Chapter Text
ARC 1: TRANSFER
February 12th, 2136
Dear Mr. Katsuki Bakugou,
Thank you for your interest in the U.A. High School Hero Course.
After careful consideration of your application, we regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you a place in the Hero Course for the upcoming academic year. As you are no doubt aware, U.A. receives thousands of applications annually, and this year's pool was exceptionally competitive, particularly for transfer students.
However, your accomplishments have not gone unnoticed.
Over the past several years, the faculty of U.A. High School has followed your academic and professional achievements with great interest. Your extensive experience in support development, innovative design work, and impressive internship history have distinguished you as one of the most promising young support practitioners of your generation.
It is therefore our pleasure to offer you admission to the U.A. High School Support Course as a third-year transfer student.
The admissions committee was particularly impressed by your demonstrated aptitude for equipment development, adaptive hero technologies, and field-support engineering. We are confident that your talents will make a significant contribution to both the Support Department and the future of hero society as a whole.
Enclosed you will find information regarding enrollment, housing arrangements, and orientation schedules. We look forward to welcoming you to U.A. High School this spring.
Congratulations, Mr. Bakugou.
Sincerely,
Nezu
Principal
U.A. High School
Katsuki forgot how different life in Japan was to the American dream. He forgot how much more cleanly and peaceful the economy was in Japan than the chaotic free rein he had in America. He also forgot that the Japanese drive on the left side of the road, not the right.
He was only gone for two years, so close to nothing should've changed for him. But when your life is consumed by mechanics, internships, agencies, and heroes like Cathleen Bate, it's only fair to forget that there was once a point in Katsuki's life that didn't revolve around being a support practitioner.
Now that he thinks about it, his entire life was revolved about being a support practitioner.
He tried desperately to escape the box labeled "engineer" that enclosed his life. Katsuki had any and all potential to be the greatest hero the world has seen, and his quirk and his determination was a testament to that, downsides be damned. No amount of doctors, doubt and checkups could deter him from the path he tried so hard to forge for himself, even if he didn't have all the required materials to do so. He would open that door that society was trying to make inaccessible to him for years, no matter what it takes.
So how fucking ridiculous is it that a stupid piece of paper folded in threes shut that door right in his face after all this time?
The letter crinkled slightly in his grip, and Katsuki stared at the U.A. logo stamped into the bottom corner like it was a cursed sigil.
Congratulations, Mr. Bakugou.
His felt his eye twitch, and he folded the paper three times until it was small enough to disappear into the front pocket of his backpack. A dozen students around him immediately sprang into motion once the train came to a stop with U.A. HIGH SCHOOL appearing digitally across the exit doors in glowing blue letters. Conversations that had previously been background noise surged to life—excited voices, nervous laughter, the rustle of uniforms and bags. Katsuki reached up and adjusted the device tucked behind his ear before standing.
When the train doors slid open, warm spring air rushed inside. For a moment, Katsuki remained perfectly still before he stepped onto the platform that he called home. The realization felt strange for a moment; Japan looks exactly as he remembered it. The streets were clean, the crowds moved with purpose instead of chaos—yet everything felt smaller somehow. Quieter and more organized. America had always felt like it was moving at a hundred miles an hour, every city larger than life or dirtier than a sewer drain. Every agency trying to outdo the next instead of working for the same cause, and every opportunity hidden behind ten more opportunities. America was a land of competition, whereas Japan was a sanctum of everything that mattered to Katsuki.
Success, fair treatment, justice—all of it. That's how he remembered it.
Stepping back into Japan, it looked the same, but it didn't feel the same. Stepping back into Japan, it felt contained. Katsuki felt contained. He didn't know if it was a good or bad contained; he just knew he felt contained. The atmosphered was safe and predictable. He wasn't sure whether that comforted him or irritated him.
Katsuki weaved his way through the metropolis that surrounded U.A. solely thanks to his muscle memory. He kept his head down, because if he looked up, he would be met with the arched logo that awaited him like a court trial. He counted the bricks that led up to the stairs, and then he counted the stairs that led up to the doors, not once lifting his head to take in the scenery around and above him.
His hand gripped the handle. His stomach twisted.
He hated that—hated the stupid spark of excitement. Hated that after everything, a part of him still wanted this.
Because he was here.
Actually here at U.A., the school he'd spent years dreaming about. The school that had accepted him for all the wrong reasons.
The contradiction made his jaw ache.
He had to open the door sooner or later. He arrived early to beat the traffic; orientation was the busiest time of year.
