Chapter Text
The problem started when the oven in his room stopped working- Wait, no. That would imply that it was his oven’s fault he was in this mess, when in reality, it was unavoidable. His classmates were savages.
Let’s rephrase. The actual comprehension of how bad and deep the problem ran began from the moment his oven decided to call it quits.
His oven was broken and it stayed broken, as the mechanics were either too busy or not yet able to trudge through the unholy amount of paperwork needed to visit the dorms- paperwork created by the Principal in the name of safety. Which might seem a bit overzealous, but knowing his class’ track record, he could only be grateful. And since he wasn’t- hadn’t been- desperate enough to ask someone in the Support Department, he was forced to move his baking into the kitchen. Which shouldn’t be a problem. UA had not skimped on their appliances. It was a good kitchen. Good oven too. Everything worked fine.
Sato knew his classmates weren’t…. experts in the kitchen. It made sense, really. All of them had lived with their parents until now. They were young. Of course they had not yet learned how to cook. He understood that. He had predicted that, since the moment he knew that UA would become a boarding school. That was why he had baked that cake on the first day. To give them a taste of homemade food. Make it a little bit easier.
What he couldn’t have predicted was the lawlessness. The complete and utter disregard for everything.
How did he get here? He couldn’t help but wonder. He wasn’t religious. He didn’t believe in the afterlife or reincarnation. But there had to be something, right? Because he had done nothing in his sixteen years of living to deserve this.
He stared at a certain cabinet that was a lot emptier than it should be, and turned to his classmates.
“Kaminari. Ashido”, Sato said, trying to remain calm and patient. “Why is the sugar gone?” Again.
The pair shuffled their feet, looking down on them in shame.
“It’s my sugar, he said firmly, emphasizing the words as if that would drill the message into their heads. It hadn’t the first three times, but who knew. Miracles could happen. Rikidio was capable of having a positive mindset.
"It’s in my cabinet. I can’t bake in my room right now. I need the sugar for my quirk. You know that.” He sent a look to Ashido, who was using the fact that she was light on her feet to discreetly shuffle towards the exit. “Both of you.”
Ashido had the nerve to look sheepish. He could spot a few grains of sugar on the corner of her lips. He wanted to throttle them.
“Sorry, man”, Kaminari said, making his eyes snap back to the blond, leaving Ashido free to shuffle away further. He had his hands in the air, an universal sigh of surrender that Sato knew he didn’t mean. “We stole some of Bakugou’s food and it hurt, like, really bad."
Of course it did. Bakugou had warned them, quite literally so. After his leftovers were stolen for the millionth time, he had dragged them all into the common room and told them, explicitly, that, from now on, his food wouldn’t just be ‘hot’ anymore. Instead, it would be, and he was quoting here, ‘Satan’s ass-crack levels of hot’. Seemed like he hadn’t been exaggerating. Kaminari’s face was still red, Mina’s skin more watermelon than her usual bubblegum. Both had tear tracks on their face.
Ashido nodded frantically. “Sugar is supposed to help with that, right?” She said. “So we took some.”
Sato could feel his eye starting to twitch. “Some?” He manages to ask. The edge to his voice was slowly starting to inch to a threat.
By the Gods, was this how Bakugou always felt like? Boiling with rage. His respect for the blond increased. He was this close to stabbing someone- since he couldn’t smash their face trough the wall since his sugar was gone.
Kaminari must have sensed something off, because he slowly started to backtrack towards where Ashido was still standing, words falling out his mouth like a waterfall.
“Well, we only took some, but Jirou had heard us yelling and wondered what the racket was about, so she came here to see, but by doing so, she startled us-”
Ashido grasped his sleeve as soon as he was in reach, and started to lead him backwards, leaving Kaminari to his rambling and free to keep looking Sato in the eye. The action pissed him off even more. He wasn’t the animal here- they were!
He heard something crack, but he paid no attention to it. More than anything, he wanted to hear what excuses Kaminari could make up.
(He also deftly ignored the way Kaminari started to ramble faster.)
“- and we were kind of in a hurry because the, you know, extreme and all-consuming agony, so we kind of ripped it out of the cabinet and ended up sending it everywhere, but we will replace it, I swear!”
Well, that explained the mess left on the floor. That they didn’t clean. He wanted to tell them to, but they had already inched too close to the door.
“Really sorry”, Kaminari said again. And then, they were gone.
Leaving Sato with his sugar all over the floor. He briefly considered chasing them, but he was tired and agitated and he didn’t want to waste his energy by hollering bloody murder.
He took a deep breath and went to get the duster- Huh. He stared at the crack in the countertop. It was in the same place his hand had rested on. He hadn’t noticed that.
