i.

To say that Yuuei was a different world than Midoriya was used to would be a complete and utter understatement.

At first, Midoriya had simply tried to write it off as his own changes—suddenly acquiring a Quirk, and a powerful one at that, even if it managed to destroy his body when he used it. But as he sat on the bus with his classmates, on the way to their 'trial of rescue’, he began to realize that it wasn’t simply him. Instead, it was the whole school, an entirely different environment.

He’d heard a few of the criticisms against Bakugou and his volatile temper and abrasive personality following their battle training. But sitting amidst his classmates—‘friends?' his mind supplied hopefully—and hearing it first hand… it was a bit of a shock.

In middle school, Midoriya reasoned, it wasn’t as though Bakugou had what he’d classify as “friends” either. At the time, he had believed the blond to be popular, but he later realized it wasn’t by the merits of friendship. Instead, he was looked up to only because of the power of his Quirk, someone to be admired only because of his sheer abilities. Those who hung around him did so not because they enjoyed his company, but instead because they feared him—they saw the way he treated those who he thought were beneath him (especially Midoriya himself) and found it in their better interest to align themselves with him instead of against him. They were followers, a few of them cronies who flanked his sides and partook in the bullying with him.

After the incident with the sludge villain, he couldn’t help but find the whole thing a little sad. He’d never be willing to openly admit that he felt a bit sorry for Bakugou—he didn’t have a death wish, after all—but he had noticed how quickly those “friends” had abandoned Bakugou. He hadn’t been there, but he’d heard about it, heard about what exactly had happened when the two had seen the villain and watched as it took over Bakugou’s body.

They had run away.

Later, Midoriya had run forward.

He didn’t delude himself into believing that might make them “friends”. He knew better, knew there were—are—deep-seated feelings that made their relationship far too complicated to give it any sort of label. Still, he liked to think that maybe that meant something.

And then they met the League of Villains at the USJ. So many things changed that day, to the point that it made Midoriya’s head spin when he thought about it. There were changes negative and positive.

Midoriya was pretty sure that the most positive change might have taken the form of his cheerful redheaded classmate. He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened when all of his classmates had been separated. Sure, they all had rehashed what had happened in their respective disaster zones, about the villains they’d faced and what all had gone down. He did know that Kirishima and Bakugou had been thrown together, took down the villains there effortlessly and gone on to find All Might and the others after. But it seemed to him that there had to be something more that happened, no matter how small.

Because it seemed that Kirishima… Kirishima genuinely wanted to be Bakugou’s friend.

Midoriya still didn’t know Kirishima that well—didn’t know many of his classmates that well, to be honest. He knew them well enough to get the gist of what they were like, could recognize how each one of them would make an amazing hero. He knew that Kirishima labeled the positive hero attributes he found in others as “manliness”, knew that he had a bright personality, knew that he was genuine, kind, and loyal.

And yet, Kirishima had seen something in Bakugou during their fight against the villains that made him change his initial opinions of the other boy and declare them friends instead. He didn’t know what it was that changed, but Midoriya couldn’t help but feel relieved. Someone like Kirishima could be good for Bakugou.

He thought of his own new friends and how lucky he was to have them.

Yes, he was definitely happy that Bakugou found himself befriended by Kirishima.

ii.

“It’s got to be you, Kirishima.”

Midoriya had spoken the words effortlessly at the time.

He had thought of the plan as quickly as he could—he was good at that. He knew he was. Even when he didn’t have the luxury of relying on his Quirk, still getting used to his Full Cowl, he knew he at least had his mind and the ability to formulate a plan in whatever little time he was offered.

"You are the key to making this successful.”

He knew the severity of the situation. He knew how important it all was, knew that they only had one chance to succeed, that they had to move quickly and deliberately.

He didn’t need to think twice about it. The words came easily in his explanation—all he had to do was convince Kirishima. He had to convince his classmate of his importance in this rescue mission.

"Ever since we started school, up until now, you and Kacchan have built each other up as equals.”

He’d watched the friendship develop between his classmates—the explosive boy he’d known since childhood and the brilliantly bright and boisterous boy they’d only known for a few months. He’d watched, and he’d taken the opportunity to learn as much about Kirishima as he could.

He knew he was incredibly strong, in both will and in body. He was someone who not only could put up with Bakugou, could meet him blow-for-blow, but who actively chose to. He was the one who, other than Midoriya himself, seemed to be the most troubled by the whole kidnapping.

Midoriya knew that in this situation, Kirishima was the obvious answer.

"It has to be you that calls out to him!”

In the end, Midoriya had been so thankful—and relieved—that he’d been right.

Bakugou treated Kirishima differently. It was subtle—they were little, tiny things that Midoriya doubted the others noticed, or recognized for what they were. Bakugou still was his usual angry self, spouting slews of insults and curses, but still—it wasn’t the same.

He had seen it when Kirishima had demanded to be a part of his human cavalry team, promising to be an unwavering horse, a proposition that had been so appealing that Bakugou had suddenly found it in him to remember and use they boy's name. He had seen it in the way they had fought in the finals of the Sports Festival, Bakugou treating him as a genuine challenge, looking to find the cracks in his hardened form to defeat him. He had seen it in the way that Bakugou had agreed to tutor him before their exam, to help his friend succeed instead of merely telling him to figure it out himself.

