Chapter Text
Shoto
All over the floors. Again.
Shoto sighed as he gathered the pieces, carelessly throwing them into some old cardboard box he found lying at the side of the training room. This was really starting to get out of hand. He should maybe tell someone. He probably won’t.
He hoisted the box up and took it out front, where he promptly stuffed it to the side of the garden. He made a mental note to deal with it some other time. In any case, his entire body was already begging him to fall right there, onto the grass- close his eyes, go limp, forget, forget. A voice echoed from across the house- his mom, and he straightened. She was saying something about her grey sweater. Shoto took a deep breath, kicked the box into the corner one more time, then plastered on some semblance of a smile and walked back inside.
Katsuki
Katsuki kept an eye on the third years that surrounded the idiot as they backed him into a wall. Not that he particularly gave any fucks, but it was almost free entertainment watching Todoroki interact with people. Fucking air for brains when it came to things like this. Plus, ever since the war, their class had shared some unspoken rule, a buddy-buddy system or some shit. Not that he particularly gave any fucks about them, either, but maybe the losers weren’t all that bad.
“So, you genuinely think your villain of a brother was right?” Some lame blue-haired shithead asked.
“Sure,” Todoroki looked to the side. There was something almost like boredom on his face, his hair flying chaotically in the wind, threatening to untuck the tie from his blazer. He had that stupid expression again, the one that meant there wasn’t a fucking ounce of comprehension going on inside that hollow skull of his. Possessed by a fucking ghost or some shit.
Katsuki took a sip of his water, relaxing further into the bench and focusing on his phone instead. His mom sent him a million fucking texts about ‘keeping up with his medication’ and ‘good luck for today’s appointment, you devil!’ and ‘don’t attack this one, please’. He sent back a thumbs up- well, a thumbs down for the last message.
“The fuck?” another third year scoffed. “And people like him are studying to be heroes? Please.”
“You should’ve dropped out like your fucking father,” another sneered. Bakugou glanced up again, waiting for an ice attack, or fire, or even just a punch. Things were so boring lately, and it was eating his bones from the marrow out. He itched at his palms.
“Hm,” Todoroki answered, switching his phone on and checking the time.
“Why is he even allowed to have a job after all that shit?”
“Fucking corruption, man.”
“What do you have to say about that, ‘Roki?” Blue Hair spat. “Don’t you think it’s wrong?”
Todoroki blinked. “Hm?”
“Get off your fucking phone!” He smacked it out of Todoroki’s hands. “I’m talking to you, piece of shit!”
Todoroki watched it fly across the sidewalk as it skidded to a stop near the foot of the bench. He met Katsuki’s eyes for a split second- that dead stare, no recognition, just mismatched eyes. Fucking creepy. Katsuki picked his phone off the ground and slipped it into his pocket.
Todoroki turned his attention back to Blue Hair. Blinked again. Then again, and again, before furrowing his eyebrows. “Sorry, who are you again?"
Here we go.
The punch that echoed wasn’t that hard, but it was enough to draw blood. Then another one. Todoroki staggered back into the wall, blinking furiously, and the group laughed like a bunch of fucking hyenas stumbling across a carcass- ravenous and howling and- cowardly.
“Holy shit! He can seriously take a punch!”
“Guess he has experience,” another sneered, mouth curled into a devilish grin.
“Wanna try that again, ‘Roki?” Blue Hair smirked.
Todoroki just wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He sniffed. “Can I go to class now?”
Jesus.
Katsuki sighed and stood up. Fucking idiot. Not that he gave any fucks, but…
“Hey fuckwads!” He exploded their bags off the sidewalk. “Stop making a fucking noise, you pieces of shit!”
They immediately scurried off, practically tripping over each other to grab at their fallen backpacks. One of them even gave him a wide smile, full of awe. He made a mental note to fucking kill them. This entire start of the year consisted of people asking him for autographs and photos with those fucking smiles. He wanted to blast it off their faces. He usually did.
He walked up to where Todoroki was still prodding at his nose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Bakugou,” he acknowledged.
“Why are you taking that shit?”
Todoroki just sighed and picked his bag off the floor, and Katsuki resisted the urge to punch him, too. He was already irritated to the ends of the earth. The wind blew unrelenting and cold today, flinging water bottles and assignments all over UA, littering the gravel. He wished he could fucking explode the weather. He had actually already tried.
