Chapter Text
The first thing Katsuki hears is the beeping of some monitor, playing a steady jingle of what he thinks is his heartbeat. Secondly, whispers and voices start to filter in. Eventually he thinks he’s got the grasp of the smaller sounds too – footsteps, the clinking of objects and a man’s voice giving out orders.
Ok that’s good, he thinks, now open your eyes. Judging by the noises, he was at a hospital from an injury. Nothing he hasn’t been through before; it’s all part of the package as a UA third-year on the hero course. And honestly, he doesn’t really feel any major pains – although that may be the drugs, or adrenaline. But what the hell happened? He doesn’t remember an attack – was he that badly messed up? That can’t be good.
Katsuki commands his eyes open – and his suspicions are confirmed. He’s faced with the tell-tale signs of a hospital room. Bright, artificial lights, a shitty uncomfortable bed, and the humming of judgemental noise.
It must be pretty bad if they couldn’t solve this with Recovery Girl’s quirk, Katsuki thinks with a slight sinking feeling. Grunting, he sits up. He feels a dull ache shoot through his left side, wincing slightly.
“Bakugou-san! Please, take it easy!” A nurse yelps upon noticing him, rushing over to the blond and fussing around with his body. He goes to restrain Katsuki’s attempts to get out of bed by grabbing his wrist.
“Let go of me you bastard!” Katsuki hisses, attempting to smack the nurse away. But he’s stronger than he appears – or maybe the blond is just way weaker than he realises.
“Only if you settle down and promise not to get out of bed, Bakugou-san,” the nurse insists, grip firm on the man’s wrist. “You’ve been injured. Please.” He begs.
“Tch, fine. Whatever.” Katsuki grumbles, relaxing back into the bed. He didn’t want to admit it, but honestly he wasn’t sure he’d even have the strength to get out. “So what the hell happened here? I don’t remember a fight.”
The nurse nods, as if that’s exactly what he expected. “No, I don’t suppose you will.” He says exasperatedly. “I’ll go get the doctor in a second, Bakugou-san, but just to check for my records – what day is it today? And what’s the last thing you remember doing?”
“April eighteenth,” Katsuki recites, “and last thing I did was, uh…” The blond narrows his eyes. Shit, what was the last thing he remembered? “Uh…last thing I remember doing was going to bed.” He shrugs. That feels like an inadequate answer, but he honestly can’t remember much after going to sleep. It had been a pretty uneventful day. He’d done some sparring with Shitty Hair earlier. Did his homework. Had dinner.
“Right, that’s fine,” the nurse confirms. “Just to check – what year?”
Katsuki scoffs.
“Is that a trick question?”
“The year, please, Bakugou-san.”
“2017.”
The nurse nods, jotting something down in the clipboard – his face gives nothing away.
“Thank you, Bakugou-san. I will go get the doctor now, and they can give you a better idea of what’s going on.”
Katsuki leans back in his bed, sighing. He looks to the side, hoping there may be something there to give him a clue of the past day’s event, but there’s nothing. He notes that the room is extremely modern and high-tech looking. They must be really worried about him to bag a fancy suite like this.
A brief jolt of panic stilts through him. Anyways you mince it, he was one of Class 3A’s strongest fighters – if he was injured, what did that mean for everyone else?
Calm down, Katuski, he forced himself to think. Listen to the doctor. Ask them.
“Bakugou-san.” Katuski’s reprieve is interrupted by the nurse reappearing at his side, this time accompanied by a woman in scrubs. “This is Dr. Takagi. She can give you some details about what’s going on.”
“Thank you, Chiba,” the doctor addresses the nurse, “you may leave.”
With a quick bow, the man exits the room.
“Well?” Katsuki presses impatiently, “Mind filling me the fuck in on what’s going on?”
Dr. Takagi smiles briefly.
“Bakugou-san, before I say anything, I’d just like to say that you’ve been dosed with a tranquiliser – so if you attempt to walk or get out you’ll fall over.” She recites.
Katsuki narrows his eyes. Eh? What the hell?
