#wolfsstuff

Frankly, going for this ship angle was more compelling for me. Because Heiji's motivation behind his actions will come from a place of necessity instead of true compassion at first. Like he and Saguru were barely on civil interaction terms, maybe even academic rivals to a degree, at the point of Saguru's death. On the other hand, he couldn't let one of their generation's brilliant minds disappear like that. If Heiji got to prove his "rival's" theory wrong too in the process, no one would be any wiser.

This fictional British Government does not take lightly illegal reanimation, more so from a foreign citizen on their soil. So to avoid forced deportation and/or jail, Heiji and his "servant" (I'm not sure what sort of different name Saguru could have as a reanimated corpse. I was thinking some kind of bird of prey because of his falconry hobby) are tasked with finding the Karasuma notes. Said notes are currently rumored to be in the hands of some researchers Heiji and Saguru were having regular correspondence with. Special Agent Sera Mary and her daughter Masumi tag along as insurance so they won't run off.

The researchers are holed up at some secluded place in Siberia though, so the team ends up finding guides in the form of Kaito and Aoko. Despite Kaito's antics, the one Heiji finds odd is Aoko instead. She rarely eats, rarely sleeps, and she keeps talking in third person about herself. Heiji wonders if she's some kind of advanced corpse but Kaito dodges the question.

Before they reach their destination, they get attacked by corpses with higher mobility that usual. Then it's revealed that Aoko is a high-specs automaton Kaito had built himself when her arms change into weapons mid-fight. They are saved when another automaton, Conan, appears and fries the system running in those advanced corpses with a pulse attack. Conan explains that they were made with designs someone stole from his creators, who were trying a different approach than what the Karasuma notes were describing.

After the final stretch, they find the secluded town they were trying to reach filled with the original design of those advanced corpses and the only alive people there are Shinichi and Agasa. Nothing else seems amiss at first, even if it's creepy how life-like and not at the same time the citizens appear. The team stays there for a couple of days. Heiji is delighted to learn that Shinichi had been the one exchanging letters with him, instead of some stiff researcher like his teachers back in London. But Shinichi keeps diverting the conversation when inquired about the Karasuma notes.

It all comes to end the moment Shinichi realizes that the corpse following Heiji around is Saguru. Because all the time in the world can't prevent him from dying due to an accident or sudden illness before finishing his research. The reason the town's corpses look kind of alive is because they were created when the person was near-death. This time, in his fit of desperation, Shinichi does the procedure to a very much alive Kaito, hoping to preserve both of them for if/when proper reanimation succeeds, and follows suit in front of an appalled Heiji (this part in the movie was so unsettling, to put it mildly. I still shiver whenever I remember it. Here's even more terrifying to imagine because their appearance is so similar 😰). Shinichi does manage to tell them before he loses awareness that the previous researchers took the Karasuma notes with them to Japan.

But Heiji does not want to hear about the notes anymore or anything else really. He goes out in the cold to grieve and mope. Despite not giving him any commands, Saguru joins him. This only serves to anger Heiji because it doesn't prove that this action was made from any remnants of Saguru's "soul", and not a byproduct from the reanimation code. So Heiji lashes out, tackling him to the snow-filled ground. His fist stops midway though because he realizes that there is no point venting his frustrations on someone that will not comprehend why or even fight back.

Mary comes to remind him that he can't stop the mission whenever he wants, so they have to head out. They take Aoko and Conan with them while Agasa stays behind to take care of everyone for as long as he has left.

In Japan, they track the notes all the way to Osaka. Heiji learns that after the news of his transgression reached his father, he was disowned. Fine by him. It does not stop him from roping Kazuha and Otaki into helping him bust into the lab of the shadowy organization that seems to have the notes. And they do actually which amidst the chaos Heiji feeds them into Saguru's reanimation code to analyze them. Right about then though, the rumored successful reanimation project of Karasuma himself—Vermouth (of course it was gonna be her lol) appears, kills Mary and Otaki before she steals the notes.

The place burns down, separating Heiji and Saguru from the rest as they end up in the sewers. Since the notes were analyzed halfway and jumbled Saguru's code, he acts like a feral zombie. Heiji tries to hold his ground, but there is only so much he can do against a corpse that doesn't hold back its strength at all. Pinned against the wall by Saguru trying to choke the life out of him, Heiji ponders why he got into this mess and if dead people should stay dead and dammit he might have cared about Saguru more than he originally thought but he sure as hell won't allow him to run amok any longer. So he headbutts him, causing Saguru to drop him. While Heiji is wheezing for breath on the floor, he notices Saguru isn't moving. If anything, it looks like he calmed down. And then, a soft sound starts coming from him until it's apparent that Saguru is laughing. Heiji flashbacks to the aftermath of a fencing duel they had during their first days in the academy. For a moment, the images overlap and Heiji could believe that Saguru is still alive right before he "shuts down".

Reconnecting with the girls and Conan, they escape Japan through Kazuha's connections (she stays behind to cover their tracks). Saguru is back to being feral the next time he "wakes up", but Heiji has seen hope that he's still there (even if inevitably this is confirming Saguru's theory) so he continues to struggle to fix the scrambled reanimation code. While on Vermouth's trail, they come across the Kudous along with Nakamori Ginzo and learn that Aoko was modeled after his daughter because her body had been cremated before Kaito could even consider the thought of reanimating her. Aoko isn't interested in playing make-believe with Ginzo, even with the implanted memories Kaito had given her. Since she's just an automaton, therefore lacking a soul by conventional means, she wants to find her place in the world by herself.

Around then, Vermouth kidnaps Aoko to use as a vessel to bring back her beloved "angel" (Ran, the only human who showed her kindness) and the recently fixed Saguru because he has the missing portion of Karasuma's notes inside of him. Heiji, Conan and Masumi follow her back to a London in flames. Vermouth intents to use the Archive of the Dead that holds every reanimation code ever issued which is akin to holding humanity's collective conscious along with the notes for her plan. Although they manage to intercept her in the control room and Masumi shoots her, Vermouth's "soul" had already entered Saguru's body.

Heiji asks Conan to overload the Archive while Masumi reluctantly helps him connect himself to it through Shinichi's reanimation method. In the sea of humanity's collective conscious, Heiji finds Vermouth clinging to Saguru like a parasite because otherwise her artificial "soul" would disperse and disappear. Heiji yells at her that there is nothing artificial about someone with such a strong will to live. It's just that humans were not made to last for centuries on end and there is not much left of her anymore. Right then, someone looking like Aoko (but not really) appears and after fusing with Vermouth's remnants, disperses into their surroundings.