Todoroki, predictably, didn’t answer. They walked silently, Katsuki a few steps ahead of him, heading to Ground Gamma. Their training these days consisted more of fucking games than anything else, always some groupwork bullshit. Not that Katsuki could complain too much- he was actually pretty tired. Always fucking tired. He wished he could explode that away, too- and he had tried, but it just made him more exhausted.
Side effects of dying, apparently. Such bullshit.
On top of that, Aizawa had scheduled regular “therapy” sessions or whatever the fuck that crap was. Katsuki was due to see the fifth one today, after the first two gave up, the third one mysteriously resigned, and the last one yelled at him. Not that he gave any fucks, he exploded that fucker straight in the face. Piece of shit.
“Kacchan!”
As if the day couldn’t get worse. At least it wasn’t shit-hair or dunce-face. He didn’t have the energy. Katsuki groaned, making it a point to drag it out as long as possible.
“Woah, you’re in a good mood,” the nerd teased.
Katsuki glared at him. “Fuck you.”
“You guys are kinda late.” Izuku fell in step with them, linking arms with Todoroki, who visibly stiffened. Katsuki almost laughed at that.
“Yeah, well, Icy-Hot was too busy getting his face punched in,” he muttered.
Izuku furrowed his eyebrows. “Huh?”
Todoroki’s jaw set slightly, and Katsuki let out a subconscious breath. Not that he really gave a fuck, but at least the idiot wasn’t a complete fucking ghost. Todoroki cleared his throat. “Um, it’s nothing. Anyways, what are we doing for training today?”
“Oh, uh,” Izuku switched his phone on and scrolled up the group chat. “Apparently teams of three, sparring.”
“Jesus Christ, why is it always fucking teams?”
Izuku and Todoroki exchanged a look, and a small smile grew on their faces. Katsuki punched Todoroki on the arm. “What the fuck are you smiling for?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, returning to his usual dead stare.
Izuku didn’t drop his grin. He unlinked his arm from Todoroki and skipped ahead. “Wait, Shoto! I have such a good idea!” He jumped onto a bench and then backflipped down, for no real fucking reason, apparently. He stopped in front of Katsuki. “What if- and listen super closely- me, you, and Kacchan are on a team!?”
Not this shit again.
“Wait,” Todoroki raised his eyebrows, bringing his hand to his chin. “That’s actually a really good idea, Izuku.”
Bakugou exploded Todoroki off the sidewalk. “What the fuck is wrong with you two!”
Todoroki just relaxed into the gravel and laughed, though it was more of a half-hearted attempt than anything else. Katsuki stared. Jesus, he was losing his mind or something. The bastard was supposed to be a ghost. Or maybe- maybe he used to be a ghost. Or maybe it was just because Izuku was here, and for some reason, he was always so much more alive with the nerd around. Whatever. Such shitheads. Izuku laughed so hard he fell right next to him. Bakugou scoffed at them and continued walking. Whatever fucking joke they had going on wasn’t even funny anyways.
Todoroki was the first to recover, hauling himself off the ground and then helping Izuku up. They ran up to Katsuki again, and Katsuki resisted the urge to punch Todoroki’s teeth in a second time. Ground Gamma was visible now, the rest of those shitheads in their class standing around and doing fuck all as usual. Aizawa emerged from somewhere behind a pipe. He shot a quick glance in their direction before speaking.
“Alright,” he started, tone deader than usual. “Get into your teams.”
Shoto
“That is not how you cut a cucumber, Shoto,” Rei laughed. The sun glowed orange as the last of the rays swam in the horizon. His mom wore the grey sweater Natsuo had gifted, though she nearly drowned in the fabric as it swayed in the breeze through the window. Her eyes turned almost gold in the sunlight, and Shoto still couldn’t quite believe she was a real person- that the environment could even interact with her, could light up her features- here, here. It was more like some weird, distant dream. But she stood in front of him, smiling, almost always smiling nowadays. Shoto just sighed and set the knife down.
“But it’s circles!” he groaned as she slipped a teabag into three mugs.
“Hm,” she walked over. “It’s not really about that. You’re holding the knife completely wrong. Here,” she curled her fingers around the handle. “You hold it firm and claw your other hand so that your nails protect your fingers.”
