Chapter Text
╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
You're so nice and you're so smart
You're such a good friend I have to break your heart
Tell you that I love you then I'll tear your world apart
Just pretend I didn't tear your world apart
So Nice So Smart, by Kimya Dawson
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
Snipe calmly walked into the room with a coffee and no Bakugou in tow. The man scanned the room, and Shouta felt himself ageing. He sighed as he stood up to greet him with hands deep in his pockets. They both turned into the corner of the room, backs facing the rest of the room as they leaned in together.
“ Snipe,” Shouta drawled at the wall, the man beside him rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand. He turned to look at the masked man. “ … I don’t know if I want to ask. Where’s Bakugou?”
Snipe went to say something, lifting his finger, then wilted a little at Shouta’s look. He looked a little sheepish, even under his costume, mask and hat, and put his hand down. “ Er… Kaminari– Kaminari was very charismatic, okay?”
“ What does Kaminari have to do with this?” Shouta hissed quietly, conscious of others in the room.
“ He was charismatic !” Snipe repeated and matched his tone, lifting his shoulders defensively. “ I did tell him, Eraser, but first of all Bakugou looked right nervous – which is real rare, mind you – and Kaminari… Kaminari was charismatic when he said he wanted–!”
“ Okay, that’s enough. I’ve heard enough–”
“ But then I also remembered you sayin’ that even if it don’t work out you can talk to him after school so I figured, why, it won’t hurt if Kaminari wanted ta talk, ‘cause it seemed important, y’know–”
“ Snipe that’s not what I meant when I said that if he runs off during lunch I’d have to–”
“ Aye, it’s the same thing, ‘Zawa. Same thing. But just, look, he also said he wanted ta eat ‘cause it’s lunch, and, well, it would be kinda rude ta starve ‘im, wouldn’t it–?”
“ Snipe, for God’s sake–! ”
“ What are we hissing about in the corner like cats for?” Yamada said between them. Snipe yelped colourfully and spilled a little coffee on the floor while Shouta took a moment to steady his racing heart.
He gave Yamada a glare and gritted, “ … About where Bakugou is. Don’t make it a habit of butting in on conversations, Hizashi.”
The blonde waved it off and grinned. “ Really? What, he’s not in class? Where is he?”
“ Apparently,” Shouta gave a tired, deadpan look to Snipe, who suddenly paid great attention to his spilled coffee, “ He’s… talking . To Kaminari.”
Yamada blinked. “ So he’s on his way after that?”
Shouta looked again at Snipe pointedly and the hero jolted, clearing his throat. “ Er, yeah, so, uh— I maybe sort of didn’t actually tell him to–”
“ Snipe lost the fucking kid,” Shouta groaned.
Snipe spluttered, and Shouta could picture his expression under the mask perfectly. “ I-I didn’t lose the kid, I just… didn’t bring ‘im back.”
Shouta tapped his head and shook it, scoffing lightly, “ Right. That’s exactly what happened, how silly of me.”
Snipe sighed and went to cross his arms before remembering his slightly-spilt coffee and standing awkwardly with one hand under his armpit. “ I didn't realise it was so important! And I don’t see ya goin’ yourself, Aizawa!”
“ Because that was your job,” Shouta sighed.
“ Hey, y’know what, that’s actually a good idea, yo!” Yamada grinned awkwardly, placing a hand on each of their shoulders and pushing them closer together as he leaned in enthusiastically. “ How about we go get Bakugou right now, yeah? I can go get him while Snipe, you can go tell Nezu that the plan’s been set back a little but it’s still on track and Aizawa, you can stay here and sleep, because you seem quite–”
They both protested loudly at the same time and Yamada shushed them immediately, casting a wary glance behind him. The rest of the staff barely looked up, thankfully.
Shouta huffed, speaking quieter. “ No, I’m going to get Bakugou, as his homeroom teacher and the one who started it all between us. That’s just what’s going to happen, and I don’t–”
“ No, I am, because that was my job in the first place so I deserve a second chance here! Forgive, forget, be kind ta Snipe, that’s–!”
“ There’s no way I’m going with this idiot.”
“ Oi, as if I’d go with you either! I haven’t spoken to you all that much before but—”
Yamada rolled his eyes. “ No one is going to get Bakugou if you two don’t stop–”
The door slammed open. Snipe spilled the rest of his coffee and cursed.
“ Aizawa!” Midoriya cried, eyes frantic before they latched onto his teacher. The electricity surrounding him sputtered for a second before returning full force. “ K-Kacchan, he- he— Aizawa, Kacchan !”
“ Damn,” Yamada muttered, “ Seems Bakugou’s come to us. Sort of. Even he got tired of your bickering, how’s that?”
