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Bakugou was always going to leave; it was in his plan from the beginning. UA had been the first big step to a greater goal – the goal of being number one. Realistically, he knew that if he wanted to follow in All Might’s footsteps, then he would have to train just like he did – harder, even. He already ate, slept and breathed heroism, but it wouldn’t be enough to just stay in one place. He would get complacent – he wouldn’t grow. No, if he wanted to be like All Might, then he had to start where he started. He had to go to America.
He wasn’t thrilled about the idea – Americans were a different breed, and one Bakugou couldn’t pretend he was fond of. They were so damn loud and impolite and they ate weird, processed food, but they also bred some of the best heroes in the world. If Bakugou wanted to be the best, he knew America was his first stop, and so he always knew he was going to leave his home of Japan. After America, who knew where he would go, but he wouldn’t care. He would go wherever his training took him. He would do whatever it took to become the best. He had counted on it.
What he had not counted on, however, was developing relationships that would make him want to stay.
Bakugou hadn’t wanted to make friends. Friends were a distraction and honestly, people annoyed the shit out of him. He had a band of followers back in middle school, but that was more for convenience – the more cronies he had with him, the more power he exuded. When he got to UA, however, he had decided he was officially strong enough to the point that he didn’t need anyone else and so he dropped the posse. He would operate solo, cruise through his three years and come out on the other side primed and ready for his number one spot.
Turns out that was an impossible goddamn dream. Try as he might, Bakugou was not able to shake off the merry band of idiots who made up his class. No matter how much he screamed and stomped and spat in their direction, they always came right back to his side, bright-eyed and full of laughter, like he was just hilarious to them. At first, it had grated his nerves. He wanted people to leave him alone because they were bound to get left in the dust trying to keep up with him anyway, but this strange group of wannabe heroes held their own and before he knew it, he was in a place where he would hate to admit it, but he respected them.
Then at the end of their three years, Bakugou realized he more than respected them – he damn near loved them. It was a hard pill to swallow, but he had learned more than just heroics at UA. He had learned to control his temper, to win and to save, to allow others to help him, and most importantly, how to be an actual friend. It started with Kirishima, who had stayed by his side every moment since they were warped to the same section of the USJ. Kirishima was tough, and Bakugou liked that about him, but he was also a lot of other things. He was kind-hearted, quick-witted and didn’t put up with his shit – he was Bakugou’s equal. He was his best friend. Over the years, he had gone through various workout obsessions, fashion-phases (if you could call his disastrous fucking wardrobe fashion), about three internal crises and six different hairstyles, each shittier than the last, but his razor-sharp smile had stayed the same and he had never left Bakugou’s side.
With Kirishima came the others – Kaminari, who never once seemed to have feared Bakugou, a fact that at first had pissed him off, but then later had made him laugh. Kaminari was bold with his words and his actions, calling Bakugou every nickname in the book, giggling when he lost his temper, poking and prodding him and challenging him at every corner. He was an idiot in the truest sense of the word – Bakugou had spent many late nights trying to hammer simple concepts into his tiny brain – but he was a fiercely protective friend and a surprisingly competent hero.
There was Sero, who Bakugou would’ve once said was the most extra of all the extras, but was more than meets the eye. He was fast, incredibly bright and had the dirtiest sense of humor that Bakugou had ever experienced. His mouth grew to be worse than Bakugou’s by the end of their third year, and no one believed him when he said it was the bad influence of their group. Despite his predisposition to blend in, he had made sure he stood out, training, modifying and shit-talking his way into a place where he could be noticed.
Mina had practically done a cannonball into his life. He hadn’t had any say with any of them – they had wormed their way into his space like a bunch of damn orphaned baby ducklings, but Mina had been especially unshakable. From the moment she zeroed in on him at the Sports Festival, she became a constant headache in his life. Her screeching voice was always just around the corner, seeking him out, demanding his attention. She called the rest of their group “her boys” and proclaimed herself as “their mother” no matter how many of them she had hooked up with. She was annoying and that was a damn fact but she was also the dictionary definition of badass, a relentlessly tough hero who took no shit and left no survivors. She had started out a little wobbly in her first year, but with a little motivation (in the form of long nights and hoarse words being shouted at her from across Ground Beta) she became one of the top girls in their graduating class.
