Chapter Text
Red eyes hardened and stared past Izuku, narrowed dangerously and nearly smoldering in their intensity. The ruby red of Katsuki’s irises was sharp enough to cut glass- to carve Izuku’s heart from his chest, bloodied and beaten and wrenched from the flesh still beating because that anger was a beautiful beast, unfurled, but the full force of his ire was aimed at a child.
At Katsuki’s five year old self.
Izuku wanted to cry.
“What the hell did you just say?” Katsuki barked, taking a menacing step forward, small explosions flaring at his sides without reservation.
Izuku swallowed the lump in his throat and subtly stepped between them, not enough for young Kacchan to notice but enough to draw those beautiful, burning eyes back to himself where they softened, slightly. Where they bled confusion and waited for permission to proceed.
Permission Izuku could never even imagine giving and that he hadn’t realized Katsuki wanted.
Expected.
“Kacchan,” Izuku breathed, speechless for perhaps the first time in his life. “Katsuki,” he tried again, the word drawn from his lungs like a quiet gasp- more air than substance- but it had Katsuki stopping in his tracks regardless.
Walk away, Izuku’s mind begged. Walk away and hopefully take this terror invading Izuku’s veins with him. Just long enough for the dust to settle. Just long enough to hide from young Kacchan the depths of hatred housed for him by his older self.
Izuku couldn’t- wouldn’t- give little Kacchan the chance to put a name to that shapeless loathing barely caged in by blond bangs and crackling, curved, quirk quick fingers.
Katsuki drew his shoulders back, slowly, and let his gaze drift to the carbon copy standing proudly atop their common room table. “You don’t spew that quirkist shit here,” he growled, the dark rumble promising a devastation young Kacchan had yet to see. “Ya understand, brat?”
Young Kacchan frowned, obviously taken aback by the venom and vitriol, but his expression quickly rebounded into careful curiosity while the rest of the onlookers either held their breaths or backed out of the room. Even with a glower that could’ve cowed Kaminari aimed at him, young Kacchan’s stance never wavered.
Kacchan was amazing. Always had been.
And Katsuki didn’t see that, but Izuku could. Izuku always could. And now he could see the starry-eyed praise always presented to Katsuki on a silver platter warped and jagged and tearing at his tender insides, too.
“We’re stronger than Deku,” Kacchan insisted, ego scorching his tone and setting Katsuki’s hackles on edge with every haughty syllable. “Why’re you so mad?”
Izuku’s frantic gaze darted between the pair and with every second he felt his blood pressure rise he was more certain that Katsuki should not be allowed to answer. Whatever barb lay on his tongue would be far too sharp for a five year old with a fragile ego to weather.
Izuku schooled his face back into something close to normal and let out a soft chuckle- blatantly false to Katsuki, whose eyes sliced through him, marrow and bone, with analytical concern- but believable enough to his young counterpart. Izuku let out an internal sigh of relief when young Kacchan took the bait and turned on his heel to face Izuku completely, albeit with open skepticism.
“Whaddya laughin’ at?” he demanded, small eyes narrowed and so, so tame compared to what Izuku had been faced with a few minutes ago that his next laugh came out more naturally.
Little Kacchan was so adorable.
“Kacchan’s just so cool,” Izuku improvised, hoping the appeal to Kacchan’s pride would help him accept the bullshit to follow despite Katsuki’s obvious, nonverbal disapproval being projected over Kacchan’s head. “We’re, uh, doing a project about how to work well on a team and Kacchan and I are teammates so, um, insulting me is like insulting him and- and if he had let his partner get insulted then he would’ve lost points and Kacchan’s very committed to being the best.”
Little Kacchan wrinkled his nose as he took in Izuku’s explanation, arms crossed in a mimicry of his mother, no doubt trying to appear taller than he was. “That’s stupid,” he decided.
Izuku simply shrugged. “I guess Kacchan just has to be older to do well on this assignment,” he said. “So what do you-”
“What?” Kacchan exclaimed, outraged, arms swinging loose as he spun to ensure he had both Izuku and Katsuki’s full attention. “He’s not better than me. I’m the best! I’ll do your stupid assignment and I’ll get the highest score, too!”
“Wow, that’s great Kacchan,” Izuku remarked cheerily, drawing the boy from the glaring contest he’d been about to start with Katsuki.
“‘Course it is,” he responded easily. Then he frowned. “I guess that makes you my partner, too.” He huffed and hopped off of the table to wander closer to Izuku. “Well, whatever. I guess that means you should stay by me so I can get points for yelling at people who are mean to you.”
Izuku smiled at him gratefully, “Sounds good, Kacchan,” and the boy regarded him silently for a moment before turning to glare at Katsuki again.
Izuku got the distinct sense that he was being claimed.
He tried not to feel too endeared by that and looked back up towards his Kacchan with a smothered grin. Katsuki’s eyes flicked up to meet him, young Kacchan noticeably smug about his ‘win’ in the staring contest, and raised a wary eyebrow as if to ask Izuku if he was really okay playing babysitter, only now Izuku wondered if Katsuki was actually wary of saddling Izuku with his past-self’s behavior.
Izuku sent him an easy smile and a nod. Katsuki hid his surprise well but Izuku caught the shadow of it and tried not to let his heart sink like a stone to his stomach.
How could Kacchan harbor so much anger towards himself?
Izuku ached with just the knowledge of it.
“Have you, um, eaten yet?” Izuku asked young Kacchan, his lack of babysitting experience suddenly glaringly obvious. He hoped his lifetime of Kacchan-experience would make up for it.
Katsuki lightly scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll go file the incident report with Aizawa.”
Izuku didn’t need to hear the added, don’t burn anything down to know it was there and he nodded in response to both statements.
Kacchan tracked his older self’s movements- curious despite his best attempts to hide it- and didn’t answer Izuku until the other was out of sight completely. “Where’s the kitchen?” he demanded, which was as good as a no, I haven’t eaten as Izuku was gonna get.
Izuku just pointed and followed the toddler as he evaluated the new space, reminded of days spent following that same little back playing Bakugou Hero Agency in the woods.
When Izuku had jokingly suggested calling their future hero agency by the same name, Katsuki had just about had an aneurysm.
“It’s big,” Kacchan said approvingly, grimacing as he stepped on a pile of crumbs left unswept by their classmates. “But gross.”
Izuku couldn't help the smile that rose to his face. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you shove twenty teenagers together,” he remarked lightly.
Kacchan looked at him reproachfully. “Gross kitchen’s shouldn’t make you happy, dumb Deku.”
Izuku chuckled. “That’s not it,” he explained, quickly tacking on, “I just love the people I live with,” to avoid whatever the child version of like hell that’s not it! was.
“That’s also minus points,” Kaminari pointed out as he swiftly entered the kitchen behind them and pulled down a box of crackers from the cupboard.
Kacchan very obviously sized-up the new addition to his mental roster of classmates.
“Whaddya mean?” he said carefully.