He saw it in the way that Bakugou had slapped his hand into Kirishima’s and let himself be saved.

"The reason I came along was because I didn't want to get in All Might's way.” He heard Bakugou tell Kirishima those words, but it still didn’t sound like the full answer.

Of course they were in All Might’s way. But Bakugou didn’t have to come, not if he really didn’t want to. They stood now, trying to catch their breath, waiting for Todoroki and Yaoyorozu, watching the rest of the the battle between All Might and All for One as it was broadcast to the world. He stood back a little, closer to Iida, watching Bakugou and Kirishima talk.

He stood back, relieved to see the smile finally return to Kirishima’s face. They weren’t in the clear yet—they all knew that, but there was still something that helped alleviate some of the anxiety, to know that finally their classmate—their friend—was back by their side.

Midoriya stood back and relaxed a little to see that, standing by Kirishima’s side, even Bakugou seemed just a tiny bit at ease, as though he knew that he was safe now.

It was more than just the redhead declaring them friends and that being that. Midoriya couldn’t help but stand back and watch as Bakugou slowly grew to regard Kirishima in the same way.

iii.

“Bakugou’s been acting weird lately.”

Midoriya glanced up to where he heard Ashido’s voice. It was still some time before class started again, and there weren’t many other students in the room. Ashido was leaning against the back of Ojiro’s chair, since the other boy hadn’t arrived yet. She had her arms folded across her chest as she looked between Kaminari and Jirou.

Jirou raised her eyebrows, twisting one of her jacks around her finger. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” she said flatly.

Kaminari smirked. “He’s always a bit weird,” he agreed.

Jirou rolled her eyes. “Like you’re one to talk.”

Kaminari opened his mouth to say something else, but Ashido cut across him. “You don’t think he’s been acting different at all?” she asked.

“What is he doing that you think is so out of the ordinary?” Jirou asked with a sigh. She didn’t seem completely interested in the conversation, but also knew well enough not to ignore Ashido when she started to talk like this.

“It’s not like he’s treating any of us any differently,” Kaminari agreed.

“Wrong!” Ashido said, pointing a finger at Kaminari. The boy raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Um?” Kaminari said, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday he called me ‘the world’s biggest moron’ and told me he was going to blast me into next week if I didn’t shut up. That sounds like classic Bakugou to me.”

“Yeah, well, you usually are being the world’s biggest moron when he says that,” Jirou deadpanned.

“Rude.”

“Stop flirting for like two minutes,” Ashido said exasperatedly.

“Flirting?” Kaminari asked, eyes wide.

“We are not flirting,” Jirou snapped immediately, though Midoriya thought that, even from his seat, her cheeks looked a little pink. “Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat, “Bakugou…?”

Kaminari was avoiding eye contact too, and Midoriya always thought it was a bit strange when he saw the boy acting bashful. “Yeah. Who’s he treating differently?"

“Right!” Ashido said brightly. “He’s definitely been different around Kirishima lately!”

Jirou and Kaminari shared a look, eyebrows raised and frowns on their lips.

“I don’t know,” Jirou said slowly, turning back to Ashido. “I mean, sure, maybe a bit, but… Kirishima has always been a special case with Bakugou, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Kaminari agreed. “They have some weird bro thing going on, even for Kirishima. I mean, the guy gets along with everyone—he’s kind to a fault. But…”

“But that’s just their friendship,” Jirou supplied for him, and Kaminari nodded. “They’ve always been that way.”

“I don’t notice anything different,” Kaminari said.

Ashido pouted and opened her mouth to object; it was then that the sound of Kirishima’s laughter carried down the hall, in through the classroom’s open door. A moment later, the two boys in question entered. Kirishima’s elbow was resting on Bakugou’s shoulder as the two walked, the redhead’s face shining with amusement. Midoriya's eyes then flitted over to Bakugou, and he was surprised to see that the boy’s expression was relaxed into something almost like a half-smile, soft and calm as he listened to Kirishima talk.

A second later, the expression dissolved into a scowl, shrugging off the redhead’s arm and snapping, “What are you assholes looking at?”

“Nothing!” Ashido said cheerfully, flouncing back to her seat, throwing a look over her shoulder at Jirou and Kaminari, an expression that clearly said ‘I told you so!’

Jirou and Kaminari glanced at each other, and the boy shrugged. Nothing seemed that out of the ordinary.

Their afternoon hero training was spent in Gym Gamma, with Cementoss-sensei and Aizawa-sensei supervising, as was usual when they used TDL. Several of Midoriya's classmates separated off into groups of twos and threes, practicing against each other; Midoriya, on the other hand, had chosen to work on his own.

He was trying to find a bit of a secluded spot in the gym, moving through the towers of cement using his Full Cowl. He was hoping to work on his shoot style some more, but it seemed most of the areas that would work for him were already occupied by his classmates, pairs and groups in the midst of sparring and discussing moves and techniques.

“No, no, no!” He heard Bakugou’s frustrated shout and glanced around the towering cement pillars to see him marching angrily toward his partner. “That’s all wrong, shitty hair!”