God, that was so much work. He just stared at her.
“Don’t be lazy,” she chided, almost reading his mind- something she was getting weirdly good at. Not that he was surprised- his mom was weirdly good at everything. A beep echoed through the kitchen, and she hurried away, pulling a plastic bowl out the microwave. She shook it around and furrowed her eyebrows. Shoto abandoned the cucumbers and made his way over.
“Um, Mom? Are you sure you can put plastic in the microwave?”
She shrugged. Shoto took the bowl from her and lifted it above him, high enough to see the “DO NOT MICROWAVE” sticker at the bottom. Okay, maybe not everything. He pulled it back down and looked inside.
Water.
Shoto stared at her, and she gave him a guilty smile in return. “Mom,” he sighed.
“I know, it’s just-”
He walked to the other side and pulled a kettle out the cabinet before placing it on the stove. “I told you it’s fine.”
“I know…”
Shoto got back to the cucumbers. Claw grip, firm hold. Slice, slice, slice- okay, so it was easier. But it was so much brainpower for something so simple. He should ask Bakugou about that on Monday.
“So,” she started, portioning the rice into the bowls. “How was school today?”
“Okay,” Shoto answered habitually.
Rei let out a long sigh and dramatically fainted onto the counter edge. “Wow, what a boring answer.”
Shoto looked up at her. A few months ago, she would’ve accepted that response with a curt nod and forced smile, a generic ‘sounds nice’ in return. He wasn’t really used to this, yet, but- Shoto couldn’t help but break into a smile. “Okay, okay, uh-” he started, “Izuku, Bakugou and I were on the same team for training.”
“Again?” She raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you three being a little mean to your classmates?”
“Well, Izuku doesn’t have a quirk anymore, so it’s actually fair,” Shoto insisted. He didn’t add the part where him and Izuku had come to a silent agreement that seeing Bakugou slowly lose his mind at them made it worth it. Bakugou didn’t get much of a challenge with any of their other classmates as the opponent but- he had yet to turn Shoto and Izuku down, so. Maybe he needed the break.
“Let me guess,” Rei poured the now boiling water into the mugs. “You three won in maybe ten minutes?”
“Eight,” Shoto corrected.
“Your poor classmates.”
“It ends training earlier for everyone, so I don’t think they really mind.” Shoto shrugged. Rei walked over and ruffled his hair.
“You are seriously becoming lazy,” she scolded.
“It’s called strategic energy expenditure.”
“In that case,” Rei turned him around by the shoulders and pushed him towards the table. “Go strategically expend your energy on setting the plates.”
Shoto obeyed, fixing three plates, two on one side, one across. He spotted his school bag still carelessly thrown on the side of the wall and almost made to pick it up before Rei called him back to put the rice on the table, too. Then cups, then the tea, then the cucumbers and-
The door clicked open. Shoto stumbled to grab his bag off the floor.
“Rei,” Enji nodded, offering a polite smile. The scar on his face almost glistened in the kitchen lights, and his hulking figure cast shadows over more than half the counter. He set his briefcase on the side (some office job at the HPSC, Shoto didn’t really care to ask) and gave Rei an awkward side hug- if it could really even be called that.
“Enji.” She pursed her lips in return, an almost smile.
He scanned the room, eyes sharp like knives, searching, preying. When they found their target, they brightened. “Shoto! Are you here for the rest of the weekend?”
“Yes.” Shoto shifted. Enji just nodded, ruffled his hair and headed off to his room. Rei stepped quietly to Shoto. She slipped the bag off his shoulders.
“Shoto,” she gave him a look. “Relax.”
He took the bag back from her and nodded. “I’ll just put it in my room.”
---------------------------------------
A knock on his door. Shoto sighed and dropped the pencil onto the dozens of worksheets sprawled across his desk. Ever since the war, their training had been more lax- though UA made up for it with endless worksheets and tests, instead. Still, his muscles twitched, his legs bounced up and down as he sat, waiting, needy- and this calculus assignment was not helping.
He stared as the door carefully pushed open.
“Shoto!”
“Father.”
“What are you busy with?” Enji walked a few steps in, seemingly scanning every object. Not that there was much to see- Shoto’s room was practically a desert, the most decorated item maybe the handles of his drawer. Shoto picked his pen up again.