“What do you—”
“Secondly, let’s address initially your physical injuries,” she continues. “As you may have felt, the villain you faced was not an incredibly hard hitter, but due to collateral damage from some other heroes’ participation, you may feel some ache where some heavy car fragments hit you.”
He goes to move his left arm – surely enough, there’s a slight ache there. Nothing major though.
“However, it wasn’t serious, as you will most likely feel.” Dr. Takagi concludes.
“Barely a scratch,” Katsuki replies, eyes narrowing, “then why’d you drug me up so much? Out with it.”
“You were this sharp even then.” Dr. Takagi mutters, with a slight laugh.
“Fuck did you—”
“Bakugou-san, the current year is 2034.”
He blinks. Once. Twice.
“What the – is this some kind of joke?!”
“No, Bakugou-san. You’re 35 years old. You currently work as a pro hero. You, along with pro heroes Deku and Uravity were assigned to defeat a villain with a memory altering quirk.” She recites. “Both you and Uravity have suffered the same memory erasure. Deku was able to avoid this.”
Katsuki feels irritation spike in his veins – of course he doesn’t remember the past seventeen years of his life, but the first thing he’s told is that Deku outdid him. Fucking typical.
“Was anyone else seriously hurt?” Katsuki asks, mumbling. “Is Round Face alright? Minus the uh, memory thing.”
The doctor hides a smile behind her clipboard. “There were no casualties except you and Uravity, no. And yes, she’s absolutely fine. She only has very minor physical damage to her right leg.”
It’s only then that Katuski realises that she’s been stood up the whole time, because she sits down in the chair next to his bed.
“Either way, it’s all good news,” she supplies easily, “because we have a lot of information on the villain’s quirk. The effects will wear off after a week maximum, but until then you’ve been asked to take time off work.”
Katsuki swallowed. Fuck. He’s 35. What did he even look like? He went to touch his hair briefly – feeling familiar, disorganised spikes of hair. Can’t be too different from what he looked like last time, right?
What the hell was the world like now? Was he the number one hero yet? Were his folks still alive? Did they finally finish One Piece?
“Bakugou-san,” Dr. Takagi voiced, “did you hear what I just said?”
“Uh- sorry, no, I spaced out for a second.”
“It’s alright,” she reassures, “that’s understandable.” She puts her clipboard on her lap and faces him. “I was just saying, I have informed your friends to keep certain information from you initially as not to overwhelm your brain, alright? It’s nothing to worry about if you do somehow find out something surprising, but it just may be a lot to take in at once. I advise not pushing for information if you can help it.”
She leans back in her seat, sighing slightly. “So, if your friends don’t want to answer any specific questions – try and be patient.”
Katsuki nods dully. It’s just a week, he reminds himself. At least no one was hurt.
“In the meantime,” she says excitedly, “let me fill you in on some need to know matters. So, the Prime Minister is currently…”
He listens, idly staring at his arms while Dr. Takagi talks. He supposed they looked…older? Slightly more weathered, tanned, and calloused. Weathered, you could say.
“Although of course the police had to restructure their whole department about the new law and that meant more work for young heroes…”
Dr. Takagi’s conversational tone goes through one ear and out the other, but on the whole the man is trying to digest what she’s saying.
Katsuki lets the information wash over him, and tries to listen, but decides to blame the drugs for dozing off about halfway through Dr. Takagi’s explanation as to why Best Jeanist decided to pair up and start a new agency with Gunhead in 2025.
***
“Shhhh you’ll wake him!”
“No I won’t, your yapping will though!”
An affronted gasp.
“Yapping? How dare you! I just want to take pictures of our dear friend. You know I can’t resist that precious face when he’s sleeping!”
Katsuki shoots his eyes open to be affronted with Pikachu and Shitty Hair’s startled faces, which immediately warp into warmth and happiness.
“BAKUBRO!” Eijiro yells excitedly, pulling the blond into a hug. He winces. Unsurprisingly, seventeen years did nothing but bulk his best friend up and make him even more of a bone crusher when he embraced.
