Chapter Text
Katsuki’s eighty percent certain that it’s illegal to keep a nurse’s office this cold. Shivering with a glare murderous enough to kill, he rubs his bare arms furiously as Recovery Girl flicks through his chart, occasionally humming or writing something down.
“Can’t you just use your quirk for this, Granny?” Katsuki bitches, unsurprised when she (lightly) whips him across his knees with her cane. He snarls back, unrepentant, and gets an eye roll for his efforts.
He doesn’t see the fucking point in this–hell, he’s perfectly fine, and has healthier habits then the entirety of the class combined–but today is apparently ‘Hell Day: teenager edition’ according to Aizawa. U.A. requires its students and staff to have an annual checkup, but since getting permission to go off campus usually involves some kind nepotism, Recovery Girl is in charge of all their health checks.
Still. After three days in the hospital only two months ago, where he was checked literally everywhere, he really doesn’t see the point in this.
“You know full well that’s not how it works.” She scolds with a light–hearted scowl as she flips to the next page. Honestly, You would think she would move faster when she has to cram the entirety of 1–A in one school day. Well, he is number seventeen. Three more students and she could go home and get smashed. It’s what he would do, anyhow, if he was in her position.
Thus why he never once considered being a doctor. Bedside manners aren't his thing–talk to his mother for more than thirty seconds and try to imagine her taking care of him when he was sick as a kid. She would probably convulse from the efforts of trying to be nice for more than two seconds at a time. No thank you. This is why he has a dad.
A piece of paperwork gets shoved in his face, and with a grunt he snatches it out of her hand, scanning the fine print. The last time he didn’t read paperwork clearly enough, Deku married him on the playground and he had to give the nerd his onion flavored rice crackers for a month. Never again. “I doubt you’d care, but for the sake of patient confidentiality, would you mind Yaoyorozu watching?”
He stares blankly ahead, trying to remember who the fuck Yaoyorozu is again. Wait, Ponytail? Yeah, he thinks it’s Ponytail.
Katsuki scribbles his signature. As long as it’s not Deku or Raccoon Eyes, he’s good.
When Ponytail walks through the door, he resists the urge to do a fist pump. That would just be embarrassing–he’s not Pikachu.
“Yaoyorozu is working on getting her Medical Quirk Certificate, so she’ll be assisting me today.” Recovery Girl explains, her tone gentle like she’s talking to a skittish animal. “If at any time you feel uncomfortable, she can leave the room without any explanation necessary.”
It grates on his nerves. “Hah? I don’t need that kind of shit.”
Recovery Girl sighs. “As long as you know.” She waves it off, unraveling the stethoscope around her neck and handing it off to Ponytail. “Go along, dearie, he won’t bite.”
Ponytail smiles softly at the joke, though it’s not really one. Aizawa specifically banned ‘biting, scratching, using quirks, throwing things, physical violence, emotional violence, just violence’ among others for the entire class during Hell Day. Evidently, he’s not the only one willing to jump out the goddamn window to get out of this situation.
Unfortunately, all the windows above the second floor only open three or so inches. Hero schools have a high suicide rate, though they won’t admit it.
Katsuki leans forward and allows Yaoyorozu to check his heartbeat, thoughts drifting off as he follows her instructions to breathe deeply. Granny fixes one of those blood pressure cuffs around his arm the instant Ponytail backs off with the readings, humming to herself as she scribbles down his information. “Your blood pressure and heart rate are awfully low,” Ponytail says quietly.
Recovery Girl’s face spasms; she had first hand witness to said low blood pressure–she’s the one who had to administer two adrenaline shots after the Sports Festival, since his blood pressure had apparently dipped so low from Midnight’s quirk that he was in danger of a heart attack.
He rolls his neck with a grimace. “It’s the nitroglycerin, it should say as much on my doc report three years ago.”
