Chapter 2
It's Saturday morning, and Izuku is in the middle of taking apart his lamp when someone knocks on his door. "Izuku," her voice is a bit muffled from behind the door, but he can hear a tentative note in it. "Someone is here to meet you."
"A minute!" He puts down the wrench, before checking himself in the mirror. He deems himself guest-worthy. No idea who it is though. None of his classmates, that's for sure. Maybe one of his aunts, or something.
He opens the door to find his mother smiling minutely. "Is everything okay, mom?" He's seen that look before. She's nervous.
"A-ah, yes, it's—" that's when he hears someone—no, people. That's when he hears a bickering from the living room. Izuku's eyebrows shoot up. And then, in faint horror, "is Kacchan here?"
"No," she says assuringly, though she frowns at his apprehension towards the thought that Bakugou might be here. She decides to save it for later. "It's.." she sighs. She is clearly distressed. "It's the Saiki family."
"..who?"
"The boy," she says, slowly. "The boy that you saved."
Oh. "Oh," he says as much.
"If you don't feel like seeing them, I can ask them to go," his mom says, almost protectively. Izuku blinks, processing her words.
"Why would I … not want to see them?"
His mom frowns again. This time he notices the pinched look in her eyes. She isn't nervous, he realizes. She is worried. "Izuku," she starts. Distantly, they hear the odd, unfamiliarly familiar bickering hikes up a notch. "What you—what you experienced, was incredibly traumatic. I'm not sure that … getting reminded of it out of the blue would be good for you. I'm not a professional, of course, but it could be a trigger or some sort."
She must've consulted Doctor Mitsugu again. Or maybe his mom is much more perceptive than what Izuku gives her credit for. Either way, he attempts to smile. "I've been doing pretty well," more or less. "And it's been a while, anyway."
A tiny bit over two months, now. He wonders why they decide to pay a visit out of the blue.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he puts a reassuring hand on her elbow. She sighs.
"Okay."
He walks hesitantly though, down the hallway. Despite his placating, he isn't exactly ecstatic. But probably mostly because he just doesn't like meeting people in general. Makes him too nervous and he usually makes a spectacular fool out of himself. He takes a deep breath before he enters the living room, preparing himself. The bickering has died down some time ago, slowed into a hushed scolding.
His eyes immediately meet with the boy, who then in return immediately averts his eyes. Izuku blinks, but then his eyes arrive on—the boy's mother, he presumes. She is a short woman, shorter than Inko, even, but she has a fierce look to her. Unlike Izuku and his mother's uncanny similarities, though, her only resemblance with her son is the jet black hair they have; and that bold, intense way they carry themselves.
This may not be the Bakugou family, Izuku faintly thinks, but they sure feel like it.
Before he has the chance to introduce himself, the mother beats him to the punch. "Hello," she smiles, though she seems uneasy. Izuku doesn't blame her. The situation must be uncomfortable for her too. "I'm Saiki Toju. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He returns her bow. "I'm Midoriya Izuku, pleasure to meet you too." Though, she probably already knows his name.
Saiki-san then slaps the back of the head of her son lightly. "Introduce yourself!"
"Shut the hell up!"
"Watch your darn mouth!"
Izuku feels a mild deja vu. "Saiki Katsuki," the boy mutters, then, rudely.
Katsuki. It's almost hilarious. Of course. The universe just loves to screw with him.
"Nice to meet you, Saiki-kun," Izuku offers. The boy merely sniffs, clearly miffed by the whole thing. His mom sighs, with exasperation laced in her annoyance. "My apologies, he is a rude kid. I don't know what I did wrong, but," she glares at her son, who glares back. It's a comical sight. "I hope he'll grow out of it."
The boy grumbles something incomprehensible.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing!"
"Katsuki-kun," Inko has miraculously appeared by Izuku's side. "Would you like some hot chocolate?"
Katsuki freezes, glaring at nowhere in particular. Clearly no child would refuse such an offer, but Katsuki doesn't want to go back on his war declaration to every adult in existence or something, probably. And then his eyes catch Izuku's again.
The boy looks angry, Izuku notes. And guilty.
He averts his eyes once more, before mumbling a snarky, but clear, "okay."
"Would you like to come make some with me?"
Before Katsuki could open his mouth to yell some expletives, his mother cuts in. "Yes, of course," she tugs him forward. Katsuki looks like he would protest, but Inko—with a face positively blinding with a bright, genuine smile and an air of optimism like she wouldn't in a hundred years expect him to refuse—simply takes his hand and leads him to the kitchen.
