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It was cold.
Katsuki, crouched atop a wind-blown building, felt the cold down in his bones. His suit kept him insulated from the worst of it, but he was still freezing.
He thought back to the pile of notebooks he kept in a locked safe in his bedroom. One of them had a rough idea for an electrically-heated hero suit, sort of like an electric blanket. Katsuki hadn’t ever implemented the design because he thought it was unnecessary. Now though, in the middle of the coldest Tokyo winter in over a decade, he was regretting it.
Sniffing, Katsuki added to the mental tally in his head with a pang of familiar grief.
Izuku: infinity
Katsuki: zero
What a lousy night for a stake-out, Katsuki thought, just as it began to snow again. It had been snowing off and on all night, but just in gentle flurries before. These flakes were bigger, glowing golden under the yellow streetlights.
The snow continued to fall, and as the time for the alleged meeting approached, Katsuki hunkered down to wait.
He mourned for the rest of his team, spread across the half-block surrounding the derelict office building. They would be fine though.
Ingenium, Earjack, Uravity, and Chargebolt.
They weren’t an official team. None of them were even affiliated with the same agency, but that hardly mattered. When Katsuki received word that the League might show up here tonight, he had simply reached out to his four geographically closest former classmates.
His radio crackled to life in his ear.
“Chargebolt to Dynamight,” Denki’s voice came through the comms, as cheerful as ever. Well, unlike the rest of them, Denki was protected from most of the elements, having set up inside an empty office nearby with his laptop and comm equipment.
“Dynamight here,” Katsuki answered.
“The team is in place, boss,” Denki said. “T-minus eleven minutes to the meeting start time.”
“Roger that. Thanks, Chargebolt. And I’m not your fucking boss.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Ignoring that, Katsuki clicked over to the main line to address everyone. “Stay vigilant everyone,” he said. “My informant didn’t know who would be coming, only that it was a member of Shigaraki’s inner circle. There may be a few of them. Report any movement, and check in before engaging. Stay warm, and thanks for fucking showing.”
Katsuki had already gone over the information with everyone prior to the meet up, but he wanted to stress the fact that any member of the league could show up. (If anyone did, because Katsuki’s informant was untested.)
He received a quick confirmation from Jirou and Ochako, and then Iida came on to suggest that they refrain from small talk while on duty.
Katsuki huffed and rolled his eyes, but everyone fell silent as instructed.
The snow continued to fall, and the meeting time rapidly approached. Katsuki switched between his binoculars and his plain vision regularly, looking for any sign of life. In a rhythm, he tensed and relaxed various muscle groups to stay warm and sharp, but he still began to shiver. Thank god he had a back-up storage of sweat for nights like this. (Another point for Izuku.)
The meeting time arrived, and then passed. The snow began to fall in heavier flakes.
Thirty minutes later, he called and checked in on each of his teammates. Denki and Ochako sounded fine. Cheerful, even. Iida seemed annoyed with the call, but Katsuki wasn’t too concerned with him. Jirou was audibly shivering though.
After an hour, Katsuki closed his eyes and counted backward from ten. He either had bad information, or the League had gotten wind of their presence. Fuck. Probably the latter. Ever since the League’s creepy shadow-leader and All Might had fought to the death, the League had gotten fucking crafty.
Gone were the days when the League released Nomus on civilians or terrorized high school students just for the hell of it. Instead, the League selected their targets carefully - a select number of top heroes, some (allegedly) random politicians and businessmen, and occasionally other villain groups too.
They were organized, smart, and even fucking popular.
If Katsuki hadn’t been one of the students originally targeted, he’d acknowledge that this League was objectively more dangerous to the status quo.
As it was though, Katsuki had been pathetically grateful during his last two years of UA for the reprieve. He'd preferred hearing about the murders of corrupt politicians to fighting for his life every other day. Selfish maybe, but that was the truth.
Whatever the hell the League was up to these days though, Katsuki was still frustrated that his information hadn’t panned out. A large part of him wanted to wait, just to be sure. He fought between the two options for a moment, grinding his teeth together.
What would Izuku do? After so many years, the thought was a reflex, and a welcome one. Katsuki was able to relax his jaw. Izuku would take care of his team, he thought. Any longer and a few of us will be incapacitated anyway. It’s time to cut our losses.
