Not because he’s particularly outlandish, but because he doesn’t look the way he does in pictures. Sure, they don’t expect for him to always be jumping through the air with a civilian tucked under his arm, but somehow, when transitioning from the No. 1 Pro Hero to an objective medium, he becomes shockingly normal. The mixture of freckles and green hair and All Might jacket make him blend in with the crowd and appear surprisingly plain, despite the unsettlingly bright smile and height.
When people meet Deku, they’re surprised.
Not because they didn’t think he had his own interests outside of the hero business, but because he’s truly a fanboy at heart and they weren’t expecting that out of the hero who has it all. He’ll show up at a convention and ask to take photos with cosplayers, as if he isn’t the most cosplayed hero in the vicinity. He won’t be bothered by the camera in his face as he picks his way through merchandise and he’ll look hilariously calm when he asks the reporter if they have change for a twenty.
When people meet Deku, they’re surprised.
Not because he’s intimidating, but because he’s the complete opposite. He’s big and has a handshake that somehow reinforces that he’s used to shaking the hands of equally powerful people, but he’s clumsy and laughs at his own mistakes and gets flustered when a fan asks for an autograph. He’ll engage a fan in a conversation about Ingenium when he sees their t-shirt and he’ll begin to ramble about his friends and he’ll almost exchange numbers with them before realizing that it would be a breach of his personal security, but that doesn’t stop him from giving them his username on a forum site.
When people meet Deku, they’re surprised.
Not because he’s not what they expected, but because he’s everything they could have ever hoped for in a hero, while simultaneously surprising them with every step he takes.
Room 1-A was all but empty, desks unattended, cubbies cleared out, silent except for the bump and shuffle of the two students left behind on clean-up duty. Deku dumped the last bit of
paper scrap swept from the floor into the trash. He knotted the top of the bag
and hoisted it. He offered one glance over his shoulder, momentarily catching
eyes with Bakugou who leaned against the open window, dusty erasers in hand.
“I’m taking the trash out. Don’t lock the door behind me,”
Deku said, and he freed one hand from the trashbag to reach the doorknob.
“Wait.”
Deku paused. He heard footsteps approach from behind him,
and he turned just in time to see Bakugou, inches from his face, snap his hand
up and ignite his palm. It burst, fiery hot, and the heat breezed over Deku.
Deku shut his eyes on reflex, but only in response to the heat. He didn’t
flinch, and he certainly didn’t cower.
“What, Kacchan?”
Bakugou lowered his hand in increments, annoyed, perplexed.
His lip twitched, and a scowl overtook his face. “That. Why didn’t you flinch?”
“Hmm?” Deku glanced to Bakugou’s hand, lowered and still
smoldering. “Well I would have blocked you if you actually tried to attack me.”
“No! I mean why aren’t you afraid of me?” Bakugou leaned back. He glanced around the
classroom, eyes sharp and bothered. “It’s pissing me off.”
“You did this all the time when we had clean-up duty in
middle school. Maybe I’m used to it.”
“Bullshit.” Bakugou stalked around Deku, hands in his
pocket, blocking Deku’s path. “You used to flinch every time. Now you’ve stopped doing it. It’s been pissing me off for months. What’s different,
huh? Do you think I’m weaker than I was in middle school? Because I’m not. I’m
stronger. I could crush you into a sniveling pile of ashes.” Bakugou removed his hand
from his pocket. He flexed his fingers, inches from Deku’s face. “I might even
feel like proving it, just to wipe that bored look off your face.”
Deku set the trashbag down. He turned away from Bakugou,
moving toward the window and retrieving the erasers Bakugou had left on the sill.
Deku held them out the window and slammed them together twice, their dust trailing down to the stories
below.
“Are you ignoring me?” Bakugou asked through clenched teeth.
“Sort of. If we fight again then Aizawa-sensei is going to come up with a real punishment this time. I don’t want to miss anymore class because of
you, so let’s just drop this, okay? I’ll do the erasers if you take the trash down.”
“No. No, no, no,” Bakugou answered. He lifted the trashbag,
held it from beneath in his palm, and he slammed his other hand down on top. The bag
burst into flame, hot a violent and reduced to ashes in a single moment. The air spiked hot, acrid and dense and choking with the smell of burnt plastic and smoke. The
charred black remains trailed through Bakugou’s fingers as he moved toward
Deku. “You don’t order me around. Stop acting like you’re not afraid! You are!
I know you are!”
Deku set the erasers down. He rubbed his eyes, just a bit
black beneath with exhaustion. He’d been up most of the night studying. “You’re
acting a lot like your middle school self right now, Kacchan. Does being on
clean-up duty with me again bring you that far back?”
“Far…? No! There’s no ‘selves’, Deku! I’m me, and you’re
you! And you’re supposed to be afraid of
me!” Bakugou clenched his fists, and his nerve faltered. “Why aren’t you
afraid of me?!”
“You really want to know?” Deku leaned against the window
sill, one hand set to his chin. He looked to the side, thinking. “Well, it’s
not really you who’s changed, if that makes you feel better. It’s me. I think I
just finally realized you’re not someone I need to be afraid of.”
“You’re wrong,” Bakugou answered, tense. “I’m still better
than you. I’m still stronger. I can still destroy you. I haven’t gotten weaker.
Even with your quirk you’re no match for me, I’ve proven that!”
“Sure, I guess, you’re still stronger than me.” Deku grabbed
the erasers and pushed off the window sill. He moved to the chalk board, laying
them back in the tray. “But you’re not better than me, Kacchan. That’s what’s
changed. I’ve finally realized you’re not better.”
“I beat you! In our fight I beat you!”