His eyes fell instead on Kirishima, the boy’s Unbreakable fading away, skin slowly softening into its normal form. The redhead straightened his stature a little bit, moving from his wide stance, legs spread apart and knees bent, into something more comfortable. Midoriya could see the boy frowning a little, brow furrowed as Bakugou approached him furiously.

Midoriya’s first instinct was, as always, to step in. Perhaps if it was anyone else, he might have. But this was Kirishima, Bakugou’s self-declared ‘best friend’, and the one that Midoriya knew could easily withstand Bakugou’s explosiveness, whether it be figurative or literal.

“What?” Kirishima asked, looking at Bakugou with curiosity rather than indignation. “I kept standing, so what’s the issue?"

Bakugou folded his arms across his chest, glaring at him. “We’re working on offense,” he said. “You can’t just withstand it, you have to—”

“Yeah, but that’s a little hard to do with Unbreakable, man,” Kirishima said with a sigh.

“Which is exactly why we’re working on it.”

Kirishima huffed out another breath. “I can’t switch back fast enough to come running back at you,” he reasoned.

“Then don’t,” Bakugou shot back.

“Huh?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “You gotta think ahead, hair for brains,” he said, knocking the bottom of his fist into the side of Kirishima’s head. “Figure out where your opponent is going and act while they’re in your space.”

Kirishima furrowed his brow, considering the words. “While they’re in my space, huh?” He broke into a grin. “I’ll have to start thinking like Midoriya!”

Midoriya shrunk back a little at the sound of his name. He felt a little guilty for listening in, but he was impressed with the way that Bakugou was offering such advice to Kirishima. The boy was brilliant, Midoriya knew that—he understood Quirks better than anybody else, and the way to use them as an extension of a person’s body. What took him by surprise was how readily Bakugou was sharing this wisdom with Kirishima. The boy usually thought of himself and his goals—but this practice session was clearly about helping Kirishima grow.

“Don’t start about shitty Deku,” Bakugou grumbled.

Kirishima chuckled. “He’s always right, though, you know?” he said. “You and your big right swing—”

“Don’t rely on how you think I’m going to attack, dumbass,” Bakugou snapped. “You’re supposed to watch the movements and figure it out for yourself.”

Kirishima hummed thoughtfully. “Run through it with me, real quick,” he suggested, frown returning. “I think I’ve got the idea, but…”

Bakugou huffed out an annoyed breath. “Yeah, whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes. He moved into position. “Don’t fully harden,” he said. “Just…” Kirishima widened his stance once more, hardening his skin just enough to brace himself against Bakugou’s attacks. “Good. All right, so when I…”

Midoriya watched as Bakugou moved forward, feigning with his right and then going in with his left, palm popping with explosions. Kirishima reacted quickly, skin hard and raising his arm, but it was not fast enough—and sure enough, a second later Bakugou’s palm was against Kirishima’s face, and Midoriya knew all too well that, if he wanted to, he could let off a series of explosions that would put an immediate end to their fight.

Bakugou growled at him, shoving against his face in frustration. “Come on, shitty hair—”

“My reflexes are even slower in Unbreakable!” Kirishima argued, ducking away from Bakugou’s hand. “I’m trying, dude, but—”

Bakugou took in a deep breath, gritting his teeth and exhaling through his nose. Midoriya watched as the frustration began to fade from his face. “Fine,” he said. “When I’m coming at you…”

He went through the movements slowly, grabbing at Kirishima and moving him into the position he needed to be. He mumbled directions while running through it, pushing at Kirishima’s shoulder, shoving at his feet with his boot, yanking his arm with one hand braced under the redhead’s elbow, the other hand wrapped around his fist. Kirishima nodded along with it as Bakugou walked him through each motion.

Midoriya had never seen him be so tactile with another person unless he was fighting them. It was truly a strange scene for him to be watching.

“All right, we’re trying it now,” Bakugou said sharply, backing up, eyes still trained on Kirishima. “Go Unbreakable.”

Kirishima nodded. “You’ve got it, man.”

The moment that Kirishima’s skin was hardened, Bakugou charged in. He swung with the right this time, his typical opening move. Kirishima braced himself for the blast, and the moment that Bakugou began to pull away, Kirishima’s arm was shooting out to grasp Bakugou’s forearm. The grip was a vice in his Unbreakable form. Bakugou, undeterred, moved in to attack again. Kirishima let go of Unbreakable just enough to increase the speed his movements. He moved to swing Bakugou to the ground, but again Bakugou was faster. The blond saw his opening and immediately reached for it, an explosive punch colliding with Kirishima’s unhardened jaw, causing the redhead to stumble back.

He rubbed against the point where Bakugou’s fist had made contact, gritting his teeth a little in pain. Midoriya reflexively raised his own hand to his jaw, sympathetic of the ache he was sure he felt.

“Better,” Bakugou panted with a nod, pushing himself to his feet, sounding a little out of breath.

“I don’t know, man,” Kirishima sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but—”

“Don’t.” Bakugou took a few steps toward him. “None of that self-deprecating bull shit.”

