your sidekicks nearly crashed into trying to avoid me during our chase.”  

Endeavor turned to glare back at his sidekicks, who pointedly cowered away. Kendo drew his attention back her by taking Todoroki’s phone out of his pocket and holding it in front of him.  

“And if this wasn’t a test, but a deliberate attempt to get rid of me, I would have to assume that you, sir, were the idiot for putting together such a stupid scheme in the first place. SIR.” Kendo opened Todoroki’s phone and dialed in the number she had memorized. “Especially when you know that Eraserhead would be thrilled to know he was right about this internship. If this wasn’t a test, I would be forced to call UA and inform my sensei of it, and we will be promptly removed from your stewardship and sent elsewhere for the week. If it wasn’t a test, you must be so eager to get rid of me that the option doesn’t sound too terrible, right? But consider the blow to your reputation when your son ends up interning with someone else because you couldn’t handle one other student.”   

Endeavor stared her down and she stared back up, phone between them.   

“So, sir, which was it?” she demanded. “Was it to test my competence, or was it to strand me halfway across the city without any of my belongings, hoping I wouldn’t show up until some arbitrary deadline when you could separate me from my partner for the duration of our internship?”  

Something flashed across Endeavor’s face—frustration, maybe—and Kendo knew she’d guessed correctly. Endeavor was going to whisk Todoroki away on a mission or something that simply couldn’t wait for his lazy partner to make her way to the agency, effectively separating them in a way he couldn’t be blamed for.   

“You arrived quickly enough,” Endeavor finally said, turning his back to them both. His voice was full of anger. “You never lost sight of Shoto. Consider yourself successful.”   

Kendo dropped her arm and let Todoroki take back his phone. She bowed again to Endeavor’s back. “Thank you, sir.”   

“But you still illegally operated a vehicle on public streets and destroyed my property,” Endeavor sneered, kicking the rubble of the car door. “Use of quirks in combat without your mentor’s approval is illegal as well.”   

She nodded sagely. “I understand and will be more cautious in the future. But I never used it in combat, sir. I never intended to engage them in a fight. My mission was to follow and secure Todoroki if I could. As for operating a motorcycle without a license, well, I assume that since it was a test from Endeavor’s agency, it had to be under controlled conditions and under supervision of licensed heroes, right? Only if this was a deliberate test, of course.”   

She might have been poking the stick a little too far in, but the point was made, and Endeavor’s eyes burned with seething hatred into her skull. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware that Endeavor’s opinion could have her blacklisted from agencies. It could kill her heroics career. Another part of her realized that the second she had taken an internship with Todoroki, his opinion of her had gone from neutral to loathing. Nothing she did would stop Endeavor’s wrath, so why should she roll over and perform for him?   

Her face set into a neutral mask.   

“I did have to borrow the motorcycle,” she continued, maybe a little too innocently, “but I told the man that Endeavor Agency would see his bike returned. That’s easy enough, right?”  

Endeavor’s sidekick stepped up finally and put a hand on the bike, looking at the plates. “Oh, yeah, for sure! I’ll send a picture of the vehicle to the police so they can run the plates and give us an address. We’ve had to do the same thing sometimes for a fight, and I can’t tell you how many times heroes end up completely demolishing civilian vehicles—”   

“Stop wasting time, Forcer,” Endeavor gruffed. “Get that vehicle back to its owner, but do it quietly. ”   

“Yes, sir!”   

The wind-based sidekick took the helmet off of her with a thumbs up.   

He leaned in and whispered, “You’re doing great, kid. Don’t take his attitude to heart, okay? He’s been trying to impress his son for ages, so he’s a bit surly right now, but we’ve got your back. We’ll make sure you have a good internship. I mean, we knew full well that Endeavor would test your metal, but if you hadn’t made it in time, us sidekicks were already planning to—”   

“FORCER!!”   

“Yes, sir!” The sidekick Forcer popped onto the motorcycle and drove it out of the garage, presumably to deliver it to the person or to the agency or to the police. Kendo smiled and waved at the sidekick as he left. He hadn’t needed to reassure her, but he had, and that made all the difference to her.   