When the digital ding signaled his arrival, Katsuki forced himself to raise his eyes. It seemed he wasn't the only person with these intentions, because he couldn't even see the shining coat of the modern walls due to the sea of bodies that were lined up at different booths.
Hero Course 1st years A-M next to Hero Course 1st years N-Z.
Hero Course 2nd years A-M next to Hero Course 2nd years N-Z.
Hero Course 3rd years A-M next to Hero Course 3rd years N-Z.
This was at the main entrance leading towards the main building. A sign nearby pointed towards the hallway that lead to the Support Department, where the Support Course students would go to see a rinse and repeat of the same booths, only for them.
The Support Department building stood off to the side of the main campus. Of course it was separate.
His palms itched with anticipation as he walked further down the hallway, a familiar reaction to the beginnings of nitroglycerin collecting against his skin.
As he navigated his way through, he noticed how the array of bodies was slowly decreasing which each checkpoint. He noticed how he caught better looks at the walls and how the chatter of excited students was quieting the further he got from the Hero Course booths.
That's because—in Katsuki's Bakugou's mind—nobody gave two shits about the Support Course. That's why there aren't as many compared to those enrolled as heroes, and that's why he was able to get into the wrong program.
The Support Course needed a better roster, and who was better than Katsuki Bakugou?
He was learning that this isn't the recognition that he wanted.
Once Katsuki reached the Support Department, his found his rightful booth, lining up behind the booth that said Support Course 3rd years A-M.
"Welcome in." The girl running said booth smiled up at him. She had pink hair and a look in her eyes that were almost as intricate as the mech goggles on her head.
"Thanks." Katsuki murmured. He looked away after he realized he was staring at her eyes for too long. His discomfort was clear in the way he shifted and swallowed.
The girl tilted her head slightly, a cheeky smile pulling at her lips. "You good?"
Katsuki's brows furrowed slightly at the question.
"Yeah. I'm good." He responded, forcing himself to exhale.
"Uh-huh." The girl said slowly, her mech-like eyes scanning his frame. "You were staring at me funny."
"I.. didn't mean to." Katsuki said. He found himself growing increasingly irritated. "I've just never seen eyes like yours before."
"Oh, is that a compliment?" The girl hummed.
"Don't flatter yourself." He scoffed slightly. The girl only laughed a bit in response.
"Yeah, okay." She said, before finally diverting from the topic of Katsuki's staring. Thank god. "I understand your nerves. U.A. is an intimidating school."
"Who said I was nervous?" Katsuki frowned.
"You." She shrugged simply. "Body language is a thing."
"I'm not nervous." Katsuki said back.
"Excited, then?" The girl asked as she tilted her head, before she bit the inside of her cheek and shook it lightly, her hair moving with the motion. "No, you're not excited. You look like you'd rather be anywhere else than here."
It was like she was fucking talking to herself.
"Can I get my shit or not?" Katsuki interrupted, not bothering to mask his rapid-growing annoyance. The girl stopped her careless muttering and looked up into his eyes, the corners of her own squinting slightly—as if she was still trying to assess him—before she smiled once again and straighten her posture.
"Yeah, of course." She snorted slightly as she began to flip through the files in the crate in front of her. "Your name?"
"Katsuki Bakugou." He said. After he said that, the girl paused before him, causing Katsuki to frown once again.
The girl's eyes shifted up to him.
"Katsuki Bakugou?" She repeated, almost boredly.
"That's what I said." Katsuki grunted out. There was a brief pause of prolonged eye contact before she spoke again.
"You're Katsuki Bakugou?" Her voice lit up slightly at the realization. Katsuki had enough at this point.
"What the fuck is your problem?" He snapped, trying to reach out and snatch the folder that her fingers were hovering over. "I've been standing in this damn line for ten minutes. Just give me my shit so I can—"
"Hey, hey! There's no problem." The girl smiled, holding her hands up in a placating gesture, the folder going along with it, leaving Katsuki's somewhat damp hands annoyingly empty. "I'm just.. wow. I'm a big fan of your work. Your internship with Cathleen Bate? That's like- insane."
Of course.
Any butterflies that Katsuki might've had about orientation were gone, replaced by a deep pit of bitter displeasure.
"It doesn't matter." He said shortly, his voice lowering from the volume it was before in a retiring sort of way. He reached out for the folder again almost pathetically. "Just give me my—"
His hand that was hovering out for the manilla folder was quickly caught by the girl's own in a shake that made Katsuki flinch. Her seat scraped back slightly from her enthusiasm.