Kaminari popped a cracker in his mouth and said through the crumbs, “Can’t call him dumb.” Kacchan sneered at the display. “It’s minus points on the assignment.”
“Ugh,” Kacchan complained. “I take it back then, not-dumb Deku.”
“I, uh, I appreciate that, Kacchan,” Izuku said awkwardly, because what on earth was the proper response to a retracted insult?
Kacchan kept searching the kitchen, rummaging around aimlessly until he found a broom his older self had bought, tucked neatly beside the fridge. Kaminari sent Izuku a wink over Kacchan’s head and briefly shook his phone to demonstrate that Katsuki had sent out some sort of explanatory message.
Izuku was reluctantly grateful, having already forgotten about his made-up assignment- willing to let the insults roll off his back in a way Katsuki was very clearly not about to let happen.
Briefly, Izuku wondered if Katsuki thought he was too weak to handle the childish barbs but quickly dismissed the thought as an errant insecurity. Izuku was much more concerned about the very real hatred housed in Katsuki’s heavy eyes. Maybe he should have been appreciative of the heartfelt defense of his honor but Izuku had never quite been able to separate Katsuki’s pain from his own and everything about this situation pulled at stitches Izuku had long thought were well-healed scars.
Little Kacchan shoved the broom at Kaminari. “You’re leaving crumbs.”
Now, Izuku just had to figure out how to keep both Kacchan’s safe from each other.
Kaminari squinted down at the tile with a raised eyebrow, shoving another cracker in his mouth. “I don’ see any crumphs.”
“You’re just making more!” Kacchan complained.
“I think you’re lyin’,” Kaminari said evenly. “Maybe if you push ‘em into a pile I’ll be able to see.”
Kacchan balked and let the broom clatter to the ground, hands on his hips. “Do you think I’m stupid, Lightning Hair?”
Kaminari pretended to think on it, choking down a laugh in the face of Kacchan’s rising ire- face so red it was a wonder his little hands weren't sparking. “Well,” he hedged unhelpfully, making meaningful eye contact with Izuku and-
Oh. Right. The assignment.
“Sorry Kaminari,” Izuku interjected, feeling like he’d somehow landed himself in a high-noon, cowboy showdown, “but I can’t let you make fun of my partner like that.”
“Sorry?” Kacchan echoed angrily, and Izuku hid his wince behind his teeth.
“Could you please sweep up the crumbs, Kaminari?” he asked quickly, hoping to redirect Kacchan’s anger like a swiveling spotlight.
Kaminari’s thoughtful pout transformed into an easy grin. “Sure thing, Izuku,” he said cheerily. “All ya had to do was ask.” Then he picked up the broom like it wasn’t the same one he’d hidden on the roof three times hoping Katsuki wouldn’t notice in order to escape this specific chore and efficiently cleaned his mess.
“Why did you call Deku by his first name?” Kacchan demanded. Izuku caught the upset lilt to his tone but, for once, didn’t know what to attribute it to.
Kaminari looked up with what could only be described as unholy glee in his eyes and Izuku paled at the sheer number of possibilities Kacchan had unwittingly dropped in their friend’s lap.
“Well, you see Kacchan,” Kaminari started happily.
“Kaminari,” Izuku warned. Or maybe he begged. It was kind of hard to tell at the moment.
“Izu-ku and I are lovers,” he finished with a wide, teasing grin that quickly transformed into an exaggerated kissy face. Izuku facepalmed. “‘S true little bro,” he lied. “He’s always followin’ me around telling me how amazing I am and, you know, other non-platonic things.”
Izuku frowned at the obvious allusion to his relationship with Katsuki, half a second from revealing the lie like pulling back the wizard’s curtain in that movie Kacchan liked so much when the boy just…detonated.
The bang rattled the cupboards despite Kacchan having been nowhere near them and when Izuku blinked the ash from his face he found Kaminari in a similar boat, staring wide-eyed and amused at their human bomb.
“Kaminari is lying,” Izuku said, because he felt it needed to be said even if he hadn’t been fast enough on the uptake. Kacchan was looking at his hands like he couldn’t believe what had just happened, verifying that the explosion had come from himself.
“Sure got you all riled up though, huh Kacchan?” Kaminari pressed because the guy seriously did not know when to quit. “Want Deku’s attention all for yourself or something?”
Kacchan’s next explosion was much more purposeful and singed the tips of his friend’s ponytailed hair, demonstrating both Kacchan’s ability and his prodigious control. Izuku would almost call it restraint if not for the knowledge that Kacchan had no problem blasting so-called extras to kingdom come.
“You’re so stupid, Lightning Hair!” he shouted. “I don’t care about Deku’s stup- argh, his attention. You can be his stupid boyfriend if you want to but I’m the amazing one, you hear?”
Then Kacchan’s head swiveled towards Izuku like he wanted to confirm the truth of his statement, and Izuku’s heart melted into his shoes at the trust that searching look betrayed. Kacchan must’ve seen the emotion swimming in his eyes or something, because he glared and let out a rumbly little growl that only succeeded in making Izuku melt more. Still, he nodded and treated the boy’s trust with the respect it deserved.
“Kacchan’s still amazing.”
Kaminari whistled from his defensive position, crouched on the floor. “He’s really got you wrapped around his little finger,” he remarked to Izuku, terribly amused despite the smoke still circling the room. Maybe because of the smoke. Kaminari always did like to provoke Kacchan. “Kats was right on the money for once.”
“I’m always right on the money,” Kacchan declared in retaliation. Izuku wasn’t even sure Kacchan knew what that phrase meant. “And I guess it’s okay if Deku’s on my finger or whatever you said.”
Again, Izuku didn’t think Kacchan had a clue what, exactly, he was allowing. Only that it involved his own amazing-ness, which was something Kacchan never let slip through his grasp unsavored.
“Right, so…what do you wanna eat?” Izuku asked awkwardly.
Kaminari scoffed as he rose from the ground, patting off his clothes. “Probably the hearts of his enemies or something.”
“Kaminari,” Izuku chastised. Immediately followed by Kacchan’s,
“Maybe I’ll eat your heart! Dja ever think of that? Hah?”
Kaminari sent Kacchan an easy smile as he languidly backed out of the kitchen. “Nah, my heart’s too full of junk food for your tastes. You’d totally go for one of the health nuts, bro.”
Kacchan glared at his friend’s retreat, arms crossed disapprovingly, until the other boy was completely out of sight.
“I hate him,” Kacchan told Izuku fiercely.
Izuku pulled open the pantry door, considering. “Maybe right now,” he conceded.
Then Kacchan’s small hands were pushing at Izuku’s side until he obligingly got out of the way and he efficiently plucked down a jar of jelly and one of peanut butter.
“That’s chunky, Kacchan,” Izuku pointed out. “I know you don’t remember it right now but that belongs to one of our classmates and we’re not allowed to use it,” he lied, figuring it best to avoid a version of Kacchan forced to choke down his least favorite thing for the sake of his pride.