Feeling impressed by his mother, Izuku turns to find that he is left alone with Saiki Toju-san. Now he is nervous. He can see that Saiki-san is too, but she covers it valiantly with a brave face.
Izuku remembers his manners belatedly. "Ah, please," Izuku gestures to the sofa, and they both sit awkwardly.
"Midoriya-kun—"
"Izuku is fine," Izuku says, feeling immensely guilty for some reason. Time to address the elephant in the room. He hopes he doesn't throw up. He's been feeling pretty okay, if a little antsy. He should be able to handle this.
Maybe.
She looks surprised, but not for long. "Call me Toju, then," she says, smiling softly.
Izuku blushes, shaking his hands in denial. "Ah, I-I can't possibly—"
"Please."
She looks like she means it. Something about her rock hard demeanor makes him tentatively assent. "Okay, Toju-san," he tries.
"Okay," she smiles. And takes a deep breath, and—there it is. "I'm sorry it took a while for us to meet you."
"Oh no," the sudden, overwhelming wave of guilt makes him cringe. "Really, it's fine—"
"Please, Izuku-kun," she smiles, a sad twist of her mouth. So he stops. She continues, "I could never repay you for what you did. Ever. I can't—" her voice cracks, and then that fierceness returns again in her eyes. "My son is my life. You saved not only his life, but mine too. I came here to thank you."
Izuku is too stunned to reply, or to think. But she is nothing except hard, genuine honesty. "You are our hero," she says, and Izuku's mind goes blank for a second.
Izuku looks around, anywhere but her in a sudden fit of embarrassment and anxiety. He finally settles looking up to the ceiling for a hot moment and pray that he doesn't burst crying in the next second. When he is sure the tears won't come, he attempts to look at somewhere at her forehead. "Thank you," he says hoarsely. He clears his throat. "But—" but I'm not. But I'm selfish and a coward and useless and the opposite of a hero, of all things, and—
He holds his tongue.
She needed to thank him. He can stave off his self-hatred for a moment for her. He can handle the guilt if for a while, for her . If it allows her to feel better, even for a moment … inhale. Exhale.
"Thank you," he says again, and stops at that.
She smiles; less melancholic now. And whatever heavy mood that settled over the room at the beginning of their conversation starts to give way. "I really am sorry for coming out of the blue after such a long time, though," she sighs. Before Izuku could mention the awkward get well soon parcel that they'd sent months ago, though, she continues, "it's just that boy," a note of fond annoyance, "I don't know where he got it from. He's always been a tough one, but he's never been … unkind, not since.." she trails, and her face sours. Whatever she was going to say, she must've decided it's too private to share. "Nonetheless. He should learn his manners—ah. Speak of the devil."
Izuku finds a mug of hot cocoa placed violently in front of him. "Um."
The boy doesn't deign him a verbal word, seemingly insistent in pretending he doesn't exist as he sits far away across him, sipping his own cocoa.
"Thank you, Katsuki-kun," Inko says, sitting next to Izuku with her own glass. "It's delicious."
The boy doesn't reply, but the red in his cheeks is unmistakable. Paired with the ever present scowl on his face, it's almost cute.
"Katsuki," Toju-san says, slowly. There is a heavy hesitance to her that wasn't there before. She looks at her son like she is walking on a landmine. "Remember what we came here for."
Katsuki freezes. And then his face changes, twisting into a fuming thing. He puts down his mug at the edge of the table carelessly, like he's lost his appetite.
His mother sighs, for the umpteenth time. "Son—"
"Thanks," the boy blurts, rough. Izuku blinks. The expression of gratitude, Izuku realizes belatedly, is directed at him. And then, "thanks for getting hit by a truck."
"Katsuki!" Toju-san scolds, sharply, the same time as Izuku replies "no problem," because Izuku is a dumbass. Thankfully, no one acknowledges Izuku's bit because Katsuki explodes immediately.
"Why do I have to be sorry!" He's standing up, now, and to Izuku's shock—the little kid is shaking, fists held tight and trembling. They scrunch up the edge of his shirt so harshly Izuku can hear the fabrics creak in protest. "Why do I always have to be sorry? It's not my fault that he—"
Their eyes catch. The kid's words abruptly stop, and for a split second, Izuku thinks, this has happened before.
That merciless, bone-crushing terror in this kid's eyes as they looked at each other, the rest of the world forgotten. And what comes after: the entirety of Izuku's body trashing in a wildfire of pure, blinding pain. The last thing Izuku saw, before the raindrops, was this; a scared little boy.