Endeavor snarled, stomping up to her. “Shoto and I are going to Hosu to look for the Hero Killer. It’s dangerous, little girl.”   

His fire crackled dangerously and she felt the heat press on her skin like she had stepped too close to a campfire. It hurt to look at the burning hero. With how things had escalated between them, maybe she needed to pull back. It was a blow to her pride, but she shifted a little, her glare softening and her mouth forming a wide, saccharine smile. “Acting as a hero is always dangerous. It’s a good thing Todoroki and I have such a strong hero to teach us, isn’t it?”  

The driver, who had been so stoically standing behind Endeavor, snickered, and turned it into a cough when Endeavour whirled around to berate them.  

“Endeavour.”   

Todoroki drew everyone’s attention with his monotone call. Endeavour, in particular, had immediately turned with a sharp about-face. Odd.   

“We are wasting time,” stated Todoroki baldly. “Kendo will not be in the way. My teacher has made her my partner, and she is competent enough to not be killed standing at my side.”   

Some people would be offended at that, but Kendo saw the apology in Todoroki’s eyes as he looked at her. The comparison between them was solely for Endeavor’s benefit. It had a part of her bristling to think Todoroki was used to this from his dad.   

She could hear the click click of Endeavor’s jaw as he clenched it in fury. Finally, he stomped over to Todoroki.   

“Why you insist on weighing yourself down with a deadweight, I will never know.” Kendo bristled. He was acting as if she wasn’t even there! “Your teacher is clearly too soft. I refuse to let her interfere with your training now that you have finally started taking it seriously.”   

Todoroki’s lifeless eyes stared up at his father. “I said I would train my fire, and I will. Do not bring her into this.”   

His answer had Endeavor stepping forward, more relaxed, and putting a hand on Shoto’s shoulder. And Shoto flinched under him. Kendo was seconds away from interfering, exactly what he had told her not to do, when Todoroki rolled his shoulder and stepped out of his grip.   

“Let’s get going,” he murmured. Kendo felt the first pang of empathy for Endeavor when Todoroki turned away from him—his hand was still outstretched to his son, as if he couldn’t believe Todoroki would walk away from him. Something about it struck her as…oddly sincere.   

Kendo wanted to run up to Todoroki, but…wait, no, there would be no ‘but’s. She wasn’t going to be cowed by Endeavor. So, making no eye contact with the hero, she jogged up to Todoroki’s side and nudged him softly as they walked away.   

“Hey,” she whispered, “thanks. For standing up for me.”   

Todoroki frowned darkly at the ground. “It was my error to begin with. I’m sorry. You came to my rescue when truly, it is only you who was set to be harmed by my father’s selfishness. I should not have asked you to come with me.”   

That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. For a second, she worried her lip and wondered what the right answer was to the sheer loathing—for himself and his father—that Todoroki had clued her in on.   

“Well, we saved each other,” Kendo said at long length. “I saved you from fake kidnappers, and you saved me from your dad. We’re pretty good partners already, huh?”   

Todoroki looked at her, the darkness and emptiness fading away as he raised his brows with small, disbelieving humour. She hoped he saw that she was serious, and he clearly saw something in her that he agreed with, because the corners of his mouth twitched up just a little. It was just for a moment, but it warmed her heart.   

“Perhaps.”   

Shoto led her to a side entrance of the garage. It seemed like he was done speaking, but then—  

“You are remarkable.” They had gone through the door, now out of Endeavour’s line of sight. He turned to her and appraised her from head to toe. “I had wondered how you could tame Bakugo like you have, and I’m beginning to understand.”   

Before she could protest, say she wasn’t taming anyone and that Bakugo didn’t need a whisperer or anything like that, Todoroki continued with a muted smirk, “You have the same feral energy. In the way you fought those sidekicks, and how you looked ready to fight my old man on my behalf. I daresay Bakugo would approve.”  

Kendo snorted in a very undignified way. “Geez, Todoroki, I wasn’t going to fight anyone. I mean, not if I didn’t need to.”   