That was a fun time. He spent several days involved in a book series and skipped out on going to the gym for the first time since he enrolled himself back in elementary school. Stood up too fast, and boom, he passed out right in front of his easily startled father. Katsuki counts himself lucky that he only spent an afternoon in the hospital rather than a week when his father is involved.
“My apologies, dearie, it must have slipped my mind to put it in the general notes. I only accounted for the information listed in your…” Her eyes flick to Ponytail. “Recent physical.”
Katsuki snorts. ‘Physical’, yeah right. “Can we get a fucking move on already? I still gotta help the idiot parade pack.” Oh, they haven’t asked yet, but he knows they will. And when they do, Katsuki is going to rub his already packed bags for the last three days into their stupid fucking faces.
Ponytail flinches. “S–sorry!” For someone who defends her class rank with the viciousness of a bull, Ponytail sure has a spine made of fucking jello. Whatever, as long as it means he can get out of this freezing ass room faster – his balls are going to fall off at this rate.
The rest of the exam is the same bullshit he deals with every exam. Gloved hands poke at his stomach, take a skin sample, and he’s ushered off to the bathroom at one point to go pee in a cup. “It’s policy, dear,” Granny excuses when he glares at the plastic cup. “Everyone and their brother knows that you would nuke the city before using drugs to cheat, but we have to check.”
Still miffed but somewhat reassured, he snatches it from her hand and stomps towards the bathroom. After peeing in it, he forces himself through the rest of the exam, the plastic sheet underneath him crinkling with every movement.
At one point, Granny reaches up to touch his lymph nodes, fingers grazing his neck, and he stills.
“No,” Katsuki murmurs.
Recovery Girl doesn’t push.
Ponytail helps Granny with the meningitis shot, but other than that, she mostly stays hands-off, watching him with big eyes from behind a clipboard. Katsuki never gets her–she’s smarter than a whip and her quirk is OP as fuck, but yet she still acts like fucking Deku when it comes to taking initiative. It’s annoying.
“You should be good to go.” Granny pats his arm, unblinking when he tugs out of her grip with a growl. “We’ll contact you through your school email if any of the tests come back with something unusual. Remember: no news is good news!”
“Fucking finally.” He jumps off the cot, ripping his neatly folded clothes off the bedside table. The sooner he can get out of this thin excuse of a hospital gown, the better. After quickly changing in the bathroom back to his gym uniform, he relishes in the stomps of his boots as he ducks out of the nurse’s office as fast as he humanly can without causing property damage.
Katsuki’s nice like that.
He passes by Deku in the waiting area, muttering to himself in one of those cramped plastic chairs. With a glance around the empty hallway, he stalks over until he’s standing directly in front of him. “Oi.”
“K-kacchan!” Deku jumps, pressing a hand over his chest. “I didn’t see you!”
“Obviously.” Katsuki waves it away. “Listen, does Granny know about your quirk?”
Deku blinks. “She does…? Why?”
Flicking his forehead, Katsuki scoffs and turns away. “Just making sure she won’t freak out when she sees your appendix scar.”
Quirkless people are behind on the evolution scale–besides for the extra toe joint, they have a whole boatload of issues people born with quirks don’t. Katsuki remembers the first time Deku complained about acid reflux when they were in preschool–their teacher called an ambulance, convinced he was dying. Auntie Inko was less than impressed.
“Kacchan, were you…” Katsuki quirks an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder at Deku’s stupidly happy face.
He freezes. “No,” Katsuki hisses, feeling traitorous heat rise to his face. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You do care!” Deku points at him, a disbelieving smile stretched across his face.
“I do not!” Katsuki denies, setting off an explosion that was more light and sound than anything else directly in his face. Unfortunately, Deku’s since grown a spine and decent dodging skills, so he ducks right underneath it and jabs his ribs. Oh, it is on.
“Ahem.” Both of them freeze, Katsuki's hand shoved over Deku’s entire face and Deku’s knee digging into his diaphragm. Recovery Girl looks less than impressed, tapping her cane impatiently while Ponytail watches them with a fond smile. “While you both look like you’re having fun, I do have to examine Midoriya-kun here.”
