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As fate would have it, Eijiro was visiting Midoryia’s class that day.
The new generation of UA students were privileged almost as much as theirs had been to have All Might in his first year of teaching, going by how often alumni heroes dropped by for special lessons. Or just dropped by, full stop.
Like Ashiro last week bringing donuts for no reason but to sneak videos of Deku Sensei’s “adorable” teaching to the group chat, or Kaminari that time when he was hiding from Jirou but she found and kicked his butt in front of a bunch of wide eyed newbies while Midoryia tried his best to make it a learning experience.
Aizawa threatened them to keep it educational after that but they all still came around on occasion— with the exception of Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, who worked so much to contribute to Deku’s suit that he must be lost in what to do with all his new free time.
They encouraged him to do the Hero Con thing. It was really sweet that he went. Eirijo knows his bro— Under the begrudging show, being a panelist was blowing Bakugo’s spiky explodey inner child mind.
And when he walked in on Midoryia watching the viral video that came of it and openly weeping at the shoutout Bakugo gave him, he felt even better.
Midoryia’s desk in the teachers lounge was a compiled version of how his dorm room looked their last year at UA. There were the notebooks, the framed letters and drawings from children, and now in addition to All Might merch was a collection of items branded with his former classmates’ hero iconography.
“Dude is this a new release?” is the first thing he says upon entering. He snatches the Red Riot doll in a fist and YES it squishes, muscles bulging under pressure. A squeaky sound wheezes as he pumps it like a grip weight, delighted.
“Please stop,” the lump resembling a yellow caterpillar on the couch says in the tone of one who’s heard this fidget toy be fidgeted with many, many times.
“Huh?” Midoryia says, caught by surprise as he swivels around at light speed. “Oh, it’s from a small business online, actually.” Then he registers who asked the question and his eyes widen. “Kirishima! You made it!”
“Of course!” Kirishima says, pulling his friend into a hug. Midoryia squeaks like the doll, but his face has a wide grin when they part, hand coming up to wipe residual tears away.
“Haha, sorry,” he says, closing the laptop behind him. “I just got around to seeing the video everyone kept sending me. It looks like Kacchan inspired a lot of people.”
“He did, and now I’m ready to go inspire the youths,” Eijiro smiles, crossing his arms.
He’s not as bad as Ashido but he has to admit “Deku Sensei” is really suited to his role as he sits to the side of the chalkboard and watches him go. His students— several of which are grown-up versions of tykes he once saved— adore him openly.
Unfortunately they all have phones too; phones which start pinging and fussing whispers and murmuring that morning before they ever get to Ground Beta for Kirishima’s special lesson.
“Is everything okay?” Deku pauses to ask after another text notification goes off. He’s so gentle. Aizawa would’ve handled phone use in class a different way.
The students shift upright and look among themselves with anxious expressions.
It occurs to Eijiro for the first time that whatever online news they’re buzzing about might not be good news. He glances at his own phone on the table nearby and sees the screen lighting up— some news alerts, some texts from friends. He frowns.
“Midoryia-nii- uh, I mean Deku Sensei,” a kid in a spiked red hat says, standing. Everyone looks at seemingly the bravest among them. “Dynamight is… uh. You should probably just look for yourself. He’s you guys’ friend, right?”
Eijiro grabs his phone.
Midoryia slowly lowers the hand that was writing on the board. He looks between the kid (Kouta, Eijiro remembers) and Eijiro, brow furrowed and Eijiro can see him struggling between competing interests.
Then the door opens, and Aizawa Sensei is there.
“One second, kids,” Eijiro says, looking at their former teacher as he says it. “Deku Sensei, c’mere.”
“Uh, oh- okay?” Midoryia says, still confused as Eijiro tows him out by the arm and Aizawa trades them places wordlessly. He’s still looking over his shoulder as the door shuts on Aizawa intoning something in his scary voice that gets phones going back to bags immediately.
“What’s going on? What about the lesson?” Midoryia says pulling away.
“We can still do the lesson, Deku sensei,” Eijiro says. He starts walking toward the teachers lounge and sighs when Midoryia follows reluctantly. “What, don’t you trust Aizawa with them for a minute?”
“I guess if it’s a minute…” he hears Midoryia mumble, and he laughs despite the sourness in his stomach. Then his friend asks, “What’s going on with Kacchan?” and Eijiro glances back.
Eijiro wasn’t there when Midoryia saw Bakugo stabbed through, or when he got Shigaraki’s “present” in the floating fortress; but he heard enough. Obviously Aizawa remembers it well enough.
Midoryia reads something in his expression and the line of his frown levels out, hard. “Kirishima, what is it,” he says, stopping.
They’re close enough to privacy. Eijiro swallows drily and pulls his phone back out; he only caught a few words off the screen earlier but they were strong words. Deku-triggering words.
Red riot triggering ones for that matter.
“Let’s find out,” he says.
He watches in real time as the headlines and limited information about the situation turn Midoryia to a stone figure in the stairwell they chose to sit. He has his hands clasped in steeples over his mouth so Eijiro can’t read his expression, but then Eijiro gets to the link (“be advised the content of this video is graphic”).
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he tries. “We already know—“
“No,” Midoriya says, startling Eijiro with the amount of carefully contained anger in his voice already.
Eijiro lets out a breath, trying to lesson the minute hardening of his skin. Maybe it’s a good thing Midoriya doesn’t have a quirk that responds automatically to his emotions at the moment.
“If you say so,” he says. Famous last words, the Kaminari in his brain says.
The image of Bakugo restrained and bloody is not unexpected at this point, but it is (understatement) unpleasant. Midoriya stands up halfway through the distorted villain rant, pacing stiffly.
Eijiro bites his lip, eyes still on the screen like it’s a train wreck he can’t stop watching.
Midoryia looks back when the villain says the thing about compiling a video of Bakugo’s middle school days, though. Just at the moment Bakugo looks at the camera for the first time.
“We can take a break,” Eijiro is about to say, eyeing the video run time (almost done, almost done) but then the villain says, “We can take a break if you just tell me that it hurts.”
His hand becomes rock so fast he almost crushes the phone. Midoryia’s hair is covering his eyes.
“That’s enough,” his friend says as the monologue melts into grainy CCTV from one Aldera Middle. Eijiro gladly obliges.
“So, um… the lesson,” he says.
Midoryia swiftly looks back down the hallway toward his classroom, hand finding his scalp and yanking at the hair there. Kirishima is kind of glad to see tears budding in his eyes, because that means normal human emotions are still registering for him. It’s not very manly to suppress those.