He frowned. Had that been there before?
____________
By the time he finished cleaning- which took a lot longer than he thought, both because the sugar had indeed gotten everywhere and he needed a minute half-way through to calm himself when he found they had also sent his cinnamon down in their haste, because of course it had, it had been just that kind of week-
He heard a door slam into his hinges, a telltale sign for everyone who lived in the dorms. Bakugou had returned from his run. He snorted quietly to himself.
This would be good.
And indeed, within a minute, hell broke loose.
“DID YOU MORONS EAT MY FUCKING FOOD AGAIN!”
Kaminari yelped a denial, words unrecognizable as Mina did the same, mixing it in a jumble of words.
“I CAN SEE THE PLATE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING DUMBASS.”
Kaminari’s response wasn’t very clear, but he sounded very panicked. Bakugou’s, on the other hand, was not.
“I AM NOT A FUCKING IDIOT. THAT’S HOW.”
Another voice, also very panicked. From the sound of it, this time it was Ashido’s.
“HE’S ALWAYS THE ONE TAKING MY SHIT.”
Fair enough, Sato supposed. Although both had been at fault in this case, Kaminari had the most tally marks for annoying Bakugou. He got away with it pretty well too, usually-
“DON’T YOU DARE TAKE HIS FUCKING SIDE, EIJIRO. I FUCKING WARNED HIM.”
Huh. Seemed like Kirishima had been dragged into this too. He absentminded dumped the last bits and pieces into the garbage. The redhead had either been out training with the blond or arrived just in time to see it all go down. He hadn’t been in the common room when Sato had been there and he hadn’t heard him arrive. Kirishima had the habit to loudly greet whoever was sitting there.
A high, pained yelp came from the common room, quickly followed by the sound of quick, angry footsteps.
Bakugou stormed into the kitchen, dragging Kaminari behind him, the other’s ear held in a vice grip. Kaminari was whimpering, struggling to keep up. Mina ran in after them. Kirishima brought up the rear; probably to make sure his boyfriend didn’t kill his friend.
He knew he should feel some sort of sympathy, but he came up dry. Kirishima and Mina were both there and Bakugou was too hell-bent on becoming a hero to commit murder in front of witnesses. Kaminari would live.
Bakugou released Kaminari, who immediately grabbed his, admittedly, very painful looking ear and stomped to the counter.
There, he calmly slid a knife out of the knife block.
Kamari stopped whimpering and went still, like a deer looking into the headlights of an incoming car.
“Kaminari”, Bakugou said calmly. “Ashido.”
Oh no. If Bakugou was using their names, it was really serious. His eyes flickered to the knife- Bakgou’s knife. The blond always made sure to keep his knifes in good condition, sharpening them regularly. He could see the way the metal shined, light running along the edge until his attention was drawn to it. Clean and very, very sharp.
“I want you to listen to me", Bakugou said slowly, like he was speaking to a pair of toddlers. "It seems like the message didn’t quite sink in, but seeing how stupid both of you are, it shouldn’t surprise me.” The trio didn’t even bother to respond to the insult, too busy eying the knife.
“Under the circumstances, I am willing to generous to repeat myself one last time. My food is. Off. Limits. Do not. Take. My fucking shit.”
“If I catch either of you- any of you- one more time...” Bakugou paused, letting the words hang in the air next to the future maiming weapon.
He could see that Kaminari was starting to sweat. But like a fool- a brave fool- but a fool nonetheless, he grinned.
“You’ll kill me?”
“No”, Bakugou answered, knife still in his hand. “I won’t.”
And that was that. Bakugou slid the knife back in and stormed back towards the living room. He didn’t even acknowledge Sato.
Kaminari was left in the middle of the kitchen. “Hot damn”, he wheezed. “I lived.”
As Mina crashed against Kaminari for a ‘survived-Blasty-again-hug’, Sato stared at the doorway that Bakugou just stormed through. In the recess of his mind, a small cog started to turn.
____________
After this incident, Kaminari, or anyone else for that matter, dared to touch Bakugou’s food unless the blond personally handed it to them. The ‘Beast of 1-A’ had made his point loud and clear.
Sato’s things, however, still disappeared.
And it was slowly- but surely - pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He sat on the couch in the common room, holding a cup of hot chocolate that was supposed to sooth his anger. It hadn’t, however, because some filthy thief had stolen his cacao. Shoji, who had lent him some of his, was still seated next to him, even after Sato had finished venting what had been days worth of rage. He was a good friend, but entirely unhelpful.
“Maybe a lock would be a good idea”, Shoji offered.
The cup shattered in his hands.
He stared at it, nonplussed as the people around him screeched in alarm. Aoyama, in particular, had jumped back as if it had been acid instead of hot chocolate.
