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Kacchan raises one hand. Tiny explosions and black plumes of smoke burst from his open palm. Izuku can’t help the way his heart skips a beat, but he does manage to keep his eyes open, staring straight up at the dancing sparks and smoke.
“How can you even stand in the same ring as me?” Kacchan sneers, head tilted, a grin widening across his face.
“No, wait, Kacchan,” Izuku says, raising his hands between them, one leg kicking up as he scoots back towards the wall. “It’s not like I’m trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me!”
Kacchan scoffs.
“It’s just that it’s been my goal ever since I was little,” he says. “And, well… I won’t know unless I try…”
Kacchan crouches, smoke pouring from his open palms, and says —
Nothing.
His mouth hangs open, twisted in a snarl. He blinks. His mouth snaps shut and when he swallows his expression twists as if tasting something sour.
Izuku stares, waiting for whatever beratement he's earned. But Kacchan remains silent. He risks a glance at their classmates and finds them just as confused by Kacchan’s apparent short circuiting.
“Deku,” he finally says, eyes widening. He stands there for another moment flexing his jaw and then his fingers. The whole class is watching them, waiting for Kacchan to dress him down, put him in his place. But still he doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word.
“I… I have to try…”
Kacchan’s eyes widen. His hands slowly lower to his sides.
“Well… You… Whatever. You’re all extras, or whatever. I don’t know.”
Abruptly he stomps back to his seat and plops down heavily, sliding all the way forward so his legs stick out awkwardly from the front of the desk. He crosses his arms and glares at the chalkboard, fuming silently.
Grateful as he is that Kacchan decided to back off, Izuku can’t help but feel like it was too easy. When has explaining himself ever helped Kacchan understand?
Does the thought of Izuku chasing the same dream as him really bother him that much? But he seems so sure that Izuku will fail. Honestly, Izuku isn’t sure how he feels himself. Kacchan might actually right. Without a quirk, it may be impossible…
Enduring the muffled laughter and pointed stares, Izuku forces himself to his feet, trudging back to his desk. Their teacher continues talking about high school applications and exams as though there had been no interruption. He makes himself listen, jotting down any and all relevant details in his analysis notebook. He refuses to let Kacchan come in the way of this.
Kacchan, for his part, stays mostly still in his seat. He doesn't jot down a single word, just sits and stares into the distance, occasionally glancing back at Izuku with this oddly hurt look on his face. The third time he does this, he finally seems to notice Izuku staring back at him; his expression clouds and he whirls back around and starts tapping his foot against the linoleum.
Izuku keeps writing, mostly just so he doesn't have to look up again. He knows better than to get in Kacchan’s crosshairs when he's this worked up; he just feels strangely guilty this time, as though somehow he is to blame for Kacchan’s mood.
He’s still writing when the bell rings almost an hour later. He leans closer to his work, ignoring his classmates as they filter past him. Someone kicks his chair and his pencil flicks a dark line across the page, right through his notes about the UA entrance exam. This earns a few snickers, but he pays them no mind.
When he looks up a moment later, almost everyone is gone, including their teacher. The only ones left are him and…
“We’re not finished talking yet, Deku,” says Kacchan, snatching the notebook from his hands. There’s another strange expression on his face that Izuku can’t quite decipher.
“Katsuki, what’s that? Hah? ‘Hero Analysis for —’”
“Get lost,” barks Kacchan, raising the notebook high in the air, turning it so his friends can’t read it. “Go do whatever the hell it is you did back then.”
“What?” The two share a look, then turn to Kacchan.
“Katsuki —”
“I told you to get lost,” he repeats. “Now.”
They share another look, shrugging at one another, and then they leave. Izuku feels a pit forming in his stomach as he realizes that only he and Kacchan are left in the room. What is Kacchan going to say to him now, with nobody else around to hear?
“Izuku.” He blanches; when was the last time Kacchan called him that? Kacchan lowers the notebook but keeps it carefully out of his reach.