“And that,” he pointed out as they rose the stairs, “is the reason you are more acceptable than Bakugo. He has demanded a rematch at every opportunity since the festival. The only time he hasn’t was when you demanded his attention instead. Your first day in our class, he had already told me we were going to fight during heroics. I had declined, but he clearly would have found me during class and fought me once again.”   

Kendo hadn’t known that. She listened with avid attention.   

“I owe you a debt twice-over. You challenged him and spared me his stubborn anger that first day. Perhaps that’s another reason I agreed to bring you along. I couldn’t bring Midoriya, not when he has no control over his quirk, but you impressed me.” Then his face darkened again. “You deserve greater consideration from Endeavor. I apologize for bringing you into this.”   

Kendo elbowed him gently. “Hey. I’m not the only one who deserved more from him today. I’m just happy to be here so you don’t have to suffer alone.”   

Todoroki’s breathing hitched, and he paused at the next door, the one that Kendo could see led outside. He looked to her with ghosts in his eyes, his face taking on an ashen hue that made his scar appear freshly red.   

It was pure instinct that made her step closer.  

Kendo slowly, giving him every opportunity to step back, walked into Todoroki’s space with arms open. Her heart bled for him, the darkness in his eyes, the hurt that for some reason seemed to haunt every moment Endeavour took in his life. As she wrapped her arms around him, she could feel the tension in his body and hoped he would understand what she was trying to tell him. And slowly, the tension bled from his shoulders and he put one arm around her, reciprocating, though she could feel him shaking.   

“Why?” Todoroki murmured. “We don’t even know each other.”  

“You’re my friend now, and it looked like you needed it.”  

“Friend?”   

Kendo gave him an extra pulse of strength to her hug. “I got into a car chase for you. I won’t take no for an answer.”   

Kendo could feel Todoroki’s adam’s apple bounce on her head as he swallowed harshly. His words were raspy. “I…cannot remember the last time someone held me like this.”  

It took a lot of effort to keep her shock under control. Todoroki didn’t need her to pity him or tell him it was surprising. This was the reason she had come to this internship; Todoroki needed someone to be there. Silently, if necessary, and she would be.  

She pulled back after one last, tight squish. Even then, she threw her arm around his shoulder.   

“Well, you have me now. And I’m a hugger.”    

They shared a small smile, but then they heard the doorhandle behind them turn and Todoroki forcibly shoved her arm away and she dropped it faster than a set of weights when the door slammed open behind them.   

“SHOTOOOO!”   

Endeavor personally escorted them out of the building and then made them walk the rest of the way to the agency. For someone who would have rushed Todoroki to Hosu without her, he seemed fine taking his time and walking with them for a few miles. He kept up a brisk pace and kept looking back at her, expecting her to be having trouble keeping up, but she could handle her small overnight bag and his walking pace easily. It irked her that he thought she was so weak, but if he still had doubts after that car chase, she would keep proving to him that she wasn’t so easily cowed.   

When they strode into Endeavor’s office building, Kendo could hear the whispers and see the wide-eyed looks pointed their way. Some were pointed at Todoroki, or between him and his father. Some sidekicks congratulated Endeavor on getting his son into UA and welcomed the younger Todoroki with a wide smile and an, “Endeavor is thrilled you’re here, kid!”   

The glare from underneath Todoroki’s long bangs sent many sidekicks scampering away.   

Then there were sidekicks who pointed at her, her motorcycle-ruffled hair, and slyly welcomed her out of Endeavor’s view. Several sidekicks gave her a welcoming pat as they walked past Endeavor, never saying a word but pointedly smiling at her and making funny faces at Endeavor behind his back. Kendo bit her lip to keep from laughing as a specific sidekick with a flower quirk made a red carnation beard and walked in Endeavor’s signature “I’m showing off my muscles” way down the hall. She could have sworn she saw Todoroki grin in her periphery.   

It wasn’t until they got to the top floor that her mummified instructor popped out from nowhere.   