Saguru opens his eyes, finding himself in Heiji's embrace. Heiji offers his congratulations to him for being right about this, but the latter does not accept it. Because Heiji's recklessness to be here will make him die when he returns to his body. Their little reunion is interrupted by Kaito and Shinichi showing up, since the Archive overloading connected every Undead around the world into the sea of humanity's collective conscious. They all brainstorm together if there is a way to prevent Heiji's death or actually resurrect Saguru. Kaito proposes that before the Archive completely collapses, they could connect Heiji's living body and Saguru's reanimated one and feed the system the leftover pieces of the Karasuma notes (it's similar with how they implant memories on automaton brains). But if it works, they'll lose every memory they have of each other. While the notes work like the glue keeping their souls tethered, a certain amount of energy still needs to be spend for all this.

Heiji wakes up and tells the others of Kaito's proposal. Conan tells him that there is no guarantee that both of their objectives will become true. Heiji's final words are that he doesn't care if his soul takes all of the burden for Saguru to return to life.

***THE END?***

Quite a while later, Kazuha drops Heiji at a lodging in Tokyo.

After he returned from London still being disowned by his father, Heiji worked odd jobs here and there; relying on his employer to provide him with a place to stay. His latest job unfortunately doesn't, and even though the pay is alright, it's not enough for one person to live alone. So Kazuha had asked around and heard from Momiji that someone was looking for a roommate, before dragging him there.

Heiji is a bit hesitant about all this. The house looks kind of out of his budget, even with a roommate. His alarms go off when Kazuha vanishes while the housemaid (Keiko) had just let them in. But before he could make up an excuse to leave, the master of the house comes down the stairs.

He seems familiar; from his build to how he handles himself and the way he speaks. The only thing that strikes Heiji as odd are his eyes. For some weird reason, he was under the impression they were going to be blue and faded. They are a warm brown instead.

The man introduces himself as Hakuba Saguru.

Heiji had heard of him. Something about rebelling against his father wishes to join the military and leaving for London to pursue some kind of criminology field. Several different people had asked Heiji if he ever met him while he was still in England, and Heiji had denied it. But this familiarity, tugging him to close the distance between them, is unmistakable.

"Do I know ya?" Heiji asks.

Saguru smiles politely as if he's humoring him. "I would have certainly remembered someone rude enough not introduce themselves first."

Irritation, that comes off as borderline déjà vu, flares up in Heiji's chest as he gives back only his first name. That catches Saguru's attention as he inquires about it. Despite his reservations, Heiji admits that he isn't allowed to use his family name anymore.

"Why don't you take mine?" Saguru says.

At the shock of Keiko, more so to Heiji himself, he backtracks and goes on about housing laws and contracts being troublesome without full names from both participants. However, Heiji can somehow tell that Saguru is a bit flustered from that fumble.

"Sure," Heiji says with a chuckle. "As long as ya won't take yer word back."

Outside, in a cafe across the street, Kazuha joins the others to discuss the success of their little scheme. Conan wonders if this would be alright in the long run, because the chances of them remembering everything is close to none. Kazuha starts harping about fate and similar romantic notions, leaving him unimpressed.

Aoko stirs her teacup with a mysterious air about her. "We only helped them find each other faster. It's up to them whether they will cling to the past or set forth to make new memories."

Changing the subject, Masuki asks her if she has decided on her name yet. Aoko is conflicted since she has always been Aoko, but after what happened at the Archive, she isn't so sure about it anymore.

"Something starting with M sounds interesting though."

Around then Kazuha notices that Conan is gone. Masumi reassures her that he has been doing this kind of thing lately. Even after following him a couple of times, it didn't seem like something to worry about.

Conan enters the dilapidated warehouse he had been visiting and finds its sole occupier tinkering on his body again.

"I know I'm better at taking things apart than fixing them," he complains, "but you could have waited a bit!"

Turns out that before making Aoko, Kaito had made an unfinished automaton prototype based on himself that he hadn't told anyone about, more so Shinichi. While Conan was connected to the Archive, he saw it in his memories. Apparently, he had reactivated amidst the chaos of Vermouth's plan, fixing himself little by little and sending out some sort of signal. The first thing Conan told him when he found him was that only someone like Kaito would think to make trial runs on himself. Automaton!Kaito asked if he hadn't done the same since Conan is technically Shinichi (made from Agasa as a compromise for his parents, in case things went wrong with his research), not to mention his self-destruction in Siberia.

"Even in death, we still kept a lot of secrets from each other," Conan says with a bitter smile.

"Showing all your cards leaves you vulnerable. Isn't it in human nature to hold a part of ourselves hidden?" He pauses, thinking it over. "Although, I suppose we don't qualify as 'humans' at the moment."

Conan rolls his eyes. "It's a matter of perspective."

Kaito teases him about his optimistic outlook when they are merely shadows of the originals, stuck into artificial bodies.

On the third morning of his house arrest, after his big fight with Deku, Bakugou had been prepping for his chores when he heard voices coming from Aizawa’s room. Overcome by curiosity, he pressed his back against the wall and glanced inside. The laptop’s monitor illuminated two figures, leaving the rest of the room shrouded in darkness. Finding his homeroom teacher still awake wasn’t as surprising as Present Mic being there. He never visited this early.

“There is nothing unusual so far,” Aizawa said.

Present Mic yawned, stretching his back against the chair. “Everything is too quiet for my taste. Think they got scared, Eraser?”

“Or maybe they are laying low like the rest of the League.” He dragged a hand across his face with a groan. “I don’t want to suspect my students, Mic. They are all promising kids.”

“They also love getting into trouble. Picking a fight right under your nose, who would have thought! Must have been quite the show.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter. We don’t have room for slip-ups like that anymore. Everyone’s eyes are on us and we haven’t made any progress in locating the traitor. It was your idea so concentrate.”

Traitor.

The word caught Bakugou’s attention hook, line, and sinker. The teachers were suspecting one of them to be leaking information to the Villains. He edged closer to the door so he wouldn’t miss a thing.

“Yes, sir! Anyway, the problem children and the other four are not on the list.” Present Mic mumbled a couple of names, scratching them off the file in his lap. “Come to think of it, most of your girls have stealthy Quirks. Hagakure is invisible. Asui can climb walls. Jirou can hear through walls.”

“The conference hall is sound-proof and an invisible person would be too obvious for a mastermind like All for One.”

“Just because it’s obvious, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t consider it. Although, if we absolutely have to think outside the box…” His pen stopped mid-air. “I’d say Uraraka.”

“Why?” Aizawa asked with a perplexed tone.

“It wouldn’t cross your mind, right? She looks innocent enough. But you know how the saying goes: Don’t judge a book by its cover. Of all the kids, she’s the only one with a clear motive.”

“Lots of Pros are doing it for the money, and as far as I know, we already have a decent arrangement with her parents over the tuition.”