“Sorry,” Deku mutters, while Katsuki only tches, shoving Deku back into his chair. “See you later, Kacchan!”
“Shut up and fuck off!”
Muttering angrily to himself, he heads back to the dorms, grabbing one of the sugar packed juice boxes from the fridge and flopping down on the couch. He sticks the straw in his mouth, scowling as he debates what to do for the rest of the afternoon.
It’s an awkward amount of time–he’s finished with his homework and already packed for the trip tomorrow, but Aizawa forbade the class for gym access as a sort of forced vacation. Katsuki’s sure he’d let him go if he cited his blood pressure, but he already went this morning for that reason, and he’s not fond of lying.
“Kacchan!” His head snaps up, a sneer on his lips from over ten years of having to listen to that whiny voice calling him that childish nickname, only to meet blond hair instead of green. “Oh, it’s you.”
Pikachu wilts. “You can at least act excited to see me!” The whole idiot parade is on his heels, all of them waving excitedly at the sight of Katsuki like he’s been gone for a month rather than half an hour right across campus.
“Hah!? Why the hell would I do that?!”
Raccoon Eyes hugs Katsuki’s neck from behind, squealing like a demented squirrel right in his ear. “You love us!”
“I do not!” He bats at her, almost playfully (though he’d rather die before using that word). “And get off of me!”
“It’s manly to admit your feelings,” Kirishima says earnestly, taking a seat next to him while Soy Sauce scoots in next to Pikachu on the couch opposite of him, and oh fuck they’re gonna want to hang with him. Gross.
Katsuki bares his teeth, and is unimpressed that none of them seem even remotely scared of him anymore. “Is it manly for Raccoon Eyes to be trying to choke me out?”
That, at least, seems to throw a wrench in the century out-of-date cogs that are Kirishima’s mind. Don’t even get him started with the other idiots, he’ll probably give himself hives from the sheer amount of dust clogging their brains. He’s not even allergic to dust.
At least Raccoon Eyes finally stops her valiant mission of suffocating him via pressure on his trachea and finally leaves him to go check in on the metaphorical smoke pouring out of Shitty Hair’s ears.
“We’re just showing you our love, Kacchan,” Pikachu teases, and Katsuki grimaces once again at that nickname.
“Don’t call me that.” He lightly kicks Pikachu’s shin, smirking as he doubles over in pain. “It’s fucking creepy as hell.”
“You let Midoriya call you it though,” Soy Sauce butts in, smirking right back at him. Katsuki will give the Tape Fucker this–he has balls of literal steel.
Snorting, he leans back in his seat, slurping louder on his juice box. “You think I had a choice in that matter? I let him call me that because it was either going to be Kacchan or Kachuki when we were brats, and one of them sounds mildly less grating on the ears.”
Pikachu mutters ‘Kachuki’ under his breath with a choked laugh. Katsuki kicks him again for good measure; hard.
“I think it’s cute that he still calls you that.” Kirishima smiles, so full of bright and pure things that Katsuki reflexively shields his eyes, dimly noticing Raccoon Eyes and Soy Sauce doing the same. Pikachu, who doesn’t have anything more than a single brain cell and mistakes the sound of it being shaken around as a thought, stares right into the sun and suffers with burning eyes.
Crinkling his now empty juicebox, he aims for the trash bin across the room and effortlessly tosses it in, neatly ignoring the envious side eyes he gets from the Idiot Parade. “It’s fucking creepy is what it is. We’re training to be Pros and he still uses ‘chan’ like a baby. Kachuki would have been better than this hell.”
This time, Pikachu can’t cover his laughter. “Kachuki.” He wheezes. No one takes a second glance when Katsuki slams his heel right into Pikachu’s stupid foot.
“How on earth did that come about?” Soy Sauce asks, mystified, all of them ignoring Pikachu’s dramatic whines. If he can’t take Katsuki’s sneakers, he can’t wait until combat training with his steel toed boots.