Bakugou would even admit that the little shit nerd Deku was more tolerable. After learning his secret and realizing that he hadn’t, in fact, lied to Bakugou for years about being quirkless, he decided it would be a better use of his energy to try and match him, rather than constantly tear him down. Deku became a proper rival, someone to always aim to beat – it was motivation, and admittedly, he wasn’t such a bad fucking guy. He was relentlessly annoying in his mumbling, his overly cheerful attitude and his way-past-obsessive behavior he had about pro-heroes, but it was also kind of…fun to watch him grow up. If there was anything Bakugou loved, it was a challenge, and keeping up with Deku was one.
However, the one who had surprised him the most – who had tangled herself into his life so intricately that he could hardly form a coherent thought without it being somehow related to her, was Ochako Uraraka. She was a firecracker of a woman disguised as a Cabbage Patch Kid. She was all pink cheeks and bright smiles with a can-do attitude to boot, but goddamn did she pack a punch behind all of that preciousness. Bakugou had written her off when he had first seen her – just another extra chick with a rescue quirk, wouldn’t even be worth remembering her name, but fuck, had he been wrong. When Bakugou faced Uraraka in the Sports Festival, she gave him the fight of his life. She left him with hands shaking, sweat dripping down his face, and his chest heaving with exhilaration. Uraraka was no extra – she was someone to watch, someone to admire, someone that would be right up with him at the top. He wouldn’t mind sharing his top position with someone like Uraraka – she was worthy of it.
Uraraka, like many of his other classmates, had decided that she wasn’t afraid of Bakugou. At this point, he had come to expect it. What the fuck ever had been his mindset about his new set of followers. It wouldn’t be too bad to have some idiots to knock around in sparring sessions, and jamming information into their heads during study sessions would just make him look better. He could tolerate it, but with Uraraka, it quickly became something more than just the reluctant acceptance that slowly formed into a friendship. With Uraraka, it was magnetic.
He hadn’t known what it was at first. How the fuck was he supposed to know what it felt like to have a crush on someone? All of the times that he sought her out, asking for her to train with him, demanding she let him cook for her because her cooking was sub-par, plopping down next to her on the common room couch with her to watch a movie – he chalked it up to admiration. It wasn’t until the second half of their second year when he figured out that it was less of admiration and more of adoration.
Bakugou wasn’t good at that stuff, though. He didn’t really have a romantic bone in his body. He had made out with Mina a few times, pecked Kirishima on the lips during late nights in their dorm rooms, fueled by alcohol and energy drinks and each other’s taunting laughter, but it had never been anything more than a fleeting moment, something fun and careless and not based in any sort of reality. What Bakugou held for Uraraka was tangible – he could feel it, like a rope around his neck, suffocating him whenever she walked too close to him, whenever he could smell her shampoo, whenever she managed to knock him on his ass while they sparred. He would lose the ability to breathe, to even think about anything that wasn’t her.
He never told her. He didn’t know how he would and it didn’t matter anyway. When his time at UA was over, he would move on – to America, to being number one. He would leave his friends behind; he would leave Uraraka behind.
He had his plane ticket. He had a plan. He wouldn’t turn back, even if saying goodbye turned out to be much fucking harder than he wanted it to be.
They had graduated three weeks ago, and the days following had been a clusterfuck of celebrations – parties in basements, older siblings sneaking alcohol into colorful punchbowls before slipping away with a wink, memories being recalled, tears being shed, confessions being made. Bakugou let himself be dragged into the chaos of it all, let himself be pat on the back, listened to good-natured jabs at how his character had changed, accepted congratulations on his internship in America. The voices blurred together, but he really never focused too long on one – his mind wandered just as his eyes did, over to where Uraraka stood. She was always surrounded by friends because, really, who wouldn’t be fucking drawn to her? She smiled easily, relieved of the stress that had plagued her through school – the stress that she had confided in Bakugou many times, the fear of not succeeding, of not being able to provide her parents with a good life.
It was all bullshit. There would never be any world in which Ochako Uraraka was not a hero.
She had not only exceeded her own expectations; she fucking crushed them. Uraraka surprised all of their classmates when she interned with Gunhead, then Ryukyu, then Miruko and learned how to kick all of their asses. They were shocked when she skyrocketed her way up to being one of the top combat heroes, second only to the likes of Bakugou himself, Todoroki and Deku. She discovered applications for her quirk that made her a force, and honed them until she was practically unstoppable. She could save, she could win – she would dominate on the field. Everyone was surprised that sweet, cherub Uraraka became one of the most intense players in the game.
Bakugou wasn’t.
He thought about her now, imagining her future and wishing with all his damn heart that he could be a part of it.
His fifteen-year-old self would have scoffed at him for letting feelings even slightly cloud his vision of the future, but fifteen-year-old Bakugou had been a lot less of a man than he was today. Quick to anger, hot-headed with tunnel vision, he had been determined to prove to the world that he was the one to be watched. Now, he found himself faltering more and more – found himself wanting more than just a single dream.