Shouta scoffed and shoved past them. He tilted his head to meet Midoriya’s eyes seriously. “ What happened, Midoriya?”
Midoriya could only shake his head and stammer. “ I- I don’t know what happened, I swear— he- he fell so quickly, I swear I couldn’t— I d-didn’t mean— and I-I still didn’t, but I never meant—“
Shouta frowned. The staff’s room was silent behind him and he refused to turn around. Instead, he tilted his head towards the two idiots and ordered simply, “ With me, dimwits.” Turning back to Midoriya, he tried to give him his most stern yet reassuring look without appearing too soft. “ Bring us to Bakugou, kid. D’you think you can do that for me?”
Midoriya nodded vigorously. With a flash of green electricity, he turned.
⬽—+—⤘
“ I… don’t think that’s a good sign,” Hitoshi muttered when he saw Midoriya flash back by again, this time with three Pro Heroes at his heels.
“ What?” Monoma asked, raising a confused eyebrow. “ Are you sure you aren’t high on caffeine? You’re making no sense, Shinso.”
Hitoshi glared at him. “ Yeah, ‘cause you don’t see what I see, with your stupid back turned to the door. And just now, Midoriya ran by again but now with three Pro Heroes behind him, so…”
Monoma paused, taking him a little more seriously. “ … Who were the Pros?”
“ Uh,” Hitoshi gave him a weird look, “ Present Mic, Snipe and… Eraserhead, I think. Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
Monoma hummed, then leaned back. “ Yeah, that’s not good. Fun – I’d say either go after them if you want some kind of high-level drama – villains, or a fight, perhaps – but if you’re like everyone else here you’ll mind your own business and allow people their privacy.”
Hitoshi gave him a blank look, but inside he was debating fiercely against himself. Monoma blinked expectantly at him, waiting patiently, and Hitoshi winced. “ Yeah, but at the same time, they did invite me to join them anytime, and… and, I mean, well, what if something–”
His eye caught on the doors again as a small figure – Recovery Girl – rushed by in the same direction as Midoriya had gone the second time.
Hitoshi stood up, lid clicking on quickly to his lunchbox and he shoved it into his bag. Monoma spluttered, and Hitoshi said quickly, “ Even Recovery Girl’s here, now. I– Something happened, Monoma, I need to know what it is! I’m not being nosey, just… curious.”
Monoma scowled and stood as well, not bothering with his tray as Hitoshi rushed away. He fixed his outfit with a sigh and an amused smile. “ Knew it.”
Hitoshi rushed down the halls, not running exactly yet not really walking, but he couldn’t see where Recovery Girl had gone. He faltered, stopping and listening, before he heard muffled voices coming from further down. In the direction of the heroics classes.
He heard Monoma’s voice calling out for him to wait up, but he ignored him and went further, quicker, until he turned a corner to see–
“ … What–” Hitoshi took a step back, eyebrows scrunched together. “ What the hell?”
Bakugou. Looked. Like. Shit.
And Hitoshi wasn’t even trying to be mean. His whole face (or what he could see of it) was banged up and his clothes looked like he’d let a baby dress him up. Which wasn’t normal, even when he had been dealing with his class’ bullshit, and it sent unease creeping down Hitoshi’s spine.
The second, arguably more important thing Hitoshi processed?
He was unconscious.
Monoma almost ran into him as he rushed around the corner, and scowled at him, hitting him lightly with a click of his tongue. “ Shinso, I swear, if you’re going to run off like that at least give me a warning! I’m a hero in training, not the fastest–” He cut off abruptly, and Hitoshi could guess that he’d seen Bakugou.
Aizawa startled, then tightened his hold on Bakugou as if they’d try to yank him out of his arms themselves. He frowned. “ Shinso, Monoma. Please get back to lunch.”
Hitoshi, for what felt like the first time, ignored him. His eyes flickered behind him, to where Midoriya, Kirishima and Kaminari were standing with the other two heroes. All three students looked panicked and lost, while the heroes’ expressions were tight with concern and faded alarm. Recovery Girl stopped beside Aizawa, face stern as ever.
Hitoshi swallowed and looked back at Bakugou, who had what seemed to be a fresh bruise blooming on the side of his head over everything else, and who’s body seemed too limp in Aizawa’s arms as his head dropped into his chest, hiding his face. His arm was draped over his stomach but that was the only thing stopping it from dangling freely beside him. There were no explosions, no struggling, no scowl. Hitoshi felt his chest tighten as he focused on Bakugou’s chest, but it didn’t do much for the feeling when it finally rose and lowered painstakingly slowly and shallowly. One part of him thought that he’d probably just done something stupid and banged his head or something, and it wasn’t too bad. Another thought that anything that could bring Bakugou Katsuki down was something very bad.