Katsuki turned on the universal comm. “Alright Extras,” he said. “I’m calling it. No one is showing up tonight. Let’s go get some food and warm up.”
A varying array of enthusiastic agreement met his decision. Katsuki instructed Jirou (now shivering so hard she was stuttering) to go meet up with her boyfriend first, and she clicked off the comms to do just that.
He assumed that Ochako had as well, but Iida had a small lecture he wanted to give Katsuki before going off, so Katsuki stayed on to put up with it. He began to pack up his equipment, grunting at appropriate moments.
What a fucking waste of time. He was gonna treat his team to a hot meal as thanks, but then Katsuki couldn’t wait to go home and take a hot bath. Tomorrow he’d deal with his stupid informant, and then it would be back to the drawing board.
He was so lost in his own plans that Ochako’s sudden shout over the radio actually made Katsuki jump.
“What?” Katuski snapped, “Cheeks, what is it?”
“Eastbound, coming in hot!” Ochako yelled.
“Who?” Katsuki asked. Between one second and the next, he’d gone from contemplating a warm bath to battle-ready, heart pounding.
“It’s - fuck I think it’s Grasshopper.”
“Mother fucker,” Katsuki growled. Grasshopper, or sometimes just Hopper, was Shigaraki’s right hand man.
He had shown up on the playing field right after Katsuki’s whole debacle and All Might’s death. Some pretty convincing online theories (that law enforcement had never been able to stamp out) gave Grasshopper the credit for the League’s entire change in strategy.
The guy was strong, stealthy, and mysterious as fuck. No one had even the faintest idea what his quirk was, let alone anything else about him.
So this was both an incredible opportunity and a huge responsibility.
“Earjack!” He called, “Chargebolt, can you hear me? Come in!”
There was no answer. Katsuki cursed again. They were probably packed up and halfway to the meeting spot by now. Fuck!
“Uravity,” he barked, “round up Earjack and Chargebolt. Get them back here. Ingenium - you and I will intercept and buy time. Let’s go!”
Katsuki burst into action. He darted through the snow-filled sky, rising higher and moving quickly.
“Dynamight. I have eyes on target,” Iida said. “Moving to intercept.”
“No!” Katsuki barked. “Wait for me! Fifteen seconds to arrival.”
“Negative, Dynamight. Moving to intercept.” The comm clicked off, which was just as well because Iida didn’t need to hear Katsuki curse his mom six ways to Sunday. Fucking dickhead! Ever since Stain joined the League Iida had gotten fucking unpredictable.
Katsuki had been planning an ambush, so he’d risen high into the air. Now that Iida had gone AWOL on him though, it gave Katsuki a frustratingly perfect view of the incoming clash.
He spotted Hopper first. That was amazing, because the villain blended into the background so well that Katsuki was nearly convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Then he spotted Iida, a vision in blinding silver and blue. Iida had clearly chosen speed over stealth, but it was too soon to tell if that had been the right choice or not.
The hero and the villain collided, and then broke apart. Blood splattered against the snow.
Foregoing stealth himself, Katsuki raced to intervene. He landed between the pair with a solid thud.
The snow was speckled scarlet red. Katsuki traced the blood to Iida’s arm. His armor appeared undamaged though, so Katsuki had no idea how bad the wound was. If the villain had gone for a joint, then it was probably at least a little bad.
Grasshopper was half-risen from the ground. He had a bloody blade held defensively, and seemed to be avoiding standing on one leg. He really was small, Katsuki thought.
Red bug-like lenses covered his eyes over a full face mask, and appendages that could have been either mutations or equipment connected his limbs together strangely. A staff, unused for now, was slung diagonally across his back. He did in fact look like a bug, but Katsuki noticed the small bunny-like ears on his hood too.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Katsuki lunged, aiming a small explosion to Grasshopper’s head. He assumed the villain would dodge.
The villain didn’t. Instead, Grasshopper appeared frozen, and Katsuki caught sight of his own reflection in the red lenses of his enemy’s artificial eyes before they clashed.
The blast hit Grasshopper point blank to the side of his head. He staggered, and then fell. Katsuki nearly paused himself, but years of muscle memory pulled him forward. He had the villain’s hands restrained behind his back in a heartbeat. Grasshopper squirmed weakly in resistance, but Katsuki held firm. He was relieved he hadn’t knocked him out though.
“You got cuffs?” Katsuki asked, panting. The cold night air stung the back of his throat.