The plane ticket to America still sat on his bedside table.
He left in two days. He had said his goodbyes to practically everyone – Kirishima, who had pretty much pretended like it wasn’t happening until it was impossible to ignore, who sobbed at the end of their last dinner, who begged Bakugou to send him constant picture updates. Kaminari, who gave him a plush Pikachu doll to remember him by, and who told him to bring him back a “hot American babe”. Bakugou had rolled his eyes, but he had still hugged him goodbye. Sero, who said he might just drop by to visit because he had heard heroes that can swing from building to building were pretty popular in America, who told Bakugou that he hadn’t expected it, but he had turned out to be a pretty cool friend. Mina, who just wailed and threatened to fold herself into Bakugou’s suitcase. He told her she wouldn’t be able to with all that ass and she had just cried harder, telling him that he always knew what to say to her. All of his classmates had seen him off in various ways – even Todoroki offered him a solemn good luck. Deku baked him cookies. He scoffed at both of them, promising them that he would come back ready to beat their asses down to the bottom of the tier.
The only person he had yet to say goodbye to was Uraraka. He sat on the edge of his bed now, staring down at his phone, his finger hovering over her contact info. His two days were slipping away from him, disintegrating with the rest of his current life and he couldn’t bring himself to press the little call icon next to her name. Round Face, with a peach and a moon emoji – that was her name in his phone. In hers, he was dubbed as Blasty with several flames surrounding it. He smirked at the memory of when she first entered it into his phone. She had been aggressive, grabbing his phone after she and Bakugou had finished up a particularly grueling study session and he had mentioned that he would be by in the morning for training.
“There,” she had proclaimed, after she finished typing in her number. “Now you don’t have to bother the whole dorm by banging on my door when you want to see me.”
She had entered her full name, so formal, so boring, unlike her. He changed it quickly and he could still picture the way she had scrunched her nose up and placed her hands on her hips in indignation.
“You’re still on that Round Face shit?!” She had cried. Bakugou remembered the first time she cursed – it sounded ridiculous coming from her. He loved it. “Fine – two can play at that game, Blasty.”
He put the phone down next to him and fell backwards onto the bed, covering his eyes with his arm. He was being stupid. He had everything to be excited about – America was the thing he needed to kick-start his career. He had been dreaming about this shit for years, so why now? Why did he feel so damn unsure about it all of the sudden?
He had never been one for nostalgia, but here he was, reliving the past three years – and Uraraka was the star of the show.
His luggage was haphazardly packed – out of character for him, but he hadn’t been able to fully commit to folding his clothes, collecting all of his belongings and zipping them away. On top of the pile of clothing was a piece of paper, crumpled from years of opening and refolding. It was a note from the second half of his first year at UA addressed to him and signed from Uraraka.
She had written it to him when she was bored in class – for someone trying to be so hard to be a hero, she sure goofed off during their damn core classes. She hated math, and no matter how hard Bakugou tried to drill into her head that she needed to pay attention to learn, she always ended up doodling in notebooks, daydreaming, or, writing Bakugou letters.
It had started off one day when a piece of torn, narrow-ruled paper hit Bakugou in the back of the head. Kaminari sat behind him in that class, but when he turned to threaten his life, he was met with two thumbs pointing to an innocently-smiling Uraraka. Open it, she had mouthed at him.
Bakugou did. It was a game of tic-tac-toe with two words written in a messy combination of cursive and print: challenge accepted?
Bakugou had laughed and ignored Kaminari’s sighs of exasperation as they passed the paper back in forth, one game becoming two, then three, then four, until the bell rang and they were dismissed.
Bakugou couldn’t be sure why Uraraka had picked him to pass the note to – Mina sat on her right, and Asui behind her, but from that day on, every math class, Kaminari would poke him in the back (fucking aggressively) and hand him a piece of paper.
The games changed to observations, a constant stream of consciousness of what Uraraka thought about instead of equations – from musings about how cold it was getting outside and how much she liked the snow, to a detailed description about the back of Kaminari’s head. From there, she began to speculate, making up wild fantasies about their classmates or about their teachers – she insisted that Aizawa lived a double life and that when he was outside of the classroom, he dressed in bright colors and smiled. Mineta, she wrote one day, would probably grow to be a well-known hero, but only for his harassment scandals and debaucheries. She predicted that Todoroki would be dragged into the world of male-modeling and that he would just go along with it because that was the kind of personality he had and because it would surely be something that pissed Endeavor off.