“Relax, it was only a guess.” Present Mic raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. “You are right though. Having to suspect every one of these little listeners sucks!”

Bakugou decided he had heard enough. Without a sound, he returned to sorting the cleaning supplies and feigned ignorance when Present Mic left for class. An unpleasant feeling spread inside his chest; the same thought circling at the back of his mind.

Was it really possible?

All this time, Bakugou hadn’t had the chance to voice his concerns. Major events had followed one another in an endless cycle of trouble and danger—everyone too busy to catch a breath, more so worry about inside affairs. Currently, this night was proving to be an unprecedented opportunity. One he wasn’t willing to miss. If Uraraka wouldn’t give him some straight answers, he would force them out by any means necessary.

“You know. Something has been bothering me for a while.” Keeping his hands leisurely in his pockets, Bakugou approached Uraraka. “During Kamino, you said to Kirishima and the other idiots that I’d feel disgraced if they came to help me.”

“I did.”

“How did you know that?”

Her shoulders tensed but she chuckled. “You aren’t very subtle about your dislikes.”

“You also said I’m scared of Deku after the end of the term.” Her words back then had cut straight through his walls of denial to the core of his issue with the nerd. No one—not even himself—had been really aware of it. “That was awfully perceptive of you.”

“You were on such bad terms when you’re supposed to be childhood friends. Can you blame my curiosity?”

“It felt more than simple curiosity. It’s like you were dissecting me to find what makes me tick.”

Uraraka turned around just as he stopped two steps away. “Deku does it too. Haven’t seen you confront him about it.”

Grabbing the veranda’s railing, Bakugou trapped her between his arms. “Deku has been studying me for years—a lost cause really. But you had no reason to do that.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t suit your personality.”

“That's ridiculous!” She said, flustered. “C’ mon, you were so cool in our fight, Bakugou. Like a completely different person! I’d be blind if I didn’t wanna learn what sort of hero you want to be.”

“And what’s the final call?” he asked.

“You’re so arrogant that you’d look to satisfy your needs before anyone else’s.”

“Like you then? You’re in the money, aren’t you?”

“To help my parents.” Her brow furrowed in worry as if someone had presented her with a truth she didn’t want to hear. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Facepalm also said we are the same. Shackled by society’s expectations so we can’t do what we want. I wonder how he figured it out from a photo of the award ceremony.”

“What are you getting at?”

He leaned closer, leveling his gaze with hers. “You’re the mole, right?”

Lowering her head, Uraraka covered her face. Snuffles escaped from behind her hands. It caught him off guard, and Bakugou let go of the railing. For once he wanted to be wrong in his deduction. Learning about All Might’s secret had been enough of a blow. If the traitor turned out to be one of them, the class’ morale would plummet. He hated nothing more than to be responsible for it again.

But his half-baked apology died in his throat when it became apparent that Uraraka wasn’t bawling her eyes out.

She was laughing.

“I didn’t think it’d be that easy.” Uraraka climbed on the railing. Keeping her balance atop the metal bar, she shot him an icy glare. “Yes, it is me. What’re you gonna do about it?” She declared and dropped into the void below.

Bakugou jumped after her. His mind was blank, feeling nothing but the wild beating of his heart. The wind rushed past him. Aided by gravity, his body seemed eager to meet the ground. The fourth floor wasn’t such a great distance to cross. He propelled himself forward anyway and collided with Uraraka, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Their entangled bodies touched the ground without any rattling of bones or pain. Before Bakugou could get past the disorientating sensation of gravity returning, Uraraka elbowed him in the neck. Pain erupted in his gut from the follow-up knee. He tried to pin her down, but she slipped away like an eel.

“Come back here!” he growled.

Her laugh echoed all around them as she provoked him to follow. Uraraka dashed into the surrounding trees with Bakugou in tow. Leaves and branches crunched beneath his feet, splinters digging into his bare soles. Bakugou ignored the pain and kept running. Despite the cold, he was already drenched in sweat.

Uraraka maneuvered around the trees with ease; her back always a couple of steps ahead—taunting him. Oh, how much Bakugou wanted to grab her by the shirt and smash her face onto the ground. He could reach her; his hands had warmed up sufficiently from all the running. But he didn’t want a drone to alert the teachers like in his fight with Deku. So they continued their little chase, getting further and further away from the dorms. The white clouds escaping Bakugou’s mouth got more frequent as he strained himself to keep a good pace. By the looks of it, Uraraka also had trouble doing the same. Her ragged breath was the only sound resonating in the forest.

This pocket of darkness and silence didn’t last for long. Uraraka broke through the vegetation into an open area covered with concrete. Streetlamps illuminated the place as if it was some kind of boxing ring. Bakugou could faintly see the shape of a large wall up ahead. According to his calculations, they were close to either mock city A or mock city B. Drones were bound to be lurking there for sure.

This needs to end here.

Igniting his Quirk just enough to not arouse suspicion, Bakugou leaped over Uraraka. She didn’t stop, her eyes following his trajectory.

The moment his bare feet skidded on the concrete in front of her, Uraraka threw a left hook. Bakugou blocked it. He redirected the right one coming his way too. She had such an intense look on her face. Part of him, the rational one always working in the background during fights, noticed her flawless technique. Months of work paying off at the worst possible scenario.

There was something odd though. Sure, Uraraka aimed for his knees or his stomach—spots that would give her the advantage—but made no attempt to use her Quirk. It was as if this was a deliberate physical brawl and for one, Bakugou didn’t mind not using his Quirk. It would keep unwanted attention away.

“Why so cautious, Bakugou?” she asked. “Don’t you want to revenge? Come at me with all you got!”

Bakugou smacked an open palm on her collarbone. Instead of backpedaling out of breath, Uraraka pounced with a war cry. Wrapping her legs around his arm and shoulder, she dragged him to the ground. His back felt most of the impact. Bakugou didn’t let that stop him. Releasing his hand with an explosion, he elbowed Uraraka in the ribs. She had enough spark left to kick him. Bakugou allowed the leg to strike, using it to pull Uraraka under him.

His hands closed around her throat. The muscles in his forearms strained as Bakugou tightened his hold. Her pulse was beating wildly under his fingers, struggling to bring blood to her brain. Uraraka clawed at his hands. The choking sounds were replaced by a piercing whine. Bakugou barely felt her body contorting under him. He could blow her head to bits. Splatter blood all over the pavement. A single explosion was all he needed. That’s how frail human bodies were, even for a girl of her tenacity.

No.

Bakugou wouldn’t give Uraraka the benefit of a quick death. He’d watch as her walnut doe eyes grow unfocused and empty, life slipping out of them. He’d listen for the final breath when it escaped her cherry lips. He’d feel her heartbeat stopping while her rosy cheeks lose their color. Already Uraraka’s movements had gotten slower. She didn’t apply the same force as before. Disheveled hair fanned behind her head like a broken halo. And, to Bakugou’s surprise, Uraraka caressed his cheek; finger pads scraping roughly against his skin.