“I know,” Kacchan snapped defensively, quickly putting the peanut butter back down and standing on his tiptoes until he found the one he liked. Then he hesitated halfway towards the counter, prizes in hand, and muttered a barely-there thanks that brought tears to Izuku’s eyes.
He wiped them away before little Kacchan could notice, a little relieved that no one else was there to let Izuku know the bar was on the floor.
Izuku knew.
It was just…different when it came to Katsuki. Especially the little one in front of him who didn’t yet know what the word insecurity meant or that the pressure always foisted upon him didn’t have to bend him into something too sharp to allow people near or that help wasn’t a synonym for weakness.
Izuku had a lot of reasons to cry at Kacchan’s halting attempt at gratitude.
“You’re welcome,” he murmured as the young boy determinedly avoided eye contact, tearing through drawers and cupboards like a whirlwind in search of bread and a butter knife. Kacchan only grunted, visibly uncomfortable by the tame exchange. Izuku went to the fridge and poured them both glasses of All Might’s Mighty Apple Juice to escape the sudden awkward weight hanging between them.
Izuku nearly dropped both glasses when he turned around to find Sero quietly creeping into the kitchen with an awed expression.
“Hello,” Izuku offered pointedly, equal parts politeness and a reminder that Kacchan was being guarded.
Sero turned towards Izuku with a sheepish grin. “Hey, bro.” Then his eyes zeroed back in on his target. Izuku strategically placed himself nearer to Kacchan when he delivered the boy’s juice, amused to find that Kacchan had sat himself on top of the counter to increase his height while he ate.
“Who’s the weirdo?” Kacchan asked loudly between crumb-less bites.
Sero stood to attention and held out a hand. “Sero Hanta, weirdo in question,” he reported. “I’m also…” he said, tacking on a meaningful dramatic pause that no doubt wore on Kacchan’s already-thin patience, “…your long, lost, brother.”
Kacchan’s nose wrinkled as he took in Sero’s enlarged elbows, dark hair, and black eyes.
“Half-brother,” Sero amended.
“Liar,” Kacchan corrected confidently. “Does anyone normal go to this school?”
Sero let his hand drop alongside the playful stiffness in his body, leaning against the counter with hopeful eyes. “Okay, okay, so I’m just your friend but you can’t blame me, this is a golden opportunity!”
“To do what?” Kacchan sneered.
Sero took a deep breath and clasped his hands together as if in prayer, then said, “Please please please let me hug you little dude.”
Kacchan continued to eye Sero consideringly as he chewed, and Izuku waited patiently for the other shoe to drop. Kacchan hemmed and hawed, taking a sip of juice to prolong the wait even longer before offering a crisp, “No.”
Sero groaned dramatically and draped himself over the counter.
“So cruel,” he murmured dejectedly.
“Kacchan just likes his personal space,” Izuku corrected absentmindedly. Kacchan had always been like that.
“Yeah, I like my personal space weirdo,” Kacchan tacked on triumphantly.
Sero slowly lifted his head, an odd expression on his face. “Oh yeah?” he asked. Kacchan nodded around another mouthful.
Sero grinned.
“Then why’s it okay for Midoriya to be so close?”
Izuku froze, blinking down at the arm he had curled protectively around Kacchan’s body without actually touching the boy, his hip leaning against the counter’s edge a mere few inches from Kacchan’s swinging legs. And Kacchan’s small shoulder had definitely drifted closer to Izuku’s chest without Izuku realizing at all.
And Kacchan hadn’t blasted him once.
The boy’s feet stopped swinging, face twisted into a frown, and Izuku held his breath. Curious and hopeful in equal measure.
After a moment Kacchan declared, “Deku doesn’t count.”
And Izuku…didn’t know what to make of that.
Still, he enjoyed the pass he’d unknowingly received into Kacchan’s personal space bubble and couldn’t help the giddy smile dawning on his face.
“Yeah, rub it in dude,” Sero complained teasingly.
“Sorry,” Izuku responded, doing his best to bite down the grin.
A small pop went off between them- a plea for attention rather than a genuine explosion. “Don’t be mean to Deku,” Kacchan commanded.
“Yes sir,” Sero replied with a mock salute. Then, “Can I hug you now?” he tried.
“Not ever, Arms,” Kacchan shot back.
Sero sighed. “Mom’s gonna be so disappointed.”
“You’re not my brother,” Kacchan complained. “Get your own old hag, weirdo!”
“Katsuki!” Ashido’s voice excitedly called out before she slammed into the kitchen on a path of her own acid, bumping into the fridge and rattling its contents in her haste to reach the boy in question.
Izuku upgraded to keeping a warning hand on Kacchan’s shoulder.
Ashido only shot him a devilish grin before returning her attention to Katsuki with a gasp. “Oh my darling,” she cood. “My love, what have they done to you?”
Katsuki sneered at her approach, rearing back into Izuku’s careful grip while he eyed the trail she had come in on. The acid softly steamed and bubbled, eating into the linoleum beneath.
“Ashido,” Izuku started hesitantly, half his attention also focused on the chemical reaction happening in front of him. Would the floor be able to hold up? Was there something underneath it?
“You really shouldn’t…um…”
Had Aizawa quirk-proofed the floors? How was that even possible?
“Oh, but I just had to rush to my dear darling’s side!”
Also, Ashido was now a Victorian era maiden, or something. Izuku wasn’t quite sure but he’d bet it had something to do with the movie the girls and Todoroki had watched the other day.
“Ew, I’m not your darling, you extra!” Katsuki declared dismissively. “Back up.”
Ashido took a step back from Kacchan, as demanded, and put on a show of sniffling. “But…Kacchan, in the future you’re my boyfriend,” she lamented. “Don’t you even want to know my- my name?”
The look that Kacchan sent her next could have cut glass. “I’m not your shitty boyfriend, Acid, I’m gonna be the number one hero,” he said, like he was repeating two plus two for the twentieth time. “Take Tape Arms instead. You’re both liars.”
Ashido sized Kacchan up for a few more seconds before deciding on the next phase of her production, which included a thoughtful expression as she carefully wiped her eyes. “Well,” she sighed. “I suppose I could always go back to my ex…”
“Not I?” Sero cried. “You wound me.”
“Alas!” Ashido continued, face dramatically turned away from Sero with her wrist draped over her forehead and the other hand making a halting motion towards the tape-user like she couldn’t bear him coming a single step closer.
A glance to his right informed Izuku that Kacchan was mildly enjoying the show so Izuku decided to stay quiet and let it run its course. He could always intervene if things went too far, but they probably wouldn’t-
Ashido dropped to her knees with her hands clasped in front of Izuku.
“Deku, my shitty nerd, my one and only, would you throw circumstance aside and take me back? Love me the way you promised under the moonlight that special night?”
Izuku felt his face heat up. “A-Ashido!” he stuttered, scandalized while Kacchan cackled beside him.
“You called him a shitty nerd!” the boy guffawed, terribly pleased by the familiar choice of words.
“I-“ Izuku started, only to give into the petulant part of his mind a moment later. “Kacchan, isn’t that going to lose you points on the assignment?” he asked pointedly.