Bakugou held in his laughter as the letters got increasingly detailed and increasingly ridiculous. Sometimes, she included crudely drawn stick figures to help give Bakugou the picture she was trying to sell – she drew Mina on a stripper pole, Asui swimming through the ocean, Sero using his tape to stick Kirishima to a billboard. He had to study a little more at night to catch up to the things he missed while he read, but fuck it; he could stand to lose an hour of sleep or two. This continued all the way up until their third year.
The letters were stowed in a box in his closet, but he was bringing one with him to America. He had read it an embarrassing number of times – when he couldn’t sleep, when he was pissed off because he had failed to be the best during an in-class exercise, or had fucked up during his internship, when he just wanted to see the ink on paper again. It was the last letter that Uraraka had written him.
It was his fantasy future, as told by Uraraka, titled: The #1 Hero. It was a colorful tale filled with flowery language and scribbled drawings that had caused Bakugou to roll his eyes, then scoff, then before he knew it, a smile had broken onto his face. It described Bakugou as a powerful hero with a bad mouth, who was revered by many for his air of not giving a fuck, but behind a rough exterior, was someone with a kind-heart. She talked about how future Bakugou would have a cat that he would love more than anything, would volunteer on the weekends, would always make time for his friends. He would have a sea of merchandise – action figures that said his catchphrases (censored, for the kids), posters, and even underwear baring his signature orange cross. He had laughed out loud at that one, earning a glare from Aizawa and wary glances from his classmates. Bakugou may have opened up over the years, but for him to really, genuinely laugh – that was a feat that was still considered difficult for many to accomplish.
Not for Uraraka.
That wasn’t his favorite part of his letter, though, not the reason he kept going back to it. Later on, after Bakugou’s daily activities as the top hero were finished being listed, there was a separate section: The Best Friend of the #1 Hero. It described Uraraka’s life and how it would connect to his – they would patrol together, kick ass, capture villains, and then get spicy ramen afterwards. They would have sleepovers and Uraraka would absolutely have a toothbrush at his house, and vice versa. They would watch bad movies with the sound off and make up their own dialogue while shoving popcorn in their faces. They would train together – Uraraka insisted she wouldn’t let Bakugou get soft. They would try new foods together and no matter how many times Bakugou tried to protest his distaste for sweets, Uraraka knew that he would try them for her.
Bakugou had read the end of the letter so many times that he had the words memorized. He could practically hear Uraraka’s voice speaking them to him.
When you get back from America, this will all come true, I’m sure of it. Pro-heroes Ground Zero and Uravity will not only continue to be best friends through your entire time abroad, but when you come back, will become the number one hero duo in the WORLD. I’m gonna miss you a lot, Bakugou. Try not to forget about me, okay? If you do, then none of this will come true, and the world will really be missing out!
Signed with a heart, Ochako Uraraka.
He picked up the phone again – there were no new messages. He knew Uraraka. She was just as stubborn as he was. She was waiting for him to initiate her goodbye. She knew she deserved a special one.
She sure fucking did, but Bakugou didn’t know how to give it to her. There were so many things he wanted to tell her – he wanted to just confess. He could let the feelings that had building up inside of him for years just spill out. He could tell her that he wanted everything in her letter to come true, and so much more. He didn’t want them to just be best friends – he wanted her to be his.
But what kind of piece of shit waits until two days before they leave the country to say something like that? He couldn’t expect her to wait for him – wouldn’t want to ask that of her. He was a coward who had waited too long and so now, instead of spending his remaining time with her, he was alone in his room, remembering all of the time he had already spent with her – it hadn’t been enough.
He wished he could’ve gone back and time and befriended her on day one, because every minute counted and he had wasted too much time not knowing her. Bakugou’s and Uraraka’s friendship wasn’t one that anyone expected, but that’s because no one knew Uraraka like Bakugou did. No one knew that behind her cute exterior, she was a certified monster. She frequently ate him under the table – for someone so small, she could really put it down. She was the antithesis of morning person – bedhead, morning breath, unable to form coherent sentences whenever Bakugou tried to wake her up for an early morning training. Sometimes, when she was being particularly difficult, he would have to drag her to the bathroom so she would just brush her damn teeth. On occasion, he would braid her hair for her when it was too much of a disaster to do anything with. She also kicked Bakugou’s ass on the regular, but he wasn’t too keen on admitting that to anyone. If anyone could handle Bakugou and his fire, it was someone who was even scarier, and truly, that was Uraraka. She was exactly what he needed in every single way.