How did that happen, he mused, staring at the broken pieces.
Shoji immediately started to inspect his hand, letting out a little sigh in relief, as he couldn’t see any blood or wounds. Sato let him, staring at the hot chocolate mournfully. There went his comfort drink. He already knew that stain was never going to come out.
Ojirou, who had the reflexes of a cat, had immediately run to the kitchen to get a kitchen roll, tearing them off and leaving them over the liquid, gathering the pieces with careful hands.
Sato didn’t miss the look he exchanged with Shoji, especially since it lasted several seconds. They seemed to have reached an agreement, because afterwards, Ojirou turned to him.
“Sato”, he said carefully, a worried look on his face, even with his kind smile added into the mixture. “Are you okay? You’ve been kind of on edge ever since your oven broke-”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed. He tried to go for a chuckle, or, if that weren’t possible, a low, single laugh would suffice. Something polite. Controlled. Instead, what burst out his mouth were high pitches cackles.
Oh, the irony. Sure, it was his oven that was the problem.
He ignored the way everyone took a step back, tampering down his laughter until all that was left were low, wheezy giggles.
It was fine. He was fine. Sure, people stole his stuff and forgot to return it, saying they were so sorry and they forgot and didn’t remember what he wanted or preferred and wanted to make sure they took the right thing, but they would take it with them next time, promise! - Or gave him the wrong thing, because, yes, there was a difference between baking soda and baking powder, but no, don’t worry, it was no problem at all- Or just gave him money instead of actual food, and yes, thank you for compensating me, it’s very kind of you, but it was hard to cook with money and he had plans to test out a new recipe, but don’t fret, I’m sure it can wait.
‘Almonds taste like cyanide”, he almost breathed into the silence of the common room, just like he almost felt bad for thinking about it. ‘If I make a little cake for you, do you think you can tell the difference?’
Shoji ended up being the one the break the silence. “Sato”, he said slowly. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit. You seem tired.”
“Yeah”, Ojiro added, his smile only slightly forced. “We can clean this up, no problem.”
Sato breathed out heavily and moved to the kitchen to get a bucket of water and dishsoap, ignoring the clamoring behind him. He was fine. Maybe he would follow their advice and go lay down for a bit. He could feel a headache starting to beat away at his temples. That could be done after he cleaned up the mess he made though. He also should ask a teacher for permission to go to a store and get Shoji some new cacao. He refused to become a hypocrite.
He was so caught up in his emotions that he failed to notice Bakugou, who was staring at him, thoughtful frown on his face.
___________
This was it. He had said it many times before. In his head, to his friends and, after the same thing kept happening over and over, to whomever was around to hear it. He had thought it when filthy dishes were left in the sink. He had thought it when the girls ‘borrowed’ his chocolate, trying to make chocolates by melting it in a pan. He had complained about it when someone had switched the salt and sugar. He had said it when Iida tried to make a kitchen schedule, even though there were three people who could actually use a kitchen. But this time, this time, he meant it.
Days of accumulated messes, stolen goods and things being misplaced, all leading to this.
“Sorry”, Ochako said with a sheepish smile. “We just tried to bake something. I don’t know what went wrong.”
Sato looked at the burnt pans, the filthy floor and was that egg on the ceiling!
It was. And it was undercooked too. The white parts stuck to the ceiling, pieces of shell stuck in it like needles out of skin. The yellow part was partly liquid. Sato could only watch, with fascinated horror, as it slowly gathered in the middle, like a water drop on the verge of falling down.
He looked at his oven mittens, one badly burned and one soaked. Probably sacrificed in order to put out the fire. They were beyond saving. The only reason he recognized them was because they were mitten shaped and he was the only one who owned a pair in the first place.
He looked at the ice that covered half the kitchen, destroying who knew what, even though they there was a fire extinguisher in the kitchen. Todoroki was in the corner trying to melt it, leaving soggy patches of Gods knows what in his wake.
He looked at everything and knew.
This. This was the last straw. They were going to pay.
Without a word, he turned on his heel and marched out.
They might have called out to him. He wouldn’t know. The entire walk was spend in a haze. Blood was rushing in his ears. He had barely enough cognitive power to remember to take the less-used stairs. If any of them tried to talk to him right now, the spider-thin tread on his patience would snap.
Five minutes later, Sato found himself in front of a certain door on the third floor. Right where he had to be. The only place where he could find an ally in this madness.
He knocked.
Bakugou opened the door with enough force to show what kind of mood he was in. Maybe he had already seen the mess in the kitchen. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have to explain that clusterfuck. He wasn’t even sure if he could.
“Hey”, he said, before the blond could slam the door in his face. “I need your help.”