Kirishima glared at him. “I’m not being—agh!” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You’re wasting your time on me right now,” he tried instead. “This isn’t helping you at all, man.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Yeah?” he asked, crossing his arms. “I beg to differ. Working like this I have to force myself to think about other Quirks and the best way they can work. And that’s the way a hero should think.”

Kirishima shifted his gaze away, humming thoughtfully. “I guess.”

Bakugou dropped a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder, and the boy hesitantly glanced back at him. “Look, shitty hair. I know you can handle hand-to-hand combat with no issue—with or without Quirks. You’re strong. You’re great. You’ve beaten me more times at it than I like to admit.” This earned a small chuckle from Kirishima, and Bakugou’s expression relaxed.

Hesitantly, he shifted his hand down, sliding it along Kirishima’s arm. For a fleeting moment, Midoriya half-expected Bakugou to move to hold Kirishima’s hand, but—he wouldn’t do that, would he? Bakugou didn’t… he never…

“You can be better,” Bakugou said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You can be the best. And I… want to see that.”

Kirishima smiled softly at the other boy. “Thanks, man,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I won’t let you down.”

Bakugou quickly pulled his hand away from Kirishima, letting his arms fall to his side. Midoriya watched his fingers curl into fists. “You better not,” he mumbled. He then lifted his hand, fingers just a few centimeters from Kirishima’s face before they froze, twitching slightly as though he wanted to cover that last bit of distance, but was fighting against the idea. “Your jaw,” he grunted. “It’s not—is it… are you…”

“It’s fine!” Kirishima assured him quickly. He raised his hand back to his jaw, rubbing his palm over the still-red area. “Nothing worse than usual,” he said, and he grinned widely, eyes crinkling as his lips separated to reveal his sharp teeth in a reassuring smile.

Bakugou dropped his hand. “Then let’s do it again.”

Kirishima nodded. “All right!” he said. “Ready when you are!”

Bakugou turned, stalking off some distance. Midoriya noticed how the moment that Bakugou’s eyes weren’t on him, Kirishima’s expression fell into something different that he couldn’t quite place. It looked a little sad and confused, tinged with something else—longing, perhaps?

And suddenly Midoriya was reminded of the conversation he’d overheard earlier, of the way Ashido had been so certain that Bakugou was acting strangely around Kirishima, the way she’d told Jirou and Kaminari to stop their flirting—

And then things were clicking in to place. Because the thought had never exactly crossed Midoriya’s mind, he’d never witnessed it before from Bakugou, but there was absolutely no doubt about it. Now it seemed so obvious.

Bakugou was flirting with Kirishima.

And maybe it was awkward and stilted and a little indirect, but he was sure that was what Bakugou was attempting to do. At some point, when nobody had been paying attention to their classmate, Bakugou’s feelings for Kirishima had shifted from friendship into something more. And, well, judging by the look on Kirishima’s face when Bakugou had his back turned, it wasn’t just him.

“All right.” Bakugou’s voice jarred him from his thoughts, and suddenly Midoriya couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that he’d stood around so long. What had started as just curiosity about Bakugou’s teaching techniques had dissolved into a private moment and Midoriya felt as though he had unintentionally intruded. “Go Unbreakable.”

Midoriya turned away. The moment had already passed, but the guilt clung to him. He’d witnessed something he hadn’t meant to and he was now eager to leave his classmates be.

He wanted to help. He wanted to do something to help his classmates—his friends.

But he knew that this was definitely something for them to figure out on their own.

iv.

It was tradition for Midoriya to visit the Shizuoka Sengen shrine with his mother for the new year, and this year was no different—not that he was about to complain. It was tied to memories of his childhood, as he could remember attending each and every year with his mother.

As a child, he remembered having his mother read him his omikuji, tying it to a tree if it was a curse, or keeping it if it was a blessing. He remembered his mother buying him omamori each year. The katsumori was usually the one they’d pick, his goal to be a hero always at the forefront of his mind. Even when his mother had given up that a Quirk would develop, she would not deny her son and always bought the charm for him, every year. And every year, he’d attach it to the same goal—to become a hero.

Since he’d started at Yuuei, his mother began giving him yaku-yoke omamori. He’d felt a little embarrassed about it at first, but he’d seen the look of desperate hope in her eyes, looking up at him as she pressed the talisman into his hands. Midoriya remembered how she’d dutifully bought him the katsumori omamori each year, how he’d clung onto it in hopes that some higher power just might help change his fate and he’d manage to become hero.

Instead, he bit back his embarrassment and closed his palm around the yaku-yoke omamori, giving his mother a hug. If carrying it with him could offer her some small form of comfort, then he’d happily do so.

He sighed as he glanced among the omamori being sold. Being a hero was dangerous. He knew it. He knew his mother worried. He knew the extent of it, after the USJ incident, after the Sports Festival, after Hosu, after their summer camp, after Kamino, after his internship… He knew with each encounter, it got worse for her, and knew that there was nothing he could do—he couldn’t make her empty promises that it would all be okay.

He was doing his best for her, but… it was becoming increasingly difficult.