Plus the reminder of his students is enough to keep him from calling his suit to him right this second.
“I don’t…” Midoryia mutters, lost.
“The way I see it, here are our options,” Eijiro says, standing and gripping his friend by the shoulder to ground him. Wide wet eyes find his, and Eijiro proceeds to do the Deku style analysis they both need right now.
“There are heroes in Tokyo. They’re on the case already and they’re not incompetent. We can trust our friend to them and do our best to monitor the situation while we go back in and comfort those kids of yours that stuff like this is a reality of the industry and having friends therein.” He takes a breath, feeling the anxiety in his chest match Deku’s. As much as they can compartmentalize, it doesn’t make it easy when it’s one of your best friends.
“And Bakugo, he’s not a wimp,” he adds, trying to ignore the mental afterimage of the wounds he saw. Was this villain some kind of genius or something? He clears his throat.
“Or,” Midoriya says.
“Or, we trust Aizawa Sensei to look after your students for more than a second, and we go to Tokyo real quick.”
He feels kind of bad for the bias in his tone. But not too bad.
Midoriya’s expression becomes the determined one Eijiro knows well, and it’s all the answer he needs.
“I’ll go tell Aizawa,” he says. “You get the suit.”
…
The train ride to Tokyo is a blur, far too slow for either of their liking but Eijiro refused to let Midoriya leave him in Float’s dust. For multiple reasons. All he knows is he looked over multiple times to see Midoriya combing over the video for clues and didn’t have it in him to suggest otherwise. If anyone would catch hidden details, it would be Midoriya.
In the end it was an old friend coming through for them that made the difference.
GeL Inc president Manami Aiba, formerly known as La Brava, meets them at the train station— not in person, but in pushing a call through Eijiro’s phone.
“Hey, fellas,” she says, scaring Eijiro to death as her face takes over the screen. “I’ve got some good news for you.”
Putting aside the fact she tracked them as moving together toward the Dynamight fiasco (Eijiro senses this more as a solid for Deku than him), and got involved with the investigation as a civilian rather than offering her skills to the local agency currently, she does in fact have good news.
She, like them, heard about the scrambled rescue attempt an hour ago and presumed quirk interference. Rather than search the quirk database, she used her reformed evil genius hacker skills to find the real IP address and send them the coordinators.
Midoriya has no follow up questions.
…
They got to Tokyo in the afternoon; it’s not until after midnight that he sees his friends.
Midoryia, at least— Bakugo was still in surgery when Eijiro found him in the waiting area, out of breath from running all over Tokyo after whichever direction Midoriya was spotted last. The game of cat and mouse between La Brava and the kidnapper went longer than expected, but she stopped communicating with Red Riot as much as Deku once they separated.
He was as lost as the rest of the heroes on the case until Midoryia texted him the hospital name. No further information.
“Our hotel is set up, unless you’re planning to spend the night here,” he says, causing Midoriya’s head to snap up, wide eyes taking him in. “Which I brought this for, knowing you,” he indicates the duffle bag of stuff on his shoulder. He doesn’t mention it has stuff for both of them, but Midoriya doesn’t get a say in that.
Midoryia blinks slowly. “Sorry,” he says after a minute. His eyes are red.
Eijiro shrugs, taking the seat next to him and throwing his arm over the back of Midoryia’s chair. “You eaten anything lately?”
He can’t see Midoryia’s face from here but hears the consideration. “What time is it?”
“That’s a no,” Eijiro snorts.
Midoryia turns his head in the hand cupping his chin slightly so he can parse the reaction. His eyes start to water like he thinks he’s really disappointed Eijiro.
“I’m—“
“The bag has some snacks,” Eijiro interrupts gently. “So get us both a jelly pouch and tell me what happened today, Sensei.”
Midoryia sniffs, covering his face with both hands for a second before meekly reaching for the beg at their feet. He hands Eijiro his first then, at a bump from Eijiro’s knee, pops his own.
“Hey, Midoriya,” Eijiro says after watching the pouch deflate rapidly with an approving eye. “You got him. Thank you.”
Midoriya sits up. “He got taken because of me,” he blurts before bursting into tears.
“Woah, okay.” Eijiro holds his hands up. “That’s not true at all, man. Villains gonna villain. You’ll remember that, when you aren’t so tired.”
Midoriya nods but doesn’t stop crying so he settles for rubbing his back and eyeing details he only skimmed before— the bandages on his friend’s cheeks and hands. Burn care?
“It was kind of a bad matchup,” Midoryia admits thickly after a minute. “A technology quirk was at play, and my suit is… tech. But, I don’t think the plan to kidnap Kacchan was well planned.”
Ah, guy got the Shoto button, Eirjiro pieces together. “Where is he now?”
“He’s in custody. Some minor burns from the explosion.”
“Explosion?” Eijiro laughs unexpectedly. “From our guy?”
Midoriya shakes his head, mouth opening then closing. Long explanation, then. Eijiro will snoop on the report later.
“And our guy,” he prompts for now.
As if he’d never been lost for words in his life, Midoriya delivers a clinical summary worthy of the medical workers who gave it to him. The prescription abuse is a surprise and not; the fact is, if this guy’s quirk was tech and he didn’t have a plan, it’s a miracle he got Dynamight to a second location at all.
Eijiro is lost in his thoughts long enough that he doesn’t notice it’s been quiet a while til footsteps approach and Midoriya is standing suddenly.
“Deku— Oh, and Red Riot,” the doctor says, sidetracked only momentarily before smiling tiredly. “Our patient is stable. You can come see him now if you’d like.”
“He’s awake?” Eijiro asks, but his hopes fall as the doctor’s expression indicates otherwise.
“Not right now,” she says quietly, leading them down the hall, past the nurse station and a row of darkened rooms where patients sleep and beeping machines keep watch. “Our staff with healing quirks were able to mend his internal organs and but their abilities require an energy exchange, as you may remember from Recovery Girl’s at UA. Being as drained as he already was, he’ll be out of it for a while still.”
She stops in front of a private room, scaly tail brushing an arc on the floor as she turns and opens the door for them.
And there he is.
It’s not the most banged up he’s seen a classmate (Midoriya still holds that title); no limbs are hanging from slings at least. Bakugo looks like he could be tucked into bed as normal, if it weren’t for the tubes and screens around him. The light is low just like in every other room, and he and Midoriya are quick to approach for a better view.
He looks so different asleep than he does awake— that’s the most off-putting part. Gone are the pinched expressions and tough postures and loud exclamations painting a facade of being tougher than the pain; when he’s asleep, he’s just a guy.