Kacchan abruptly stopped laughing- just as Ashido and Sero both started. Izuku tried to ignore the fact that they were both laughing at him because Izuku had dug this hole for himself and now he was damn well gonna lie in it.
And if he got a kind word out of Kacchan for his troubles that’d be nice.
Kacchan pouted and kicked his heel against the cabinet in displeasure. “...It wasn’t funny that Acid Feet called Deku a shitty nerd,” he reported dejectedly, sounding for the life of him like he’d been roped kicking and screaming into a quasi-apology by Auntie Mitsuki and-
And Izuku felt his face heating up all over again at the realization and he stared determinedly at the floor to avoid meeting anybody’s eyes. Maybe he should bury a hole and go lie in it.
“You’ve gone mad with power, Mido,” Sero snickered.
Izuku buried his face in his hands.
“Oi!” Katsuki shouted, accompanied by another cabinet kick and a small pop. “You’re gonna make him cry, loser!”
“Aw,” Mina cood, more genuinely this time but still with a hint of mirth around the edges. “You really care about your Deku, huh?”
“If you make me lose points on this stupid hero assignment I’ll kill you!” Katsuki screeched.
Ashido clicked her tongue awkwardly. “Um, slightly less aw,” she corrected.
And finally when Izuku felt composed enough to lift his face from his hands:
“Kats did warn us,” Sero told her.
“Warned you about what?” Katsuki snapped dangerously.
Sero froze like a deer in headlights- Ashido, Katuski, and Izuku all glaring holes into his sheepish smile for different reasons. Pounding footsteps quickly drew their gazes to the kitchen door instead, where Kirishima rushed in, out of breath. “Hey!” he shouted, concerned. “I just got your message. Is Katsuki okay? What’s-” His searching eyes stopped on Kacchan, seemingly frozen for a moment before his face relaxed into his usual grin. “Oh. Hey, Kats! How’re you holding up dude?”
Kacchan only stared at him- the blankness of his face disguising the blatant wariness of his eyes as he examined the newest arrival and waited to discover his angle.
For a few long moments, nothing happened.
“...I’m holding up perfect,” Kacchan finally declared, tilting up his chin in haughty arrogance.
“That’s great!” Kirishima cheered. “I’m glad to hear that, little bro. Now, uh, why does everyone else look…not great?”
“Mido’s abusing his power, it’s not my fault!” Sero yelled defensively, pointing his finger like he was also five-years-old.
Izuku colored red and shouted, “That’s not true!” at the same time that Kacchan asked, “What power?” and Mina collapsed to the floor in a puddle of hysterical laughter, her acid still bubbling softly off to the right.
Kirishima only looked more confused. Slowly, he turned to address Kacchan. “So, I have a key to your room if you’d like to hang out there? You’ve eaten and stuff, right?”
Kacchan crossed his arms. “I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he announced.
Kirishima smiled, obviously catching the hint of childish pride lacing the words and finding himself endeared. “I like pb&j’s too, but I use the crunchy peanut butter,” he said, exaggeratedly clacking his pointy teeth together for effect.
“Cool,” Kacchan murmured, quiet enough that only Izuku managed to catch it, the compliment most likely slipping from the boy’s lips involuntarily. Kacchan always did love shark week. Then, “I know,” he said louder. “Deku told me that it’s off limits which is fine ‘cause it sucks.”
Kirishima clutched a hand to his heart. “Harsh man,” he cried. “What’d crunchy peanut butter ever do to you?”
“Only witches eat it,” he told Kirishima with a wicked, conspiratorial grin.
“You know a witch?” Ashido asked curiously, both her and Sero shifting to their knees on the kitchen floor like a kindergarten class preparing themselves for storytime. Izuku was unsurprised when Kirishima hopped over the acid trail to join them, the trio all forced to gaze up at Kacchan because of his perch on the counter.
Izuku huffed out a small laugh through his nose. They were probably expecting to hear about some creepy old house that Kacchan and the neighborhood kids made up stories about before they were old enough to know that creaky doors were a sign of disrepair, not the dark arts. Instead, Izuku watched as one by one they slowly came to the conclusion that Kacchan’s tale about sharp talons and screeching yells and sharp sewing-slash-torture devices were all about one Mitsuki Bakugou.
“Bro,” Kirishima started to interject as Kacchan described one meal he was positive the witch had poisoned to get back at him for trampling her roses. (The meal was something with broccoli- Kacchan’s least favorite food- and it was definitely a form of payback, if not the deadly torture Kacchan described it as).
Ashido hid her amused snort behind a cough.
“It’s so not manly to talk about your mom like that.”
“Our mom,” Sero added with a pointed nod in the boy’s direction.
“Not your mom,” Kacchan corrected with all the venom of a striking cobra. An adorable baby striking cobra who Izuku kind of wanted to shower in affection and save from Broccoli Witches. “And she’s a rotten old hag so I’ll talk about her however way I want to, Shark Teeth!”
Izuku winced.
…An adorable baby cobra with a nasty mean streak and more poison in his veins than he could handle without accruing damage, though that only made Izuku want to hold him more. If only he could squeeze the angry out.
“You’re kind of a spoiled brat, Kats,” Sero pointed out, languidly leaning back on his hands to watch the fallout of the bomb he just dropped.
Kacchan jolted slightly under the insult, so unused to them at this age. A weak, “What?” was all he managed in response.
“A spoiled brat,” Sero repeated lightly. “You said you don’t like liars so I thought I’d try being honest.”
Kacchan frowned, calculating.
Izuku and the others continued to look between the two, letting the conversation run its course.
“You don’t like me,” Kacchan finally concluded, though it sounded like the notion of being disliked still confused him. “You think I’m a brat like the hag does so why pretend you’re being honest ‘cause of me?”
Sero lolled his head to the side as he peered up at Kacchan. “‘Cause I still love ya, Kats,” he said with an easy grin. Like that should have been obvious. “You’re my buddy and buddies are honest with each other.”
“Buddy?” Kacchan repeated with a grimace, distaste curling over the word like burnt paper.
Sero rolled his eyes playfully. “Your friend, dumbo.”
Kacchan slammed a small fist on the countertop. “I am not a dumbo, stupid Elbows!” he denied hotly.
“Then don’t act like one, stupid Blasty,” Sero shot back easily, all soft edges and amusement to Kacchan’s sharp and serious declaration.
Kachan huffed, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, and turned to Kirishima instead. “Where’s my room at?” he asked.
Demanded.
It was all the same with Kacchan.
Kirishima rose from his crouch with a grin, knees popping as he moved. “Up on the fourth floor. You want a piggyback ride?” he offered.
Kacchan slipped off the counter and crossed his small arms imperiously. “Obviously not,” he replied, “those are for babies. And pigs.”
Kirishima’s smile froze. Izuku could tell that he wanted to prod at the second half of that sentence. Izuku was warmed by the way Kirishima held himself back. At least he could trust one of Katsuki’s closest friends to not heckle his smaller self into combusting.