Iida took the villain's hands from his own, cuffing him quickly. Katsuki backed off. Had it been that fucking easy? Even with Iida going rogue, everything else had been a textbook take-down. So much for the League’s number two, Katsuki thought. This better not be some kind of fucking trap.
Thinking hard, Katsuki didn’t take notice when Iida gripped one of the strange appendages on Grasshopper that connected his thigh with his calf. He did notice when the hero snapped it between his hands.
“IIDA!” Katsuki roared, his stomach lurching in visceral horror. He was a moment away from tackling his teammate to the ground when it registered that the violence had not stirred Grasshopper, and the snap had a distinctly artificial sound to it. So the appendage wasn’t a part of Hopper’s body then. Thank fucking god.
All the same, Iida hadn’t known that when he’d broken the thing.
“Dynamight,” Iida huffed, “I am merely ensuring that Hopper will not be able to escape from the police after we drop him off."
Despite Iida's planted knee, Grasshopper began to stuggle wildly. He nearly bucked the hero off before Iida slammed him back down. "Now," Iida continued, unbothered, "See? He needs to be put down. So if you will allow me to finish breaking his leg, Dynamight, then -"
“NO!” Katsuki screeched. He didn't fucking care if the insect did manage to get a few more hits in, they weren't fucking breaking his bones while he was restrained! “Iida, I swear to fucking god I will report you for excessive force my-fucking-self! Try me!”
“Under Article 13 of the Hero’s Act I believe that this is-”
“Iida! Back! The fuck! Off!”
For a moment, Katsuki thought that Iida might go for the villain’s already swollen ankle even over his orders.
He would get away with it too, Katsuki knew. Iida had an entire agency under him, and Katsuki was a solo hero with middling popularity who was getting more and more involved in underground work.
To his credit though, Iida relented.
“Fine.” He sniffed. “But let’s uncover his identity. This is the man allegedly responsible for reconciling Stain and the League, after all. He could have important information on Stain’s whereabouts.”
Of-fucking-course, Katsuki mentally cursed. No wonder Iida had gone off the rails. He was the most unpredictable when it came to tracking down Stain.
“Whatever,” Katsuki said, because it was better than Iida maiming someone in cold blood. Katsuki watched wearily as Iida lifted Grasshopper’s head, (possibly by his hair, though he couldn’t tell with the hood) until the villain was kneeling in the bloody snow.
Grasshopper, who up until now had been silent, made a small noise once he was in place. A groan and a hiss of pain.
Katsuki froze.
Suddenly, everything seemed slower, sharper. The yellow light of the city bathed the snow in crystal gold. Puffs of air gathered between his and Iida's faces, and Grasshopper's too. Grasshopper was trembling, and Katsuki knew that behind those red-glass frames, the villain was looking straight at him. Katsuki looked back. The world continued to spin, but for Katsuki, everything hung in suspension.
Over the comms, he heard Ochako and the others request their location.
Katsuki stepped closer to Grasshopper, transfixed.
Standing behind the villain, Iida pulled Grasshopper’s hood back. He forewent whatever contraptions were in place to keep the full-headed mask on, and ripped it from the back. The mask fell apart.
Katsuki's world re-oriented itself around the man kneeling in the snow.
Grasshopper’s hair was black, not green, but it was every bit as fluffy as Katsuki remembered. He was tan, and the freckles on his face were prominent even around the spatters of his blood.
His eyes were the same green as they’d always been, but a white scar bisected his right eye like a flash of lightning.
“You.” Katsuki breathed.
Dead for almost five years, but nonetheless kneeling before Katsuki now. His childhood best friend’s lips trembled as he looked up at Katsuki. Blood dripped from his nose.
“Me,” Midoriya Izuku whispered.
X
Bakugou Katsuki is sixteen years old. He is sixteen, and he is terrified out of his fucking mind.
One month after his kidnapping and All Might’s death, and Katsuki still cannot sleep. He’s grinding his teeth. He’s blowing up at every little thing. Day or night, he is back there. All Might, shrinking, dying, but still protecting Katsuki. Katsuki is helpless.
His 'friends,' formerly attached to his side, are suddenly backing off.
He is balanced on the knife's edge between terror and rage.
He walks down to the common room one day, and sees Izuku’s face on the news. Missing for six weeks, the news anchor says. Then, declared dead this morning.