“Give that back,” he says. Kacchan’s frown deepens but otherwise his request goes ignored.
“Most of the top heroes have stories about them from their school days. You…” He averts his gaze. Izuku stares, trying to unravel the look on his face: the way his eyes are pinched at the edges, eyebrows knit together, mouth pressed into a thin line that almost resembles a smile. He meets Izuku's eyes again and the resemblance fades.
Kacchan squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.
“If you want to be a hero, you’ll have to work twice as hard as anyone else,” he says, and Izuku perks up. “Everything you do will be met with an extra layer of scrutiny. With or without a quirk, you'll have to scramble to catch up. I mean that. It's not going to be some fucking pleasure cruise for you, okay, it's going to make you sweat and bleed and fucking cry, because that's just who you are.
“Nobody will wait for you. Not even when we want to. You'll have to make up the deficit yourself, and even when you do, you have to remember that you're still learning. You don't get to stop, ever.
“I just… hope you know that. And I hope you're ready for it, because it starts today. All of it starts today.”
These are all such un-Kacchan-like things to say that for a moment Izuku wonders if he’s drifted asleep in class again; he attempts to surreptitiously pinch the skin on his hand just as Kacchan opens his eyes, and is treated to that familiar glare.
“Fucking — are you trying to wake yourself up?”
“No,” he lies.
Kacchan grinds his teeth together. “Look. What I’m trying to say is that this life isn’t going to be kind to you. And the path you’re going to take is especially dangerous. You won’t come out unscathed even if you do achieve your goal.”
“I know all that,” says Izuku, suddenly defensive. “Kacchan, why are you telling me this?”
“Because you need to understand that I…”
He takes his free hand and grabs at the fabric of his shirt right above his heart. He lets go after a second, but Izuku suddenly feels like he's seeing something he's not supposed to. Not just Kacchan’s moment of vulnerability, but this, all of this, every second of it seems like something not meant for him.
“I don’t want to lose you, okay? I’m not… That’s not where it was coming from, back then… But I was an idiot in junior high, okay? Anything I said… Anything I will say…”
“You’re not making sense.”
Kacchan huffs out through his nose. “It will. Just shut up and listen. This will make sense in the future.”
Izuku’s eyes drift to his analysis notebook. Kacchan follows his gaze, staring at its front cover. He grimaces, looking for a moment genuinely regretful.
“I don’t think I have much longer,” he says. “Just… Don’t be an idiot, Deku, okay? Let people in. Tell them the truth. You’ll know what I mean. And don’t run off on your own just because you can. They want to help you. We want to help you.”
Izuku pinches his hand again, and nothing happens. Kacchan rolls his eyes. “Kacchan, I’m really grateful for this, ah, talk, but, are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
Without warning, Kacchan brings his hands together and ignites the notebook. He doesn’t use his quirk long enough to fully incinerate it, but when the puff of smoke clears it’s clear that real damage has been done. He steps back and, without breaking eye contact, tosses the notebook out the open window.
“I told you, you’ll have to work twice as hard as anybody else,” he says as Izuku runs toward the window, mouth agape. He arrives just in time to see it disappear into the small koi pond below. “I’m definitely not going to go easy on you,” Kacchan adds, a bit chagrined. As if he regrets having to do this. Izuku curls one hand into a fist.
And then he lets it go.
“Apply to UA,” Kacchan says. “Give it your all. I dare you. And whatever you fucking do, do not bring up this conversation ever again. Or at least… not until we’ve graduated. I’ll just pretend I don't know what you're talking about and you'll look like an idiot.”
Izuku feels like an idiot right now, certainly. He stands by the window and watches Kacchan stomp towards the door with none of his usual swagger.
“Wait,” he says, and Kacchan actually turns, one eyebrow raised. “Are you… are you really saying you believe in me? That you think I can be a hero, even… even without a quirk?”
“Go get your notebook,” says Kacchan in lieu of an answer, slinging his bag over his shoulder with one hand. “I've wasted enough of your time.”