But Eijiro remembers the time just after Kamino when Bakugo was returned to them unharmed physically— the pain on the outside is only one part of recovery.
“We’re monitoring his blood pressure carefully,” the doctor goes on, turning Eijiro’s head. Midoriya continues to scan Bakugo like he’s worried his stitches will burst if he looks away. “Since a lot of stress was put on his heart. Right now he’s on fluids and an anticoagulant, as well as painkillers for the bruising left after surgery.”
“The good stuff,” Eijiro sums up with a smile. “Thanks doc.”
She puts her hands in the pockets of her coat and inclines her head. “Please, let us know if you need anything,” she says, and politely takes her leave.
In the silence Midoriya takes a deep breath that sounds like his first in hours. He tentatively takes a seat in the padded window nook on Bakugo’s left when Eijiro sits in the chair to his right.
His stomach growls, making both of them jump.
“I’m ordering something,” Eijiro says, whipping out his phone before Midoriya can apologize again.
By the time the food arrives and he’s gone downstairs to get it and come back, however, Midoriya has fallen asleep in the corner, head smooshed on the armrest. Eijiro grins in triumph.
He sets the bag of takeout down and texts friends between bites. He snaps a photo of sleeping Midoriya and Bakugo and sends it to everyone from their UA class, including Aizawa. He fields a call with Bakugo’s parents in the hallway, then one with Sero that turns into a group call with whoever is up.
He’s ready to join his friends in sleep sometime around 3am.
As he’s brushing his teeth in the hospital room sink, feeling like a zombie, when a sound from the bed catches his attention. He half expects Midoriya to jump awake as if Danger Sense never left him, and stays totally still at attention as Bakugo’s eyes open to slits and stare uncomprehending forward.
Eijiro tiptoes into his line of vision at the end of the bed and waves his hand to see if his eyes track. They don’t, but they do open and shut a few times.
“Psst,” Eijiro says, poking Bakugo’s foot through the blanket. “You in there, bro?”
Bakugo grunts under his breath and flicks his foot minutely. Eijiro grins around his toothbrush and takes a step closer, proceeding to poke Bakugo’s cheek gently but relentlessly.
“Kacchan of the Bakugoooos,” he whispers, grin spreading as his friend’s face pinches in annoyance even barely conscious.
“G’way,” he grumbles.
“Never, cuz you love me too much,” Eijiro singsongs before choking on toothpaste saliva and jumping to the sink to spit.
When he’s done clearing his throat he turns to see Bakugo turned toward him now, eyes a little wider.
“Dumb hair,” he says at normal volume.
“Shhh, here,” Eijiro says, grabbing him a cup of water and holding it to his chin. Bakugo accepts the drink right away but tries to lift himself to brace it with his own hand and must aggravate his torso to a point beyond the painkillers’ reach.
He curses at a louder volume, squinting one eye shut.
“Dude, shut up!” Eijiro hisses, looking back and forth between Midoriya and Bakugo.
Their sleeping friend sleeps on.
Bakugo has followed his gaze to Midoriya’s curled-up form and is squinting like he’s trying to understand a museum painting. “Huh?” he says, thankfully much quieter.
“We’re trying to keep him asleep,” Eijiro annunciates in a loud whisper. He takes his seat by the bed and leans in, grinning. “But you can be awake if you want. How are you feeling, bro?”
Bakugo looks back at him and blinks, his expression mystified. He looks down at his stomach.
Eijiro quickly steps in to assist when he tries to peel the blanket off of himself, revealing the swath of bandages underneath.
“Pointy thing got you real clean through the middle,” he explains, watching his friend’s face for recognition. “And the twerp who Baku-napped you was not qualified for the responsibility, sounded like a real wimp on his little broadcast. Our Midoriya took care of him easy-peasy. I don’t know all the details yet but I do know it ended in a kaboom. Is any of this ringing a — hey— hey, what’s wrong??”
Tears are dripping down Bakugo’s face like leaky faucets. Eijiro can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen Bakugo cry, and those were mainly involuntary when he was in a lot of pain and only once after a bad night after Kamino.
The mismatched spikes of his hair (currently less purposely disheveled, more hack job of an unskilled gardener) hide his face as he tucks his chin and Eijiro follows the tilt, concern tight in his chest. Bakugo’s eyes are glassy, neutral, the tears the only sign of upset.
“Bro?” Eijiro prompts, setting a hand on Bakugo’s arm.
Bakugo inhales deeply and it shudders on the way out. In not a grunt or growl or anything of that nature, he says, “I hurt him.”
Eijiro’s brow furrows. This is uncharted territory. “The— the villain? Bakugo, he’s fine, he’s—“
Bakugo gives a sharp, single shake of his head, chin jutting up. “Him,” he repeats, voice creaking. “Hurt HIM.”
A thought dawns on Eijiro. He looks over at Midoriya blowing a snot bubble every time he snores. “Midoriya?” he clarifies, tone rising unintentionally.
Bakugo sniffs.
“Okay, Bakugo, I think Midoriya mentioned you got a concussion at some point, and you’re definitely on drugs,” Eijiro soothes, squeezing his arm. “All of that can make anyone a bit irrational. What would Aizawa Sensei say?”
Bakugo tips his head back and looks at the ceiling, blinking sluggishly. Eijiro is tapping his foot, trying to decide what he should say when Bakugo starts muttering, Deku style but with far less inherent sunshine.
It’s not super intelligible but Eijiro picks up words and phrases. There’s something about a creek, and extras, and a few “Deku”s and even a “Kacchan” in there.
Eijiro nods sympathetically as if he understands. He eyes Midoriya a couple times, now kind of wishing he WOULD wake up.
“Sounds like you and Midoriya should have a good conversation about this later,” he says. He’s still not clear on why this is the first thing on Bakugo’s mind right now.
The villain dod try to exhume skeletons of their past with his video, but since he and Midoriya couldn’t care less about those clips, he kind of figured Bakugo wouldn’t either. Some people might but Eijiro himself witnessed an apology so manly that it knocked Midoriya out.
Midoriya didn’t even need to issue forgiveness because it was a forgone conclusion long before the apology. Maybe Bakugo felt like he hadn’t earned it. And that—
“Pisses me off,” his friend says, as though finishing the thought, gesturing at Midoriya without looking. He’s back to looking grumpy, mouth a firm line.
“Sure,” Eijiro agrees, grabbing a tissue box off the counter.
He tries to pass a tissue over but Bakugo doesn’t take it, so he resorts to dabbing his face himself. Bakugo startles at the touch like he forgot he was there and he looks over. His mouth wobbles.