“Hmm, I could turn you into a little piggie,” Mina declared mischievously, one finger tapping her chin as she gazed at the boy. “My quirk is animal transformation, you know.”
Kacchan scoffed. “I know your quirk, Acid Feet, and you couldn’t turn me into a little piggie if you tried!”
Ashido folded into herself dramatically. “Fine,” she sighed. “You’re right. My quirk is acid emission.”
Kacchan grinned, satisfied and basking in his victory.
“If I wanna transform you I’d have to get Kouda to use his quirk.”
Kacchan’s grin faltered, marginally. “What’s a Kouda?” he demanded.
“Uh-uh-uh,” Sero tutted, jumping in on Ashido’s game. “Who's a Kouda,” he corrected. “He’s one of our classmates. Animal transformation quirk.”
“But he’s…not here right now,” Kacchan said warily, landing somewhere between a question and a statement.
“I’m sure he’s busy in his room,” Izuku soothed. “He lives on the third floor.”
Kacchan took a second to digest the information and then, like a flip had been switched, halting unease made way for haughty confidence. “I bet the rooms are organized with the best heroes on the higher floors. That’s why I’m on four. Deku, what level are you?”
Izuku knew that this was Kacchan’s version of comfort- his security blanket woven with victory and validation instead of cotton and silk, so, “Two,” Izuku responded dutifully, thankful that their arbitrary room placement lined up with whatever safety narrative Kacchan was spinning for himself.
Kacchan nodded his head along to the answer and seemed to run a few other internal calculations while he was at it. “I can’t believe a weakling like you’s not level one,” he finally said. “But I guess it’s fine. I can’t have a totally weak assignment partner.” Then he turned to the other three and simply said, “So?”
His expectant look was met with three matching expressions of confusion.
“He wants to know what floor- er, strength levels you guys are,” Izuku offered into the lingering silence.
“I don’t need you to talk for me, Deku!” Kacchan snapped.
“Then use your words,” Izuku replied evenly. “I know you have a big vocabulary, Kacchan. That’s the only way people will understand you.”
“Oh!” Kirishima exclaimed gratefully, offering Izuku a cheerful thanks before turning to address Kacchan.
To address Kacchan before Kacchan could practice using his vocabulary, too, but whatever.
“I’m also on four!” Kirishima said. “We’re actually next-door neighbors, Kats.”
Kacchan’s eyes grew a little more wide as he sized up Kirishima for the second time- searching for qualities to respect rather than ones to scrutinize. His ruby-toned gaze darted to Izuku for the briefest of moments before landing back on his neighbor with determination clearly written in his irises. “What’s your quirk, Sharky? It has to be excellent if you’re level four even though it’s definitely not as coo- as excellent as mine.”
Izuku’s eyes widened, too, and when that half-second of Kacchan’s attention flashed back to him, straddling the line between spiteful and smug pride, Izuku had to take a very long, very careful deep breath to keep the waterworks at bay.
Kacchan had listened to him. And then looked for approval. From Izuku.
He had been almost polite!
“So manly,” he heard Kirishima whisper before the red-head cleared his throat and took a step back to demonstrate his quirk. “It’s called Hardening,” he told Kacchan.
“Huh,” Kacchan said, peering curiously at the rock-like skin. “It’s okay I guess.”
By the way Kirishima’s eyes sparkled, Izuku didn’t need to translate that this was high praise.
Ashido excitedly raised her hand like they were in class, rocking onto her toes and leaning over Kirishima’s shoulder to announce, “I’m on level three!”
Kacchan looked between her and the acid trail and nodded to himself like that made sense, spurring Ashido into a short celebration dance, and Izuku stepped away from the counter to angle himself half-way behind Sero. With a smug smile, the tape-user started to say, “Well I am on level fi-ah-shitshitshit,” he hissed, trying to arch his back away from Izuku’s pinching fingers but unable to get very far.
Kacchan frowned up at him, oblivious to the reason for Sero’s outburst and still waiting on an answer.
Izuku angled his face past Sero’s shoulder to offer a sweet, “What was that, Sero-kun?” His fingers loosened their hold but remained poised over the tender skin between the boy’s shoulder blades.
“First,” Sero finished, a little desperately. “I’m on the first level.”
Izuku released his punishing hold completely and gently patted the abused area. When he turned back toward the rest of the room, calm smile plastered in place, he found his classmates outright balking at him while Kacchan tried to figure out through observation alone how Sero’s elbows related to his quirk and, probably, how it could rank him lower than Izuku.
Izuku’s smile turned a little more pointed and Ashido and Kirishima swiftly pretended they hadn’t noticed the manipulation.
Izuku clapped his hands together to get everyone back on track. “Okay! Elevator’s are this way so let’s get a move on.”
Kacchan quickly abandoned his rumination to exit the kitchen ahead of everybody else, head on a swivel as he searched for the right way to go. Kirishima attempted to walk ahead, gently ushering Kacchan past the common room and toward the hall on the left, and Kacchan doubled his pace to take the lead again, stepping pointedly in front of Kirishima to block another attempted power coup.
“I know where it is!” he declared.
“But…you’ve never been here before?” Kirishima replied. “It’s okay to-“
“I don’t need your help,” Kacchan said more insistently, a bit of iron leaking into his tone.
Kirishima raised his hands in surrender despite the fact that Kacchan wasn't able to see it.
“Okay,” he allowed placidly. “Whatever you say little dude.”
“I’m not that little,” Kacchan mumbled angrily under his breath.
Ashido slowed her steps to be in line with Izuku and murmured, with concern, “So much anger in such a little frame.” She opened her mouth and hesitated, before deciding to just speak her mind. “No one ever…?”
Izuku shot her an understanding grimace when she trailed off, unsure how to phrase her thoughts.
“It’s my biggest bone to pick with his parents,” he offered. “They noticed, obviously, but he was always so proud and successful…”
As if on cue, Kacchan pressed the up button and whirled around to level Kirishima with a grin that was all teeth.
“They didn’t know what all that pressure did to him. On the inside,” Izuku finished softly.
Ashido sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. Then, like she was revealing a secret, “…I wanna hug him so bad.”
Izuku chuckled wryly. “Welcome to my world.”
“Oh my god,” Ashido gasped, eyes widening as she stared at Izuku with a newfound clarity. “Oh my god, you…since the beginning,” she marveled. “Holy shit that makes so much sense.”
Izuku felt his face warm up, though he wasn’t quite sure what she’d deduced about him, and decided that the best course of action was to ignore whatever it was and quickly slide into the now-open elevator between Kacchan and the wall.
Where Kacchan reached for the button panel and immediately frowned, finger hovering over the button for his floor.
“What’s on five?” he demanded seriously, a harsh undercurrent of fear-anger that Izuku heard clearly for perhaps the first time since they were actually that small.
A palpable tension filled the air. Ashido and Sero wore matching oh shit expressions and turned to Kirishima, silently nominating him as their spokesperson, while the unbreakable hero froze like a rock.
Izuku calmly reached forward and pressed the button for level four. “It’s for storage,” he lied.