“Do it,” she mouthed.

A cold weight dropped in his chest as if someone had sucker-punched him there.

“Why did I have to be the reason for All Might’s end?”

Bakugou had screamed that at the top of his lungs while the stench of smoke and nitroglycerin still lingered in the air. His voice was echoing when Deku had lowered his fists, shocked. Bakugou couldn’t bear that expression and had continued to shout his frustration at the road beneath his feet.

Why am I remembering this now?

And then it hit him.

Oh.

His fingers relaxed their hold.

Uraraka coughed violently. Confusion flashed across her eyes as she watched him stand. Bakugou didn’t make it to ten steps before he heard the shuffling of her clothes.

“What…” Her voice cracked on the first word, volume lowering while she struggled to continue. “Are you… doing?”

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“Why?” She shouted—raw and strained like a raging tiger.

“I’m not a judge, nor an executioner. And definitely not your damn emotional punching bag!”

“So Deku wasn’t yours?”

Bakugou clenched his fists so tight he might as well had stopped his blood circulation. Releasing his fingers, he let a couple of small explosions sparkle in his palms like firecrackers. “I don’t try to repeat my mistakes,” he said.

“That’s rich!” Uraraka sneered. “You can sort your problems through violence and I can’t? Is this some kinda privilege only the brightest of our class have?”

“What’s happening right now and that situation are nothing alike!”

“Because it wasn’t your fault?” Uraraka whispered. “I didn’t want any of this, Bakugou. But my parents’ lives were in danger.”

It puzzled him because of a conversation he had happened to overhear a while ago. “Your parents don’t live here,” he said.

“They came to Tokyo once. To congratulate me after the Sports Festival and reassure me that I did my best in my fight against you and that they are oh so proud of me.”

Her laugh was hollow and emotionless, chilling Bakugou to the bone. He never thought Uraraka was even able to sound like that when she competed with Kirishima for the title of 1-A’s Sunshine.

He turned around to find her kneeling on the ground.

“But it was exactly that fight that caught Sensei’s eye,” she said with a sad smile, not meeting his gaze. “My parents had left for the station, and I had barely closed the front door when Mr. Kurogiri appeared behind me. The hallway was pitch black as if light couldn’t reach past his Warping. Had a rough idea where was his body from USJ but before I could do anything, he transported me to Sensei’s headquarters. He...” Uraraka rubbed her thumbs over the rest of her finger pads, struggling to find the right words to describe All For One.

“It’s okay,” Bakugou huffed and took a seat in front of her. “He has that effect on people.”

The bastard was a hundred years old and had survived against an All Might in his prime. If anything, All for One’s aura alone could bring grown-ass Heroes to their knees. Someone losing his words at his presence would be the least he could do.

“He congratulated me for my strategy and bravery. Said we could both gain from each other if I worked for him. I refused and Sensei… he… he smiled.” Her words came out strained as she seemed to relieve the memory. “Before I knew it, I was inside the Central train station. My parents stood at the platform, laughing about something I couldn’t hear from the noise of the crowd.” She sniffed. “A warp gate opened over their heads. It was a blind spot. The cameras would never see the gun that appeared through the gate. I tried to shout, warn my parents but instead, I started puking some sort of stinky mud and returned to Sensei.”

She didn’t have to say anything else. It was plain as day what was her answer to his proposal the second time around.

“What did he ask you to do?” he asked.

“The first part of the deal was gathering intel about U.A. and their plans. I couldn’t get inside the conference room no matter how much I tried. Thought it’d be easier to remember the layout of the teachers’ lounge and sneak in when they weren’t there.”

“That’s why you asked Present Mic to help you with your English homework so much.” It had been her go-to excuse whenever she was late for practice.

Uraraka nodded. “Lots of important documents were in their desks. If anyone saw me, I’d say I forgot something. I had timed-out every route to the office perfectly so it happened only a bunch of times.”

Bakugou shifted his position. This cold and calculating Uraraka didn’t sit right with him. “And what was the other part of the deal?”

“I had to keep an eye on you—the League’s most fitting candidate. Sensei said it shouldn’t be hard. Our fight had made me interesting in your eyes.”

Part of Bakugou wanted to deny this statement, but deep down even he could see a slimmer of truth. Uraraka had entered his life like a storm after the Festival. His failed internship with Best Jeanist was still fresh on his mind, so her approach had left him hesitant at first. She was Deku’s friend so why couldn’t she ask him to be her sparring partner? Having overheard Uraraka's reason to learn martial arts though, Bakugou had given her the benefit of the doubt. He also couldn’t wait to see how much she could grow. Their sparring sessions had been challenging and exciting since Uraraka always had a new trick up her sleeve. Over time, this change of pace had maybe lowered his defenses. It hadn’t brought them any closer though or so he told himself again and again and again. But Bakugou couldn’t prevent the sting of betrayal from piercing his heart anyway.

“You stuck to me like glue for the whole damn semester because of some psycho’s sick pet project. Great. Just fucking great.” Bakugou smiled, despite the disgust and horror tingling in his chest. “And when I was ready, you called the dogs to come and fetch me!”

“The only thing I knew was that someone would come and get you off the Camp. But they kidnapped Ms. Pixie Bob too.” Uraraka fisted the fabric of her pants to stop her hands from shaking. “And I couldn’t do anything about it! Just watch and hope no one dies! Yes, you were my mission, Bakugou. But somewhere along the line, I found more people to care about along with my parents. More people to lose, including you. That’s why said that to Kirishima. I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt!”

“There are Villains, Uraraka. Hurting people is what they do best.”

“Mr.Nighteye thought so too,” she said. “He became conscious as I was taking him to safety. He couldn’t control his Quirk and saw my future. He warned me that I won’t be able to save anyone if I continue down this path. For a moment, I thought about dropping him. He wouldn’t expose me if he was dead. I would just weep and blame myself for not being quick enough to the other Heroes. Easy peasy.” She sniffled, tears shining in her eyes. “Guess he didn’t remember a thing in the end. And I… I was relieved for a while. But today, when I saw his face again, everything flooded back and I couldn’t take it anymore...”

“So you came to me. The one guy ready to beat you bloody for what you’ve done.”

She chuckled softly. “I thought you’ll understand. What I didn’t expect was the great Bakugou Katsuki going easy on me.”

“That’s what you call this?” Bakugou scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, Round Face, but I didn’t wanna get in trouble for your sorry ass.”

Her posture seemed to shrink. “Then what I’m supposed to do?”

Bakugou placed his hands on her shoulders.