“Kacchan!” Katsuki hears Denki yell, clambering past Eijiro to grant him a hug too. To his credit, Katsuki notes that Pikachu had grown quite a bit of muscle over the years and even grew slightly taller. He was still no match for the sheer physical wall of muscle that was Eijiro (heck, neither was Katsuki, no one could be), but he clearly put the work in.
“Get the fuck off me!” Katsuki hissed, glowering at the pair. “I don’t care how long it’s been, I know still don’t let you freaks hug me.”
“Told you,” Denki pouts at Eijiro, “why do we even bother?”
“Meh, worth a try,” the redhead dismissed, shooting Katsuki his signature toothy grin. It seemed there are some things age wouldn’t change. These morons were in their thirties and still acting like crackheads.
“Is it weird seeing us, dude?” Denki asks, plopping down on the hospital bed. The motion makes Kastsuki wince slightly with ache.
Katsuki notes that Denki’s face is still youthful as ever, framed by his long golden hair – which he’s grown out way beyond his shoulders and braided. Eijiro’s hair was at the same length it had been at school (if not slightly shorter), but he now wore it down, and not spiked up. He also clearly was no longer as rigorous about his hair dyeing routine, because currently his jet black roots had grown out a lot, leaving the red coloured ends more like accents at the tips. He finds himself hoping he doesn’t look older or uglier than them. He did frown a lot, and that probably caused wrinkles. The thought made him shudder slightly.
“Yeah of course it’s fuckin’ weird,” he grunts, eyeing the two. “You look so different. And you’re in your thirties.”
“Oh man you must be so freaked out!” The yellow-haired man replies with glee.
“Well I for one have always wanted this to happen,” Eijiro says, eyes filled with purpose, rubbing his hands together. He stares Katsuki down, eyes earnest. “Okay dude tell me the truth, now that you’ve seen me seventeen years later,” he begins, plopping into the chair next to Katsuki’s bed. “Did I, or did I not, have a chubby face in high school.”
Denki and Katsuki groan in unison.
“Not this again Ei.” Denki sighs.
“I’ve said it before I’ll say it again,” Katsuki glowers, “I literally don’t give a fuck about your face—”
“That’s not an answer to my question!”
“Your face was not chubby, Ei,” Denki assures, hand on his head. His eyes spark with a mischievous glint as he meets Eijiro’s gaze. “You know whose face was chubby? Ochako’s.” For some reason, Eijiro’s mouth twitches ever so slightly. “I mean that in the best way of course!” Denki adds in a rush.
“Totally,” Eijiro agrees smoothly, “roundest, cutest cheeks ever. Isn’t that right, Bakubro?”
Katsuki feels his face go up several shades of red and is contemplating just killing his two idiot friends right there and then. He could say he passed out and didn’t know what happened – it could be fool proof.
But no, he thought, let’s think this through.
Third year high school student Katsuki had just come to terms with the fact that maybe Uraraka was attractive – a harmless enough observation. You’d be stupid not to admit she was cute. But the problem came with the fact that even though since first year, the blond had always admitted she was strong, she had finally started to believe in herself much more in their final year. And it was showing – she’d take charge during class group activities, talk back (calmly but firmly) if ever she felt she was being dismissed, and had found a multitude of badass uses of her quirk. Last he remembered she had just increased her weight threshold to ten tonnes – he shuddered to think what she could do seventeen years later.
Third year high school student Katsuki had acknowledged that all those things, coupled with the fact that Uraraka was nice as fuck to the point where it was disorienting, probably had something to do with the pool of warmth that bubbled at the pit of his stomach every time she entered a room. He didn’t voice this aloud to anyone, of course, and simply stuffed it down.
Looking at Eijiro and Denki’s matching smirks – one of two things must have happened. One – it got so bad that he actually talked about it to the two losers or two – it didn’t get worse and Katsuki filled them in on his slight brush with feelings during high school sometime during these seventeen years down the road.
At the back of his mind a suggestion gnawed that something may have happened between him and Round Face during this time - but the idea is so laughable, he pushes it away immediately. It’s not even worth considering.
But the real question is how to play it now. Now that he’s 35-year-old Katsuki.
“Her face is round,” Katsuki gruffly replies, “probably still is seventeen years on.” He looks to the side, eyebrows set. “Nothing to do with me.”