“Yeah, but I’m not just talking about strength. Let me see
if I can explain.” Deku opened the closet, pulled the broom and dustpan back
out. He set to work on the pile of ashes by Bakugou’s feet, and Bakugou stepped
to the side. “Growing up, you spent so much time doing everything you could to
feel like you were better than us. Better than me especially. I really believed
that for the longest time. And I still believe you’re incredible…but not
better. And not the best.”
Bakugou remained silent this time, face a mask of stone. Deku
pulled another trashbag from the closet to empty the ashes into.
“Kacchan, you tried so hard to drill it into my head that I
didn’t deserve all the things I wanted to accomplish. It got to me. I started believing I wasn’t actually accomplishing anything. I
got into UA because I was lucky, because All Might helped me. I kept
telling myself that, that it was just because of luck and because of other
people’s help that I could do anything. Not like you, who could do everything
on your own. But you know what, Kacchan? I realized something. I think we both owe a lot to luck. Maybe you were just lucky to be born
with that quirk.”
Bakugou’s lip twitched again, revealing teeth this time, but
he still did not speak.
“You were born with that quirk. I wasn’t born with one. You
were lucky, and I wasn’t. There’s no reason you should have had that quirk over
me, even though you spent so long convincing me of that. Quirks are luck. Hard
work isn’t.” Deku swept up the last of the ash, clearing the floor of
everything but the black coating the rim of Bakugou’s shoes. “I’m not saying
you don’t work hard. You do. But you don’t work the hardest.” Deku cinched the
tie on the new trashbag. “I do.”
“So what?” Bakugou answered, tense. “You work harder and I’m
still stronger than you. You’re worse. You’re weak. You’re just insulting yourself.”
“Not at all. It’s an advantage, I think. I’m willing to work
harder than you, Bakugou. I am
working harder. I’m better at learning from my mistakes. I’m better at
improving. I’m better at handling failure, because I spent most of my life
thinking all I could do was fail, thanks to you.” Deku set the trashbag down.
He left it alone, and moved to face Bakugou. He held eye-contact, full
attention set to Bakugou. “So eventually I’m going to be stronger than you. And
I think you know that. I think that’s why you’re so panicked right now. You can’t
handle anyone being better than you, and I’m the worst person in your mind to
be better.”
“It’s never going to happen,” Bakugou answered, but some
kind of apprehension lingered in his eyes, holding him back. He didn’t move to
attack, like Deku thought he might.
“You need it to never happen, Kacchan, because I don’t think
you’d be able to handle it if I really did pass you. I actually worry how
you’ll handle it, or any kind of failure once we’re professionals, you know,
Kacchan? Because you can only handle being the best, no worse than that—you can
only handle being the best in every way. You don’t know how to deal with it
when you slip up, even a little. You won the Sports Festival, but you couldn’t
handle that you didn’t win it exactly the way you needed to in order to prove
you’re the best. And you couldn’t handle losing to me in the villain-vs-hero
fight. And I’m actually afraid for you, how badly you’re handling what happened
when the League of Villains captured you.”
“Shut up…” Bakugou whispered. He jerked forward, hoping Deku
might flinch. Deku did not. “That’s not your damn business.”
“No, I guess not, but I still worry for you. You needed to
be top of our middle school, and top of UA. How are you going to handle being a
debut hero with a low ranking? How are you going to handle the years and years
it’ll take for any of us to climb the ranks. Worse, Kacchan, how are you going
to handle the failures you face being a hero? It happens to every professional.
Sometimes it happens a lot. Villains get away. People get hurt, or even die
sometimes, when you can’t save them. You might even get hurt. You could get
hurt so badly that you’d have to give up being a hero all-together. Could you handle that?”
Bakugou reached out, he grabbed Deku’s arm, his grip
deathly-tight. Deku could feel the heat radiating off the palm the held him.
“I’ll shut you up, if you don’t want to shut up yourself. I’m
not going to fail as a hero. I should kill you right now for suggesting I
would.”
Deku set his free hand to Bakugou’s arm, and gently, he
pried it off. “Exactly. You don’t know how to handle failure, so you just keep
on saying you won’t fail, you won’t fail, and that’s an impossible way to live.
I’m better than you at that—I’m better at failing, Kacchan. If I’m a low-ranked
hero, if some of my missions fail, if I’m injured so badly I have to retire, I
know I could endure it. My dreams are as strong as yours, Kacchan, but I also
know how to keep going if those get crushed. I’m strong like that, Kacchan.
Stronger than you. I’m afraid that you’d just break.”
Deku opened the door, and the air in the hall was cooler,
unaffected by Bakugou’s explosions. A breeze washed over Deku, clean, untouched
by the smell of burnt plastic and ash.
He stepped into the hall, and he gave one last look to
Bakugou, who stood frozen, stricken, pale.
“I’m not afraid of you, Kacchan. I’m only afraid for you.”
shindeku.three days a week, in the deserted, dark area behind the gym, midoriya gives his heart over to hitoshi for an hour. // there is a line and they stand on opposite sides of it.
Midoriya’s body swerves halfway into an arc, until it spasms and freezes up, right as a splash explodes across his shoulder.
“Sorry, my bad, without thinking, I – ”
“It’s fine!” Midoriya tugs at the sleeve of his shirt, now stained with wet bird poop. He makes a face. “Shinsou-kun was trying to get me out of the way, right? If you hadn’t, it’ll be harder to get it out of my hair, I think.” He glances up and Hitoshi and smiles. “Thank you, Shinsou-kun.”
A warmth swells up in his chest. He coughs and looks away. “Still, I acted without your consent – ”
“Aha, it’s fine,” Midoriya says, waving. “It’s kinda nostalgic actually, like when I first met Uraraka-san.”
He swallows down the bile rising in his throat. “So I’m not your first?”
Cheloneuniverse 