The trembling stopped as Uraraka lifted her head. She clenched her hands into fists, anticipating his next move. For what Bakugou had in mind to work, she needed to stand still. So he cupped her infuriating round face.

Uraraka stared back with wide eyes, seemingly out of breath.

Bakugou head-butted her.

Rivulets of pain ran along his forehead from the point of impact. Uraraka’s skin was warm against his own as if she had a fever. White spots were dancing across her face like a myriad of stars. When the image cleared up, he noticed how a few golden specks adorned her hazel eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Uraraka shoved him and folded in two, holding her forehead.

Bakugou mouthed the question and anger flared in his chest. ”What’s wrong with you? Weren’t you the one who refused to back down in our fight no matter what?” For once, he managed to keep his tone down and still sound angry enough to consider it shouting. “Didn’t you go through all this shit to keep your parents safe? You wanna be a Hero, right? Then face your problems head-on!”

“You are one to talk,” she said. “Mr. I-can't-understand-emotions.”

“You woke me up in the middle of the night for this shit. Don’t sass me, okay?” he said. “Look, all I’m saying is that every fucking idiot in this class is gonna support you. They are persistent like that.”

“Why would they? I hurt them! Put everyone in danger! And you got kidnapped because-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“But-“

“The info you gave them would be useless if I didn’t act that way in the first place!” Admitting this shocked him, but he didn't stop. “I realized it during the press conference. Those leeches used my behavior to bring U.A. down. Facepalm tried to use that as a way to convince me too. I was never going to join their stupid clique. Our goals were different. But it made me think.” Bakugou stared at his hands. “All my life everyone told me that my Quirk is a Hero’s one. I never doubted that fact even when I all I could do was destroying. But the Quirk itself isn’t what makes someone a Hero. It’s how and for what purpose you use it. I wouldn’t have learned that if things had stayed the same.”

Uraraka grabbed his wrists, forcing his attention on her. “You would! There are other ways to learn that without almost dying!” Her hold got weaker. “I can’t… forgive myself for doing this to you.”

Bakugou stared back. Tears dropped on their joined hands like the beginning of a summer storm. “I can’t forgive you, Uraraka,” he said.

Her head shot up as if he had slapped her, the soft edges of her face twisting into a sorrowful expression. “I understand,” she said.

“No, you don’t,” he grumbled. “You’re my rival, dammit! You shouldn’t let those weirdos that call themselves Villains give you value. That asshole sure talks big for with a hand on his face!”

“Technically, I was under Sensei’s orders.”

“All the more reason to not give a shit now! He is behind bars, leaving Facepalm in charge.”

It wasn’t as simple as he was making it sound. Shigaraki was dangerous with or without his teacher around. For one, he was still on the loose even after attacking an armored convoy and two, his twisted drive to take down All Might still haunted Bakugou’s nightmares.

Uraraka closed her eyes. “It’s not that easy.”

“Yeah. But if there is hope for a bastard like me, there is hope for you too.” He stood up, dragging her along. “C’ mon, we gotta tell the teachers.”

“No, we can’t!” She shook her head, vigorously. “What if Sensei has more moles inside U.A.?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Aizawa would rather die than work for scum like All for One and you know it. If he can defend the most-fitting-to-be-a-Villain on national TV, he can listen to what you have to say.”

Uraraka rubbed her neck; blue imprints from his fingers had already formed against her pale skin. “What about you, Bakugou? Why help someone that hurt you?”

Sure, saving people without any rewards was more of Deku’s style. Bakugou had never considered another person’s feelings until he had to go through All Might’s retirement. Still, he wasn’t angry at her anymore. He was angry at those fuckers for their underhanded methods and having the nerve to use her family like this, but not at Uraraka.

“The number Hero wins and rescues,” he said. “Can’t be slacking here if that’s my goal, right?”

Color returned to her cheeks and Uraraka hummed in agreement.

They used the road to return in the dorms.

By the time Bakugou could see 1-A's Height Alliance building, his body was showing signs of their fight. Pain pooled around his ankles and forearms in constant subdued drumming. Resisting the urge to wince whenever gravels dug into the bare soles of his feet, Bakugou kept Uraraka in his line of vision. Just to make sure she won’t disappear. He was definitely not paying attention to how she clenched and unclenched her hands in front of her.

The cold marble steps of the entrance and the relief they offered didn’t last long. Bakugou and Uraraka crossed the lounge in silence. Up ahead, a blue light glowed from underneath the closed door of Aizawa’s room—signaling their teacher was still awake.

Bakugou raised his hand to knock.

“Wait,” Uraraka said.

A bruise had started taking shape on her forehead. It diverted Bakugou’s attention, making him wonder for a moment if they should put ice on it. Then he caught her uncertain stare.

“Told you there is nothing to worry,” he said. “Don't run on me.”

“That's not it.” Her voice remained steady for the first time that night. “Can you come with me?”

“Why?”

“I don't know if I can do this again." She looked down. "Would you mind lending me some of your strength?”

The universe sure liked laughing at his face in the most ironic ways. She had held onto this secret for so long and after so many hardships while he was still trying to fill in the gaps of his shattered pride and arrogance with more meaningful things. Bakugou wished to have a word with the one responsible for his fate and blast their face to smithereens.

“Fine,” he said. “But only because I wanna see this to the end.”

Uraraka smiled, brightening the room as if the sun had decided to rise early. “Can I hold your hand?”

“If you ask me another damn thing, I'm throwing you inside without a word.”

Bakugou clasped her hand and allowed her to lace their fingers. The contact made him hyper-aware of her slight trembling but he didn’t comment on it.

Uraraka took a deep breath, restoring her game-on face. Yeah, it pissed him off at how lightly she believed in her own strength.

He knocked, letting the chips fall where they may.

He closed the distance between them with a double explosion, aiming for a right hook. The Hero avoided it. Grabbing his arm and the front of his turtleneck, the Hero slammed him over his shoulder on the concrete. Explodo's teeth clattered. He jumped to his feet, delivering an uppercut square on the Hero's jaw. It felt like hitting a wall even if his gloves absorbed part of the impact.

The fight continued with a barrage of fists and explosions. Explodo returned with double ferocity every heavy punch the Hero struck, like they were locked in some sort of odd dance. Explodo would press forward. The Hero would step back. Adrenaline rushed through Explodo’s veins. His heart pounded like a wild horse and sweat gathered underneath his face mask. This was a pointless fight. He knew it. Still, the thrill of it kept him going until a curious question popped up in his mind.

How is this guy still standing? He thought. His burns should be second-degree by now.

In that moment of lost concentration, the Hero found an opening and grabbed the muzzle of Explodo's gas mask. Rough fingers scraped against his cheek and his stomach did an unpleasant somersault. Pressing both palms on the Hero's bare chest, he released the most powerful explosion so far and the shockwave pushed them apart. Explodo managed to stay upright. His fingers were numb, pain running along the length of his forearms.