When they had first started hanging out, several people assumed it was something more, but Uraraka always assured them, cheeks even pinker than usual, that they were just buddies. They still maintained that today, telling everyone who asked that they were just really close.
Bakugou wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was one of the smartest in the class. Only Iida and Momo beat him out, and they didn’t count, as they had been essentially bred to be nerds. Because Bakugou wasn’t an idiot, he noticed that Uraraka sometimes brushed her hands against his when they were walking, and that she flushed a darker red when he was close, and that she made a lot of excuses to come back to his dorm and lay in his bed until curfew. He knew all of this and yet – he still could never manage to tell her how he felt.
He never had to worry about being brave with things. It came naturally. He would set off his explosions and dive bomb a crowd of villains; he would talk back to Aizawa; he would start fights with his demon of a mother, but when it came to Uraraka, it was like his brain reminded him that some things were fucking frightening.
He was a true cliché – he didn’t want to mess up their friendship. It was hard enough for him to actually let people in, to make real friends, and finding someone like Uraraka felt like a real once in a lifetime opportunity. If he fucked it up, that would be it. Uraraka wasn’t the type of person you let go.
He swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up. He snatched the letter from the top of the pile and read it, one more time. He let the images she painted soak over him, let himself imagine that kind of future – one where he was home, one where Uraraka was by his side. They could be together – a team, a partnership, two people who loved each other.
He groaned. He couldn’t sit here for the next two days and antagonize over shit. Whether or not he had the balls to say anything to her, he knew he owed her a goodbye.
He called her before he could lose her nerve, and her cheerful hello was enough to send a spike of emotion through his heart. “I was wondering when you’d call!” He could hear the attitude in her voice, could practically see her rolling her eyes while she failed to hold back a smile. “Thought you might’ve tricked me and left already.”
“Fuck no,” Bakugou’s words came out hoarse. “Just been busy,” he lied. “You free right now?”
“For you? No.”
He snorted. She was such a pain in the ass. He loved her.
“I’m just kidding!” She cried when he didn’t reply. She had never been able to keep up bluffs for too long; she’d always burst into laughter far before Bakugou ever broke. “Yes, I’m free. Let’s get ice-cream. We’ll go to a place that has weird flavors, like, pepper so that you can eat too.”
Bakugou grunted in response to that, but if anyone could see how he was smiling right now, he knows he’d never hear the end of it. It would ruin the last of his reputation. “Sure, cheeks. Whatever you want.”
“Cool, pick me up at five?”
“See you then.”
He hung up and collapsed back into his bed, internally panicking like a damn teenage girl getting ready to answer a promposal. The mighty had truly fallen, and it was all the fault of Uraraka. He jumped up, frantically energized, and tore apart his suitcase in search of something more suitable to wear. Normally, he would wear what he was already wearing – joggers and an old t-shirt, but this felt different. This would be the last time Uraraka would see him in who knows how long. He had to burn a positive image into her brain.
Time moved so slow most of the time, but the past three weeks had kicked it into overdrive. Every minute felt like a second and the hours flew by. Something that had seemed so plentiful, like such a deterrent when Bakugou was in his first year at UA was now something he was trying to desperately hold onto. Before he knew it, it was time to leave to pick Uraraka up, and he was rushing down the stairs, calling goodbye to his mother and slamming the door behind him.
It was a nice day – the weather wasn’t too hot yet and there was a pleasant breeze. Kids played on the sidewalks and one of the neighborhood old ladies gave Bakugou a friendly wave. He wondered what it would be like in America – his program was in California, exactly where All Might had studied, and where a majority of the greats lived. He had been told by his future boss that it was always sunny, always warm and that the girls were beautiful. Not that Bakugou gave a fuck about any of that, he wasn’t there to fool around. Besides, Bakugou could travel to every continent in the world and not find a single girl as beautiful as Uraraka, he was sure of it.
He reached her house right on time and knocked, digging his hands deep into his pocket while he waited. She threw open the door, screaming to her mother that it was for her, that she would be back later, and then practically jumped into Bakugou’s arms.
He sometimes wished he could be as brave as Uraraka.
“Hey!” She pulled back from the hug – too damn short, as usual, and grinned up at him. “Ready to have your mind blown? I know the best ice-cream spot. They have at least one hundred flavors so I know you’ll find something you like.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” he was staring, and he knew it, but he didn’t really have it in him to care just then. He would only be able to see Uraraka like this for a limited amount of time before she was gone – sure, they could FaceTime and he would definitely see pictures, but to have her right in front of him was something altogether different. It was a type of magic that he hadn’t taken advantage of when he had it. He should have spent years memorizing the finer details of her face so that when the day came for him to leave her, he would be able to imagine her any time.