“Oh this is so much fun.” Denki says with a snort. “You have no idea, do you Kacchan!”
“No you asshole, I really don’t!”
As much as he’ll deny it, it’s nice to have dumb and dumber there for the next couple of hours. They bring him some food up from the cafeteria and fill him on gradual events, even though there’s no real point to it, because the quirk will wear off. To Katsuki’s chagrin, he’s not number one. He is however, in the top five, but due to how volatile and superficial hero rankings have become, they insist “being number one doesn’t really matter to him anymore”. Katsuki finds that hard to believe.
Yes, his parents are still alive and healthy. No, All Might has not died. Yes, All for One is jailed – as it the rest of the League of Villains. There’s all sorts of gossip Katsuki finds out in relation to that.
Yes, most of Class A are still heroes – Katsuki is surprised to learn he co-owns an agency with Shitty Hair, Icy Hot, and Deku.
“Dude,” Denki offers from his lounged position on the bed, roughly three hours into the conversation, “aren’t you gonna ask us about like…personal life stuff?”
“Eh?!”
“Well, like, aren’t you curious about whether you’re married?”
“Why the hell would I be married?” Katsuki spits, eyes widened. Married? What the hell are they on?
“I mean you are thirty five dude,” Eijiro offers, “it’s not totally ridiculous.” He grins excitedly. “I mean, I’m married. So’s Denki!”
“You idiots got married?” Katsuki barks. He blinks once. “Like…to each other?”
Eijiro laughs.
“N’aw, no offence Denki though, you’re gorgeous.”
“Thanks honey,” he winks, “but nope, we both married two lovely ladies.”
“Who the hell would marry you?” Katsuki snorts.
“Well I married Ashido,” Eijiro gushes, “which if you think about is totally romantic because we’ve known each other since middle school and—”
“You don’t know it,” Denki interrupts, voice tired, “but you’ve heard this story a million times.”
“And he’s about to hear it for the million and first time!” Eijiro sings.
“No, he’s not.” Katuski growls, turning his head to Denki. “And which dumb asshole married you?”
There it goes – another glint of mischief in Denki’s eyes.
“Funny you should say that,” he drawls, lips shirking to a smirk, “It’s actually Ochako.”
What? No.
Katsuki doesn’t realise he’d said it out loud.
“What do you mean, no?” Denki presses. “You got something to say about my wife?”
Katsuki is so confused. He feels the room spinning. He wants to throw up. Picturing Denki and Round Face is causing a deeply unpleasant physical reaction, and he isn’t sure why. Something about it just feels off.
“Dude, I’m totally kidding,” the straw-haired man laughs, “but you should’ve seen your face!” He leans back slightly, face warmed with an easy smile. “Nah, it’s Jiro.”
“Jiro?!”
“I know, right?” Eijiro gushes, misreading the tone completely. “It’s SO cute. They’re like a regular tsundere and her loving husband.”
Katsuki snorted slightly. “I kind of see it,” he replies gruffly, “better than I can see you and Round Face, honestly.”
“Yeah totally,” Eijiro agrees, with a small smile, “but you know, Ochako is married too.”
“Deku?” Katsuki asks, disinterested. But the thought still pulls at his stomach a little. Almost like a gut reaction.
I mean, it’s gotta be Deku though, he figures. Who else? There’s every possibility it’s not someone from Class A but that seems unlikely, given how incestuous the group appears to be from the stories.
“Nope, Deku’s not married.” Denki supplies. He frowns slightly. “Although he’s confusing. Because, so, Momo and Shoto have had this on-off thing for years and —”
“And it’s so confusing, right?” Eijiro interrupts, voice laced with intrigue, “and like, where does Midoriya fit into all of it? Because sometimes I think he and Shoto have a thing that’s like—”
“Oh my god totally, the tension in the room is like palpable but then I heard he went on a date with Mei—”
“Oh my god Mei Hatsume?! Get outta here!”
“No I’m serious bro—”
“Oh my god shut the hell up!” Katsuki hisses. “I literally couldn’t care less about who’s married and who isn’t!”