He stood, breathing hard, but the Hero didn’t reappear. As the smoke cleared and his ears stopped ringing, Explodo followed the cracked path of the concrete to find the Hero spread-eagled against a car. He had dented the vehicle inwards, but he himself appeared unharmed.

Seriously, what is this fucker made off? Explodo thought. He looks too normal to be a Mutant-type.

Something wet stained his cheekbones, and part of his face ached from where the straps of his mask had rubbed against his skin when they snapped. He ran his tongue along the length of his lower lip and felt the sharp tang of blood.

The piercing cry of a police siren shrilled through the night air. This was his cue to get the hell out of there. As he stepped forward, the Hero took a harsh breath.

"Why…" he whispered. "Such a powerful Quirk and you ended up like this?"

Explodo stared wide-eyed at him. "Huh?"

Grabbing the hood of the car like it was made of butter, the Hero heaved himself to his feet again. His eyes were set on the villain like his life depended on it. "Of all things you could do, why did you become a petty arsonist?"

Sparks of irritation ran along Explodo’s spine like firecrackers. "Who are you calling petty, asshole? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

"But you could’ve become anything you wanted!" The Hero took a step forward, grunting from the effort. His body crackled like he was a walking stone statue and that didn’t seem too far from the truth.

Explodo snorted. "Get off your high horse. Only Heroes get to use their Quirks in public. That's what their licenses are for." He glared at him from under his hood, the words dripping like poison from his mouth. "Everyone else has to lower their heads and pretend they don't have one—like they are Quirkless."

His animosity stunned the Hero, who lowered his head. "But did you try?" he asked. The earlier accusatory tone melted into an almost innocent curiosity as if he wanted—no needed—to understand but couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Explodo would have preferred if the Hero had yelled this question. Then maybe he wouldn’t have remembered his fourteen-year-old self, when he was still named Bakugou Katsuki, brimming with confidence as he shouted from the top of his desk that one day he would surpass All Might and become the number one Hero; a memory Explodo had buried so deep and for so long, it could belong to someone else.

Something moved on his right. Explodo jumped backward as a set of tentacles crashed into the pavement where he’d been standing. They appeared to be the fingers of another Hero entering the scene. He wore a cape with a hood in bright colors and his mask was covering half of his face.

"Are you alright, Red Riot?" he asked with a quick turn of the head to the other Hero.

"I've been through worse."

The easy-going tone in his voice, like this fight had been a walk in the park, irked Explodo but he suppressed his anger. These were unfamiliar waters. He hadn't been against two trained Heroes before and this second guy seemed like he was hiding more tricks up his sleeves. It was time to make his exit.

"As much as I'd love to kick both your asses, my job here is done." He propelled himself into the air, landing with a backflip on a street light. "Three is a crowd anyway."

"Wait!" Red Riot called. "You never answered me."

Explodo glanced over his shoulder. "Being this soft gets you killed in the real world," he said and jumped to avoid another tentacle coming after him. "Better remember that, Hero."

These were his final words as he propelled himself onto another street light, keeping this pace until he left the parking lot and the Heroes behind.

A few days later and Katsuki was staring at the ceiling fan with the intensity of a million suns. Good thing he couldn't set things on fire with his eyes too or the poor plastic thing would have been incinerated into a pile of ashes. He kept replaying the recent disgraceful encounter like a broken record. So far he had gotten by with hit-and-run attacks. In the past, whenever a Hero had intercepted him they hadn't been a serious threat. This had been the first real fight since meeting the Villain Alliance two years before. Katsuki had managed to escape by the skin of his teeth back then too; the same anger rumbling inside his chest as Shigaraki had more or less allowed him to live.

Sparks crackled like fireworks in his palms, but it did little to ease the prickles crawling underneath his skin. Katsuki scratched the flesh between his fingers. Of course, who would have thought such an up-and-coming sidekick like Red Riot would show up in this degraded shit-hole of a district. He was a U.A. graduate who made his debut during an internship by apprehending a crook that had taken a Quirk-boosting drug. Through watching videos and reading articles of his deeds, even Katsuki could admit the guy was promising. That didn't stop him from wishing revenge though. The bruises and his damaged pride hurt like hell.

The fan did another lazy turn and dust glinted in the few light rays the blinds let through. If he paid attention long enough, Katsuki could hear the plumbing rattling through the walls. Whenever water rushed a little stronger than usual, chips of paint would rain from the ceiling and cover everything like sugar powder.

"Kiddo! Come here for a sec," Jin called.

With an annoyed huff, Katsuki hopped over the couch's back and walked to the kitchen. It was a narrow room with a low counter on the left and a kitchen table almost making contact with the right wall, but it was decent compared to the previous dump they’d called home.

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Will you cut that shit out already? I'm of age." His birthday was three months ago and he had been a few centimeters taller for a while, but Jin hadn't stopped dropping some variation of "kid" when he addressed him.

"I will when you start acting like it." Jin pointed at the table. "There's some cash. Take it and go to the convenience store."

"Why?"

"You have the itch-look on your face, and you're supposed to lay low so you can't go around burning things. We are out of milk anyway."

Katsuki's expression changed from mildly annoyed to grumpy, and then to super pissed in the span of the entire sentence. He smacked his hand on the counter. "I haven't burned anything in this fucking house for months!"

Jin stopped peeling the potato and used the handle of the knife to raise his palm from the counter. There was a faint scorched imprint from where his skin had come in contact with the steel.

"For fuck's sake." Katsuki snapped his hand away. "Can't you just clone me or something?"

"Doubling you will only double my problems." He allowed himself a small smile before his expression turned serious again. "No matter how interested I am in seeing you having a showdown with yourself, I don't want to replace furniture so soon. Don't be such a brat and go already. The fresh air may cool your head a little."

"Fine, you prissy old man."

His keys jingled as Katsuki unlocked the door, but he stopped with his hand on the handle. "If your Quirk works with you having a clear image, can't just clone yourself as you were before?" he said, tapping the center of his forehead. "At least that way we'll know who's the real one."

The knife stabbed the doorframe a few centimeters above his shoulder. Jin was panting with a strained expression, sweat already dripping from his chin. He covered his face with his hands.

"Get out."

The convenience store was packed for such a warm afternoon. Old ladies, students, and mothers with their children walked around, not seeming to mind the malfunctioning AC. Their chatter was like radio static to Katsuki, bits and pieces of a peaceful world he wasn't part of anymore. It baffled him how folks could go on with their mundane everyday lives while knowing of the terror lurking out there. Or maybe they didn't know. Not fully at least. After all, not everyone got their life turned upside down by a Villain; one that slid out of an ordinary soda bottle no less.