“Kendo Itsuka, welcome to Endeavor Agency!” Kido, the bandaged sidekick, bypassed Endeavor to get to her without a hint of restraint or caution. “Hey, I heard all about your adventure from Forcer already, and I’ve gotta ask—are you thinking motorcycle for a support item? Because you need lessons! And, from what I hear from Aizawa, a reinforced vehicle for when your fists go vrshhhh .”   

He opened his arms as if he blew up a balloon and Kendo snorted.   

“When I’m a pro, yeah, a motorcycle might be nice,” she agreed. “At least for mobility. If I have to cover a large area, my quirk isn’t the speediest.”   

“But you can take a beating!” Kido encouraged. He drew her over to the other sidekicks with an encouraging prod. “The longer you can last in a fight, the better your odds of out lasting your opponents or finding that critical second to take ‘em down. Seems like you won’t be going down easily, kid, and that’s worth a heck of a lot in the hero community. Come on, meet the crew.”   

Kido was moving her to the other sidekicks, but she felt a vacuum at her back and realized he was also pulling her away from Todoroki and his father.   

“Todoroki!” Kendo ducked back under the sidekick’s arm and linked hers with Todoroki. “Come on, we’re meeting the team.”   

Endeavour’s heavy steps landed just behind her. “Shouto has met them all before.”   

Todoroki—the polished thespian or perfectly clueless prince—looked back at his father blandly. “Have I? Then it is only polite that I greet them properly.”   

The look of fury on Endeavour’s face was worth it for the small grin on Todoroki’s as she pulled him away. Endeavour looked like All Might had stepped on his toes and then complimented how resilient his feet were.  

Yet, as satisfying as Endeavour’s anger might be after all the disrespect he’d shown her, there were moments when Kendo would look at him and see… concern. Not for her, definitely not, but it was usually when Todoroki turned his back to his father in a deliberate snub. Just like in the parking garage, Todoroki would reject an overture from his father, turn away, and Endeavour would look at him like he couldn’t understand it at all. Maybe like he wished he could understand.   

At one point, Kendo decided to poke the beast and ask, casually, “So, when are we going to Hosu?”  

It turns out, they weren’t. At least not right away like Endeavour would have done if Todoroki was the only one here. No, Kendo had apparently thrown a wrench in that plan, and Endeavour decided that, in lieu of leaving immediately, Kendo would need to go through some training first.   

And so Kendo and Todoroki were ushered into the Endeavour Agency training facilities by their respective mentors. Endeavour had tried to pull Todoroki away for private instruction, but Kendo had shut it down immediately, linking arms with Todoroki and innocently remarking how “exciting it is to receive training from Endeavour,” and how “this must be very important training for our mission, right?” Endeavour couldn’t correct her on the second, and therefore never corrected her on the first.   

For her interference, Todoroki had given her a smile, small and amused. It made the risk of alienating Endeavour that much more worth it.   

That didn’t save her from leaving training black and blue and sore all over.   

It was brutal training. Endeavour seemed an avid believer in experience being the best teacher, so he threw them into scenario after scenario where he and various sidekicks who were already fully trained and licensed pros would play the villains with no punches pulled. Neither of them stood a chance. If they managed to down a sidekick, Endeavour would spring out from somewhere and land blow after blow on both of his new interns, and they were no match for the number two hero.   

The first time, though, when Kendo was about to take a blow from Endeavor, Todoroki appeared as if from nowhere with a blast of ice blocking his father and an arm of fire catching incoming blow. Both students and the teacher froze as Endeavor and Todoroki stared at each other. Well, Todoroki was meeting his father’s eyes, but Endeavor was staring.....at the fire. The fire on Todoroki’s arm seemed to bewilder Endeavor for a moment.   

“I will use all of my power,” Todoroki informed him. “I will stop cowardly men from hurting people using my quirk .”   

Kendo’s breath caught in her throat as she got one more confirmation of what kind of childhood Todoroki had lived through. Endeavor looked like he had been slapped.   

Endeavor had them redo the training. They still lost. Endeavor still hit hard. It was only after this brutal training that Endeavour gave them any real feedback.   