This time, rendered numb by the violent flashback, it's Izuku who looks away.
Saiki Katsuki doesn't finish his sentence. He bolts to the door, slamming it to its hinges.
" Katsuki—" Toju reaches out, a moment too late—her son has left the apartment. She visibly slumps in her seat, and for the first time her face shows the bone-deep weariness she carries with her.
In Katsuki's haste, he has accidentally stumbled the table; the mug has fallen to the floor somewhere between his escape, the loud clang unheard and forgotten. Izuku stares at the slow outpouring of the chocolate, dark liquid staining the previously clean, white granite of the floor. First a stream, now a pond. Faraway, he wonders if his blood had looked like that when spilled. If his blood looks like that when spilled.
"I am so sorry," Toju says, shaking. "I have no idea why he—please, let me.."
"It's alright," Inko says, soothingly. Her hand is placed on her elbow in sympathy.
"I have no idea, he—he's been so volatile, ever since—" she takes a shuddering breath. She looks so stressed, Izuku realizes, she looks like how Izuku's mom looks, when she thinks he isn't looking. "Ever since.." Toju sighs, a hand covering her eyes. "Ever since we found out he was Quirkless. I should go after him—"
Izuku stands up before he knows it. Both women stare at him. "Let me, Toju-san."
"Wait—"
He doesn't hear the rest of the sentence. Feet skidding as he gets out of the elevator (not out of order for once), he frantically looks around—the kid can't be too far, can he? Except if he lived around here, which is a possibility, and is now therefore on the way home..—and spots the mop of black hair in front of a vending machine near the apartment.
Izuku takes a deep breath, and scrounges his pocket for a few spare yens.
The boy notices him when he is a few feet away, which prompts him to huff and turn the other way around, stomping to leave.
"Hey," Izuku says, as the vending machine loudly thumps. He crouches down to take the two cans of cold milo he just paid for. He looks up to see the little guy staring at him with a pinched face. Without warning, Izuku throws him a can, lightly.
The boy catches it. Decent reflexes. Probably from soccer. "You didn't get to finish your drink," Izuku says. He likes to think he is acting pretty suave and unbothered at this moment, but Izuku knows that he is generally the most non-intimidating person around at all times.
The boy frowns, and looks at the can in his hand, seemingly at a battle with himself. Izuku knows that no nine year olds can resist the power of cold milo though. He'd know; he was one once, after all.
Izuku cracks open his and takes a sip, while pretending to not be looking at the boy. From the corner of his eyes, Saiki Katsuki cracks open his, winning and losing his own battle at the same time.
Izuku does a mental fist pump in his heart, but still attempts to act cool. He subtly puts out his phone to text his mom. He's with me, don't worry. He slips his phone back in his back pocket.
Now what?
They are two boys at the side of the street drinking milo while trying to awkwardly pretend the other doesn't exist. Okay, keep it cool, Izuku coaches himself, but he knows it's a lost cause. Izuku knows his capabilities and is therefore perfectly aware that he is in no way capable of being cool.
Alright, screw this. "Alright, screw this," he announces in defeat, shifting a hand through his mess of a hair. The boy snaps up to look at him, in small surprise.
Might as well get over it, right?
Izuku gestures vaguely, "you don't wanna be here," to which the boy does not deny. Izuku gestures to himself, "I don't not want to be here, but this is clearly not working for either of us, so."
The boy still stares, a bit dumbfounded. Izuku notices he's grown the missing tooth. Izuku takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
"Do you want to see my pet fish."
Now the boy is no longer looking at him like he is a thing that's stuck on the sole of a shoe; he is just looking at Izuku like Izuku is weird as hell. Which, fair. "What," the boy says.
"Do you. Want to see my pet fish. Also I'm fixing up my aquarium, so. If you want to, um, help." Izuku knows he's given up on being cool a while ago, but this still feels like a jab at his non-existent self-worth. But whatever, man.
The little guy is still looking at him strangely and Izuku's confidence is shrinking by the second when he says, in a weird, stilted voice like he is half-angry and half-confused, "are you acting nice to me?"
Izuku blinks. Now that's unexpected. He shifts his foot to the side in a nervous tick. "Well," Izuku says, in honesty, "yes?"
Izuku realizes what that strange look is. The kid is wary of him. Untrusting. "Why the fuck is that?"
Izuku thinks about it for a moment in genuine confusion. "Why?" Izuku repeats, slowly. "Why not? Everyone should be nice to everyone."