Katsuki falls onto the blade of the knife. He screams, and screams, and screams, until his world goes blissfully quiet.
Two months later Katsuki is on the verge of expulsion. He doesn’t care.
Midoriya Inko shows up at UA.
Katsuki goes to see her, ready and perhaps hoping to bear her hatred. (He feels he deserves it. He feels like he deserves everything that has happened to him.)
Inko hugs him instead, and gives him a box.
A lifetime of her son’s knowledge is contained inside, bound within notebooks and neat handwriting.
He doesn’t deserve the gift, but he has no right to refuse.
He reads them all in the dead of the night. He stains the pages with tears and the blood of his nails bitten down to the quick.
Within it all, Katsuki discovers a path forward. He discovers a way to live with himself.
He will become a hero that Izuku can be proud of.
X
“Me,” Izuku admitted, miserably.
Katsuki raised his hand, sweat gathering across his palm and fingertips.
His decision was not made in that moment. It was made in the solitude of his dorm room, years ago. It was made between pages of ink and pencil. It was made around whispered regrets and pleas for forgiveness. It was made a million times over, and it was never made at all.
Katsuki’s explosion knocked Iida off his feet completely, and he hit the wall with a resounding clang. The hero crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Katsuki looked to the villain at his feet. Izuku stared back up at him, his eyes wide and mouth gaping in shock.
Katsuki knelt into the snow before him.
“Hey, Izuku,” he said. He reached a hand up, touching the rapidly forming bruise across Izuku’s temple with gloved fingers. “Looks like I knocked you pretty good here. You got a concussion?”
Izuku said nothing.
“And your ankle too. Can you stand? Though I guess we better get those cuffs off before anything else.”
He removed the cuffs, and then gingerly checked Izuku’s ankle for a break. Just a sprain, but it was a bad one, and he shouldn’t walk on it. Through it all, Izuku said nothing, and just continued to stare at Katsuki with wide, wild eyes.
Katsuki reveled in it. His mind chanted, alive, alive, alive, alive, on an endless repeat.
It occurred to him that there was a member of the League who could change her appearance. He dismissed the thought. He knew Izuku.
A dozen feet away, Iida groaned something incoherent. Katsuki’s comms crackled with the demands of his former teammates. In the distance, he thought he could hear them approaching.
“Hold on Izuku,” Katsuki said. He put one arm around Izuku’s knees, and the other across his shoulders. Grasshopper was a little heavier than he looked, Katsuki thought, lifting Izuku into his arms. He supposed that made sense though. Izuku needed at least a little muscle to be a good villain, didn’t he?
“Um,” Izuku finally said. They were close now. A faint blush raised itself across his cheeks. Katsuki counted a few new freckles.
“Where can I take you, Izuku?” Katsuki asked. “Where will you be safe?”
“I… Kacchan, y-you can’t…”
“I already have,” Katsuki interrupted.
Izuku shook his head minutely, resisting Katsuki’s implication.
Katsuki could now definitely hear Denki’s voice.
Ah, he would miss him, Katsuki realized. And Jirou, and Ochako, and all the others who had given him a second chance.
He'd never miss them as much as he'd missed Izuku, though.
It was time to go.
“Hold on to me, Izuku,” Katsuki instructed, shifting the villain like he was a backpack worn across the front. Hands lighting, he shot them forward to the next rooftop, and then to the one after. Izuku came to hold tightly to Katsuki, his head tucked against his chest.
After a few more minutes of heading in a random direction, Katsuki felt the slightest tug on his arm. Without questioning it, he turned in the direction of the pull, and every subsequent pull thereafter.
After an hour or so, Izuku finally spoke again, pointing. “It’s here,” he whispered. He pointed to a window above what looked like a cheap sushi bar. “The second window is unlocked.”
Following Izuku’s directions, Katsuki lifted the window, and they both shimmied inside. It was dark, but warm. He picked out the soft shapes of furniture in the room. “Where are we?” Katsuki asked. He blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the low light. Something squished under them. A mattress under the window. Katsuki wondered if it was put there for people crawling though the window - like them - or if Izuku actually slept on it.
“A safe house.” Izuku whispered. Katsuki’s eyes found him, partially illuminated by the light from the window. After spending so long in the bright snow, the dark felt different.
Warmer, safer.
