Chapter Text
The sun filtered softly through the large windows of U.A. High School's Class 1-A, casting a warm glow over the bustling classroom. The usual morning chatter filled the air as the students exchanged greetings, laughter, and the occasional friendly jab. It was a regular day, like any other, or so they thought.
Katsuki Bakugo sat at his desk, seemingly indifferent to the morning buzz around him. He stared at his notebook with a fierce concentration that bordered on aggression, his pen moving rapidly across the paper. To an outsider, it might have looked like he was scribbling furiously, but anyone who knew Bakugo understood that this was how he prepared for the day ahead. Every note was precise, every detail accounted for. He liked to be prepared, to have control.
As Bakugo wrote, his classmates carried on with their usual antics. Kaminari was trying, and failing, to balance a pencil on his nose while Mina cheered him on. Eijiro Kirishima was in the middle of his daily workout, doing push-ups beside his desk, with Sero counting for him. Across the room, Momo Yaoyorozu and Tenya Iida were discussing the finer points of their latest homework assignment, their voices filled with the kind of academic enthusiasm that made Bakugo want to roll his eyes.
Midoriya sat nearby, his notebook already full of detailed notes on their recent training exercises. Despite their rocky past, Midoriya couldn't help but glance at Bakugo from time to time, marveling at his relentless focus. But even Midoriya, who had spent years analyzing Bakugo's every move, couldn't have predicted what would happen next.
Suddenly, the sharp, jarring sound of Bakugo's phone vibrating against the hard surface of his desk cut through the classroom noise. The unexpected sound was startling, especially since Bakugo rarely received phone calls during school hours. The class, momentarily distracted, turned their attention to the blond-haired explosive hero-in-training.
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the screen. The name displayed there sent a jolt through his body, a reaction so subtle that only those who were paying close attention might have noticed. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, a pause so brief that it almost went unnoticed. But it was there, and it was unusual. Bakugo was not the type to hesitate.
Without a word, Bakugo stood up from his desk, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He grabbed his phone with a grip so tight his knuckles whitened and walked towards the door. His classmates exchanged confused glances. It wasn’t like Bakugo to leave the classroom in the middle of a lesson, especially for something as trivial as a phone call.
"Where's he going?" Kaminari whispered to Kirishima, who shrugged, equally puzzled.
Midoriya watched Bakugo's retreating form, his brow furrowing in concern. Something felt off. This wasn't the usual Bakugo behavior—storming out of the classroom without a word, leaving everyone in suspense.
Aizawa, who had been observing the class from his desk at the front of the room, also noticed Bakugo's departure. He was about to say something when Bakugo shot him a look—a silent plea for understanding, one that Aizawa, who knew his students better than they sometimes knew themselves, acknowledged with a slight nod. Whatever this was, it was serious.
Bakugo exited the classroom, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving the rest of Class 1-A in a state of stunned silence.
Outside in the hallway, Bakugo leaned against the wall, his chest heaving slightly as he answered the call. He didn't say anything at first, simply listening. The voice on the other end was muffled, but whatever was being said caused Bakugo's face to harden, his jaw clenching so tightly it looked like it might crack.
"What do you want?" Bakugo's voice was low, dangerously calm. A stark contrast to the explosive outbursts his classmates were used to hearing.
The person on the other end spoke for a long time, and with each word, Bakugo’s expression grew darker, more severe. He closed his eyes, as if shutting out the world would somehow make this moment easier. But nothing could make this easier.
"That's not—" Bakugo began, but the words caught in his throat. He tried again. "You don’t get to just—"
There was a pause, and then Bakugo's grip on the phone loosened slightly, as if he was trying to calm himself down, to maintain some semblance of control. "Fine. I’ll deal with it. But this better not be a joke, or I swear—"
Before he could finish his sentence, the call abruptly ended. Bakugo stared at his phone for a long moment, the screen darkened as the call disconnected. His breathing was heavy, his heart pounding in his chest. This wasn’t something he could easily shake off, and he hated that. Hated the vulnerability it exposed, hated the powerlessness he felt creeping in around the edges of his usually ironclad composure.
Back in the classroom, the tension was palpable. The students of Class 1-A were on edge, their curiosity and concern growing with each passing minute. Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Midoriya stood up.
"Should we—" he began, but he didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. The classroom door swung open with a force that made it slam against the wall, and Bakugo stormed back in, his expression unreadable.
"Bakugo, is everything alright?" Iida asked, ever the concerned class representative.
"Mind your own business, Four-Eyes," Bakugo snapped, but there was no real bite to his words. If anything, he sounded tired. More tired than any of them had ever heard him.