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Dumbass couldn’t say the Ta category.” He rolls his eyes again when he sees all of their incomprehensive looks. How the four of them haven’t forgotten to breathe and die yet is beyond him. Except Kirishima, because Kirishima at least has self preservation instincts. Or a very good defensive quirk that prevents him from randomly dying sheerly by existing on levels so stupid god himself wonders what the hell he created.
“The Ta category: Ta, Chi, Tsu, Te, To, all that crap.” Katsuki explains, cracking his neck. “Couldn’t pronounce Tsu for the life of him. Thus, Kachuki.”
He still remembers it; the heat of the summer, bug catching net over his shoulder and a too big sun hat over his head. Sweat sticking to his skin, the hum of cicadas and the ever present sound of footsteps following after him. Hiding in the playground tunnel, knees up to his chest, looking up at shining green eyes with a found you, Kacchan!
“I think I used to do the same!” Pikachu’s chatter, bright and annoying, is enough to drag him out of his uneasy thoughts. “You think my control is bad now? Try being six and constantly shorting out.” He laughs self-deprecatingly, scratching the back of his head.
“Kaminari…” Soy Sauce trails off, obviously unsure of what exactly to say.
But Pikachu neither wants nor needs platitude. Even Katsuki can tell that.
“Enough about shitty pronunciations; if I wanted to talk about speech impediments, it would be on how to finally murder the Grape Stain,” Katsuki remarks casually, resisting the urge to grin when Raccoon Eyes mutters something crude about their perverted classmate under her breath. “Now, who wants to try to beat my top score in Mario?”
His score, which is only beaten by Todoroki, the half and half bastard. Ruining his life when he isn’t even around. Fucker.
At least the Idiot Parade cheers themselves up, practically salivating at the mouth for the chance to win themselves a name up on the scoreboard. Well, keep on hoping losers, because he’s Bakugo fucking Katsuki and he always wins.
.
They call for a break around four to order dinner. And because this is 1-A, it quickly turns into a whole event with screaming and liberal quirk use until Aizawa storms in with eyes glowing demonically red.
Katsuki’s unpacking the orders from their eventually agreed upon restaurant in the kitchen when some of the idiots he calls classmates switch from the pause menu of Mario Kart towards cable, the voices from the talk show almost unheard at first under the loud chatter of his classmates.
“– it’s just ridiculous, Nakamura, what our country lost for this future villain!”
“Kumagai–san–!”
“You’ve seen the clips of the sports festival! How can people around the country feel safe when something like that is tainting the names of heroes everywhere? He killed the Symbol of Peace–”
Katsuki stares at the styrofoam box in his hand full of his favorite spicy peanut noodles. Somewhere behind him, he can hear his classmates yelling, Aizawa’s voice a dim roar. Yet, yet–
He can’t hear any of it.
Slowly, he places the food back on the counter. He’s not hungry anymore.
He passes Kirishima in the hallway to the elevator, the redhead furrowing his eyebrows as he reaches out for Katsuki’s arm. “Hey, Bakugo–”
“Not right now, Kirishima.”
Whatever expression he has on his face is enough, as Kirishima steps back.
Katsuki’s not exactly sure what happened after that. One moment, he’s standing in the elevator. The next, he’s in his room, taking his jacket off. The one after that, he’s lying in his bed curled on his side, gaze on the shuddering door.
“Bakugo.” Another knock. “If you don’t open the door within two minutes, I can legally break it down. Aizawa-sensei gave us permission to do so after the incident with Asui and the heater not working.”
Icyhot?
Slowly, he levers himself up, glaring blearily at the door. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Oh, good. I don’t have to break down the door,” Icyhot comments, then goes silent. Are you fucking kidding me–
Grunting, Katsuki stands up, ripping open his door with a snarl. Icyhot simply blinks.
“What do you want, you fucking used tampon?” Katsuki crosses his arms, leaning against his doorframe.