They stare at each other for a long time. And then the kid starts to power-walk pass him.
Izuku thought the kid was going home, or just screws off somewhere, or something. But then he notices that hey, this is the way to Izuku's apartment.
Izuku decides to take the change and just follow him, keeping a few metres distance. He is careful not to spill his drink, sipping it slowly as they go.
It's a short walk. The kid hadn't wandered far. They don't speak on the walk, nor when they are both in the elevator, and certainly not when they stop in front of Izuku's welcome mat.
The kid doesn't move to knock, so Izuku does. He hears the sound of locks sliding before the door opens, revealing both mothers staring at them in a mix of worry and anticipation.
And then Katsuki turns to look at Izuku—he is almost taller than Izuku's shoulder, to Izuku's dismay—and says, in an unreasonably angry way, "well?"
Izuku blinks, before stammering a little. "O-oh, right. Um, Mom, I'm gonna go show Katsuki-kun my … pet fish," he pauses, idly astonished by how absolutely lame that sounds. He shakes his head; now is not the time to ponder the sad, lame nature of his character. "And uh, maybe he can help a little, if that's okay?" He directs the last bit tentatively at Toju-san, who blinks in surprise.
"Oh, sure," she says, almost stunned. "Of course."
Izuku goes down the hallway, turning a little to see if Katsuki is following him—he is , with milo still gripped tight in hand, eyes averted to stare angrily at the floor as he stomps along—and enters his room.
Which is chock full of All Might paraphernalia. Which he'd somehow forgotten about when he'd invited a cynical, dynamite nine year old to his room. Izuku mentally slaps himself in the face. "Um," he moves himself as if to somehow cover the entirety of his room from sight, which is to no avail, "anyway." He stops. And then he decides to just accept his shame as he walks towards the center of the room where he's been trying to set up a lamp, and the half-done water-change pipe.
Peeking, he sees that Katsuki is tentatively—but curiously—taking a look around. It's not a big room, definitely, and although Izuku can be messy sometimes (a lot of times) he's kept each of his hero merchandise tidy and well taken care of. They aren't cheap, after all, and he'd bought all of them from saving up on his pocket money.
Katsuki is in the middle of staring at a christmas edition All Might figurine when Izuku decides he's had enough of his self-conscious-induced shame and just … comes clean. "Yes, I'm a hero nerd," Izuku mumbles, taking a wrench in hand as he gets to his previously interrupted work on the lamp.
Katsuki snorts, but somehow Izuku feels like he is less vehement now. Maybe. "Obviously."
Now, he walks towards the side of Izuku's bed, where Izuku had kept an aquarium tank on his bedside table. It's a five gallon of entirely handmade tank, low iron glass. He'd almost cut off a finger, but honestly, it's worth it.
"It's two months ongoing, now," Izuku says, and he can't help but feel pride from it. It was definitely not easy work. No fert, no CO2, no filter. Not bad for a first try, honestly, so Izuku allows himself to feel a little good about it.
Katsuki is tapping the glass gently, and the betta fish swirls around the plants, peeking at and avoiding the foreign object. "I only put Fish there just two days ago."
"Does it got a name?"
"Fish."
Katsuki turns to stare at him blankly.
"The fish," Izuku explains, and ducks back at his work in an attempt to cover his blushing cheeks. "Its name, is. Uh. Fish."
"Wow," Katsuki responds in a completely flat voice.
"Yes, I know, I know, I thought it was funny, okay," Izuku says a bit defensively as he scrounges around his tool bag for— "aha!" He triumphantly holds the electric mini metal saw. He almost doesn't notice Katsuki gingerly sitting cross-legged in front of him.
"What's …" there is a hint of reluctance to his words, but also, to Izuku's surprise, a genuine curiosity. He knows how curiosity sounds like; Izuku is a very curious person, after all. "What's that for?"
"To do this," Izuku pauses. "Um, you might want to back up a little, just a little—yeah, that's fine. So, uh … the light is too big," he explains, as he starts cutting carefully but with deft hands. "So I'm shortening it."
After he finished, he put the mini saw back—he doesn't want to risk Katsuki hurting himself accidentally—-and takes the loose screws and cables and starts implementing them back to the now medium-length desk lamp. "Why not buy a new one?" Katsuki asks, but it's not derisive, or anything. Just genuine confusion, and pure inquisitiveness.