She wore a dress today – he knew it was one of her fancy ones. When she had money, she had told him, she would buy a whole wardrobe full of fancy, pretty party dresses and model them for him. They would have a whole fashion show, he was informed, and he would be expected to participate. The one she had on today was light pink, summery, with skinny bows on the shoulder. She matched it with white converse that were dirty from years of running through mud, spilled drinks and a whole lot of adventures.
She looked perfect always, but Bakugou thought she was extra angelic today.
“What? Do I have something on my face or something?” Uraraka’s hand slapped up to her cheek, looking for the source of what drew Bakugou’s eyes to her.
“Nah, nothing, just those round cheeks,” he joked and Uraraka pretended to be offended. She wasn’t, really. She had thick skin – she was a great sport with jokes and could take any insult and throw it back tenfold. It had been a sight to behold for everyone the first time she shouted back at Bakugou when he was in one of his moods – he might’ve fallen in love with her right then and there.
There were too many times to count where Bakugou had fallen in love with this girl. They had all begun to blend together, creating a tangled story that was way better than any of the fantasies Uraraka could create.
He had the opportunity to create the ending for it, but he wasn’t as good of a storyteller as she was.
Bakugou let Uraraka lead the way – the only person he would follow anywhere. As they walked, they talked, lightly, about graduation, about their friends, about what was on television. They didn’t talk about the future. They didn’t delve into the topic of Bakugou leaving.
Uraraka ordered green tea mochi ice cream, and Bakugou tried one that was advertised to have jalapeño seeds infused within it. “You’re an animal,” Uraraka told him.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
They sat outside, content to enjoy the day on a ridge that overlooked a lake. Bakugou liked it here. He had never given much thought to home before, back when he had made his decision to leave, but now he was noticing more and more about it – the shops he passed on his way to Uraraka’s, the vendors who shouted about their products to him, the occasional villain attack that would break out in the streets. Bakugou loved those the most, and the thought reminded him again why he was making this decision.
When they had exhausted their small talk, Uraraka burst out with, “I’m getting my own apartment!”
Bakugou raised an eyebrow. They were all growing up, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that with growing up came adult responsibilities, but this had been a dream of Uraraka’s since the start. She loved her parents but often complained that their home just wasn’t big enough for all of them and that her being there caused the bills to be higher. She had received a paid internship with Miruko in their third year and then been asked to sign on as a full-time sidekick following graduation, so she finally had enough income to go out on her own.
“That’s fuckin’ great, cheeks,” he said, and he meant it. He was proud of her.
“Thanks! It’s not too far from my agency, and I’ll be splitting rent with Mina so that it’s cheaper. I’m really happy – we really made it, huh? We’re really on our way to being pro-heroes now.” She was breathless with excitement. “The precinct we’re in is really close to Kirishima’s too, so we’ll be able to all get together!”
Bakugou felt something like sadness. It was something he had never given much thought to before – the fear of missing out.
“Make sure you keep Shitty Hair and Alien Queen out of trouble,” Bakugou told her. Left to their own devices, who knew what kind of nonsense those two would get into – Uraraka would keep them straight.
“Of course,” Uraraka promised. “They’re gonna be lost without you. Mina said Kirishima has threatened to get a passport at least, like, four times,” she smiled softly. “They really love you; you know.”
“They’re idiots,” Bakugou said, but anyone who knew him knew that was his way of saying he loved them too.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, but a comfortable one. Bakugou wasn’t much of an extrovert by nature, and Uraraka was someone he felt like he could just exist with. Neither had to say anything, they could just be in each other’s presence.
“So,” Uraraka said once they had both been given an adequate chance to finish their treats – Bakugou’s was perfect, actually. It had just the bite he liked. “How are you feeling about everything? About leaving?”
“That’s a terrible fucking question,” Bakugou replied. “Everyone’s been asking me that.”
“Well, what are you telling everyone?” She asked.
“Bullshit, mostly,” Bakugou said. He could always tell Uraraka exactly what was on his mind. He didn’t have any walls built up when it came to her; she would’ve knocked down any that he tried to raise. “Varies for each person. Told my parents and teachers shit about how I’m excited for the opportunity. Told the morons I’d FaceTime them once a week and bring them back souvenirs. Told All Might that I was gonna surpass him.”
“How are you really feeling then?”
He shrugged. “Fine, I guess. It’s just a job.”
“It’s a job in America!” Uraraka protested. “American heroes are the coolest – haven’t you heard of Captain America?”