“Kirishima,” he says, in the Bakugo language of “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Hey bro,” Eijiro smiles. “You’re so out of it. How’s it feel? Besides the mood swings.”
“Floaty.”
“No doubt no doubt. Hey, man, you mean so much to me. And Midoriya. You should’ve seen the way he was today. That suit was a real nice gift. You’re such a good friend.”
Bakugo blinks slow and his eyelids don’t raise as high on the open. “Hmm. Promise.”
“I give you my promise as a hero.” Eijiro puts his hand on his heart and feels satisfied at the grunt Bakugo manages in return while his eyes flutter.
Eijiro pulls his blanket back up, then gets his own out of the duffle to get as comfy in his chair as possible. He’s content as exhaustion overtakes him.
He’s so lucky to have such good friends.
…
Eijiro has a dream that he’s a rock with arms and legs wandering in a cave. He watches a strangely dressed version of Midoriya run frantically around each corner calling for someone.
He looks over and sees more little creatures like him. A yellow mouse with Kaminari’s voice says, “Sup.” A fluffy pink thing with antennae and Ashido’s mannerisms gives a peace sign.
“What’s up with Midoriya?” Eijiro asks.
“He’s looking for Barkugou,” a green frog thing says in Tsu’s voice. The round pink thing next to her (Ururaka?) nods and points down a corridor. Eijiro heads that way.
In his own room, a horned black dog paces back and forth along the back wall, sparking little fires in his wake. He has a skull pattern on his chest and a surly expression on his face when he turns to Eijiro.
“Whatcha doin in here?” Eijiro asks. In the distance they both hear a frantic ‘Kacchan!’ echo off the walls.
The dog looks at the door and his forked tail flicks in agitation. Eijiro frowns. “C’mon, let’s go see our friends,” he says, patting the dog on the head.
The cave starts to shake and Eijiro startles awake.
“Wha’?” he says out loud, not in a rock voice but in his own. He blinks bleary-eyed on the light of a room that’s very much not underground and groans, sitting up in his unyielding hospital chair. Something round and half-white, half-red is right in front of him. “Pokeball?”
“I don’t know what that means,” Todoroki says.
“Icy-hot, where’s the sauce packets?” Bakugo says.
Eijiro shoots up.
“I didn’t get any,” Todoroki says.
“I can go ask if the cafeteria—“ Midoriya says. “Oh, good morning, Kirishima!”
“What kind of person doesn’t bring hot sauce on the side,” Bakugo grumbles.
“Did you bring contraband into this hospital?” Eijiro demands, grabbing the closest container. The noodles in the styrofoam container look homemade, but it can’t have been Todoroki who made them. The chives are well cut.
“My sister sends get-well wishes,” Todoroki explains, handing Eijiro a set of chopsticks in plastic wrap. Eijiro takes them mechanically, still processing this turn of events.
Midoryia fills his vision as Todoroki moves away, and Eijiro leans back in the full power of big, grateful eyes.
“Thank you for the food and supplies last night!” Midoriya says, clasping his hands. Eijiro notices he’s in the fresh clothes he packed in the duffle bag. “I ate it first thing this morning— I woke up around 6 when you two were still sleeping. Todoroki and I were messaging so he offered to come over.”
“I was in town,” Todoroki offers.
“Yeah, right,” Bakugo scoffs, breaking his chopsticks apart. He takes a bite amd speaks around it. “Your sis sure is a godsend though.”
“Oh, I’ll be right back,” Midoriya says, remembering his spice seeking mission and speed walking out the door.
Eijiro rubs his eyes in the silence that follows. He stretches his arms over his head and yawns, then leans on his elbows, smiling.
“Hey, good to see you awake,” he says, knocking a fist against Bakugo’s shoulder. The one not bandaged. “And coherent, this time. Double win.”
“Hah?” Bakugo says, squinting at him sideways.
Todoroki asks, “Did he wake up earlier?”
“Just for a few minutes, but you were really out of it,” Eijiro says. He can tell from the look on Bakugo’s face that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and lets it go. It’ll be his own secret.
“Anyway!” Eijiro continues, setting his yet untouched food aside and standing up. “I’m gonna find the bathroom. Don’t throw any parties without me.”
“No promises,” Todoroki says.
Eijiro’s hairspray is pretty powerful but he also takes some time to reapply and fix it up in the mirror after changing to new clothes. By the time he makes it back to the room, Midoriya is back in his spot by the window, legs pulled up under him and half empty food container at his side as he talks emphatically about something. On the little nightstand by Bakugo now sits a plastic jug of milk and a restaurant-style spice shaker.
Bakugo is actively shaking a bottle of hot sauce over his food as Eijiro watches. He then picks up his milk and considers it too. He takes a sip. Then he begins shaking chilli flakes into the open lid.
Eijiro waits to see if anyone else will comment on this. Nobody does. Eijiro slowly sits down and says nothing too.
“The doctors looked him over, right?” he asks Midoriya when there’s a pause in the words.
“Oh— yeah, she did!” Midoriya says, setting his feet on the ground. “Kacchan isn’t cleared to go quite yet, though. And the police are going to come get his statements soon.”
“I’m right here,” Bakugo grumbles, sipping his spicy milk stubbornly.
“Your agency knows where you are?” Todoroki says.
Bakugo and Midoriya look at each other. Eijiro rubs a hand over his forehead.
“I’ll go,” Todoroki says, a small smile on his face as he stands. Midoriya turns the grateful puppy eyes on him now.
“Oh, one more thing,” Todoroki says quietly, pausing in the doorway with his hand on the frame. He looks at Bakugo and at once Eijiro’s interest is piqued. Bakugo, too, raises an eyebrow.
Todoroki has a limited range of facial expressions that Eijiro’s seen personally, especially outside of combat and even more especially in social situations. So the serious look isn’t unusual but the sincerity in his eyes makes a big impression.
“The media doesn’t know what they’re talking about,” he says simply. “Take it from a Todoroki.”
Bakugo stiffens. Slowly he acknowledges this with a nod.
Todoroki leaves.
Awkward silence descends. Eijiro resists the urge to grab his phone and fiddle. Bakugo’s hands curl on the sheets into fists, the right looser than the left, head inclined downward.
It occurs to Eijiro that this might be the fallout they deal with next, and he opens his mouth to try and find something to say. Before it comes to him, though, Midoriya is on it.
“Kacchan, I wanna show you something,” he says, picking up his phone and coming to sit on the edge of the bed. After a couple taps and swipes he holds up the screen. Eijiro leans over trying to see too.