“Oh,” Kacchan said, the relief in his expression mirrored by his teenage friends then covered up with neutrality just as quickly. He turned to face Izuku and complained, “You always have to press the buttons, huh Deku?”
“Um,” Izuku said awkwardly, having completely forgotten about that particular childhood fixation and feeling a bit like he’d been caught red handed. “Sorry Kacchan. You can push them on the way down.”
“Tch,” Kacchan said, crossing his arms and turning back to center. “Only babies care about pressing buttons.”
The elevator stopped suddenly and the automated voice said, Third floor, going up, but before the voice could get through the second word, Kacchan was aggressively slamming the close-door button over and over again.
It took Izuku a moment to figure out why and then it was just Kacchan’s rotten luck that Kouda’s face was the one that appeared on the other side of the doors. The threat of piggie-fication, however false, was apparently still on his mind.
“Kouda!” Ashido exclaimed joyously. “Hey, listen-“
Kacchan’s button-closing endeavors doubled in intensity.
“You can’t come in!” he declared. “It’s full!”
Kouda’s eyes widened at the sight of little Kacchan and when he glanced back up to his classmates, bewildered, Izuku signed a quick Sorry, will explain later.
He just barely caught sight of Kouda’s understanding nod before the doors closed again, Kacchan’s heavy breathing loud as they traveled up the last level despite how hard he tried to keep it in and act like he hadn't just attacked the button panel.
No one said a word but Ashido and Sero’s matching grins spoke volumes.
“Shut up!” Kacchan screeched.
“We didn’t say anything, Bakubabe,” Ashido replied lightly, the words dipped in barely-veiled mirth.
“That’s not my name!”
“Kacchan, we’re here,” Izuku said softly, reaching over his head to hold the elevator doors open.
“Yeah, I know, Deku,” Katsuki complained, spinning on his heel and unpinning his friends from his lethal gaze.
“Kacchan isn’t his name, either,” Ashido pointed out under her breath.
“Curious how he doesn’t seem to mind,” Sero replied.
Izuku felt himself flush, grateful that Kacchan was distracted trying to guess which room was his own without making any mistakes and without allowing Kirishima to lead the way down the hall.
“C’mon guys,” Izuku murmured, “everybody called him that at that age. It’s not weird that he’d respond.”
Ashido hummed. “Yes, not weird at all that he responds to such a cutesy nickname. Not at all.”
Izuku got the distinct feeling they were no longer talking about the five-year-old Kacchan.
“Guys,” he pleaded.
“Why’re you all so slow?” Kacchan complained, standing in the open doorway of his room with his small arms crossed over his chest. “I’m gonna close the door in five…four…”
Izuku dashed forward into the open doorway. He knew this trick.
“Threetwoone!” Kacchan finished meanly, slamming the door on Ashido and Sero with a bang. Then he reached up to flick the lock for good measure.
Kirishima waved from his comfortable perch on Kacchan’s bed, ignoring the thuds and mournful complaints coming from the other side of the door.
“And then there were two,” Kirishima said.
“Three,” Kacchan corrected, stepping away from the door to critically examine his room. “Can’t you count, Sharky?”
Izuku had never been in Katsuki’s room either, despite their improved relationship, and he was temporarily distracted letting his gaze wander over the few, tasteful band posters on the wall, the overly neat desk, and the singular All Might figurine resting on a high shelf in between various awards Kacchan had earned.
Kirishima chuckled and put on a show of looking confused. “Well, it starts to get pretty hard past two…”
“It’s one two three,” Kacchan replied, stepping close and frowning imperiously.
Katsuki’s bedding was all dark and Izuku nearly snorted when he noticed the cartoonish, repeating skull pattern on his fitted sheet.
“Ah yes, three. How could I forget?” Kirishima said.
“I dunno,” Kacchan said, resting his explosive hands on Kirishima’s knees. “Maybe you’re just dumb.”
Kirishima gasped in mock offense and Izuku was glad to see that he didn’t move Kacchan’s hands away, though Izuku was positive Kirishima didn’t realize that little move was a test.
When Kacchan first got his quirk, everyone would crowd around him to admire it but combining a room full of impatient toddlers and a volatile quirk was like throwing gasoline on a house fire and after the first (and only) burn incident, Katuski began calling people irredeemable cowards if they ever reared back from his hands.
“Then three, four…?” Kacchan prompted, leaning closer.
It would have taken far more than an explosion quirk for Izuku to ever let go of Kacchan’s sweaty palms, but he saw the way the other kids and teachers had kept their distance and, looking at Kacchan’s squishy, calculating, hopeful face now, Izuku can’t imagine how they ever could have rebuffed a little boy reaching out for warmth.
Don’t cry Izuku, he thought sternly to himself. Do not.
Kirishima hummed thoughtfully. “Three, four…” he repeated, hands slowly snaking towards Kacchan. “Five!” he cheered, lifting the boy from his armpits and dropping him onto the bed with an exaggerated bounce.
Kacchan let out a bright laugh- involuntarily, by the look of the color rising on his cheeks- and curled himself into the covers until only his eyes and a few spiky tufts of hair were peeking out.
“Don’t…don’t look so happy, Sharky!” he yelled. Unconvincingly, and notably without a heated don’t do that again!
Kirishima grinned and started poking at Kacchan’s hidden limbs, forcing the boy to enact evasive maneuvers with little, barely-there laughs that they all pretended were war cries.
“I’m not happy,” Kirishima lied.
“Are too!”
Izuku smiled and crawled onto the foot of the bed, content to observe from as close as he could get without drawing Kacchan’s wrath, suddenly breathless when he caught sight of the plushie nestled beside the boy’s half-hidden face. All Might’s signature grin was nothing new but Izuku knew that plushie. He had given it to Kacchan on his fourth birthday- when they were still something close to friends- and Kacchan had…
Kacchan had kept it. All this time.
Oh god, Izuku, don’t cry!
He bit his lip to stifle the waterworks but at the sound of the first, inevitable sniffle, Kirishima quit his playful squabbling with Kacchan to whip his head towards Izuku.
“Hey, woah,” he soothed, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, man?”
Izuku furiously shook his head. “No I’m- I’m fine. I’m sorry, Kirishima, it’s noth-”
“Ugh,” Kacchan sighed, heaving himself out of the tangle of covers to walk on his knees towards Izuku. “Deku’s just sad ‘cause we’re not playing with him.”
Izuku covered his face with his hands in abject shame. Was he really so incapable of hiding his emotions that he forced Kacchan to put his guard back up? When was the last time Kacchan had ever laughed like that? And here Izuku was, making a mess of every-
“He’s ticklish on his armpits and feet,” Kacchan declared.
Izuku warily uncovered his tearful face to find Kirishima and Kacchan both staring at him- the former with lingering concern and a raised eyebrow and the latter with a devilish smirk.
“What?” Izuku said faintly. “No I’m…no I’m not.”
Kirishima and Kacchan shared a knowing look and Izuku laughed awkwardly into the silence, the tears marring his face slowing to a careful stop.