He glanced at the kanai-anzen, wondering if perhaps it would carry the right sentiment for her in return. It was intended to keep your family safe, so maybe…

He wondered if Iida had bought the same charm. Maybe he could buy one for him—he knew his friend would appreciate the sentiment, with the way he looked up to his brother, still making his slow recovery. His eyes then fell on the yellow shōbai hanjō, and he smiled at the thought of getting one for Uraraka, at the way she’d probably laugh and hug him for wishing her prosperity. But… if he bought those two, should he buy more for his other friends? Maybe something for Todoroki or Asui? Maybe he could find a good one for All Might, too…

“Are you done yet, shitty hair?”

Midoriya jerked his head up. Standing a short distance away was Bakugou. It was to be expected—they lived close, after all. But he hadn’t expected to see Kirishima at the boy’s side, hadn’t expected to see him holding a small paper bag from the shrine in one gloved hand, hadn’t expected to see Bakugou’s hand slipping easily into the other.

Midoriya’s eyes widened at the movement. Oh. That was definitely new.

“Got your omamori?” Bakugou asked.

Kirishima grinned, holding up the bag. “Not just for me,” he said brightly. “I picked out omamori for you, too!”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s cheeks seemed to be turning red, but it wasn’t from anger or the cold. “What do you mean—why would you…”

Kirishima shrugged. “Because I wanted to,” he offered easily.

Bakugou huffed out a breath. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered and looked away. His eyes instead met with Midoriya’s, and suddenly he knew there was no hiding that he’d seen them.

“Bakugou?” Kirishima asked curiously. “What are you looking—oh!” He followed Bakugou’s line of sight, grinning when Midoriya's eyes caught his. “Hey, Midoriya!”

Midoriya waved hesitantly. “Hey Kirishima,” he responded. “Kacchan.”

He approached the other two boys, figuring that it was an invitation—at least, from Kirishima it was. He tried to ignore the brief, silent exchange as he did. He tried to ignore Kirishima casually attempt to pull his hand from Bakugou’s grasp, only for the blond to tighten his grip; he tried to ignore the redhead raise his eyebrows in question, slight frown on his lips—not of embarrassment, but perhaps uncertainty—a tacit question of ‘is this really okay..?’

Bakugou’s answer seemed to be to roll his shoulders and lift his chin in challenge. He jerked his head back to Midoriya, as though daring him to say something.

Midoriya merely smiled.

“How has your holiday been?” Kirishima asked, the usual cheerfulness returning to his tone, though it perhaps sounded a little forced, still unsure.

“Good,” Midoriya offered easily. “How have you two been?”

Bakugou scoffed, finally pulling his hand away from Kirishima’s. The redhead looked a little concerned, turning immediately to the other boy. “If you two idiots are just going to be making small talk,” he sneered at Midoriya, “then I’m out of here.”

Kirishima frowned. “Ah—but, Bakugou—”

“Relax, shitty hair,” he sighed, shoving his gloved hands into his coat pockets. “I’m just gonna return the favor and…” He glanced away as he trailed off into a mumble, burying his chin into the scarf twined around his neck. “Gonna find you a shitty omamori.”

“Oh!” Kirishima’s eyes widened a little, lips quirking up into a small, soft, genuine smile. “Yeah, okay.”

“We’ll be here,” Midoriya added, and Bakugou grunted in response.

“Yeah, whatever.”

They watched Bakugou make his way back over to the display of charms, sliding in between the crowd. After a moment, Midoriya turned back to Kirishima. The redhead was still staring after the other boy, clutching his own bag with omamori perhaps a little too tightly, enough to crinkle the paper. There was a lopsided smile on his face, eyes softly focused on Bakuou’s back.

“So,” Midoriya said, and Kirishima jerked his head back to him. “How has your holiday been?”

“Good!” Kirishima responded quickly.

“Are you just visiting for the day?”

Kirishima’s smile faltered slightly. “Ah, no,” he said. He grimaced, looking at Midoriya. “I didn’t go home.” He glanced away again. “I… Well, my parents…” He sighed, apparently struggling to find the right words. “It’s kind of complicated, I guess?” he said with a shrug, looking at Midoriya again. “They’re not always around, and I…”

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya said. He knew it wasn’t much, knew that it did nothing to actually help, but it was all he could offer.

Kirishima shrugged again. “I’m used to it,” he said, forcing a smile. “I was kind of thinking that I’d just stay at school for the week, but then Bakugou offered for me to come home with him, so I agreed. I figured it’s definitely better than being alone, you know?”

Midoriya nodded—that he could understand.

The way that Kirishima spoke, Midoriya couldn’t help but wonder if that meant that whatever it was that was between him and Bakugou was in fact a recent development. He wondered if it was something that had only happened since the beginning of their holiday; he reasoned that it would make sense…

“You…” Midoriya paused, choosing his words carefully. “You look really happy.”

Kirishima looked at him curiously for a moment, as though he didn’t quite understand the statement. Then, Midoriya was glancing toward Bakugou again and Kirishima’s gaze followed his.

“Oh,” he said softly, and when Midoriya looked back at the other boy, he noticed a faint dusting of pink across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. He bit his lip for a moment, sharp teeth into soft skin. Then, he sighed, smiling at Midoriya. “Yeah.”