Instead of answering, Icyhot simply leans in closer and eyes his room. “I was curious about what your room looked like, since you opted out of the Room King contest. Glad to see that it fits your personality.”
“What the fuck does that mean!?”
“You weren’t responding to the Kindergarten are Terrifying chat.” Icyhot raises his phone, like that explains anything. Fucking Glamour and Baldy. “Camie has been asking if you’re goo-key.”
“Gucci,” Katsuki corrects absentmindedly, and then snaps back to himself. “And? That’s not the first time I’ve muted that cursed chat.” Not by a long shot. The only time he’s ever interacted in it is when the others are about to do something stupid and he has to scream common sense into them. Happens far more often than he’d like.
Icyhot puts his phone away. “I’ve never been on a trip before,” he says, out of the blue. “When I moved to the dorms, my father simply hired someone to pack everything for me. Do I bring a swimsuit? A lamp? My futon?”
“Stop.” He holds up a hand. “Are you saying you’re not packed? When we’re leaving in less than twelve hours?”
“…yes?”
“God fucking dammit.” Katsuki groans, face palming. “Do you have a bag? Not, your school bag?” Icyhot nods. “Okay, come on then. I’m going to teach you some fucking life skills.”
It’s only when they’re in the elevator, Katsuki grumbling to himself about the uselessness of his classmates, that he notices the name of Icyhot’s text messages.
Aizawa, you sneaky bastard.
.
Katsuki wakes up with one arm raised towards the ceiling, hand desperately reaching out to the darkness of the room as unshed tears burn against his eyes. For a single wondrous moment, he can’t tell why terror clings to his throat, before the mortifying memories of his dream seep back into his mind.
“Fuck.” He curses, dropping the arm over his face. So fucking pathetic. “What am I doing?” He laughs hoarsely to himself.
Something in his stomach churns uncomfortably
You’re next.
You’re next.
You’re next.
He just lays there in the silence of his bedroom, turning them over and over again in his mind (call him call him). Each time he thinks about it, the smoke and the dust and the guilt, the stomach acid burning his throat grows stronger and stronger with every breath.
“Fuck this.” Katsuki flings his blankets off, not bothering to grab his phone before slipping out his door and down the stairs.
While he didn’t check the time on his phone (call him call him call him), it’s definitely late enough for even the strongest of night owls to call it an evening and retreat to their rooms for the night. A chance look at the stove clock reveals it’s a little past four in the morning–give it another hour and the early birds will start waking up for their morning jogs. He has some time.
Rummaging through the cabinets, he growls under his breath when he doesn’t find it. “Where the hell is it?” he mutters. “Ponytail is always raving about this kind of shit.”
“Oh, the tea? Cupboard to the left of the fridge.”
It’s only an iron will and sheer tiredness that prevents him from turning around and unloading an explosion in Brainfucker’s face.
“What.” He grits out, slamming the cabinet door closed. “The fuck are you doing here?”
Brainfucker shrugs, a cup of something steaming in front of him as he sits in complete darkness like the absolute weirdo he is. “Couldn't sleep.”
Dumbass, he figured that much. Brainfucker is one of the few that has special permissions to wander the campus at night due to his quirk fucking up his sleep schedule, as long as he stays in the residential areas. Him, Birdbrain, and Katsuki all have special chips on their student IDs that allow them in and out of the gym past curfew.
But rather than bring that up, he decides to be an asshole and pointedly looks at his eyebags big enough to hide his luggage. “Really? I never could have guessed.”
“Oh look, it does have a sense of humor,” Brainfucker snaps back immediately. Despite himself, Katsuki snorts, digging out the fancy box of tea bags and setting the kettle on the stove to boil. Considering the kettle was ice cold and put away…
“That better not be tea you’re drinking.” Katsuki points at him threateningly. “Aizawa’s secret son or not, I will beat the absolute shit out of you if you made tea in the microwave.”
