Chapter Text
At five years old, Katsuki Bakugou was king of the playground. His quirk would manifest soon, he'd become a hero as great as All Might and save hundreds of people- that much he knew, for sure.
At fifteen, quirkless, boring, useless Katsuki Bakugou sat in the back of his business class with his feet propped up on the chair in front of him. The teacher was distracted, so he was scrolling aimlessly through the news on his phone. UA's hero course had been attacked. He felt a twinge of sorrow before stuffing it deeper inside. It wasn't his fault he'd been born quirkless. It wasn't their fault either.
At twenty he owned a busy cafe in the center of Musutafu. Constantly moving, constantly busy, Katsuki had no time to focus on the could-have-been, should-have-been. The TV in the corner was set at a low volume and running the news in the background. It had some sort of recap running from the last couple of days where ‘the world’s #1 hero, Deku, had defeated a giant villain’. Katsuki scoffed and pulled another espresso shot for one of his regulars.
“Tell us about the villain you defeated- you realized pretty quickly it wasn’t just a gigantification quirk.” The reporter was asking him, mic pressed up close to his face.
“Well once he started bleeding, I saw it hit the pavement and start melting it- it had to be some sort of acid right?”
That was it, he was off rambling again. Katsuki rolled his eyes. The customer whose drink he was mixing laughed.
“You look like you don’t like him.”
“I went to school with him- a late bloomer. The second he got his quirk he was the star of the show. You couldn’t shut him up about that shit.”
It had happened shortly before they graduated. One day Izuku had returned to school and was able to lift a goddamn truck. Hope had blossomed in Katsuki- if Izuku had been late to the punch then maybe he was too. Any day now he’d get his quirk and then go to UA and become a hero. But it hadn’t happened. Now here he was chatting with a guy who wore sunglasses and a hat indoors.
“He sure does talk a lot.”
Katsuki passed him the coffee, restraining himself from snarling angrily.
“My Deku means never giving up!” Said the TV.
At twenty three years old, quirkless, stubborn, angry Katsuki Bakugou had taken one look at the current hero system- one that encouraged only going after big league villains, publicity and money- and knew it had to be changed. With the cafe shut and the sun setting, he pulled on a dark hoodie, a pair of gloves, and stuffed a long mask in his pocket. His walk around the neighbourhood took him deep into the less well lit areas, the seedy underbelly where the residents eyed him with clear distrust and hatred. Many of the people hanging about on the corners and alleys had monstrous quirks, like huge teeth or scales, and sold things that would make a shiny hero like Deku squirm.
Suddenly there was a scream, loud and high pitched, and Katsuki leapt into action. He ran towards the sounds of struggle as fast as his legs would take him, while tying the mask he carried tightly around the back of his head. The long tails of it flew behind him as he ran. He rounded a corner into an alley where a woman was being pressed against a building’s wall by a large man with four, huge, furry arms. She screamed again, kicking and thrashing and trying to get loose from the man’s grip while his free hands roamed up and down her bare legs.
He took the element of surprise, his fist crashing into the side of the man’s face. The villain released the girl with a grunt of pain and she took off running immediately. Katsuki jumped back, fists raised and ready for when the assailant span round. The man started attacking, fists flailing wildly, but Katsuki ducked and weaved away from his uncoordinated attacks. Anger and pain was clouding his judgement and skills.
“Come and get some you piece of shit.” Katsuki snarled, then went on the offensive.
—-
“How did you get that bruise on your face?”
“I walked into a door.”
That guy was back, the one that wore a hat and sunglasses indoors. He ordered his usual drink and took a seat at a table closest to the counter where Katsuki was working.
“You don’t seem like that sort of a clutz.” The guy laughed. “Does it hurt?”
Katsuki shrugged, pouring the last of the drink together and handing it over to the customer. “Not really.”
“No more complaining about Deku today?” He sipped on the hot, sugary coffee. There was a splatter of freckles underneath the fashionable sunglasses that Katsuki found himself staring at while they talked.
“I dunno, depends on if he does anything stupid today.”
“Like walk into a door?”
“If I could see that stuck up idiot walk into a door I think I would split a side from laughing.”
A day later Deku did just that. There were photos floating around online that Katsuki squinted at, trying to determine if they were real or doctored. It wouldn't have been the first time something hero related was photoshopped. But more angles appeared and it really did seem that Deku had spun around and smacked himself right on the nose with a door. That probably hurt. Katsuki spent a whole hour with his regular snorting at the photo during a slow day. They introduced themselves properly, and Katsuki found that the man’s name was Ken Ki and he was a secretary at a small time hero agency.
“Perseverance?” Katsuki had asked, one eyebrow inching up his face.
“My mum’s idea of a joke.”
He found himself thinking about the man while on his regular patrol around the back streets, heading towards the underground station. There had been a few moments lately where Ken might have even been flirting with him- but Katsuki squashed the weird bubble of glee building up in his chest. There was no way.
The raid on the drug deal didn't go as well as Katsuki had planned. He'd caught wind of it weeks ago and kept an ear to the ground for information and eventually decided it was something he could handle himself. Unfortunately there was now a stab wound on his side and a cut bleeding into one of his eyes; sure, the bad guys were all zip tied up and he had plenty of evidence on them but the police sirens were closing in and some fucking hero in a red costume was picking him up in strong, gentle arms. The black fuzz closed in on his eyes, and when he woke up he was in the hospital. An IV ran through his right arm and there was a cast set on his left. That was when the questions started.
“So, you're quirkless.” The detective said.
“Thassrigh’.” Katsuki slurred, the painkillers running through his system made his mouth feel like mush. Like his body was slowly sliding to the right.
“There are no laws against quirkless vigilantes...even if there should be. But you still went running into a dangerous situation on your own. You were lucky Red Riot found you.”