Bakugou, of course, had heard of all the American heroes. He had spent an entire day studying them, learning all of their abilities, figuring out how he would get an audience with them and then learn to beat them. He had been absolutely star-struck at the prospect of being in such close proximity to them. “They’ll all be no-name extras when I’m done with them.”
“Brimming with confidence, as usual,” Uraraka smirked. “Will you forget about us little people?”
“How could I? I’m sure you’ll all be blowing up my phone every damn day. Can’t get a moment of peace and quiet here.” Bakugou had told his friends that he had their class group chat muted, but it was a lie. He always read all the messages.
“We’ll be busy being heroes!” Uraraka insisted. “Miruko is gonna put me to work.”
That was true – Miruko was a goddamn force of nature. Once, Uraraka had described her as Bakugou in female form, and all of their friends had shuddered at the thought. He had no doubt that once Uraraka started working for the woman that she would be running at all hours of the day.
Of course, he wouldn’t expect Uraraka to just sit around, twiddling her thumbs and waiting for him to come back. That’s why he wasn’t telling her about his feelings.
“You’re gonna regret working for that tyrant,” Bakugou told her, but she wouldn’t. Uraraka could handle much worse than Miruko. She was just as strong as the pro-hero.
“Didn’t you know? I like difficult people,” she gave Bakugou a coy smile and his heart did some kind of somersault in his chest and ended up sunken in his stomach.
“I figured,” he replied and she smiled so warmly that if it was winter, she could’ve melted snow.
“I hear the women in California are really pretty,” she said conversationally, “I heard an American song about it.”
“Tch, you jealous, Round Face?” He asked, taking a risk.
“Maybe a little. I don’t want someone taking my best friend’s attention, is all,” she said.
“American girls aren’t my type,” Bakugou assured her.
“What’s your type?”
“What’s this, an interrogation?” Bakugou tried to seem annoyed, but his heart was hammering from wherever it had ended up in his body. He didn’t want to say anything he would regret, anything that would put her into a position that would make her make a choice. He didn’t want to limit Uraraka in any sense of the word. She deserved the freedom to fly. He wouldn’t be her anchor.
“Maybe…” Uraraka finished the last miniscule bites of her mochi – she never wasted food – and rested her face in her hand before fixing Bakugou with a careful look. “Maybe it’s a confession.”
Bakugou’s mind went blank. He knew – had probably always known, really, but hearing it out loud was a different kind of experience. All of his pining, all of the hours spent thinking about her – they had been reciprocated.
And he had done nothing about it. He had known, but he had chosen to stay quiet out of fear. She still had time to change her mind. “You shouldn’t say things without thinking about them, Round Face.”
“I’ve thought a lot about it, actually,” Uraraka said evenly. “For a long time. I know you have too.”
She was so bold, so goddamn confident. She never had any issue saying what she wanted to say to whoever she damn well wanted to say it to. He wasn’t going to confess, but there she was. There was no force in the world like Ochako Uraraka.
“I’m going to be gone for a year. Minimum,” Bakugou had told her that. It was a fact that they had discussed in the final few months of their last semester. His program was a year and then after that, who knew. His plan had been to go wherever he had to in order to be the number one hero. These were pre-planned things, all leading up to his final goal, the goal he had been working towards for so long.
Though somewhere along the way he had formed other goals, too. He had just refused to recognize them.
“You’ll never come home?” Uraraka challenged, maintaining eye contact so intense that Bakugou felt like she was burning him. “I can wait. I’ve waited for almost three years now.”
Almost three years – three years where Bakugou could’ve held her, kissed her, showed her off to the whole damn world as his. Three years which would’ve still had to lead to this – to this goodbye.
“I don’t want to make you wait,” he said, voice rough. “You’re gonna do so much shit in your life, Uraraka, so much important shit. You shouldn’t have to wait around for me.”
“You like me?” She asked.
Bakugou rubbed his eyes. Sometimes, her directness gave him a headache, but there was no point in trying to lie about things now. “Yeah.”
“Cool, I like you. I was gonna wait for you to confess to me, because Mina said that’s what girls in romance movies do, but you take too long.”
Bakugou snorted and leaned back in his chair. A smile crept onto his face against his will. “You’re not a girl in a fucking romance movie, cheeks. You’d be terrible at that.”
“Clearly,” Uraraka rolled her eyes. “You’re no leading man either.”
“Thought we were confessing our feelings here.”