“Nah,” Brainfucker tilts the cup enough for him to see the marshmallows bobbing in the dark liquid. “Tea tastes too bitter for me.”
“Here, here.” Katsuki raises his cup in solidarity.
Brainfucker squints at him. “You don’t even like tea?” His voice is thick with disbelief.
“Just because I don’t like something doesn’t mean I don’t understand that it’s healthy for me,” he explains, busying himself with fetching the sugar and milk. For once, he doesn’t feel strange about openly using the sweeteners in the dorm, since both of them know full well that no one will ever believe Brainfucker.
After a moment, Brainfucker nods in acknowledgement. “Wish Kaminari had those brains.”
“Pikachu would be lucky to think himself out of a paper bag.” He dismisses. Brainfucker makes a half aborted laughing sound, and the conversation stalls for a bit while Katsuki pours himself some tea and promptly dumps a shitload of sugar and milk into it.
Luckily, Brainfucker has the brainpower not to laugh, or otherwise he would be taking an explosion to the face.
Katsuki takes a seat about three spots away from Brainfucker, just to let him know he’s not that chummy. He saves that (reluctantly) for Kirishima, and the rest of his dumbass ‘squad’ when he’s feeling particularly nice. “How’s the tea?” Brainfucker asks.
“Bland as fuck.” Katsuki chugs it, and then graciously returns the awkward small talk. “Thought we were all out of hot chocolate; Soy Sauce was bitching about it earlier.” As much as Sero could bitch about anything, anyhow. That man could out power the sun with his fucking sass all the while with a smile on his face the entire time. It’s admittedly terrifying.
“Hot chocolate?” He glances down at his drink. “Nah, this is coffee.”
Katsuki has to physically stop and take deep breaths to prevent himself from committing a homicide. It’s harder than it should be considering all the practice he gets day in and day out with these dumbasses he calls his classmates
Maybe Brainfucker will come with them to the unsupervised island so Katsuki can beat him up and no one can tell on him. “You coming with us tomorrow?”
Brainfucker shakes his head. Dammit. “Unfortunately, Hero class hopeful doesn’t mean Hero class student.” He says that, yet he spends practically all his time either here or following Aizawa around like a depressed puppy. “I’ll leave that fun field trip to you, good sir.”
“We’re going to die,” Katsuki says simply. It’s the fate of the universe when it comes to this class.
“Yes,” Brainfucker agrees. “Yes you are.”
Both of them go back to their drinks, content with the knowledge of 1-A going to be a class of one student next year. Lucky bastard.
Yet when he steps out on the balcony in his room hours later, it’s with his phone pressed to his ear and eyes on the hazy sunrise. “Hey dad. Just figured I’d check in with you before the flight. How’s work going?”
.
.
.
“Everyone! Let’s stay in a single file line by class number in order to make it easier on our teacher’s to do a headcount–”
“Oh shit man!”
“Rip, Kaminari got Iida-chopped.”
“Wasted.”
“I am so terribly sorry–”
“Has anyone seen my charger?”
“You left it plugged in next to the TV, kero.”
“Thanks Tsu!”
“Oh dear, I hope I didn’t pack too much…”
“You’ll be fine, Yaomomo! I’m more worried for Shoji-kun.”
“I don’t require much.”
“Hey guys, I packed some sweets for the ride, if anyone wants some–?”
“Yes please!”
“Shit! I left my gloves upstairs! Brb.”
“Hagakure-san! That’s no way for a future Hero and a student in training to speak!”
“She’s already gone, bro.”
“What a mad banquet of darkness.”
“If you should scold anyone for their language, it should be Bakugo.”
“I would! Unfortunately, he’s listening to music right now and it would be rude to interrupt him!”
Katsuki, is in fact, not listening to music, but if sitting on the couch staring into his space with his headphones in keeps the losers away, all the better. He’s running on maybe five hours of sleep and caffeine interacts weirdly with his quirk, so he doesn’t have the patience for the raw chaotic energy of his class. If anyone tries to drag him in, he’s going to go feral on their ass.