Bakugo returned to his seat, his movements stiff and mechanical, as if he were going through the motions on autopilot. The rest of the class watched him with wide eyes, their concern growing by the second.
"What happened, Bakugo?" Kirishima ventured, his voice gentle, careful not to provoke his friend.
For a moment, it seemed like Bakugo wasn’t going to answer. He sat there, staring at the blank page of his notebook, his pen hovering above it, unmoving. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper.
"None of your damn business."
But the way his voice cracked at the end, the slight tremble in his hands as he gripped his pen, betrayed the truth. Something was very wrong.
The classroom fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Aizawa, who had been watching the exchange carefully, decided not to press the matter. If Bakugo wanted to talk, he would, but forcing him would only make things worse.
The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, the usual energy and enthusiasm that filled Class 1-A replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. The students stole glances at Bakugo, who remained uncharacteristically quiet, his attention fixed on his notebook but his mind clearly elsewhere.
When the lunch bell finally rang, the class was hesitant to leave. They lingered by their desks, casting worried glances at Bakugo, who hadn’t moved since returning to his seat. Kirishima was the first to approach him, his hand resting on Bakugo’s shoulder.
"Hey, man," Kirishima said softly, "If you need to talk, you know we’re here for you, right?"
Bakugo shrugged off Kirishima’s hand, his expression hardening. "I don’t need your damn pity," he spat, though the venom in his words was weaker than usual.
"We’re not offering pity, Bakugo," Momo interjected gently. "We’re your friends. We just want to help."
Bakugo glared at her, his eyes narrowing, but he didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, he stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process, and stormed out of the classroom without another word.
The rest of the class watched him go, a mixture of concern and confusion on their faces.
"What do you think that was about?" Mina asked, her voice hushed as if she were afraid Bakugo might hear her even though he was already halfway down the hall.
"I don’t know," Midoriya replied, worry etched into every line of his face. "But whatever it is, it’s serious."
As Bakugo walked down the hall, the weight of the phone call hung over him like a dark cloud. His mind was racing, filled with a storm of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t quite sort out. He hated feeling this way, hated the uncertainty, the fear that gnawed at the edges of his resolve.
He reached the end of the hallway and stopped, his back against the cold, unforgiving wall. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing, trying to find some sense of control. But the words from the phone call echoed in his mind, haunting him.
"You need to come home, Katsuki. Your father—"
Bakugo squeezed his eyes shut, willing the memories to stay buried, to not let the past overtake him. But it was no use. The phone call had brought everything rushing back, the pain, the anger, the fear.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needed to be strong. He needed to deal with this on his own, just like he always had. But for the first time in a long time, Bakugo wasn’t sure if he could.
Back in the classroom, the students of Class 1-A were left
to wonder what had just happened, each of them realizing that whatever it was, it had shaken Bakugo to his core. And that alone was enough to terrify them.
##
Bakugo’s footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as he walked aimlessly, his mind still reeling from the phone call. He didn’t have a destination in mind; he just needed to move, to do something, anything to distract himself from the growing sense of dread building in his chest. But no matter how far he walked, the thoughts followed him, unrelenting.
The words echoed in his mind, twisting and turning like a knife. He hated this feeling—this gnawing, helpless anxiety that threatened to swallow him whole. Bakugo was not someone who let fear control him, but this… this was different. This was something that had been lurking in the shadows for years, something he had buried deep within himself and tried to forget. But now, it was back, and it demanded to be faced.
Bakugo stopped in front of a window at the end of the hallway, his gaze unfocused as he stared out at the school grounds below. He could see some of his classmates heading to lunch, laughing and talking as if the world hadn’t just been turned upside down. For them, it was just another day, but for Bakugo, everything had changed.
His phone buzzed in his hand, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked down at the screen, half-expecting to see the same number that had called him earlier. But it was just a text from Kirishima.
Kirishima: *Hey man, you okay? We’re all worried about you. Let us help.*
Bakugo’s grip tightened on his phone, his anger flaring up again. He didn’t want their help. He didn’t need it. He could handle this on his own, just like he always had. He quickly typed out a reply, his fingers moving rapidly over the screen.
Bakugo: *I said it’s none of your damn business. Leave me alone.*
He hit send and shoved the phone back into his pocket, turning away from the window. He couldn’t stand the idea of them knowing—knowing that he wasn’t as strong as he appeared, that he had weaknesses, fears that he couldn’t just explode away. It was easier to push them away, to keep them at arm’s length, than to let them in.
But as Bakugo walked back down the hallway, the truth nagged at him. This wasn’t something he could just push away. It wasn’t a villain he could fight or a problem he could solve with sheer force of will. This was his family, his past, something he had tried so hard to bury but that had now clawed its way back to the surface.