“Do you remember this person?” Midoriya asks, indicating the guy onscreen. Eijiro vaguely recognizes a man in his early 30s with sandy hair and a plain face. It clicks into place when Midoriya explains, “He was a citizen who took shelter at UA during the war. He, um… he was one of the ones who was really vocal about me— not staying there. He said some pretty cynical things about heroes back then.
“But, now— he’s been on hero forums a lot, defending heroes against criticism. We message sometimes! Earlier this morning I saw that he started posting videos saying really nice things about you, and they’re getting a lot of support. So I wanted to tell you that even though some people are saying mean things, that isn’t important. Our society is learning to see people differently now.”
Bakugo’s still staring at the bedding on his lap like he’s practicing shoot lasers with his eyes. He sighs, “Good to know pink cheeks reached him. Has nothing to do with me, though.”
He turns and looks pointedly out the window, away from Midoriya and mutters so low that it takes Eijiro a moment to process, “And there’s a reason you’re really good at ignoring mean things people say about you, Deku.”
Midoriya inhales, looking hurt. He puts his phone down and looks at Eijiro.
Now, Eijiro knows categorically that Bakugo also doesn’t care what people think of him, or at least does what he wants in spite of whatever they think and wastes no time having regrets or asking forgiveness… with one big exception.
The problem isn’t what the world thinks of him. The problem is what people he cares about think.
“Midoriya is right, Bakugo!” he says, trying to inject some sunshine into this suddenly gloomy room. “Nobody who matters cares. We won’t leave you. You’ve more than made up for the errors of youth and I know you know it, normally.” He lunges in to ruffle his friend’s hair, making Bakugo squak.
Bakugo huffs, peering at them critically. Eijiro smiles. Midoriya nods emphatically, tears budding his eyes. Finally, Bakugo seems to relax, mouth turning up even if it doesn’t quite meet his eyes yet.
“Yeah, I get it,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as it’s a casual thing he says next. “Just kinda sucked, seeing the kinda guy I could’ve been.”
Midoriya’s jaw drops in indignation.
“That’s— not—!” he sputters, but doesn’t get farther when a knock on the door makes everyone jump.
Two officers enter and Midoriya deflates. and Bakugo smirks, seemingly satisfied to have the last word on the conversation. Well, Eijiro supposes, at least he’s still himself.
“Dynamight, we’re glad to see you doing well!” greets the first policeman who enters, his eyes sweeping the room. “And Deku, thank you for your help! Is now a good time to take your report?”
Deku nods, a markedly unenthusiastic response, and returns to his seat by the window. Eijiro gives him a sympathetic smile.
“I’ll see you guys in a bit,” he says as he stands to trade the officers places, excited to ditch the paperwork portion of this if he can. He wasn’t there, after all.
…
Todoroki leaves at some point after noon, content to spread the word “Bakugo is still good at evading dead” which is delivered so out-of-pocket (Todoroki’s style) as to make Bakugo snort the water he was drinking.
Combined peer pressure gets Midoriya to go with him, hotel room key pressed in his hand and a firm “You stink” from Eijiro being the final nail in the coffin.
“Broom head,” Bakugo says with his eyes closed (he pretended to fall asleep in the minutes before Midoriya gave in to leaving, for good measure). “I know you know the best way to get me out of here.”
“Hmm,” Eijiro hums, tapping his chin. “No.”
“Come on!” Bakugo bursts, sitting up and throwing his arms to the side. Then he folds forward, wincing.
“Don’t make me call the nurse,” Eijiro threatens, appraising as his friend places a hand on his chest.
Bakugo opens his mouth to say more but something stops him, the hand on his torso sliding up to rest over his heart, considering. Eijiro, who’d been leaning back in his chair, feet crossed on the bed as he caught up on mission reports on his laptop, shifts forward to rest all four feet of the chair on the floor.
“What?” he says after a long pause , watching Bakugo’s face.
Bakugo has a look like he’s listening for a novel sound in another room to repeat itself. Finally he grunts, “Heart.”
Eijiro slams the call button.
“Not like that, idiot!” Bakugo protests, but there’s no glare accompanying the sharp words. He looks… shaken. “It’s just palpitations.”
“You get those a lot?” Eijiro asks.
“Once in a while,” Bakugo admits, surly. “Not usually when I’m doing nothin’.”
A knock at the door precedes a nurse’s entrance. Eijiro gives him a brief explanation and he takes it in stride, saying, “I’ll grab the doctor.”
A few minutes later, the woman with the reptile-esque mutation holds a stethoscope to Bakugo’s chest in concentration.
“There’s a murmur, but that’s typically an innocent side effect of blood-loss induced anemia,” she says. “Do you have a history of irregular heartbeat, or other heart problems?”
Bakugo says, “Well.”
Eijiro sighs.
…
After a series of tests including echocardiogram and EKG, Bakugo is given a prescription and a scary tech informs them that he is under strict orders to take it easy for at least a week, preferably two.
The follow-up healing session to his wound from the healer who initially helped during Bakugo’s operation goes well, and by evening he is officially cleared to leave.
“I don’t need that,” he states when he sees the wheelchair.
“This is dumb,” he says as staff help him into it.
“I walked off multiple stab wounds before,” he reminds as Eijiro wheels him into the elevator.
“Hey man,” Eijiro says lovingly. “Shut up.”
Bakugo’s response is to turn and pop sparks at him but the quirk cuts out like a faulty light switch. He frowns at his hand and flops back into the seat with a huff. Eijiro recalls the discharge spiel about how side effects of multiple doses of quirk suppressants could last a few more days.
Eijiro hums sympathetically.
“Freakin’ sucks,” Bakugo summarizes, crossing his arms.
When they’re finally off liable hospital ground, Bakugo jumps out of his chair and slams open the waiting car door like he wishes it were a portal to a jungle gym rather than another place to sit. The driver jolts in his seat, horizontal eyelids blinking.
Bakugo is done rattling an address by the time Eijiro slides in next to him.
“If we go far without Midoriya I fear we will trigger somethin we all regret,” he comments like one would state the weather.
“It’s my agency, doofus,” Bakugo says, pulling out the phone dropped off for him by one of his staff. It was found among stuff the kidnapper initially ditched and picked up by police, then finally back to Dynamight. “Since you’re playing gum on my shoe, you might as well crash there instead of some garbage hotel.”
Eijiro considers. Then he taps the cab driver and requests to add a stop on their trip.
Midoriya is passed out on top of the covers (dang, go Todoroki), but shoots awake with an incoherent noise when Eijiro turns on the room light. He’s still wearing his shoes.