Midoriya answered with his own smile, broad and reassuring. “I’m happy for you,” he said. “And Kacchan, though he probably doesn’t want to hear it.”

Kirishima chuckled in response, grin widening. “Probably not,” he agreed.

“But, uh… I’m glad you two are… happy. Together.”

Kirishima reached his hand up to scratch the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “Yeah,” he said, sliding his hand up to tug his hat a little more over his hair. “Thanks, man. Really.”

Midoriya opened his mouth to say something more, but before he could speak, Bakugou’s voice was cutting across. “Are you done yet?” he asked in a grumble, a small paper bag like Kirishima’s in his hand. “You were looking at omamori too, weren’t you?”

“Ah,” Midoriya said, offering a small smile and taking it as his cue to leave. As much as he’d like to continue to speak with Kirishima, he knew now wasn’t the time. Perhaps when they got back to school… “Right! I was picking one out for my mom.”

“Good luck, man!” Kirishima said brightly. He nudged Bakugou’s arm, but the boy only grunted, glaring at him.

Midoriya grinned, raising a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you guys back at school!” he said, and made his escape.

It was some time later, after Midoriya had made his purchase and was seeking out his mother once more, that he spotted his two classmates again. The boys were sitting shoulder to shoulder beneath a tree; their proximity could easily be interpreted as a measure against the cold, but now Midoriya knew better. He noted the way they were just too close for it to be casual, Kirishima’s arm threaded through Bakugou’s as he unwrapped the charm from the bag the blond shoved into his hands.

“It’s a gakugyō-jōju one,” he could hear Bakugou mutter. “Figured you need all the help you can get with school stuff.”

Kirishima laughed, leaning in a little more to Bakugou for just a second, bumping their shoulders into each other. “I’m so glad you care, Blasty,” he said, grinning so widely his eyes were squinting, nearly forced closed.

Bakugou glared at him. “Don’t fucking call me—”

“Your turn!” Kirishima immediately pulled a charm out of his own bag, holding it out to Bakugou. The blond boy took it in his hands, and Midoriya recognized the design—he’d gotten similar ones enough himself, after all. Katsumori omamori—for success. “I know that you don’t need the help to become number one,” he explained. “You’re going to be a top hero in no time, but… I figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

Bakugou curled his fingers around the charm, as though it was something precious. His eyes traveled back over to Kirishima, though he was still facing the talisman in his hands. “Thanks, shitty hair.”

The expression on Kirishima’s face was impossibly bright as he looked at his best friend—'boyfriend?’ Midoriya’s mind supplied questioningly.

Then, Kirishima was clutching the bag in his hands again, clearing his throat. Bakugou turned to him fully this time, watching as Kirishima bit his lip with a little bit of uncertainty. “I… I got another.”

Bakugou straightened slightly, raising an eyebrow at Kirishima. The boy abashedly handed over the package and its contents. Bakugou frowned at his behavior for a moment before taking the bag, opening it up.

Midoriya could see the boy’s face turn red as he peered at the omamori. Midoriya craned his neck a little, to see from the distance what other charm it was that Kirishima had picked out. But then Bakugou lifted up not one, but two—a pair. One was deep blue and gold, the other a bright crimson. And oh—even without being able to see the inscription, sewn to the fabric with care, Midoriya immediately knew: enmusubi omamori.

“It’s probably stupid,” Kirishima muttered, cheeks a shade of pink that matched Bakugou’s. “I just thought that they… well…” He trailed off, ducking his head a little.

“Kirishima.”

The boy in question raised his head a little hesitantly at the sound of his name. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but before he could, Bakugou was sweeping in, and then Midoriya felt himself blushing because—okay, yeah, he’d definitely just witnessed two of his classmates kiss. It was a swift peck and immediately Bakugou was pulling back, leaving Kirishima staring at him wide-eyed. Still, Midoriya felt embarrassed for having imposed on their private moment again.

He turned away, quickly putting distance between himself and the couple, trying to ensure that they didn’t notice him. He stared at his feet as he walked swiftly, cheeks burning.

Never, not even once, had Midoriya thought he’d see something like it—Bakugou seemed so against allowing himself to be even the tiniest bit vulnerable, so the thought of him in such a relationship was surprising. And yet…

He glanced over his shoulder just a moment, too far out of earshot now, but still able to see his classmates where they sat. He watched as Bakugou held up the bright red enmusubi, letting it dangle from his finger near Kirishima’s hair, where it poked out from beneath his beanie. In response, Kirishima laughed, clutching the matching dark blue enmusubi in his hands while Bakugou tilted his head, and Midoriya could only assume he was comparing the similar color of his charm and Kirishima’s bright red hair.

It was rare that he got to see any of his classmates look their age. It was so easy to forget that they were teenagers sometimes, what with the dangers that they faced daily. But as he looked at Bakugou and Kirishima, sitting under the tree, laughing and blushing as they talked about and looked at their omamori… he remembered, and he smiled.

They just looked so happy.

And Midoriya couldn’t help but feel so incredibly happy for them, in turn.

v.