Unfortunately, it’s Kirishima who decides to break his self-imposed exile. “You excited man?”
Katsuki stares.
Kirishima keeps smiling with the force of the fucking sun .
… Fine. “Eh.” That counts as a good enough answer, right?
According to Kirishima, it does. Plopping down next to him, Kirishima props his feet up on the coffee table with a contemplative hum. “Me too! I mean, it’s going to be really exciting to run our own agency, but a bit nervous too. I’m surprised that Aizawa-sensei allowed this!”
Him and everyone in the class. Katsuki’s half convinced that the HPSC threatened some shady shit in order to keep him in Musutafu. If it was possible, Katsuki’s 100% certain that their teacher would rather cling to the wing of the plane rather than let them step outside the dorms without an armed militia protecting them.
“I’m glad you all are in such high spirits.” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Like usual, Aizawa’s simple existence is enough to calm the more rowdier classmates, everyone settling down to gaze up at him expectantly. “As many of you already know, I won’t be accompanying you on the plane ride. So with this in mind, remember that you are representing not only U.A., but the Hero industry as a whole. You are a part of a much bigger picture today and for the next two weeks, you won’t be Hero students–you’ll be fully fleshed Heroes running your own agency.”
He raises his chin. “So make me proud.”
Even Katsuki can’t help but clap his hands to that speech, duly impressed and his heart fluttering a little bit in his chest. Make me proud.
He can do that. He can more than do that.
It’s with some sniffles and sudden wide eyed looks that they’re finally ushered out of the dorm and towards the entrance of the school. Bastard probably planned it this way to keep them quiet on the bus ride so he could sleep. Katsuki’s on to him.
Present Mic and All Might wait for them at the bus, waving down some of their favorites for a chat while the rest of them start loading their luggage in the bottom compartment. Shoved between Raccoon Eyes and Pikachu, he can’t hear what All Might is telling Deku; it’s probably just some stupid reassurances or praises on how great Deku is.
He glances away, stomping towards the stairs. It’s none of his business.
“Good luck today, Young Bakugo!”
Katsuki freezes. Slowly, he glances over his shoulder, finally managing to speak past the guilt clawing in his throat. “Thanks.”
It means nothing. All Might’s just being kind.
Still, there’s a little quirk to his lips as he pops his earphones in next to Earlobes. No one dares to point it out, in fear of riling him up and waking Aizawa in the process.
.
“Sir? Can you please step aside?”
Katsuki throws his head back with a groan, knowing full well that this would happen. It’s why he stopped traveling with his parents for work–it just got too exhausting to constantly have Katsuki pulled over for a pat down.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he leaves his bag on the cart with his classmates and strides over to where the security guard is pointing, only to see Raccoon Eyes already there already with a pout. She doesn’t seem surprised to be pulled over though, both of them eyeing each other thoughtfully.
“Acid?” he asks.
She nods. “Nitroglycerin?”
Katsuki sighs in lieu of an answer. In a world full of Quirks, technology still has nowhere near evolved enough to manage them. Thus, both of them spend a literal hour showing their Quirk registration papers, having their things searched, undergoing a pat down, and having their hands swabbed not once, not twice, but three times.
Aizawa should be thanking Robocop’s obsession with punctuality on hands and knees for why they arrived at the airport three hours before their flight to Naha airport. Katsuki and his family have missed more than one flight before thanks to his sweat setting off their chemical tests.
Raccoon Eyes is released relatively early (turns out creating acids corrosive enough to melt through concrete isn’t scary enough for them to care about), but she sticks around to laugh at him when he has to go through another scan. “We’re sorry Sir, it’s just your chemical test results are highly dangerous, containing both nitrates and glycerin–” Another one the security guards, who he henceforth names Karen, reminds him for the 40th time in less than twenty minutes.