“We are,” Uraraka said. “All of them. Listen, Bakugou – I’m not gonna be just lying in my room, staring at pictures of you while I wait for you to come back to me. I’m gonna be working my ass off to be a hero while you’re gone – I’m gonna become a hero that my parents can be proud of, and that you can be proud of,” she added the last part quietly.
Bakugou stared at her. She had started off so strong, but started blushing wildly towards the end. It was adorable. She was so goddamn endearing.
“I’m already proud of you, angel face,” he said. “You could kick my ass any day, but – ”
“I’ll take you up on that,” Uraraka interrupted him, “but after you come back. I don’t wanna mess you up before you have to go impress the Americans.” She was teasing, keeping her usual wit up like nothing had changed, like she hadn’t just dropped something earth-shattering on Bakugou.
“Uraraka,” Bakugou began, but in true Uraraka-fashion, she didn’t let him get a word out before she was bursting into speech again.
“Stop making excuses,” she said, even though he hadn’t even given her another goddamn excuse. “I’m not asking you to not go on this trip. This trip is going to be incredible – you’re going to come out of it such a powerhouse that Japan isn’t going to know what to do with you. You’re going to learn so much and you’re going to have an amazing time. I want you to go.” She took a deep breath. “But just remember where your home is – remember that you have a lot of people here who are gonna be waiting for you, wanting to hear all about the adventure.”
Bakugou frowned. He did have a home. Three years ago, all he had wanted to do was leave. He wanted to get as far away from possible from anything holding him back, from any memories of weakness, of inadequacy, of failure.
Then he started UA, and suddenly he had a new home, filled with a lot of people who didn’t give a fuck about who he thought he was – they ignored his bad attitude, they ignored his threats, his temper, his reluctance for attachment to anyone or anything. They built a home around him, and Uraraka was in the center of it.
“What if you get tired of waiting for me?” Bakugou asked.
“If some prince comes and sweeps me off my feet then, tough shit, I guess,” she said with a shrug and Bakugou was sure his expression must have betrayed the shock of hearing that because she burst into laughter. “Oh my God – I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Bakugou, I’ve had a crush on you for so long, I really don’t think anyone could threaten your position in my heart.”
He felt light – butterflies, that was the feeling. He had goddamn butterflies.
“Besides,” Uraraka said, “You know where your home is, and I know you’ll always come home.”
Bakugou reached across the table and took her hand in his. He rubbed the pads on each of her fingers before intertwining them with his own. “Sorry, hands are sweaty.”
Uraraka’s grin could be considered lethal – it was blinding. “Don’t apologize – I’ve seriously been trying to subtly hold your hand every day for the past three years, did you notice?”
“Yeah,” Bakugou said, unable to contain his own smirk.
“Why didn’t you say anything, you idiot?!”
“Why didn’t you?!”
“I just did,” Uraraka huffed, squeezing his hand painfully hard. “How long have you liked me?”
“I don’t wanna answer that fuckin’ question…”
“Katsuki Bakugou – we have wasted all of this time!”
“It’s fine,” Bakugou said, and it was. “We have a whole damn lifetime to make up for it." He began to envision the future she had fantasized for them, the words on the page coming to life in his head. It could be real. He could have it. "Just don’t go falling in love with any princes while I'm gone.”
“You know, princes have never really been my type."
-x-
Bakugou’s flight was at three-thirty PM. Uraraka insisted on riding with him all the way to the airport – paying for her fare to get home wouldn’t be an issue, she assured him, because she had money now. He didn’t think she would stop bringing up that fact for a long time. They held hands in the back of the cab and Uraraka snuggled into his shoulder. It was hard to make up for three years’ worth of lost time in two days, but they sure as hell did their best.
When the car dropped them off, Uraraka made Bakugou close his eyes. He didn’t know the what the fuck she was up to, but he knew better than to argue with his girlfriend. He had only had one for two days, but he knew that was a golden rule. He kept them shut and let her guide him to wherever it was she wanted to take him, and when she told him he could open his eyes, he was met with a goddamn ridiculous scene.
Every single one of his UA classmates had gathered in the airport parking lot, fucking up traffic and causing a scene, jumping up and down and calling his name. Mina was hugging Kirishima and crying, Sero and Kaminari were dressed in their “American clothes” and waving to Bakugou frantically, Deku was holding a sign with All Might’s face on it, while Iida tried to direct them all to a place that wasn’t completely in the way.
"They all wanted to come say one last goodbye,” Uraraka said with a small smile.
“Fucking idiots,” Bakugou said, shaking his head, but it was so hard to keep a straight face.
It was chaotic, it was a mess, and they were about one minute away from having security called on them, but fuck, it was home.