“Attack!” Kacchan shouted.
“Wait no,” Izuku began to protest, quickly tucking his feet under himself and holding his arms tightly against his sides. “I’m not ticklish anymore, Kacchan.”
Kacchan’s sharp knees dug into his thighs as he clambered into Izuku’s lap and Izuku was left trying to squirm away from the calculated jabs to his underarms without jostling him.
“Liar,” Kacchan declared, grinning. “Why’re you holding your arms down, then?”
Kacchan’s intelligent eyes shone brightly with pride and self-satisfaction and something Izuku would tentatively call joy. His small weight- warm and grounding on Izuku’s legs- was somehow both familiar and alien.
Izuku felt like his head was spinning.
“Um-”
“Yeah Midoriya,” Kirishima tacked on, smiling, “why’re your arms down?”
Silent support seemed to leek from Kirishima’s gaze like an upturned fire hydrant and Izuku shot him his best I’m okay smile to stem the flow.
“Sharky! Grab him!” Kacchan commanded, wriggling his small, sweaty fingers beneath Izuku’s bicep with little success.
“Aye aye, cap!” Kirishima cheered, taking a much firmer grip on Izuku’s arm to slowly pry it away from his body, one hand on Izuku’s back for leverage and, Izuku suspected, comfort.
Kacchan took the opening without a second of hesitation and laughter began to spill involuntarily from Izuku, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.
“Wa-wait,” he laughed. “Mercy!”
“Die!” Kacchan shouted gleefully, sending Kirishima into his own fit of laughter while Izuku was tickled within an inch of his life, spasming just enough to give Kacchan a fight without using enough force to truly push him away.
“You- you win,” Izuku laughed. “Kacchan’s the wi-winner!”
“Damn right!” Kacchan yelled, delighted and triumphant, and it would have taken a greater man than Izuku to resist the urge to scoop him up, holding him tightly against his chest for half a second before lifting him upwards.
Izuku had planned on dropping him back onto the bed, much like Kirishima had done before, but the second Kacchan’s feet left the bed he shouted, “Airplane!” and who was Izuku to refuse such a request?
Kirishima scooted to the edge of the bed while Izuku flopped onto his back, balancing Kacchan’s stomach on his raised feet and carefully letting go of his hands.
Without a second of hesitation, Kacchan held his arms aloft to either side. It wasn’t hard to imagine a cape on his back, fluttering in an imaginary breeze.
“I’m flying like All Might!” he said. “Probably faster than him.”
“Probably,” Izuku agreed, barely registering the good-natured eye roll from Kirishima. He was too busy being blown away by the easy trust Kacchan kept granting him with.
“I’m gonna be the number one hero!” Kacchan declared boldly, earnest to the farthest reaches of his soul. He closed one hand into a fist and recreated All Might’s signature pose.
“I can’t wait to see it,” Izuku told him honestly.
“Hey, what’s my hero name?” Kacchan asked suddenly. “Is it King Explosion Murder? ‘Cause that’s a really good name.”
“Wow,” Kirishima murmured. “He started really young, huh?”
Izuku hummed in answer to both of them. “It almost was, Kacchan, but then you came up with one you like even more.”
Which was…not strictly true. If Katsuki’s first pick hadn’t been rejected by Aizawa then that probably would be his hero name today.
“Ugh,” Kacchan groaned, little arms sagging slightly under the weight of his distaste. “That guy changed it.”
Kirishima leaned over with his head tilted awkwardly onto the bed to make eye contact with Kacchan, who was still hovering in the air. “That guy?” he repeated. “You mean your older self?”
Kacchan frowned.
Izuku braced himself.
“Yeah, that guy. He’s so stupid! Yelling at me for no reason and then running away like a coward.”
“Katsuki’s not a coward, Kacchan,” Izuku said, unable to help himself. “He’s you. Just with more experience.”
Kacchan sagged even further, gravity keeping him perched on Izuku’s feet even as the boy gave up on imaginary flight.
“How would you know, Deku?” he challenged meanly. “You’re a goddamn coward, too!”
Kacchan’s eyes widened incrementally, then narrowed, and Izuku knew that he had stumbled across a poor, and inevitably painful, leap in logic.
Izuku clenched his teeth.
He would not cry over this.
“Maybe you’re the reason he-!“
“Am I a coward?” Kirishima interrupted, raising his hand where he lay sprawled halfway in Kacchan’s line of vision.
“What?” Kacchan asked, successfully derailed, if only temporarily.
Izuku released a silent breath through his teeth.
“No,” Kacchan declared slowly. “Not unless you’re a stupid trickster like those other people.”
Gently, Izuku lowered Kacchan to the bed, trying his best to become a piece of furniture in the process because if Izuku was always the person who sparked Kacchan’s fiercer, meaner emotions, Kirishima was the one who brought him back to solid ground.
“Those other tricksters…” Kirishima repeated thoughtfully, tapping his bottom lip.
“Pink hair?” Kacchan prompted scathingly, inching closer. “And weird arms? Y’know, those freaks who tried to get in the door?”
Kirishima snapped his fingers, smiling brightly. “Oh yeah! You mean your friends!”
Kacchan scoffed. “No way. Those losers are not my friends, Sharky.”
“Aw, why not?”
Kacchan folded his arms across his chest, settling cross legged on the bed with Izuku at his back to peer down at Kirishima- the rest of his body still awkwardly contorted half off the bed.
“Because they don’t listen to me. Duh.”
Izuku held his breath as he observed them, positive that his own five year old self would interpret Kacchan’s clear body language as the slight that it was, but now…Izuku watched him and thought about how even in childhood Kacchan always faced his enemies and obstacles head on. So to allow Izuku to be at his back so casually…
It was trust and rejection, woven so tightly together they were almost indistinguishable.
Izuku let out another, careful breath.
“Well I think they’re your friends because you like them and they like you, little firecracker.”
“I’m big for my age,” Kacchan corrected. “And I don't like them, weren’t you listening to me?”
“Hmm, but you like them when you’re older. And big you is still you so you still like them.”
“That’s stupid,” Kacchan complained harshly. “He’s not me and I’m not ever gonna be him. That’s probably why this whole thing is happening. Like that movie with the ghosts and the bad future.”
Kirishima tilted his head, barely managing to suppress a snicker. “A Christmas Carol?”
“Yeah.”
“So…” Kirishima continued, reigning in his amusement enough that Kacchan hadn’t yet clocked it. Or at least, not the cause of it. “So this is your big bad future?”
Kacchan nodded seriously. “Uh huh.”
And if that’s what Kacchan needed this to be in order to cope with the drastic change in perspective, then that was okay with Izuku. He didn’t mind being the bad guy aga-
“Are you sure?” Kirishima challenged. “Seems like a pretty cool future to me.”
“But-“
“Do you wanna see your hero license?” Kirishima asked next, rising from the ground to sit on Katsuki’s desk chair instead.
Kacchan leaned further forward, obviously tempted, sharp eyes darting over the objects neatly placed on his desk.