Though honestly, with both inputs, he didn’t know what to think.
It was silent, and it almost felt wrong when he disturbed it by saying slowly, “ Bakugou…?” He didn’t stir. “ … What happened?”
Aizawa gave him a stern look. “ Shinso . Go, now, with Monoma, back to lunch. We’ve got this handled, and we need to go. Now.”
Hitoshi shook his head slightly, though it was more of a twitch to the side with how small and distracted it was. “ Not– Not until you tell me what’s wrong with Bakugou. Is he okay?”
Aizawa’s jaw clenched and his gaze flickered to Bakugou’s hidden face, then Recovery Girl. He huffed impatiently and began to stride forwards, towards them, again. “ We don’t have time for this, Shinso, I’m… I’m sorry. We can do this later.”
Hitoshi stepped hazily back as Aizawa strode past quickly – heading towards Recovery Girl’s office. The rest of them followed him, and Hitoshi could only watch them with a furrowed brow.
Kaminari caught his eye though, as they passed. He smiled tightly at him, wariness evident in his face, and mouthed, ‘explain everything later.’
Hitoshi’s expression only grew grimmer at this and Kaminari, with hunched shoulders, continued to rush off with the rest of the group.
Monoma cleared his throat behind him, when they’d turned a corner out of sight. “ … Shinso? We should go.”
Hitoshi frowned deeper. “ What do you think happened?”
Monoma scoffed. “ Something I was not expecting, is what I think. This is more than just gossip; I’d been hoping there would be blackmail against Kirishima or something here. I did not bargain for… that.”
“ Do– D’you think it’s bad?” Hitoshi muttered.
Monoma was silent for a moment. “ … Truthful answer? Maybe. Bakugou doesn’t just, look like that for nothing. Either someone has a mean punch or there’s something we don’t know going on behind the scenes leading up to this – y’know, among the other things we don’t know because absolutely no one tells us.”
Hitoshi gave him a look at the last part and Monoma shrugged, “ What, if you want the sugar-coated version, I can always turn into a liar for you.”
He scoffed. With one last glance to the classroom in which the group had been walking away from only a few minutes prior, he hesitantly turned and began to walk back. If he continued with lunch as Aizawa told him to, maybe he’d be extra nice and fill him in completely. Monoma grabbed his arm before he could take more than a few steps, though. “ Woah, woah, wait, Mr Goody.”
Hitoshi turned with a curious eyebrow raised. “ What? Aizawa told us to go back to lunch; we should probably–”
“ I don’t want to, though,” Monoma sighed, rolling his eyes. “ I left my tray there and the teachers’ll be pissed that I didn’t clean it up if we go back in there . Plus, you finished your lunch, right? And I’m not hungry either, because–”
“ Get to the point?” Hitoshi offered.
Monoma grinned smugly. “ How about we eavesdrop on them?” His expression faltered a little and his smile became slightly tight. He cleared his throat. “ … Believe it or not, Bakugou… He’s not as bad as the rest of 1-A… possibly even some in class 1-B, and I’m quite annoyed and pissed off that he’s… rubbed off on me a little. The little shit. I want to know what happened and if he’ll be back by tomorrow to be the annoying ass he is just as much as you, and I don’t want to wait for someone to decide whether or not I get to know that. So? What do you say, dear Shinso?”
Hitoshi hesitated and pursed his lips. If they didn’t go now, they might miss something important. Plus, maybe he could help over there – somehow, maybe…?
And he really, really wanted to know that Bakugou was okay.
It’s strange, considering the topic that he and Monoma had been discussing only a few minutes prior, how quickly things can change.
Hitoshi sighed. “ You’re a bad influence, Monoma.”
“ I know, right? Come on, then!”
⬽—+—⤘
As Recovery Girl laid Bakugou on one of the medical beds, Denki couldn’t stop staring. His fingers tapped anxiously on the side of his leg and his feet tapped. It was silent, and that didn’t do much for his queasy feeling.
She hobbled around the boy and only when she accidentally blocked his line of view a little did he force his eyes to dart away.
Recovery Girl sighed and turned back to Aizawa, who was sitting beside them. “ Dear, help me get his blazer off, will you? I can’t assess him properly. He’ll be alright for now, I’m pretty sure it isn’t anything too serious, but to help him as much as I can I need his blazer off.”
Aizawa gave a short nod and stood, walking over and with a gesture, called for Kirishima to help. As Kirishima kept Bakugou up, Aizawa worked on getting his arms out slowly.