It’s a simple one-bedroom, one-bathroom kind of place with two full-sized beds in the majority of the space, and it seems that one of them will remain unused.
Eijiro jabs a thumb behind him. “I’ve got an invalid in the car,” he says. “Wanna take him home with us?”
…
On the steps of Dynamight’s agency they meet another friend.
“Heyyy,” Kaminari says with a peace sign. “Bakugo, can you tell them I actually know you?”
“No,” Bakugo says, striding past him.
“Dude, you made it!” Eijiro cheers, yanking Kaminari into a hug. “How’s it going, number 45?”
“He’s 44, now,” Midoriya says.
“Bakugo, why did they let Kyoka in and not me,” Kaminari says. “Why was her name on the list and not mine, Bakugo?”
“How’s many extras-“ Bakugo starts.
A streak of white not unlike a comet in the night sky drums thunder up the street in interruption, zigging around pedestrians, preceding the appearance of a fully-uniformed Ingenium in their midst. His exhaust pipes are still smoking as a figure in civvies disembarks him piggy-back style and throws her bag to the ground.
“Hey guys!” Ururaka says, hands on hips, a princess by her steed.
“Ochako!” Midoriya says, blushing profusely. Eijiro takes note.
“Great, everyone and their girlfriend,” Bakugo mutters, looking from them, to Kaminari texting Jirou, to Iida now inspecting his gear.
Eijiro slowly reaches out to take Bakugo’s hand. Bakugo yanks said hand away and pushes the double doors open.
…
Any agency worth its salt has the supplies to be an emergency shelter when needed, especially since the war, and Dynamight’s is no exception. Maybe even a little over the top about it.
Eijiro looks at the conference room turned sleepover party and suspects they may be taking advantage of this.
“Sleepover at Dynamight’s!” A headless set of fluffy pajamas shrieks in delight, ghost footprints on the couch implying there are definitely invisible fists in the air.
“Jirou do you think your headphones could connect karaoke from my laptop to that TV over there?” Ashido whispers unsecretively.
“—and my agency is more than capable of compensating any cleaning expenses—“ Iida is saying, standing over Bakugo (whose head is in his hands) on his bedroll like he’s giving a lecture no matter what it’s about.
“How did you all get here so fast?” Midoriya asks, looking dazed on the couch between Hagakure’s feet and Ururaka sitting like a normal person.
“That’s what I wanna know,” Ururaka giggles. “Todoroki texted me, and I just went to Iida because he’s the fastest transport in town.”
Her eyes make contact with Sato entering, a fresh plate of pastries in hand, and springboards past Midoriya to get the first one in her mouth.
“Don’t look at me, I only told Aizawa we were heading back to UA tomorrow,” Eijiro says innocently.
“I saw a text from Bakugo, actually,” Tsu says, fingers pausing in braiding Yaomomo’s hair. “And I was with Mina.”
Everyone looks at Bakugo amid hums of understanding.
Bakugo pushes Sero’s arm off his shoulders to stand up. “You’re not special, frog face, you were just the last person in my messages!” he clarifies.
“But you loooove having us here,” Sero croons, reaching after his snuggle buddy.
Eijiro knows Bakugo’s tells pretty well. Sero is being a goober but he’s not wrong; this is the majority of class A showing up to save their friend’s heart right before his eyes with board games and junk food and unconditional support at short notice on a random Tuesday night.
Eijiro also knows (almost on par with Midoriya) how to rile his friend up.
So he catches Bakugo’s eye and says, “I bet he’s even manly enough to admit it.”
There’s a collective hush. Kaminari puts a hand over his mouth. Bakugo’s eyes narrow.
Slowly he walks over to Eijiro until they’re in each other’s faces. A stranger might think a fight was about to break out. Instead, as everyone watches, Bakugo lays his head on Eijiro’s shoulder, arms still hanging at his sides.
“Yeah. I do.” It’s muffled, but enough for everyone to hear.
Eijiro triumphantly meets the eyes of his former classmates, all equally delighted, and within seconds there is Kaminari throwing his arms around Bakugo from behind, then Sero around both of them, and then a whole pileup.
“We love you, man,” Sero sniffs, a different tone from his earlier teasing. Kaminari nods.
“Please refrain from aggravating Bakugo’s injuries—“ Iida instructs in the background, next to Midoriya who is wiping his eyes with a wobbly smile.
They all disperse obediently (Class Prez powers still work years later). Eijiro is the only one who felt Bakugo take a deep breath that shakes a little on the exhales.
…
Eijiro wakes slowly like swimming through molasses, his eyes crusty. He hadn’t realized the sleep debt caused by his night in hospital chair accommodations until his head hit a decent bedroll.
He’s not sure what woke him at first. The air in here is warm amid the sea of snoring heroes, the world’s coziest sardine can, and nothing appears to be amiss. Eijiro stays where he is, blinking tiredly and debating whether to just roll over and go back to sleep when he hears a whisper somewhere in the dark.
“Kacchan?”
Well there’s no doubt who’s up now.
Whether Eijiro needs to get involved is still up in the air. He keeps his eyes open but doesn’t move, listening through the snores (dang, Hagakure) for further movement.
He pictures the visual to what he can hear: Midoriya slowly stands and tiptoes in the direction of Bakugo’s bedroll. What he finds there is unsatisfactory because his footsteps are less stealthy when they clamor for the door.
When it shuts, Eijiro sits up and looks around the caterpillars on the floor. Oh man, he HAS to get a photo for Aizawa sensei before everyone gets up tomorrow— he’ll be so proud.
The whole night felt so nostalgic of common area hangouts and occasional study sessions turned sleepovers. Alumni of their class turned up at random hours or else called in if they couldn’t make it; it’s been awhile since they got to catch up like this and let go of current job responsibilities at the same time.
As suspected, Eijiro finds two missing friends— Midoriya as he just heard, and also Bakugo.
Chances are good that Bakugo didn’t get a heart attack or double kidnapped (this time from amid a group of pro heroes) but Eijiro wouldn’t put it past him. So, he creeps after Midoriya.
The Agency building is quiet, distant sounds of Tokyo nightlife apparent only in flashes of headlights out the big windows at the end of the hallway. It’s not totally dark since low emergency lights line the ceiling, but still a little eerie.
Eijiro recognizes the way toward the staff break room and kitchens and starts heading that way, sticking by the walls subconsciously.
He’s rewarded by a low murmur of voices up ahead.
“—are you doing in here?”
The tail end of Midoriya’s question is met with a grunt. Not in pain, or distress; just a staple of Bakugo’s vocabulary.