“But I guess you might not want to,” Kirishima continued, spinning in the chair. “Since you don’t like this future where you’re studying to be a hero at UA…”
“I like that part!” Kacchan protested. “And it’s my hero license so I should get to have it!”
“I thought it was his license,” Kirishima replied easily, still spinning in the desk chair. Trying to be non-threatening, maybe. “Now I’m confused. Is it his or yours?”
Kacchan puffed his cheeks out, face red and eyed murderous as he considered his next response. “...mine,” he finally spat, “but only for research porpoises! Because I have to kill the other me.”
Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth, smothering a startled laugh.
Kirishima only whistled, eyes growing wide. “Let’s keep murder out of this, maybe?”
“Murder, murder, murder!” Kacchan shot back, sticking out his tongue as an afterthought. “Now gimme my license already, Sharky.”
“Please?” Kirishima coaxed.
“I’m not a stupid loser pushover,” Kacchan complained, scooting off the bed. “If you won’t give it to me then I’ll just find it for myself.”
“O-kay,” Kirishima agreed, holding his hands up in mild surrender. “Whatever the big man says.”
“Yeah,” Kacchan agreed mindlessly. “Whatever I say.”
Kirishima heaved out a large, performative sigh, still spinning. “Too bad the big man doesn’t have the key to the super secret drawer that Katsuki keeps his hero license in…”
Kacchan froze with his face shoved in the desk’s bottom drawer, rifling uselessly through old folders and notebooks.
“If only someone…red…and cool...and manly…had the spare…” Kirishima continued, shooting Izuku a discreet wink as he fished the silver key from his pocket and Izuku flushed, sure that he’d done an awful job disguising his borderline-jealous curiosity in the face of a new detail about Katsuki.
Slowly, Kacchan emerged from the bottom drawer.
“What d’ya wanna trade for it?” he asked Kirishima suspiciously.
Izuku watched them both with bated breath. What did Kirishima want from little Kacchan? To hug him, like the others?
Kacchan was biting the inside of his mouth and eyeing the key in Kirishima’s hand with obvious want, clearly considering lunging for it.
Would Kacchan be willing to hug Kirishima in exchange for the key or was that too big of an ask? Izuku genuinely had no idea. On the one hand, Kacchan hasn’t seemed to mind Kirishima’s presence in his bedroom, but Kacchan had also never been a hugger and he hated doing anything that made him feel weak. Like he was giving too much ground.
Kirishima smiled. “I don’t need to trade anything,” he said. “I’m just gonna give it to you because we’re friends and I want you to be happy.”
Izuku let out a soft, “Oh…”
Of course Kirishima wasn’t going to bully Kacchan into doing something that would make him uncomfortable. That’s why he had the silver key and Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari did not. And Izuku…Izuku didn’t know if he was a strong enough man to not ask for a hug from Kacchan- at any age- if it was even potentially on the table.
So Izuku held his tongue while Kacchan sized Kirishima up again, expression more confused than satisfied even while he held his little palm out expectantly.
Kacchan’s lackeys were always giving him things- praise, attention, and sometimes even gifts- but it was never like this. Never without strings. Those boys had wanted Kacchan’s praise in return. Wanted to walk beside him in the halls and have a little bit of his starpower for themselves. Wanted to hide behind him and let Kacchan go toe to toe with the older kids when they were being mean on the playground.
Once Kirishima plopped the key into Kacchan’s grip, Kacchan turned his back on him without a word of thanks and started fiddling excitedly with the locked drawer near the top of Katsuki's desk and Kirishima didn’t do anything but observe him fondly. Because Kirishima and Kacchan were friends. And Izuku and Kacchan were-
“Woah!” Kacchan said, pulling out his hero license and turning it over in his small, sweaty palms. “A real hero license…”
Izuku didn't bother fighting the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Do you like your name?” he asked quietly.
Kacchan’s shining eyes carefully roved over the symbols spelling out his hero name, mouth moving silently along as he read.
Izuku knew it said Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.
“Dynamight is spelled weird,” Kacchan said after a moment, eyebrows twisting, but not unhappy. “It’s…it’s like how it is in All Might. That’s gotta be it! My hero name’s based on All Might!”
“It’s called an homage,” Izuku said lightly, watching joy color the tips of Kacchan’s ears red. Overwhelmed and trying to hide it, probably. “Connecting your hero name to someone you admire.”
Kacchan continued to stare at his license happily, even as he said, “But I’m gonna be even better than All Might.”
Izuku swallowed down a helplessly fond Kacchan sugoi and said, “You can be better than someone and still like them, right?”
Kacchan’s expression rippled in a way Izuku couldn’t quite understand. Not quite upset but…thoughtful, maybe, gears turning and turning away in his brilliant little brain toward a conclusion Izuku couldn’t possibly guess.
“My hero name’s an homage too!” Kirishima said, pressing his fists together in his signature pose. “I go by Red Riot!”
Kacchan cocked his head towards Kirishima. “Like…Crimson Riot?”
“Exactly!”
Kacchan turned back to examining his own hero name.
“Lame.”
Kirishima let his hands fall back to his sides with a soft laugh. “Harsh dude.”
Kacchan shifted his weight slightly from side to side as he ignored Kirishima, socked feet probably itching to bounce with excitement, mouth still a wobbly, joyful line.
“I bet Deku picked something totally lame, too. Like All Might Jr or- or Small Might.”
Izuku felt his face heat up and pointedly avoided meeting Kirishima’s curious stare because yes, those two names were written in a notebook somewhere, though Izuku had no idea how five-year-old Kacchan could have clocked him so easily.
“Nah, that’s not his hero name,” Kirishima answered lightly, gently poking Kacchan’s shoulder. “But for some reason I think those were some pretty good guesses, big man.”
“Obviously,” Kacchan said, peering up at Izuku with red, red eyes that looked like they wanted to pick him apart and discover the correct answer for himself, without anyone needing to tell him a thing.
In another world, he might have been successful.
“I’m an excellent guesser, Sharky.”
Kacchan took a step closer to Izuku.
“So?” he demanded, all ego and arrogance and bright, burning joy, and Izuku was sort of reeling at the fact that Kacchan wanted to know his hero name at all.
So Izuku took a deep breath and held it in his lungs next to every complicated feeling he’d ever had for the boy standing in front of him, knowing that, despite it all, the biggest one had always been and always would be complete and utter adoration.
Izuku kind of, terribly, wanted to ask for a hug.
Instead, he let everything out in a soft whoosh, scooted closer to the edge of the bed, letting Kacchan’s small, license-clenching hands bumping gently against Izuku’s knees, and he smiled.
“My hero name is Deku.”
Kacchan’s eyes grew impossibly wide on his face, darting from Izuku to the All Might plushie still lying on the bed and back, again and again. Gears spinning and spinning and spinning.
Five-year-old Kacchan clenched his hero license tightly against his chest, fingers no longer touching Izuku.
“Is that why he hates me?” Kacchan whispered.
And Izuku felt his heart crack behind his ribs.