The curtain in the window of Recovery Girl’s office twitched, and Denki frowned – before catching sight of purple and blonde heads of hair with wide eyes and sighing. He shook his head at them slightly and subtly, and turned back around. No one else saw.
“ … This is going to be a pain; do you think we can just cut the sleeves off, Recovery Girl?” Aizawa complained in a drawl, oblivious to the new pair who could see and hear him, right outside.
Recovery Girl gave him a so-and-so look. “ Well, if you want Bakugou here to be mad out of his mind when he wakes up, go for it; but unless it’s completely necessary, I should guess that we try to refrain from destroying Bakugou’s clothes. Plus, if we do that, he might get cold.”
Denki gave a small amused huff at the thought of Bakugou getting pissed at the ruined clothes, but that was really all he could manage. Aizawa gave a hum that could have been taken for a chuckle, and the room was engulfed again in a tense silence as they worked on getting Bakugou’s arms out again.
Aizawa managed to get his left sleeve down right below where the (oversized) white shirt’s short sleeve (shoulder?) ended – that much, Denki could see – but then he frowned. As he got lower, now seemingly hiding it from them, Denki heard him mutter, “ What the hell is…”
Then, a sharp intake of breath.
Aizawa lowered the arm and it fell limply and gently back onto the bed.
“ … A-Aizawa?” Denki asked weakly, when nothing was said. “ Aizawa, what happened?”
Aizawa took a deep breath and turned to Recovery Girl, ignoring him. “ We need to cut the sleeves off. We can’t just ease them out.”
Denki could tell that by the look Aizawa was giving her, she wasn’t going to protest. All the same, she tilted her head. “ Are you sure , Aizawa? What is it?”
“ Just–” His jaw flexed and he looked back at Bakugou, only to look away again as if burned. “ Just do it, please.”
Recovery Girl nodded and gestured for Kirishima to lower Bakugou back down. He did so, reluctantly, and his hands stayed for a moment longer than they probably should’ve, before he came back over to sit down between Denki and Midoriya. Denki couldn’t get himself to say anything to comfort and he stared at his wrung fingers.
Recovery girl shuffled over to her desk. Opening a drawer, she slid out a pair of scissors and handed them to Aizawa, who immediately began cutting. Recovery Girl sighed and leant on her cane. “ There are usually better ways of going about this – tools and equipment – but I haven’t had to, ah, cut someone’s clothes in a while.”
Aizawa didn’t say anything, just continued to cut up the sleeve to the shoulder. Denki wondered what he saw, to make him so grim.
He then wondered if he even wanted to know or see it anyway.
When he saw Bakugou fall, it had been so quick he’d barely had enough time to catch him, let alone process it for a few seconds after. For a second, he’d wondered if Denki would wake up, then; if it was a dream. Idiot.
Denki shook his head slightly at himself and bit his lip, digging his nails into the palms of his hands.
A minute or two later, Aizawa finished cutting Bakugou’s sleeves. Denki couldn’t see his arms very clearly, but from the short glimpse he could from beside Aizawa, he grew confused to see that the boy had what looked like white sleeves under both the blazer and the shirt.
Maybe Bakugou had been cold or something? But that wouldn’t make much sense, with his quirk and all, and the temperature. Plus, Denki had never seen Bakugou wear any long sleeves apart from his blazer, a coat or a jumper before – ever. Another thing that Denki found weird about the clothing he could only just make out was that it looked like it had small streaks of dark red, and pinks, and Denki couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Bakugou of all people would wear something with such random patterns and colours. Even Denki didn’t find it very fashionable, after all; and what was with the cloth it was made from? It looked… old, and tattered. Flyaway fibres sticking out all over the place as if it had been picked at and cut up a little. Denki had the feeling that it had been white, but now it was a dull… grey. With hints of red, maybe?
Denki thought all of this in the span of a second or two, but it didn’t take long for all of it to sound stupid and so obviously wrong.
Recovery Girl did a double take and gasped. The two other pro heroes in the room, who were much closer to Bakugou, recoiled and frowned in alarm, Present Mic going as far as to look away and squeeze his eyes shut.
Midoriya stood up first, and Kirishima followed, but they only took a step towards Bakugou before Aizawa turned around sharply to face them and lifted a hand. “ Alright, all three of you. I think now is a good time for you to leave, okay?”
Denki swallowed. Now that Aizawa moved a little, he could tell, clear as day, what those ‘sleeves’ were. His limbs felt frozen and useless, but he forced himself to stumble up anyway. He took a step further than the other two, but Aizawa’s quirk activated a little and he gave them a warning look. “ Kaminari . Go with Kirishima and Midoriya now. This– This isn’t… Just go.”