Denki and Eijiro dissolve into giggles then, and the irritation spikes up so badly within Katsuki that he’s just about ready to Howitzer Impact this whole room when Eijiro places a hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry dude,” he chokes out between laughs, “it’s just—”
He can’t finish the sentence, doubling over once again, clutching onto his stomach.
“What he’s trying to say,” Denki wheezes out, “is that it’s just, ironic.” Both of the men look Katsuki directly in the eye as the golden-eyed man continues. “Because you’re the one who got married first. You and Ochako.”
***
Katsuki thinks, all things considered, his reaction was pretty tame. Yes, there was yelling. Yes, there was a lot of convincing Katsuki that he was indeed someone who got down on one knee and proposed in his early twenties. But an hour later, the panic subsided and he’s just left with confusion.
He can’t wrap his head around the fact that he and Uraraka – or, he supposed she’s a Bakugou now – dated, let alone got married.
Eijiro is halfway through giving Katsuki a frame by frame account of their first date – it’s unclear why he knows it in such detail – when there’s a gentle knock on the door.
Icy Hot, Deku, and Glasses step through.
“Kacchan!” Deku excitedly chirps, hurrying towards the man.
Oh good, Katsuki sourly thinks, good to know that nickname’s still alive and kicking.
“Kacchan I was so worried about you,” Deku, who’s majorly buffed out and grown into his lanky features and floppy hair (although Katsuki supposed seventeen years will do that to a guy), squeals. “When I heard you guys were both affected – you and Ochako – I just—”
It’s at this point that Deku starts weeping slightly, turning his head away as he clutches at his chest. Icy Hot places a placating hand on his shoulder (at which Eijiro and Denki shoot each other conspirational looks) and turns to face the young hero. “They’re both fine, Midoriya,” he assures. “There is no need to worry.” He fixes him with a reassuring smile. “Or blame yourself.”
Katsuki thinks, of all the people he’s seen thus far, Icy Hot has changed the least. He’s grown his hair out and wore it in a sleek ponytail, but maintained a lithe and slim physique, and towered only slightly over Deku, who must have been just under six feet.
He sent a cool glance over to Katsuki. “Good to see you’re not dead.” He offers simply, crossing his arms.
Katsuki’s ready for his body’s automatic response to kick in at Icy Hot’s stupid face – for the blood to boil, the hairs on his skin to rise, the drumming in his ears to start. He feels nothing – a simple calmness. Guess they resolved that.
“Tch. Of course I’m not dead. Morons.” He rolls his eyes, fixing his gaze on Glasses. That guy – and this isn’t an underestimation – looks exactly the same as he did. Not a wrinkle in sight. He was almost envious – but then realised he didn’t actually know what he himself looked like yet. The thought disoriented him – but he decided he wasn’t quite ready for that reveal yet.
Suddenly, as he was glancing at Glasses, he felt lighting flash through his brain, wincing in pain, letting out a quick yelp. All of the sudden, the man in front of him was smiling, and holding a chubby cheeked toddler, laughing, while talking to two faceless blobs.
As quickly as the image appeared, it was gone.
“Kacchan, are you alright?” Deku breathlessly rushed, running over to the bed.
“Tch, quit crying you shithead, I’m OK,” the blond grunted, placing a hand to his head, ruby eyes fixed on Iida. “I just uh…I think I had a memory come back. You were holding some baby – your kid I guess?”
Iida’s eyes widened slightly, but a small smile quirked up on his face. “Uh, yes. Sure, that’s what it must have been.” He relaxed from his pose slightly – seventeen years on, and the guy still managed to look like he had a lamppost shoved up his ass. “I’m very glad to see both you and Ochako are alright.” He offers.
“How is Chako doing?” Eijiro interjected, leaning back in his seat, “that’s where you guys were, right?”
“Yeah,” Deku sighed, running a hand through his hair, “She’s doing OK. Obviously she’s super confused but she’s fine all things considered.” He chuckles slightly. “She insisted on seeing her face though, and got a bit freaked out.”
Katsuki winces. He was not looking forward to that part.