Katsuki had just begun his last year of middle school back then. After the incident, he couldn't stop wondering that if he had reacted faster, if he hadn't stood frozen like a fucking idiot, he could have prevented it. But while drowning under the sludge he had none of those thoughts. All his energy was focused on clawing his way out of it.

"C'mon! Stop struggling," the Villain said. His slime had covered Katsuki almost entirely by then, like a heavy blanket he couldn't shake off. "It'd be easier for you too."

As if I'd let an asshole like you win! He thought, frustrated. I'm stronger than this! His palms ignited explosions of their own volition, shattering the road around them.

The Villain's whistle rang inside Katsuki's head as if he had done it.  "What a jackpot! Why have you been hiding such a Quirk, huh?"

It had been a ridiculous remark. One Katsuki shouldn't have paid attention to considering who it came from, but it stuck even after All Might had saved both him and Deku. In the following days, it had evolved into the same question buzzing at the back of his mind.

Why hadn’t his strong Quirk helped him in the first place?

His goons provided the answer. They had been avoiding him like the plague after the incident, so one day Katsuki hunted them down at their hidden smoking spot. Long Fingers attempted to greet him casually, but Katsuki grabbed him by the lapel of his school uniform and demanded an explanation for their behavior.

"It's nothing personal," Long Fingers said. "Just uh…"

"It was the first time you went all out like that," Undercut said. "Like we knew your Quirk is top notch, but this…" He fiddled with his unlit cigar. "This was freaky."

Katsuki let Long Fingers go. "And what about that? You dolts think no Hero ever went that far to beat a Villain?"

"If the Villain wasn't there…" Undercut looked up. "I'd say you were enjoying the destruction."

"You think I did it on purpose?" He said as an itch gnawed at the flesh inside his palms. "I'm gonna be a Hero! Collateral damage is in the goddamn job description."

"Then tell me, is beating the bad guys the only reason you wanna be a Hero?"

The irritation spread to the rest of his hands and Katsuki clenched them into fists.  "Cut the crap. Who do you think you are to question me? You lot of ambitionless extras will never understand what it takes to make it into U.A.! If I have to destroy public property to practice, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do!"

"But it'll get on your record," Long Fingers said. "You wouldn't dare."

It had been as if someone flipped a switch inside his head. Katsuki pretended the topic was over in front of them, but he pondered it in the privacy of his room. He had been using his Quirk within regulations his whole life. He needed a clean record to even think of enrolling in the most popular school of the country. After all, there were things that even he wouldn't be able to get away with doing.

Without Katsuki realizing it, the earlier itch had returned. He scratched absentmindedly at the spot below his fingers and followed the calluses all the way to the heel of his hand. His palms had always had a rough texture to them, like a countermeasure against burning his skin with his Quirk. Due to that, irritations were rare. He stared at his hand. Any more scratching and he would bleed. His Quirk ignited, sparks flying along his fingers like mini-firecrackers. For a moment he hadn't noticed something was missing until the heat from his explosions receded.

The itch was back.

Grabbing the nearest hoodie, he left the house. The sun was a single brushstroke of red on the horizon. No one had paid him much attention, and the crowd thinned significantly closer to the beach park until Katsuki stood alone at the entrance.

Behind the protective railing, trash piles spread like hills among the sand. It was common for the locals to dump their garbage there, despite the glaring warning sign. Of course, the chances of bumping into someone were low, given how sneaky people were being about it. Still, Katsuki didn't stop looking behind his back as he navigated through the trash. Several steps later he stumbled into a clearing. Microwaves, television sets, and other electrical appliances were scattered all around him. A large fridge got his attention as the last sun rays were reflected in its mirrored surface. The door of the refrigerator was missing, the ice long since evaporated. With a deep breath, he pressed both hands on the fridge. The cold metal bent under the growing heat and at its peak, he released the explosion.

The fridge split in two, scorched parts and cables spilling to the ground like intestines. Katsuki skidded backward but managed to stay upright. Birds flew off from the ruckus. Worry plagued him for a moment, but soon euphoria replaced the weight in his chest. His smoking hands weren't itching anymore. He closed them into fists, allowing a feral grin to spread across his face.

It was intoxicating; like a forbidden early taste of the freedom awaiting him.

The whole situation turned into a game in his head. Passing under the radar of his parents and crossing paths with unsuspecting pedestrians amused him. No one had considered for a moment that an honor student like him would be breaking the law. Lowering the strength of his explosions had helped avoid arousing suspicion from the locals. Everyone pretended the trash weren’t their problem, but loud noises in the middle of the night would had eventually gathered some complaints. His grades were unaffected too, because he made sure to finish his homework before sneaking out. By the time he decided to go there during the day, Katsuki was sure he had won.

His footsteps were light against the pavement that summer day. It took all his concentration to not propel himself a little faster with the help of his explosions.

I could try that today, he thought with a smile as he neared the beach park.

There was a man standing at the entrance.

As if lightning struck him, Katsuki stopped in his tracks.

Super tall and criminally thin, the man leaned against an old pickup truck. His back was still turned as he observed the piles of trash, so Katsuki fled. After at least a block away, he ducked behind a wall to hide. His heart hammered in his chest like a caged bird. Blood pounded in his temples and he was sweating all over. Reality dawned on him like someone had doused him with cold water.

Game over.

Of course, the man had worn only a regular t-shirt and pants. He couldn’t have been an officer. Rumours spread fast though and Katsuki had been doing this for months. Witnesses were bound to show up, no matter how careful he had been. One-time offenders were forgiven with barely a slap on the wrist but given the level of his offence, this would go on his record for sure. So from that day on, Katsuki stopped going to the beach and used his Quirk only when it was allowed.

He could endure this. The exams were only nine months away.

This was his mantra when pens started melting in his hands, and he left hand imprints on his chair. Everyone was willing to sweep these accidents under the rug with only a minor scolding. Being nervous was to be expected. He aimed for the top after all. But the itch kept him awake even the night before the exam. Katsuki stared at the ceiling, battling the thought of sneaking out for one last time until the sun rose on the horizon.

Endure it…

His mother caught him in the hall with his bag already on his shoulder. She tightened the scarf around his neck, raving about how proud they were. His dad managed to sneak a photo at that moment with a fond smile. Katsuki still remembered vividly their confident faces as they sent him off.

Endure it.

The train ride was a blur of faceless people and bleak scenery. It didn't help him forget the itch crawling inch by inch along his forearm. Katsuki kept his hands strictly in the pockets of his coat all the way to the main entrance of U.A. Passing under the gateways was like a dream come true. Then his gaze landed on the mustard yellow backpack in front of him, and the boy with the mess of green hair wearing it.