“And as I was saying,” he grits his teeth, glaring at Raccoon Eyes laughing her ass off at him. “I sweat fucking nitroglycerin. You know, a combination of nitrates and glycerin?”
Karen eyes him dubiously. “That sounds like a dangerous quirk…Is it really safe for someone like you to ride a plane?”
Mina abruptly stops laughing.
“I have perfect control of my quirk, and I already showed you my ethanol wipes,” Katsuki says slowly, in the hopes his words can get into her stupid ass brain. “Need I remind you that I have a Provisional Hero License issued by U.A. itself?” He doesn’t like throwing around his status, but being a U.A. student has a lot of weight.
“You know what, why don’t I call our teacher?” Mina smiles eerily wide, whipping out her phone despite the large NO CELLULAR DEVICES sign above her. “I’m sure he would love to know why you’re delaying our Hero work study trip? The principal himself would have to get involved, you know.”
Oh wow, would you look at that, suddenly they no longer have a reason to hold him in detainment any longer.
It’s only when they’re practically kicked out of the private office and back into the public terminal, bags shoved in their arms and tickets faintly smelling of rubber and caramel respectively, that Katsuki turns to Mina gruffly. “Thanks.”
Her smile could rival Kirishima’s. “Anytime, Bakubro!”
Any soft yucky feelings drop immediately out of him. “Never call me that again.”
“Kaminari calls you that!” she protests, skipping next to him with her bright pink backpack bobbing with her step.
“Pikachu has no fear of anything,” Katsuki retorts, grabbing her wrist and cutting across the crowd towards the Edo market where the rest of their classmates are getting brunch. Someone shouts at them, and Katsuki doesn’t even glance back before flipping them off over his shoulder. “That would require brain cells.”
Raccoon Eyes grins, hooking their elbows together. “You know, no one ever believes me when I say you have a sense of humor.”
“And they never will.”
.
Luckily for them, brunch and the shopping he gets dragged into goes relatively smoothly. Seriously, whoever thought it would be a good idea to have twenty unsupervised teenagers in an airport is an idiot. Katsuki alone has to break up three attempts of stupidity that would get them arrested at the very least.
He shares a long suffering look with Robocop, and then immediately has to purge that from his mind. The day he has something in common with mister ‘stick up my ass’ is the day he quits being a Hero.
It’s only when they’re boarding the plane, bundled together against the glances and whispers from the other commuters who recognize them (and Katsuki notes with some irritation that he’s been shoved behind Octolimbs to block him from the eyes of the crowd), that Katsuki finally notices how they’re being seated.
“Oh fuck no,” he swears, stiffening in the aisle and refusing to budge as he narrows his eyes at his seatmate.
“Hi Kacchan.” Somehow, Deku makes that sound like an insult.
Katsuki turns back towards the previous rows. “Pikachu! Switch with me.”
Pikachu’s grinning face pops up over his headrest, Kirishima’s red hair poking over the seat next to him. “Hell no! Seats are final, my dude.”
He knows full well that’s a load of bullshit, considering Earlobes is patiently waiting behind him instead of Grape Stain. But before he can say anything, Deku grips his wrist and yanks him down into his seat. “Kacchan, others are waiting to board too!”
Ripping his wrist out of the other’s hand, he glares fiercely enough to make the shitty nerd gulp, but settles down with a grimace. “Not. A. Word.” He jabs his finger into Deku’s chest.
Deku, for some reason, smiles. “Okay, Kacchan.”
If it weren’t for the laws of this land (or smoke detectors and a strong anti-quirk lawks on airplanes) he would have unloaded an explosion directly into his face. “What the fuck did I just say?!”
“Settle down, you two!” Ponytail leans over their headrests, waving her hand frantically.
Icyhot pops up from in front of them. “You heard Yaoyorozu.”
“Is this a fucking zoo or something?” Katsuki snarls. “Sit the fuck down!”
“Kacchan, you’re standing yourself…”
“Hah?!”
.
And of course, because the universe fucking hates him, things never go as planned.