“ No,” Midoriya blurted, “ No, I can’t– I won’t leave until I know Kacchan’s okay! What happened? What happened to his–”
“ And he will be fine, but you don’t need to be here for this,” Aizawa said sternly. “ I am telling you to get out. No exceptions. As soon as we manage to help him properly, I’ll come and get you – but for now just… listen to me . Please, kid. Just go.”
Denki didn’t want to.
He wanted to run to Bakugou and give him a hug.
He wanted to run to his room and bury himself in blankets until nothing and no one could reach him.
Kirishima made a quiet, conflicted noise, then looked at him. He gently took his hand, then Midoriya’s. “ Come on,” he said quietly. “ We should… we should go.”
Denki wanted to protest, but before he knew it, the door to Recovery Girl’s office shut behind them. There was a squeak of shoes beside them, and Denki looked over, a little numbly.
Shinso and Monoma froze, Shinso in the middle of stepping off of the bench outside the window and Monoma about to creep away.
They both seemed panicked and a little like deer in headlights, and Denki had to let a small smile creep across his face. He teased quietly, “ You guys are the worst spies ever, you know that?”
⬽—+—⤘
Shouta sighed and turned back to Bakugou.
Bandages.
He had a bittersweet relationship with them. Throughout his heroics career, he’d encountered injuries on both himself and others. Injuries both deadly or shallow, but most injuries requiring bandages. Most caused by villains; by others.
Bandages were good, because they could help, but they were also a reminder of pain. A kind of hurt that someone had gone through physically. A kind of hurt that someone needed help with.
It was rare that Shouta would ever see bandages serving an injury that did not cross either boxes. He knew, from his prior research, that neither of Bakugou’s parents had a quirk that could burn so ferociously. And yet Bakugou’s own quirk could be entirely capable of this; Bakugou was entirely capable of doing this… to himself.
Not only that, but this injury was not only physical. And Bakugou most likely did not get help for it, despite needing it.
The bandages were sloppily applied, and old; like he hadn’t changed them in a while and kept them hidden under sleeves and clothes. The blood made Shouta have to force himself not to look away again.
Present Mic winced. “ Are those–”
“ Yes,” Shouta sighed. He fought the urge to rub his face. “ There’re burns. Under them, I mean.”
Present Mic sighed. “ Shit.”
Recovery Girl shuffled over, her expression tight. “ Language. This is much worse than I first thought…”
Shouta frowned. “ What? He’ll be fine, right?”
“ Oh, yes, of course, physically,” Recovery Girl replied, watching him through her eyelashes, “ But these are burns–” she lifted a bit of bandage, though there was already a large gap from where it had unravelled a little, revealing bright red skin, “ –And i’ve seen enough of these to know that it was most likely from Bakugou’s quirk. I’m sure you know that too, Aizawa, which does not paint a pretty picture for Bakugou’s mental health.” She paused. “ It’s going to take a while to make him better.”
She sighed and checked Bakugou’s pulse. “ Hm. It’s slower than it usually is, even for Bakugou, so I’ll get him something for that. After, I’ll heal him, and… well, we’ll just have to see.”
“ Do you know why he passed out in the first place?” Present Mic asked.
Recovery Girl made an uncertain hum. “ There could be a few things. Most likely malnutrition, but Bakugou… He’s quite mature for his age. It feels quite out of character. At the same time, it could just be low blood pressure because he isn’t doing exercises or anything to raise it, perhaps, though he would literally have to be sitting still and barely doing anything for that to happen for quite a while. Even then, it would be rare. There are other factors, but those are most likely, with what information we do have right now…”
Shouta exchanged a look with Yamada. He remembered the small explosion and thud he’d heard. “ … Right.” Rare… He sighed.
He shook his head when he heard voices outside. Whatever, as long as they didn’t see Bakugou's injury… he couldn’t really ask much from them. He still felt horrible for kicking his students out, but... What the bandages implied was horrible, and they were sixteen . They didn’t need to see it, and anyway; Bakugou could tell them about it if he was comfortable.
“ Alright, everyone out now,” Recovery Girl sighed. “ Everyone except Aizawa leaves, because I need space to work and if I need anything, I’ll just ask him. Alright? I’ll check in with you two later on, now shoo.”
Reluctantly, the two other pro heroes left the room, and Shouta and Recovery Girl were left with an unconscious Bakugou. Recovery Girl smiled a little. “ You might want to sit down, sweet, this is going to take a while.”
Shouta sighed and did so – making himself comfortable and as ready as he could be for the rest of this regrettably eventful day.