Endure it!

Anger flared in his chest like a grenade. That bastard Deku still aimed to take the spotlight from him. What right did that Quirkless nobody have to try and play the hero? The stench of burned fabric reached him, and Katsuki stared at his smoking palms, terrified. He was amongst a mass of examinees and probably members of the staff. He wasn't allowed to make a scene.

In his hurry to leave, Katsuki bumped onto someone. He only registered the other person wearing a black uniform too. With clenched fists, he tried to move past him, but the guy stood in his way again.

"The exams are the other way," he said.

"Dropped my ID," Katsuki mumbled.

"Ouch. I can help you lo-"

"No fucking need. Move."

"O-okay…" The guy flashed him an uneasy shark-toothed smile and stepped aside. "Uh, good luck!" he shouted at Katsuki's disappearing back.  

"Whatever."

Reaching the foliage-less trees was a race against his raging emotions. The moment Katsuki passed the brow of the forest, he broke into a sprint. It was after several meters that he stopped and leaned wheezing against a tree trunk. He pulled at the scarf.

This is ridiculous. I have to go back, he thought. I won't lose this chance because of the damn nerd.

But that's not it, isn't it? The voice, that wasn't quite his, whispered in his ears. What if you can't contain yourself during the exam?

Something heavy settled on his shoulders. Phantom tentacles started coiling around his arms as if the Mudman from a year ago was back.

I'm gonna have to use my Quirk to fight anyway.

What if they see me?

His reflection stared back from the fridge he had destroyed in the beach park. It grinned like a wild animal ready for the kill. The imaginary slime covered him whole. He was suffocating again. Katsuki ignited his Quirk. The wind scattered the scorched remains of his scarf away.

No, he couldn't do this. Not in this state. What Hero can't control his Quirk?

Katsuki fled like hell was chasing him, and didn't stop boarding trains until he had left behind all familiar places.

For a society boasting about low crime rates, the outskirts were brimming with people illegally using their Quirks. So Katsuki just followed their example to stay alive in these streets. Falling under the radar took some time to get used to, especially when all sorts of oddballs—Vigilantes, Villain-wannabes, the random police patrol—tried to get ahold of him at any given opportunity. It turned into another game of hide-and-seek, his loathing growing with each encounter. Their Quirks were extensions of their bodies. Why should Katsuki repress his? They’d lived in a superhuman society for decades. Normal and ordinary were supposed to be out of the dictionary.

They weren't, though, because Quirkless people still existed. Those echoes of an era long gone didn't want to feel left out and had to drag everyone else into this farce of appearing as equals. Things had changed, the world had changed, and someone had to show them the truth. So Katsuki did. Maybe Jin was right calling him a kid. His resolution hadn't changed from back then. It wasn't about controlling his Quirk anymore. He only wanted to see the world burn beneath his fingertips.

Sometimes Katsuki wondered if the other kid, the one dreaming of heroics, still existed underneath the mask. He couldn't recognize anymore where Explodo ended and his civilian persona began because his reflection had the same intensity either way.

Intensity he currently directed at the misplaced shelves in front of him. He knew this convenience store like the back of his hand as it was the closest to their apartment. The fruit and vegetable stalls should have been there. Katsuki sighed, frustrated. He had plowed through the shopping list he’d been given with the money easily, but decided to get some watermelon slices too—watermelon was Jin’s go-to desert during summer. Katsuki hadn't tried to be a total dick to the older Villain; he’d only wanted to release some of his annoyance in less destructive ways. But he had pushed the wrong buttons on someone that was more mentally unstable than him. If he didn't want this to end badly, he had better patch things up.

While turning around the corner of the particular corridor though, he crashed into someone. Both their baskets fell to the floor. Katsuki attempted to steady himself on the shelves but his hand missed. The other person grabbed it instead and straightened him. The muscle-toned and caked-with-scars arm belonged to a guy around his height and probably his age, although some remains of his teen softness still clung to his face. His hair, tied into a loose short ponytail, was as red as his eyes when they locked gazes. Of course, Katsuki knew that pulling his hand away as fast as he did was rude, but the goddamn contact made his skin crawl. He didn't fancy people touching him in costume; he sure as hell didn't like it out of it either.

"Watch where you're going, Shitty Hair."

"Hey!" he said with a hidden laugh in his voice. "Have you seen your own hair, Explosion Boy?"

Katsuki froze. "What?"

"I mean the way it sticks out in all directions like that reminds me of a static explosion." He flashed an awkward sharp-toothed smile. "So I went along with the joke."

As the little scar running on his eyelid was revealed, Katsuki realized he had just rubbed shoulders with Red Riot again. If he allowed him to continue this thought it would mean the worst scenario was around the corner. After all, the scratches on Katsuki’s face were still fresh and visible.

An attack was the best defense.

"You look familiar," Katsuki said skeptically, crossing his arms.

Red Riot mirrored him. "I don't think we've met."

Katsuki cocked his head like a curious cat and forced his eyes to widen in fake surprise. "Could it be…? You're Red Riot, the Vigorous Hero, right?"

Total bliss washed over the Hero's features to the point of almost glowing. It only lasted for a brief moment before he tried to suppress it.

"You got me," he said. "And I'm really sorry for the mess." He gestured at the scattered groceries at their feet.

"Nah, I kinda overreacted. It's wasn't that big of a deal."

"Let me help then."

They gathered their stuff in silence with Katsuki stealing glances in Red Riot's direction. He appeared calm, but couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom off his shoulders. Had he dodged this or not?

Everything was back in place before he could come to a satisfying conclusion. But the Hero didn't make a move to leave. Instead, he scratched the back of his neck with a puzzled expression.

"Uh… Would you like me to treat you to some coffee? For the trouble and all?"

"Really it wasn't-"

"I insist."

He had such an honest look on his face, like he had done some great offense to him and wanted to repay it. Katsuki bit the inside of his cheek to keep the feral grin from spreading across his face. This guy was indeed too soft for this job.

"Alright," he said defeated. "I know a place nearby if you want."  

"You're a lifesaver, man! This is my first time in this neighborhood."

"And you still offered? Are you an idiot?"

Red Riot actually laughed at that. "You're pretty weird yourself," he said and gestured at him from top to bottom.

"Katsuki."

"Eijirou. Nice to meet you."

"Same."

And he wasn't lying. Opportunities like this were considered miracles. It was like the star guiding the wicked finally smiled at him. If he played his cards right not only revenge, but valuable info too would be within his grasp. It didn’t matter that Red Riot resembled the guy Katsuki bumped into the day of U.A.’s entrance exam. Idiots with that considerate attitude were those aiming to be Heroes the most. The bravery of sticking to their dreams didn’t matter either. It was Villain policy to give them a reality check.