“You should’ve seen this guy’s reaction to hearing Chako’s his wife,” Denki snickered, arms crossed, “nearly lost his shit.”
Immediately, three pairs of eyes were trained on a cackling Denki and Eijiro.
“You told him?!” Iida exclaimed, eyes wide. His body was back in its stiff position, hands pressed to the sides as if he was back in the classroom, rep-mode engaged. “You were not supposed to do that!”
“You guys,” Deku sighed out, facepalming, “the doctor specifically said to reintroduce information to them slowly! And to hold off on stuff like this until later in the week!”
“They did?” Eijiro swallowed. “When did they say that!?”
“You were at the same meeting.” Icy Hot panned, rolling his eyes. But it was clear from the slight tilt of his mouth that he found the development amusing. “We’re supposed to stick to earlier memories. As far as Bakugou is concerned, he hasn’t even graduated UA yet.”
“Ok, ok but it’s cool!” Denki reassured, “at least we didn’t tell him about the—”
“Oh my god stop talking!” Deku screeches, hands pulling at his hair. “How do you not hear that you were about to reveal something?!”
“Speaking of that,” Eijiro asks, “Ochako doesn’t remember uhm…that?”
“Why would she?” Iida questions, eyes exhausted.
“Well uh…I don’t know….doesn’t she….feel it?” The redhead offers, stuttering. “Because Ashido told me there’s no way a woman can forget—”
“You’re about to do it again!” Deku interrupts in a panic. “Just shut up!”
Katsuki’s looking back and forth between the freaked out faces when realisation blanches at the bottom of his stomach.
The chubby cheeked toddler Iida was holding suddenly flashes through his mind again – but this time he sees her round face, soft chestnut locks, and ruby red eyes. He puts the pieces of the conversation together and ohmygod—
“I have a kid?!” He exclaims, shooting up in bed, feeling his head spin. Fuck, last thing he remembers is doing homework, now he has a kid to raise!? What if he doesn’t remember how to be a good father? What if his kid hates him? What if he never remembers his kid? How do you even forget something like that?! Questions flood his mind as in the distance he hears Deku have some sort of aneurysm in the background.
“Kids, actually,” Denki supplies jovially and obliviously, “you’ve got yourself two little angels—OW, DEKU!”
“Just! Stop! Talking!” The hero screams, slapping Denki to accentuate each word.
“I have kids?” Katsuki breathes, eyes wide. Kids. Plural. Two kids. As much as the idea freaks him out, he can’t help with swell he feels in his heart. Fuck – his life actually sounds kind of awesome. He’s a hero with two kids and a kickass wife? It doesn’t sound half bad.
He’s filled with a strange mixture of anxiety and relief as he considers his life. On the one hand, he wants to throw up because as far as high-school senior Katsuki’s concerned, his most immediate objective is to become the best hero of all time. He never even thought hero work would leave time for things like love or family or friendship. He figured, All Might did it solo, and that’s just how the greats had to do it.
And while he was freaked out to be standing in this new ocean of information, a large chunk of his whole life seemingly behind him – it kind of felt nice to know things worked out like they did.
“Oh thank god he blabbed,” Eijiro breathes, “because now I can talk about my kid!” He grins, fishing his phone out. “Me and Ashido actually had a kid first, before all of you,” he flaunts proudly, “little Youta was a surprise!” Eijiro shoves a photo of a kid in Katsuki’s face. He can’t help but offer a slightly smile – the brat is a spitting image of his best friend, save the pink skin and golden eyes that shine through as Ashido. But he has the same spiky jet black hair Ei has, as well as his toothy smile and larger than life grin. In the picture, he’s wearing a martial arts uniform, clearly in the middle of some sort of afterschool club.
“He’s twelve next month,” Eijiro gushes, “isn’t he the sweetest!”
“Brat looks like you,” Katsuki snorts, tilting his head to the side, “Shitty Hair Jr.”
The whole room is silent for a second.
“That’s incredible,” Denki offers. “It took him seconds—”
“You’ve gotta stop calling my kid that.” Eijiro sighs tiredly. “Little Youta’s hair is perfect. He wants to start dyeing it red like his old man!”