He turned a corner and found himself standing outside the empty training room. The sight of it brought back memories of countless hours spent honing his skills, pushing himself to the limit, determined to be the best. But now, all that training, all that strength felt useless.
Bakugo slammed his fist against the wall, the impact reverberating through his arm. It wasn’t enough to release the frustration building inside him, so he hit it again, and again, until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. But the pain was a welcome distraction, something he could focus on, something he could control.
'Why did it have to be now?' Bakugo thought bitterly. 'Why did this have to happen when everything was finally going right?'
He had been making progress, pushing himself harder than ever to become a top hero, proving to everyone—especially himself—that he was more than just some angry, volatile kid. He had a plan, a future, and he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone get in the way of that.
But now…
The door to the training room creaked open, and Bakugo’s heart nearly stopped. He didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want to face the inevitable questions and concern. But when he looked up, he saw Midoriya standing in the doorway, his green eyes wide with worry.
“Kacchan…” Midoriya’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure whether to approach or keep his distance. “What are you doing here?”
Bakugo glared at him, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “What the hell do you want, Deku?”
Midoriya flinched at the sharpness in Bakugo’s tone but didn’t back down. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, and took a deep breath. “I… I just wanted to see if you’re okay. You seemed really upset earlier, and—”
“Shut up,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off. “I don’t need your pity, you damn nerd.”
“It’s not pity,” Midoriya insisted, his voice trembling slightly but still determined. “We’re friends, Kacchan. I just want to help.”
“Help?” Bakugo laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and grating. “You think you can help me? You think you know anything about what I’m going through?”
Midoriya hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He had seen Bakugo angry, furious even, but this… this was different. There was a rawness to it, a vulnerability that Bakugo was trying so hard to hide but that was painfully obvious to anyone who knew him.
“Kacchan, please,” Midoriya said quietly, his voice pleading. “You don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever it is, we can face it together.”
Bakugo’s eyes flashed with anger, and before he knew it, he was on his feet, his hand gripping Midoriya’s collar and shoving him against the wall. “I said shut up!” he roared, his face inches from Midoriya’s. “You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know what I’m dealing with, so just stay the hell out of it!”
Midoriya didn’t struggle, didn’t fight back. He just looked at Bakugo with those damn understanding eyes, the ones that made Bakugo want to punch something even more. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t hurt him, not like this.
Slowly, Bakugo released his grip, stepping back and letting his hands fall to his sides. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to regain control of himself.
Midoriya straightened his shirt, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “Kacchan, whatever it is, you can trust me. You know that, right?”
Bakugo turned away, his back to Midoriya as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He wanted to scream, to let out all the anger and fear that was boiling inside him, but he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bakugo muttered, his voice strained. “Just drop it.”
Midoriya hesitated again, clearly wanting to push further, but he could see that Bakugo was at his limit. Pushing any more might do more harm than good. So, with a heavy heart, he nodded.
“Okay, Kacchan,” he said softly. “But if you ever need to talk… I’m here. We all are.”
Bakugo didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge him. He just stood there, staring at the wall as if it held all the answers to his problems.
Midoriya lingered for a moment longer, but when it became clear that Bakugo wasn’t going to say anything else, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.
As soon as Midoriya was gone, Bakugo let out a shuddering breath, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He hated this. Hated feeling so out of control, so vulnerable. But most of all, he hated that Midoriya had seen him like this.
He sank to the floor, his back against the wall, and buried his face in his hands. The phone call, the memories, the fear—it was all too much. He couldn’t handle it. Not alone.
But he didn’t know how to let anyone in, how to let them help him without feeling like he was losing something of himself in the process.
After what felt like hours, Bakugo finally stood up, his legs shaky but determined. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t let himself wallow in this mess. He had to keep moving, had to keep fighting, even if he didn’t know what he was fighting against.
He left the training room and started walking, his steps slower, more deliberate. He needed to get his head straight, to figure out what to do next. But the more he tried to think, the more the phone call replayed in his mind.
Bakugo clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He couldn’t go home. Not now. Not ever, if he had his way. But he knew that wasn’t an option. He couldn’t just ignore this, no matter how much he wanted to.
As he walked, he found himself heading toward the dorms. Maybe he just needed to lie down, to clear his head. Maybe if he got some rest, things would make more sense. But even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. Nothing would make this easier.
When he reached the dorms, he paused outside the entrance, his hand hovering over the door handle. He could hear the faint sounds of his classmates inside, laughing, talking, oblivious to the turmoil he was in. For a moment, he considered turning around and leaving, just walking away and disappearing for a while. But he knew that wouldn’t solve anything.