Kendo was putting an ice pack onto a particularly nasty bruise on her shoulder which looked eerily close to dislocation while the agency’s healer looked her over. Endeavour strode over and looked her up and down, assessing.   

“You won’t be a horrible sidekick if you manage to use more than your hands,” Endeavour bit out. Kendo hid her surprise. Was Endeavour trying to be…encouraging? Then Kendo saw his eyes flicker to Todoroki, and she understood. Endeavour would be kind to her because Todoroki had defended her and—clearly—wasn’t thrilled with how she was being treated. Endeavor was trying to bridge the gap between him and Todoroki in a small way. “Your attention is too focused on the people and not the environment—use the surroundings better. Also, your hands may be your quirk, but they can elevate the movements of the rest of your body as well. Putting the force of your hands to support kicks or to move you to a more strategic position are basic combat assets you should master. You need more flexibility and creativity in combat.”   

Kendo removed the ice pack and bowed humbly. “Thank you, Endeavour-sensei. I will do my best.”   

“Shoto!” Endeavour turned to his son with intent, and Todoroki glared defiantly up at him. “You are to practice with smaller movement, using your quirk more precisely. Large movements are predictable and easily avoided. These are mistakes you should be easily able to avoid if you had paid any attention to your previous training! Have you learned nothing?!”  

Todoroki didn’t reply, simply gave a small nod. “I will practice smaller, precise movements.”   

“You’re not going to ask how to practice?” Todoroki stared blankly at Endeavor’s frustrated expression. Endeavor nearly growled. “You should practice shaping your ice, then doing the same with your fire. Since your.... preference for ice is clear, you should begin by matching the movement from one to the other. Can you do that?”  

“I will.”   

It was as close to a dismissal as Todoroki seemed willing to give his father, and Endeavour’s reddened face told Kendo it was as close to a dismissal as Endeavour was willing to accept without confrontation. These two were walking a fine line with each other, one of giving just enough offence to show their animosity while relenting just enough to keep the peace.   

It didn’t stop Endeavor from trying to separate them again. Kendo was put up in the on-call room, but Endeavor wanted Todoroki to go home with him. Todoroki gave him one dead look and then placed his bag quietly at the end of another on-call bed. The message was clear: You won’t separate us.  

Endeavor stomped away in a huff.  

As Kendo and Todoroki bunked together that night, Kendo saw Todoroki’s hands flash quietly as Todoroki made sloppy snowflakes in one hand and tried to mimic the patterns with his fire in the other. Despite the anger he clearly held for his father, Kendo’s heart burned a little seeing how much Todoroki actually truly wanted to learn from the man. She laid her head on the bunk’s scratchy pillow and stared at the youngest Todoroki.   

Somewhere deep within this family was some kind of draw to each other. They don’t want to be near each other....but they want the other watching them. Endeavor wants Todoroki to look up to him and Todoroki wants Endeavor looking at him with regret, maybe. Kendo wasn’t sure about what Todoroki wanted yet.   

“Why did you choose to intern here?” Kendo asked him quietly across the on-call room.   

Todoroki turned to her, hands still glowing with his power and shadowing his neutral mask. “He can teach me how to use my fire.”   

Kendo considered this. “There are other fire heroes, though, and emitter quirks that work the same way.”   

Why Endeavor? Why pick someone you clearly resent or even hate? These unspoken questions seemed to hang in the air between them.   

Todoroki stared at his fiery palm where the flames pulsed and moved with his breath. For a moment, he didn’t speak, but Kendo waited for the moment his thoughts gathered.   

“My whole life, I saw my fire as his,” Todoroki finally said. “After being at UA....After the Sports Festival....Perhaps I wanted to show him it was mine.”  

A breath. A pregnant silence.  

“Or....” Todoroki murmured, “maybe I want to show myself.”   

Kendo watched for a little while longer as Todoroki practiced the small movements of his quirk exactly how Endeavor instructed. There was something distinctly bittersweet about the moment. Kendo played it over and over in her head, trying to understand it until she fell asleep.