He grins proudly.
“He’s not so little anymore,” Icy Hot smiles from the distance. “I remember when he was getting his quirk for the first time.”
The whole room, save Katsuki, collectively shudders.
“Youta’s skin acts like an armour,” Eijiro explains, “at his own will, whoever touches him can be burned by corrosive acid.” He winces. “Took him a while to control that.” He puts a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “You actually helped him a lot with that! You and Shoto.”
Katsuki feels his head spinning again. Just yesterday he remembered letting Ei copy his English homework. Now the guy had a brat, who he apparently helped with quirk control. Along with Icy Hot?!
“What uh…” The blond coughed. “What are my brats called?”
Denki shot Deku a pleading glare.
“I—”
“Oh come on Deku!” The straw-haired man begs, “The damage is already done.”
Deku’s eyes searched Icy Hot and Glasses’, who simply shrugged.
“He has a point.” Icy Hot offers.
“I wouldn’t worry, Izuku,” Glasses adds, “the doctor said they’ve a ton of people who had run-ins with this guy’s memory quirk. Everyone dealt with it differently; no one had adverse side effects.” He shot Katsuki a wary glance. “It may just be a lot to take in, but if anyone can take it, I think it’s our feral child.”
“Oi watch it,” Katsuki barked, eyes narrowing, “who the hell are you calling a—”
“Anyways, back to your kids!” Denki interrupted, getting his phone out in excitement. “They are so cute.”
“Oh my god totally,” Deku gushes, clearly deciding to put the panic behind him, “you and Ochako are such a precious mix!”
“So this is Akira,” Denki explains, showing Katsuki a photo of a toothy girl with big cheeks, red eyes, and a soft brunette bob. In the photo, she’s high-fiving the crouching Dunce Face. “She’s ten years old. And I’m her favourite uncle!” He offers proudly.
“Whatever,” Eijiro protests from across the room, “I’m Rai’s favourite!”
“I think you will find I’m Rai’s favourite,” Glasses interrupts, hands crossed, “who else here can offer turbo speed piggy back rides?”
“Oh yeah?” Deku challenges, “Well Rai told me I’m his favourite—”
“You’re both wrong,” Todoroki coolly interjects, “Rai likes me best because I buy his love with money.”
The group starts squabbling, as Katsuki’s head clouds with confusion.
“What the—” He mutters.
“Rai is your son,” Denki explains, scrolling to another photo where he’s now high fiving a young boy who’s a carbon copy of Round Face – down to the chubby cheeks and chestnut eyes. But he has his signature tuft of spiky ash blond hair, dressed in a bright orange T-shirt and brown shorts. “He’s seven years old.”
The room is silent as they watch Katsuki stare at phone, flicking back and forth between the photos in awe. It takes him a while because apparently phone screens have this weird new material on them and he keeps accidentally exiting the gallery app, but it’s there, clear as day. His two kids. Akira and Rai.
He feels something pulling at his chest – he knows these kids. They’re his. He’d give his life for them. His brain feels like it buzzes with little currents as random memories flood in. Him holding Rai as a newborn. Akira learning to use chopsticks. Akira and Rai and being dropped off at his mother’s house.
He thinks for the first time ever, that he doesn’t even care about the tears rolling slowly down his face. These kids are the most important thing that could possibly ever have happened.
“Can you uh,” he says with a slight choke, turning his face away slightly, “can you send these to me, Dunce Face?” Katsuki blinks for a second. “That’s fucking stupid. I probably have loads of these. I’ll just uh…”
The blond starts twisting from his position, looking for his phone, before remembering—
“You’re not allowed your phone back just yet,” Eijiro says with a small, soft smile and a placating hand. “But trust me, I get wanting to see photos of your kid. I have loads of pictures of my favourite niece and nephew though!”
“Me too!” Deku chirps, getting a phone out of his pocket. There’s a murmur of agreement as everyone follows suit. They’re careful not to show him any photos which contain him or Round Face – he supposes that’s probably for the best.
He doses off again, entranced by a photo of his kids both being hugged by a crouching, ever so slightly wrinkled and worn All Might.