It had been a long evening. Midoriya felt exhausted as he trudged back to the dorms alongside Kirishima, Uraraka, and Asui. They’d ended up in a small fight against a villain while patrolling with the respective agencies with which they were interning. It wasn’t anything terrible, nothing too dangerous or even physically draining, but it took long enough that by the time they all made it back to Yuuei, they were barely able to keep their eyes open through their tiredness.

Midoriya wanted nothing more than to go up to his room and climb into his bed to sleep for the entirety of their day off of school, but the idea also made his stomach protest out of hunger. The group had agreed to meet back in the communal kitchen after showering and changing; then they’d scrounge up something for a late dinner before bed. Midoriya knew that the company of his friends would be the only thing to keep him awake, so he was more than satisfied with their plan.

Kirishima and Midoriya were the first two back in the kitchen, and immediately they began rummaging through the fridge, finding some various leftovers they could compile into a satisfactory meal.

There were footsteps as someone entered the kitchen. Midoriya turned, expecting to see Uraraka or Asui, but instead he was met with Bakugou, hands deep in his pockets and a scowl on his face.

Midoriya wasn’t all that surprised. By this point, the class was well aware of the relationship between the two boys. So, really, it only seemed natural that, despite the late hour, Bakugou had been waiting for the other boy’s return.

Midoriya smiled. “Hey Kacchan,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

Bakugou grunted in response, and Kirishima turned to look at the blond. “Hey,” he said, smiling weakly; Midoriya could hear the same tiredness when he spoke. When Bakugou sidled up to Kirishima where he stood at the rice cooker, pressing their shoulders against each other, Midoriya watched the redhead’s body instantly relax. It was as though a thread was pulled, the tension leftover from the evening immediately unraveling.

Midoriya turned back to the curry he was reheating as the quiet settled in the kitchen, no sounds other than the turning of the microwave and the bubbling of the water in the rice cooker. It felt calm, and Midoriya could feel his own stress from the day slowly start to ebb away.

Then, Bakugou spoke.

“What’s this, shitty hair?”

“Huh?”

Midoriya turned, and saw Bakugou raising Kirishima’s hand, lifting and twisting so he could inspect the redhead’s forearm. Sure enough, there was an abrasion there, the skin an angry red. There were still signs that the wound had been bleeding earlier, raw and glistening a little, though there was no more blood coming from the nasty scrape. It still looked painful enough that Midoriya winced a little at it.

Kirishima hummed thoughtfully. “To be honest, I don’t even remember getting it,” he admitted tiredly. “Must have been while we were taking down that guy, but…” He shrugged.

“Tch. And you didn’t go to Recovery Girl?” Bakugou asked.

“I didn’t even notice it before,” Kirishima responded.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t notice a gash like that on your arm?”

Kirishima frowned. “‘Gash’ seems a little harsh,” he said. “It’s just a scrape. It’s not even bleeding.”

Bakugou muttered something under his breath, clearly irritated. A moment later he was dropping Kirishima’s hand unceremoniously and stomping out of the room. Midoriya stared after him, baffled by the outburst. He glanced over to Kirishima who had the same look of concerned confusion on his face. Kirishima then turned to him, and they shared a look, each silently asking the other if they had some sort of explanation for what exactly had made Bakugou’s temper flare.

Seconds later, Bakugou was back in the kitchen, seeming even more annoyed, raising Midoriya’s confusion even further. The blond was mumbling something again, marching over to Kirishima and grabbing his upper arm; he immediately dragged him over to the table, pushing him into a chair before dropping himself into one adjacent.

“Bakugou?” Kirishima asked curiously, hesitantly, but the boy didn’t answer. Instead, Bakugou slammed something onto the table and Midoriya flinched a little at the sound, too loud in the quiet dorm, so late at night.

But then, Midoriya dropped his shoulders and let himself look at what Bakugou had brought back with him. It only took a second for him to recognize the white box for what it was: a first aid kit.

Bakugou snatched up Kirishima’s hand in his, turning it so his palm was facing up, revealing the scrape on his forearm once more. Bakugou grimaced at it.

“It’s really fine,” Kirishima tried to tell him.

Bakugou let out a noise at the back of his throat, rumbling like a growl through his gritted teeth. He flipped the latch on the box and opened the lid, sifting through the contents quickly and deliberately. “You’re fucking hurt, Kirishima, you—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “You don’t need to—”

“Just let me do this,” Bakugou snapped. There was a sense of finality to the words, leaving no room for argument.

Still, Kirishima stared at him, frowning a little, searching his face for something. Midoriya wondered if he was searching for some sort of better explanation. Sure, the wound looked painful, the sort of scrape that surely burned at the feeling of even just cool air making contact, but it wasn’t serious. As Kirishima had pointed out, it wasn’t even bleeding. And, Midoriya reasoned, each of them had suffered much worse at one point or another. In comparison, this was nothing.

But still, Bakugou refused to back down.

After a moment, he directed his gaze away from Kirishima’s stare. He exhaled slowly. “I need to do this,” he whispered. “Just… let me do this.”

Midoriya watched as the realization crossed Kirishima’s face. He nodded slowly at Bakugou and twisted his fingers a little awkwardly, curling them against Bakugou’s in an attempt at holding his hand reassuringly. The movement didn’t quite work with the way Bakugou was already grasping his hand, palm up, but still he shifted his fingers in response to make room for the other boy’s.