“What’s it look like I’m doing, nerd? I’m making mochi.”
Eijiro frowns, mouthing ‘mochi?’ to himself at the same time Midoriya tentatively says, “But you don’t like mochi…?”
“No but those idiots do. And my dumb secretary does so he keeps the ingredients around.”
“…Oh.”
A pause. “Y’know you can get a rolling pin too, if you’re just planning to stand there.”
“Oh!”
Eijiro snickers behind his hand imagining Midoriya hurrying to catch whatever Bakugo just tossed at him. He hopes it wasn’t actually a rolling pin.
“So, why are you making mochi right NOW?” Midoriya tried again after some shuffling.
Bakugo doesn’t reply for a long moment. “‘S hot in there.” Pause. “Everyone squished together makes it hot.”
Eijiro puzzles this. It’s true that the room was toasty but not uncomfortably so, at least in his opinion. And sensitive to heat? Doesn’t seem like Bakugo would be.
Midoriya must know something he doesn’t, though, because he makes a stricken noise.
“Kacchan, that’s— I’m sorry.”
Of course this makes Bakugo annoyed. “Hah? Don’t apologize for things you had nothing to do with.”
Eijiro remembers Midoriya’s “it’s my fault” right before bursting into tears at the hospital and grimaces. It occurs to him that he could definitely leave since his friends seem fine, but. He’s still deciding if he wants to.
Two sets of rolling pins resume. He can picture Midoriya chewing on his lip, thinking of a way to apologize further without saying the words “I’m sorry”, when Bakugo rolls past it.
“Why are YOU awake?”
“Oh,” Midoriya says. “Um, bad dream.”
Bakugo snorts, probably wondering with Eijiro how many times Midoriya watched the hostage video. “We’re a mess,” he says.
Midoriya laughs in surprise. “I guess so.” He laughs again. “Um, what fillings do you have for these?”
“There’s some different ice creams in there.” The fridge opens. “Strawberry and vanilla. The dough is matcha.”
Eijiro’s stomach rumbles longingly— he hasn’t had homemade mochi since Ururaka used to make batches for everyone. His eyes blow wide and he hardly dares to breathe, looking at it in offense. Thankfully it seems he’s not caught yet.
“You’re scooping too big, idiot!” Bakugo says, a smile in his voice.
“Wh— the spoon you gave me is bigger!”
Some kind of scuffle ensues that makes Eijiro risk a peek around the corner. He catches a glimpse of Bakugo holding Midoriya’s head down, grin wide, as Midoriya yelps and whacks blindly with his spoon. Some of the ice cream splats Bakugo on the cheek and he lets go, ranting about a mess.
Midoriya stands up straight and Eijiro shoots back behind the corner.
“If there’s a green hair in anyone’s mochi, I guess it’ll be your fault,” Midoriya says. Then considering: “I wonder if All Might had given his hair to me that way, if it wouldn’t have been so bad to swallow. But no, maybe that would be all I could think about, and not able to enjoy the taste. And we had to make I swallowed it for sure.”
“Sometimes you say things, Deku, that make me really freakin’ concerned.”
Eijiro nods in agreement.
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to eat anybody’s DNA to get my new quirk,” Midoriya admits. “Twice is too much.”
“Once was too much.”
Midoriya hums. A comfortable silence reigns momentarily.
“Hey—“
“Don’t you dare say thank you again.”
Eijiro can just see Midoriya pout. “I wasn’t gonna…” he says, definitely lying. Bakugo can tell too.
“Sure.”
Pause.
“But *I* should say thank you,” Bakugo admits.
“Huh? For what?” Midoriya sounds mystified and it mystifies Eijiro that someone so smart can be so dumb.
“Saving me.”
It’s stated quietly, plainly, not blowing up at Midoriya for playing dumb. Which makes Eijiro think it’s not just about the kidnapping.
“…Kacchan….”
“I don’t know what kind of guy I would’ve turned into if it weren’t for UA. But I know I wasn’t on a good trajectory.” He sighs. “So, thanks for being a pebble in my shoe long enough that I finally sat down and thought about where I was going.”
Eijiro places a hand over his heart, pride welling at the manly words. He hears Midoriya sniff.
“Or whatever,” Bakugo adds, shoving a tray of mochi into the fridge with more force than necessary.
“I’m so glad you’re my friend!” Midoriya cries. “I really, really am.”
“Shut up, you’ll wake the extras,” Bakugo hisses, running the sink as he starts the cleanup process. He imagines Midoriya joining in happily. Bakugo giving him a shove with his shoulder. Midoriya laughing wetly and returning the gesture.
“I saw the couch in the staff room…” Midoriya starts tentatively. “Would you— I mean, would you take the couch in there if I take the floor? I think it would help me to sleep if we put on All Might cartoons. And… the box fan would be nice.”
“You’re more transparent than Invisible girl.”
“…So yes?”
Bakugo makes a considering noise. “Only if I get to pick the episode.”
Eijiro figures this is his cue to go back to bed too, content with the way things played out, no help needed. He slowly stands, attempting not to make any noise, when Midoriya’s voice catches him off-guard.
“I’m really grateful for Kirishima.”
Eijiro freezes.
“Eh? Broom head?”
“I hope he knows we’d do anything for him, the same way he did so much for you and me the last couple days.”
Eijiro closes his eyes tight and clasps a fist over his heart. A flower blooms in his chest that he didn’t know he wanted watered.
“I wish what happened to you didn’t happen, but I like that we get to take you back to UA for the next week,” Midoriya admits slyly. “So all three of us can hang out.”
Eijiro sneaks a look, just barely poking his eyes around the corner where he sits. Bakugo’s back is turned, but knowing green eyes crinkled at the corners meet Eijiro’s and he whips back around, spooked.
Dang, Midoriya is sneakier than he lets on.
“Okay, you’re loopy,” Bakugo says, shoving Midoriya’s head forward again, maybe slightly under his arm, in what could be considered the relative of a hug. “Go get your sleeping roll.”
Eijiro flies back to his spot in bed like a child running from their room to the bathroom in the middle of the night, snickering with just as much delight.
…
They take the train to Musutafu the next afternoon, once their friends disperse.
To nobody’s surprise, they doze off on each other during the couple hours of white noise and gentle swaying. Sunlight warms Eijiro’s face against the window and he blinks slowly— across from him Bakugo is pillowed face down in his arms on the table, and Midoriya has his back straight against the seat, mouth catching flies.
When Eijiro succumbs himself, it feels like only seconds later that the overhead speakers announce their stop and they shake each other awake.