“Okay,” Katsuki said. “Do you have a first aid kit? Let’s look at your ankle and head.” He began to rise to his feet.
A vice-like grip on his collar stopped him in his tracks.
“Kacchan,” Izuku said. His voice sounded different. Intense, and dangerous. A cold piece of metal rested itself across Katsuki’s throat.
“Explain yourself,” Izuku whispered.
Katsuki huffed, impatient. “What is there to fuckin' explain?”
“Why did you help me?" Izuku asked, "I’m a villain, Kacchan. I work with the League. The same people that kidnapped and terrorized you.”
“The League who stopped doing that right after you fucking joined up.” Katsuki said, voice dry. “You turned 'em around, didn’t you, Izuku? Did you get ‘em to stop making Nomus too? Redirect Shigaraki to combating bigotry and corruption rather than civilians and students?”
It was no secret that the league was more like a group of vigilantes than villains these days. (Pretty morally gray vigilantes, but whatever.)
“That’s…”
Katsuki saw where this was going. Ignoring the blade at his throat, he pushed forward, moving to bracket Izuku with his arms. As expected, the blade faltered, and withdrew.
“Izuku,” Katsuki began. How did he explain himself? Everything seemed clear in his own mind. He supposed that Izuku wasn't privy to the years of asking: 'what would Izuku do?', though.
Izuku didn't know that his notebooks had given Katsuki the power to make amends with his classmates, or that they contained the blueprints Katsuki had used to make himself a hero. Izuku didn't know that Katsuki's only goal, for years, had been to make his deceased friend proud.
Katsuki tried to keep it simple.
“If you’re a villain,” Katsuki said, “then that means I picked the wrong side.”
“…What?” Izuku asked, incredulously.
“You’re good,” Katsuki said. “You’ve always been so fucking good Izuku. And I know you. I don’t think anything could ever make you actually want to hurt people. Not really. So if you’re a villain, then you must believe that what you’re doing helps more people. Am I right?”
“I… no, I mean yes, but-!”
“I trust you, so I want to be on your side,” Katsuki said, nodding. “I want to help.”
“Kacchan, are you - are you insane?! You're asking to become a villain!”
Maybe Katsuki was crazy for throwing away everything he’d fought for at the drop of a hat.
But fuck it. Izuku was here. Izuku was alive. The boy he’d spent years mourning and posthumously chasing after was alive. Katsuki wasn’t going to let him go again.
“A villain according to who?” Katsuki asked. “The HPSC and those greedy CEOs and corrupt politicians?” Katsuki blew air through his lips. “Nah. I hated those fuckers even before I knew you were alive. Now that I know…” he grinned, leaning further into Izuku’s space. “There’s no going back. I want in, Izuku.”
He wanted in on Izuku’s plan, in on the world he was trying to create, and he especially wanted in on Izuku’s life.
“Just tell me this,” Katsuki continued. “In the simplest terms, what do you want, Izuku? What are your goals?”
“I…” Izuku looked up at him.
Katsuki hoped that he was just as caught by his eyes as Katsuki was by Izuku’s, because he suddenly knew what it meant to fall.
He'd already loved Izuku. Through notebooks and memories and regrets, Katsuki had long ago come to term with the fact that he'd loved Izuku. He just never thought he’d be given a second chance with it.
Now though, Katsuki would gladly fall to make the most of this chance. Fall from grace, fall in love, they're the same fucking thing.
Izuku’s hand, formerly holding a blade, pressed its warmth to the curve of Katsuki’s jaw. Katsuki pressed into the touch.
There was a challenging light in Izuku’s eyes, and a bit of wonder as well. "You're serious?" He whispered, "Kacchan. You really trust me?"
"Yes," Katsuki said simply.
Something intense crossed Izuku's face. Fuck, Katsuki thought, watching Izuku’s eyes flicker down to his lips. There’s no fucking way. Izuku looked back up, eyes searching, still challenging.
Apparently, he liked what he saw. Izuku leaned in, and Katsuki did his best to meet him halfway.
Izuku's mouth was soft against his own. It didn't stay that way for long.
“I want to help people,” Izuku finally admitted, some time later. His lips whispered across Katsuki's, sending sparks of gentle pleasure across his skin. "I'm trying to make the world better, Kacchan."
Katsuki grinned, pulling Izuku close again. “That's what I thought you'd do, you fucking nerd.”