“Okay,” Kirishima breathed out. Bakugou looked back up at him, and Kirishima offered a small smile, gentle and comforting.

Understanding struck Midoriya, then, as well. This wasn’t simply about fixing the abrasion on Kirishima’s arm; this wasn’t about physical wounds, about any cuts or scrapes or bruises. This was about something deeper.

He watched as Bakugou moved, slowly and deliberately, each motion careful and gentle to ensure he didn’t cause any more discomfort. Still, Kirishima hissed in pain as he disinfected the wound, gritted his teeth a little as Bakugou applied the gauze. When he finished, Bakugou placed a hand softly against the bandage, glaring at the bright white of it against his skin. Instantly, Kirishima placed his own hand on top of his.

This was a mutual comfort. This was about Bakugou proving that he could do something even when he wasn’t there. Because that was what it boiled down to—he wouldn’t always be there. And even if he was, they were both bound to get hurt…

They were training to be heroes, after all. They all were. The reality of it was that they were all bound to get hurt when they went out each day, whether it was minor scrapes like the one on Kirishima’s arm, or something much worse. They trained in an effort to minimize these occurrences. They bettered themselves each day, doing all that they could so they’d be able to defeat villains without casualties.

But even so, they were not infallible. They’d seen it so many times now. They’d seen it with Kouta, whose parents had been pros killed in the line of duty. They’d seen it with Ragdoll, how her Quirk had been taken from her. They’d seen it with All Might, after his fight with All for One. They’d seen it with Mirio’s Quirk and Sir Nighteye’s death. And that was only the beginning. They were bound to see it so many more times, again and again, hitting closer to home each and every time.

This was Bakugou regaining control in a moment where he had none. And Midoriya understood.

“Stop staring and mind your own damn business, shitty Deku,” Bakugou said, voice low and dangerous, not even turning his head.

Midoriya startled, facing away from the boys once more. He hadn’t noticed he’d been staring, too caught up in his own thoughts. Once he had his back turned, he heard a small noise. It took a moment for him to place the sound, until he realized that the tiny chu had to be the press of lips; he could only assume that it was Bakugou, could imagine him waiting for Midoriya to turn away to press a kiss to Kirishima’s arm.

“Bakugou, are you joining us for dinner?” Midoriya turned at the sound of Uraraka’s voice, a few minutes later.

“Of course he’s going to be here if Kirishima-chan is,” Asui commented, and the other girl giggled.

“Aw, and you’re taking care of your boyfriend,” Uraraka said with a teasing lilt, nodding at the first aid kit.

“Fuck off, round face,” Bakugou snapped.

“What’s for dinner, Midoriya-chan?” Asui interrupted. “Leftover curry?”

“Yep!” Midoriya responded.

“Smells good,” Uraraka commented.

Uraraka and Asui scooped rice into five bowls, and Midoriya spooned the leftover curry over top of it. The girls each took two dishes in hand, and Uraraka glanced over at the two boys sitting at the table, sharing a whispered conversation, hands still intertwined.

“What do you say we go eat in the other room?” she suggested quietly, looking back to Asui and Midoriya with a smile.

“Sounds good,” Asui agreed, and Midoriya nodded.

Uraraka walked over to the table, gently placing the dishes in front of the two boys. “Here you go, guys,” she said.

“Oh!” Kirishima said, looking up at Uraraka with a grin. “Thanks!”

Bakugou grunted, directing his gaze away from his classmates, not moving his hands from where they rested, one still holding Kirishima’s, the other against the bandage on his arm.

“No problem!” she said brightly. Asui was at her side a moment later, handing her the other plate of curry.

“We’re going to go eat in the living room,” she told them, ribbiting at the end of the sentence.

“You don’t have to!” Kirishima told them quickly. “We just—ah—”

But Uraraka waved a hand at them, shaking her head. “You two take your alone time,” she said. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Kirishima’s face softened into another smile. “Thanks guys,” he said. “Good night!”

They chorused ‘good night’ in response, filing out of the kitchen and into the living area. Midoriya glanced back one final time; he saw as they began to dig into the curry, the hands that weren’t holding their chopsticks clasped together, an obviously practiced movement.

He smiled, turning back to Asui and Uraraka, piling onto the couch with them. As they sat, the two girls laughed alongside him, chatting through the exhaustion of the day, the effort keeping them awake while they ate. Off the battlefield, it was calm and peaceful, like they could forget, just for a moment, the negative aspects of what awaited them each day as heroes.

He knew for every danger, there were a hundred, maybe a thousand, reasons for why he—why all of them—would fight anyway. People to save, to help, to inspire.

And maybe they couldn’t be sure about what would happen, each day on the field. He couldn’t make promises about his own future, just as none of his classmates and friends could.

He thought of Kirishima and Bakugou. He thought of them holding hands as they ate, of Bakugou bandaging Kirishima’s wound, of Kirishima letting him because he knew it was what he needed in that moment.

And Midoriya thought that, well, maybe they couldn’t promise safety, or anything like that, but… maybe they’d be okay, anyway.