“Handled it just fuckin’ fine…”
“You are definitely not fine.” The detective all but slammed his hands down on the table next to Katsuki's bedside. He found himself proud that he didn't flinch at the noise. “He left behind this business card for you, get in contact when you get out of hospital.”
Instructions he pointedly did not follow. Immediately after getting out of the hospital he went back to work in the cafe. Just because he had a fractured arm and more stitches than a stuffed toy didn't mean he couldn't work.
His staff ended up doing most of the front facing work anyway. Katsuki stayed in the back, doing the administrative stuff and finishing up any paperwork that had built up over the week he spent in the hospital. He was ankle deep in it when one of his servers poked her head around the door.
“Hey Katsuki-san? Someone’s asking about you up front.”
Groaning and rolling his eyes, Katsuki pushed himself out of the office chair and headed towards the front of the cafe. It was probably one of those grumpy customers that were never happy about anything. He put his placating, customer service face on.
“There you are! I was worried about you.”
Thankfully it was just stupid cute Ken and his stupid sunglasses. Katsuki let his face rest and leant against the countertop with a groan.
“Where have you been? You look like you walked into more than just a door this time.”
“I walked into a knife,” he said, honestly, pushing his shirt up to show the mostly healed stitches along his side. They were bruised and tender but at least they weren’t bleeding everywhere anymore. “Interrupted something I wasn’t supposed to.”
Ken grimaced at the injury. “Shouldn’t you still be resting?”
“It’s fine, I’m just doing paperwork today.” They stood in awkward silence for a couple of seconds before Katsuki, with a blush creeping up his neck and face, asked if Ken wanted to carry on their conversation in the office in the back. So he could sit down.
Ken helps him lower himself back into the office chair and takes the spare seat. He watches intently when Katsuki gets back into the groove of his work. They chat idly, a few words here and there, while Katsuki’s eyes flew back and forth across the admin software like a pro.
“We could use you at the agency, you know.” Ken said suddenly. He has his face propped up on a hand, stupid hat finally taken off so Katsuki could see his long black ponytail properly.
He turns to stare at the man. “I’m not working with fucking heroes. I don’t care how small time or underground they are.”
“Well, there’s a couple of names you probably recognize…”
Katsuki cuts him off, shoving his hand in front of Ken’s face. “I don’t like the current system, this is an argument I’ve had a lot. Get your nose out of my business and shove it up your arse.”
Suddenly Ken removed the sunglasses from his face. His affable grin had faded into a serious, pensive look. Forest green eyes looked back at Katsuki, a spattering of brown freckles on rounded cheeks that never lost their baby fat. Katsuki’s breath caught in his throat. The wig came off next, the long black hair dumped in a messy pile on the table between the two of them.
“I didn’t think you’d be the type to get into vigilantism, Kacchan.”
Boiling, white hot rage raced up Katsuki’s spine. “You motherfucker.” He whispered. “Get out of my fucking store.”
“Kacchan, wait-”
“Get. Out.”
Izuku put the disguise back on and left dejectedly. Katsuki trembled to himself, attention on his paperwork completely shot. He wanted to break something, blow something up, go out and fight until he was battered and bruised and couldn’t stand- let alone think. Red clouded his vision. Over and over he went through the calming techniques his therapist had shown him years ago. By the time the cafe had shut up shop around him, Katsuki had calmed down enough to head home.
Weeks passed without seeing Izuku in person, though the man certainly made enough TV appearances. He seemed to be doing well still and finally Katsuki paid enough attention to him to find out his hero teammates were a couple of guys he’d gone to school with. Endeavour’s son and Crimson Riot’s successor, the guy who’d saved him from dying in a ditch. He found himself scrolling through various hero forums one evening, searching for information on Izuku. With the man back in his life- albeit unwillingly- he wanted to catch up on the things he’d staunchly ignored for the last three years.
‘ Don’t you think Deku has been looking tired lately?’
‘Fuck off he’s probably always tired.’
‘I bet you he’s fucking that Freezer Burn guy.’
Bright red, Katsuki googled Freezer Burn. He knew who he was of course, the scarred son of Enji Todoroki would probably go down in history, but the man was genuinely beautiful from all angles. There was a particularly glorious photo of him surrounded by fire, embers falling in front of his face, with a light dusting of frost across his cheeks. Katsuki’s head hit the table. If Izuku was really sleeping with Todoroki then…
“Fuck you, Deku!” He snarled, fingers winding through his fluffy hair and pulling tightly. An ad for a hero documentary was on autoplay in the corner of his browser. The muted Todoroki and Izuku were talking to each other in an interview-like setting. There was a soft smile on Todoroki’s face and a broad, gleeful grin on Izuku’s. They looked adorable together and it made him mad.
When the cast finally came off of his arm, Katsuki went back to work in the cafe. He didn’t immediately return to vigilantism, even if the temptation was there, as he was sure the police were watching the area. One slow afternoon however, where Katsuki found himself leaning on the countertop listlessly, the evacuation alarm suddenly went off for his district. There was panic immediately in the streets and the cafe, the few customers that had been once sitting around peacefully rushing out of the doors wildly. Dozens of people ran past the windows as fast as their quirks or legs could take them. By the time Katsuki had made it to the doors himself the sand was already beginning to fill the air.
It was like a sandstorm had whipped up into existence in the middle of the city. He slammed the door shut and began to seal the edges with towels and duct tape grabbed from underneath his counter. Quickly the outside world began to disappear. The sand and dirt piled up by his windows, the horrible howling of the wind could be heard over the evacuation siren and the inside of the building was quickly starting to get dry and hot.
Katsuki hunkered down to wait out the quirk induced storm.