They transition to the subway and Bakugo gets dropped off at his parents’ house while Midoriya visits his mom down the street.
Eijiro stays with Bakugo and gets to witness the alarming ways Bakugos show care and affection to one another, something he’s done a handful of times already but still observes like seeing a curious zoo exhibit.
If his parents were able to openly call him out on everything like this, would Eijiro have turned out as tough as nails like Bakugo? Less like the wimp he was in his younger years?
He shakes the unmanly doubt away. He’s happy with who he’s become.
Midoriya is eager to get back to his class after leaving them hanging for two and a half days, so they drop him off and take their time before catching back up to him, content to wander campus leisurely.
Eventually they find Aizawa’s class doing a drill. Their old Sensei looks Bakugo up and down with seemingly uncaring eyes to the untrained viewer; Eijiro knows better. Aizawa turns to him and asks, nodding to Bakugo, “How long is he benched?”
“Nobody benches me,” Bakugo says.
“A week at least,” Eijiro says.
“Hmm.” Aizawa turns to the monitors where his kids are going through the motions they remember from their time at UA: learning to push beyond their limited and to trust themselves and one another, stumbling and overcoming and maybe sometimes punching one another along the way.
“I could use a guest villain for an upcoming exercise,” the teacher says, peering sideways at them.
Bakugo grins.
Eijiro puts an arm around him and raises his other hand like they’re in class. “What about TWO villains?” he suggests. “One of which does NOT push himself or aggravate his heart more than necessary?”
Bakugo frowns.
Aizawa hums in consideration, ignoring the scuffle that breaks out between Bakugo extricating himself and Eijiro trying to headlock him again.
Eijiro hardens, happy to feel the harmless heat of explosion graze him at a closer-to-normal power. “I’m your weakness, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” he proclaims.
“You know dynamite blows apart MOUNTAINS, right?” Bakugo says.
“Hey Sensei, wanna hear about the dweeb who managed to nab this guy?” Eijiro says, turning back to Aizawa, who blinks uncaringly at the two of them. “You’d THINK if someone could put ‘Kidnapped Dynamight’ on their villain resume, they’d be some great—“ he gets out before being tackled from behind.
…
They find Midoriya’s class as the kids are freed by the bell and on their little dutiful paths through the hallways. Some openly stare at the pro heroes among them; Eijiro gives waves and fist bumps, Bakugo looks straight ahead.
Until one kid gasps, “Dynamight!” in a voice of such awe and admiration that Eijiro looks too.
A pipsqueak girl with mousy features is frozen where she was walking with a friend, her eyes big. When Bakugo meets her gaze, she squeaks and disappears.
“Tsukiko,” her friend chastises, looking down.
There on the floor is an actual mouse, hiding behind her leg. In a poof, it becomes the mousy girl again, on all fours on the floor.
“Sorry, sorry!” she says, to either her friend or the heroes or the universe. She sits and covers her eyes. “Deku Sensei is helping me control that better but I just m— There’s a— Dynamightishere!”
“Yeah, he’s looking at you, dude.”
Bakugo walks up to them and Eijiro can intervene in the adorable interaction. He considers pulling out his phone.
“Mouse quirk?” he grunts.
“Now he’s talking to you,” the friend says.
Tsukiko squeaks and looks up. “Y-y-yes!”
“Any other animals, or just mouse?”
“My quirk?” she says, looking at Bakugo like he’s the one who put stars in the sky. She could rival Midoriya with those eyes. “Oh, yes. Um, Sensei is helping me push to be different sizes of mouse, because technically my mom can be a giant version of her animal, but yeah. Mouse. Nothing like Explosion!”
“If you have Deku as a teacher you already know the quirk isn’t the key to success,” Bakugo says. He jabs a thumb into his chest. “It’s this,” then points at his temple, “and this.”
Eijiro does pull out his phone. He needs this. He needs Dynamight Sensei on record.
Tsukiko nods furiously, mouth pressed and eyebrows set in determination. Her friend flicks hair snakes out of her face and says, “Tsukiko, just ask him.”
“Oh, um!” Tsukiko says, faltering before retaining confidence and clasping her hands together. “Can I please have your autograph!”
Bakugo holds out a hand.
Tsukiko scrambles for her bag, ripping out a notebook and pen at the speed of light.
“You saved my family last year,” she says, inclining her head to face the floor as she passes the items over. “Thank you, thank you!”
Eijiro crab walks to get a view of Bakugo’s face. He looks neutral, but again, like Aizawa, only to the untrained eye. He catches Eijiro filming and narrows his eyes at him before taking the notebook from Tsukiko calmly. He flips it open and uncaps the pen.
When he’s done he crouches closer to the petite girl’s level to that he looks up into her reddening face. She meets his look instead of the floor.
Bakugo smiles, big and wide. Eijiro is struck with the same feeling he got watching videos of All Might’s rescue smiles.
“Thanks for helping me achieve total victory,” he says.
The girl practically bursts into tears, hugging the book to her chest. Her friend looks at them like “what are you gonna do, am I right?” and they skedaddle.
Eijiro closes in on Bakugo with his phone in front of his face.
“And here we see Bakugo performing one of his lesser known behaviors,” he says in his best nature documentary voice. “Being a really nice guy.”
Bakugo knocks the phone out of his hand.
…
All Might is hugging Midoriya in the teachers lounge when they find his classroom empty and turn that way.
“Well isn’t that typical,” Bakugo says.
Their friend jumps, extricating himself from the hug with watery eyes and a fast growing smile. “You made it!” he says, hurrying over to look Bakugo up and down as though Eijiro took him on an outing to the USJ, first-year style, not a normal and not-under-attack campus.
Eijiro smothers a laugh and scoots past. “Hey, All Might!” he cheers, lifting his hand for a high five. All Might’s leathery one meets it.
“Young Bakugo,” All Might says warmly after he and Eijiro do the typical ‘how are you’s. He so dapper in his pinstripe suit and vice principal name tag.
Eijiro and Midoriya automatically clear the path for him.
“I’m so happy you’re okay,” All Might says, pulling him in for a hug too before Bakugo can get anything out.
There will be time for Eijiro to do his makeup lesson with Midoriya, and for Bakugo to sit in the audience like a goose trying to blend in with baby ducks. There’s a week ahead, half of which Eijiro can stay for; where he gets spoiled by his parents and former teachers.
But for now there’s just Bakugo safe in the arms of his favorite hero and flanked by two friends who would die for him.
Eijiro can’t see his face but he would bet anything there’s a childish grin there.