"Mei Hatsume," She introduced, hands still shaking. "Support Course, 3rd year. We'll be working a lot together—"
Katsuki didn't even bother to hide his grimace as he pulled his hand back.
"Yeah, okay." He said dismissively, wiping his hand down on his jacket. "Can I get my shit now?"
Mei's smile faded slightly at his clear displeasure, and she retracted her hand back and cleared her throat as she handed him the manilla folder.
"Yeah, uh.. here's your stuff." She said. "Inside is your semester class schedule and your school ID. If you go out those doors and into the dorm lobby you'll be able to pick up your dorm assignment, uniform request and some supplies."
Katsuki muttered a dismissive thanks and wasted no time going out those doors.
The dorm lobby was significantly more crowded than the Support Department had been, and Katsuki immediately regretted coming here.
A line wrapped around the front desk where students were collecting uniforms, bedding, dorm keys, and enough paperwork to kill a small animal. Conversations echoed off the high ceilings. Some students already wore pieces of their uniforms despite orientation not even being over.
Weirdos.
Katsuki shoved his hands into his pockets and took his place at the back of the line.
The wait was agonizing. The girl in front of him was trying to fit three duffel bags, a suitcase, and what looked suspiciously like a microwave onto a single luggage cart even though move-ins weren't until next Saturday. Two other girls behind him were arguing about dorm room decorations.
Apparently some people actually looked forward to this sort of thing.
Katsuki stared at a nearby wall and tried not to think about how much he'd rather be in a convenience store.
"...I'm telling you, Midoriya's gonna be SGA President. I wish we were in his year."
Katsuki's attention snagged on the name for some reason. Maybe it's because of how loud those boys were talking in the line next to him—loud enough that his hearing aids picked up on it.
"No way. I thought Yaoyorozu was running." The second boy said.
"She is." The first one confirmed.
"Then Midoriya's not winning." The other boy snorted.
"Have you met Midoriya?" He said.
"No?" The boy sounded almost meek when he responded.
"Then trust me."
Katsuki resisted the urge to turn around. Barely.
The line shuffled forward.
"Seriously, though." The first boy continued. "The guy's ridiculous."
"How?"
"How isn't he?"
That earned a laugh, and Katsuki could only roll his eyes.
Great. One of those people.
Every school had them; the golden children, the teacher's favorites, the ones everybody couldn't shut up about. They were always ignorant, arrogant pricks whose whole personalty was about being cocky. Katsuki knew because if he were in that position, he would act the exact same way.
And he probably wouldn't even feel an ounce of shame about it.
The line moved again, and Katsuki stepped forward.
"Didn't he break another rescue course record last semester?" One of them asked.
"I think so." The other responded.
One let out a scoff. "Again?"
"Again."
Katsuki's eye twitched. The conversation continued long after Katsuki stopped listening.
Or tried to stop listening.
The problem was that the name kept resurfacing. Who the hell was Midoryia? Every five minutes somebody seemed to bring him up—a group near the elevators, two girls discussing Hero Course rankings, some third-years talking about internships. The same damn name. By the time Katsuki reached the front desk, he was already sick of hearing it.
"Name?" The staff member asked.
"Katsuki Bakugou."
The woman paused, looked up, and then back down at her clipboard. There it was again; that look.
Recognition.
Katsuki immediately wanted to leave.
"Ah." She smiled. "The transfer student."
His jaw tightened. "Yeah."
"Welcome to U.A." She smiled, handing him a stack of materials that contained a dorm key, uniform request form, and a campus map. The usual garbage. "Your room assignment is on the second page."
Katsuki grunted something that vaguely resembled thanks again and stepped away. He didn't stop walking until he reached an empty section of hallway. Only then did he glance down at the papers he received from the staff member and Mei.
Dorm assignment:
Location: Heights Alliance
Floor: 4th Floor
Room: 403 (Left)
His eyes skimmed lazily over the schedule page next.
Support Development.
Advanced Engineering.
Hero Equipment Analysis.
Nothing surprising, until one line near the bottom caught his attention.
Joint Hero-Support Collaboration Program.
Representative: Izuku Midoryia.
Katsuki stared at the name.
Midoriya.
There it was again. He'd heard it at least six times today. Apparently the kid was some kind of prodigy. Apparently everybody loved him.
Apparently he was exactly the kind of student U.A. wanted representing Hero Course.
Katsuki folded the schedule and didn't even bother setting it back into the manilla folder it was once in. Instead, he shoved it in his backpack's front pocket, right next to the dented letter he will always refer to as a rejection.
He already hated him.