“Calculus.”
Enji traced his fingers against the picture frame on the table. “This is your class?”
Shoto shifted his gaze up to the photo. They all stood in chaotically unkept uniforms, Aizawa tapping Izuku’s head with a pencil, Bakugou yelling at Shoto who was half out the frame, his left side vanishing into the border- Momo, Ochako and Asui fist-bumping each other in the corner. Iida made erratic gestures with his arms, trying to get everyone in position, and Dark-Shadow pouted in fear of the next camera flash. God, their class was horrible at school photos. Shoto smiled lightly. “Yeah.”
“Hm,” Enji took a step back. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. How would you feel about starting training again?”
Shoto stilled. He set the pen down slowly.
Enji cleared his throat. “But- well- I want it to be fun this time. Real learning. I may not be a hero anymore, son, but there’s still so much I feel I can teach you.”
Restless, restless. Shoto stared at the papers in front of him. He didn't dare move.
“You don’t have to say yes, it’s just an offer,” he pursed his lips. The clock on the desk ticked incessantly in the background. Shoto’s eyes stayed glued to the page, and eventually Enji shifted. “Okay. Goodnight, Shoto.”
“Goodnight,” he managed, though his voice came out strained. The door clicked shut.
Shoto took a breath. Restless, restless- but not stupid. He started on the next question.
Izuku
“It was crazy!” he buzzed, flinging the broom more like a sword than a cleaning supply, re-enacting Kacchan’s insane attack against Kirishima’s team. “The finishing move! We won in exactly 8 minutes, 12 seconds and 32 milliseconds, or – wait, I think it was 34?”
Inko laughed and grabbed the broom from him. “Okay, honey, less action sequences and more cleaning the floor.”
Izuku smiled sheepishly and pulled the broom back. “Sorry, it was just so fun- and it’s the first time we’ve all really gone against each other since… you know.” It had been exactly one month, one week and three days since the war. One month, one week and three days since he lost his quirk.
Inko hummed in response, wiping down the counter. “So, Katsuki was the attacker, Shoto the defender, and…?”
“Oh, I was more of a strategist," Izuku smiled, and his mom gave him a look- that knowing look of hers that made Izuku want to run into his room and curl into the corner- furrowed eyebrows, her lips pulled tight. Izuku’s own smile faltered, and then the tears fell by themselves, pouring down his cheeks, and he turned away. His mom sighed and pulled him into a hug.
“It’s okay, baby, you’re okay.”
Izuku buried his face in her shoulder, and she smelled so familiar, so much like home. She stroked the back of his head, and for some reason that just made him want to cry harder.
“I don’t even know why I still care…” he whispered.
She pulled away and looked him in the eyes. Izuku never really thought of his mother as someone who was tired very often. She slept by ten every night, after watching her soap dramas and peeling her oranges, slicing apples. But these days, it’s like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. It was the same expression that greeted him in the mirror- but only ever when he was alone. “You’re still a hero, Izuku. You saved the whole world! Like a comic book!”
Izuku laughed a little at that. “I guess.”
“Mhm, and you know what heroes especially love doing?”
“The dishes?” Izuku guessed, already prepared for her endless segways into chores. Not that he really minded- it gave him something else to do with his hands. In the corner of his eye, he spotted the pale green bowl- usually filled with fruit- now standing empty on a shelf. The edges pulled grains of dust over them like blankets.
“That’s my boy.” She smiled and dried the last of his tears. “You’re strong, okay? And more importantly, quirk or not, you are a hero, Izuku. And I am always proud of you.”
“Yeah,” Izuku wiped at his eyes again. “Yeah. Thanks.”
She pulled him into a hug again. “I love you so much, don’t you forget that.”
“I love you too, mom.”
Izuku’s arms hurt.
Katsuki
He was walking. Faster. Faster. And then he was running. Everywhere around him, the trees hugged the earth, sinking into the ground, and the gravel underneath his feet formed faces- thousands and thousands of them, twisting, laughing, ugly and falling, falling, falling, he was falling, his knees scraping, he exploded at everything, but his head was still bleeding, his stomach lurching into hell, falling, falling and then finally, like it always did- his heart stopped.
Katsuki burst into the classroom. “Mr Aizawa!” he screamed, stumbling into the desks. “I'm- I’m fucking dying!"