With a start, Izuku realizes that the boy has been watching him intently in silence. "Well," Izuku says, looping a cable into the self-made metal hole and screws it shut, "why buy when you can make one just fine? Or in this case, remake one, I guess. Oh, can you pass me the bulb—yeah, thanks."
He reaches to plug the thing and—yep, proving his point. He smiles briefly, before turning to look at Katsuki. The little guy looks surprised at his success—which should be offensive, probably, but it only makes Izuku grin a bit wider.
He just impressed a nine year old kid. That's his greatest accomplishment in a long time. Yes, it's sort of pathetic, but no, he doesn't really care; not at the moment, anyway. "Mind giving me a hand?"
Katsuki helps holding the tank steady while Izuku fixes the light overhead securely. Fish is curiously swimming near the surface, every one of its movements followed by Katsuki's eyes. Plugged, they both watch as the desk lamp casts a haunting, piercing light on the aquarium; highlighting the green of the plants Izuku had planted naturally months ago into a stunning, forest deep verdant wonder. It looks gorgeous.
Izuku can't help a laugh that pasts his lips. Katsuki turns to look at him, and Izuku allows himself to smile, genuinely. "Well, damn. We did pretty good, huh?" he nudges the little guy.
Katsuki's mouth twists in what looks like an attempt to stop his own smile, which makes him look a bit constipated. But Izuku takes all the wins he can get. "What.." there is that note of apprehension, again, but Izuku waits. "What are those plants?"
Izuku's rare flare of optimism might be fooling him—but that actually sounds like … honest interest. "Lemna minor—duckweed," Izuku gestures at the floating plant, "and that's water nymph, pennywort, some valisneris natans… originally I had some leafed anacharis, but they didn't survive the first month. Might try putting them back again, though, since the plants are thriving pretty well at this point, maybe after a few weeks when the tank is stable enough—planning to put some more livestock too, maybe armano shrimps, or velvet shrimps—"
He only stops when he realizes the kid is staring at him weird again.
"Sorry," Izuku says, as his cheeks heat for the umpteenth time today. "I have a mumbling habit. Trying to cut that down, it kinda comes out when I'm excited though? Now I'm doing it again. Anyway."
Katsuki is staring at him still, but now with a somewhat contemplative look on his face. As contemplative a nine year old can look, anyway. "You're not just a hero nerd," he says, "you're an actual nerd."
Izuku slumps, but only a little. "Thank you for your input. The earth is round, the sky is blue, you're a little—" Izuku pauses, looking for the mild word, "—jerk. Please, tell me more things that I already know."
Katsuki snorts. Izuku follows suit. They stare at each other again. Call Izuku a dreamer, but he thinks they might be getting along, now. Somewhat.
"So," Katsuki pauses, looking at the aquarium again. "You're … maintaining an ecosystem."
Izuku glances at him in newfound surprise. "That's right," he says, while cracking his head to remember the curriculum for nine years old—and comes up with nothing. As a nine year old, he only remembers doing god-awful All Might cosplays and hiding his Kacchan-produced bruises from his mom. And crying a lot. Though he still does the last part now as a fifteen year old, so.
"That's," Katsuki scrunches his face, as if it pains him to finish his sentence. "That's pretty cool."
Now Izuku is actually surprised. Flabbergasted, even. "Really?"
"Shut up."
Izuku isn't gonna push. Someone just called him cool, even if it's a nine year old who had called him a bitch right before he got hit by a truck. Again, Izuku takes all the wins he can get. "You wanna learn how to make a water-changing pipe?"
They both learn together. Izuku doesn't really know how, and he isn't sure if the one in progress he has right now is proper, so they both watch an ancient five minute youtube video on it.
("Aquascaping is kind of a niche hobby that exploded a bit in the 21st century," Izuku had whisper-explained before Katsuki told him to "shut up" so he can hear the video better.)
Turns out, Izuku is on the right track, so they just continue a little from it. It's fairly simple, just heating an acrylic pipe to bend it. The tricky part is fixing it properly with a nozzle—the secondhand water-changing pipe he'd been using had the nozzle accidentally broken, so Izuku wants to make sure it's fixed strongly enough.
"You know," Izuku says, as they go out of his room to the hallway, "you can come here anytime, if you, uh, want. Or if you want to try changing the water, or—well, a lot of stuff. It's cool."
Katsuki only responds with a disgruntled sounding grunt, but good enough, Izuku guesses.
Before Toju—who looks lighter , now, somehow—strings Katsuki along, though, the boy mutters an apology with a beet-red face to Inko for breaking the mug, to which Inko laughs and punishes him with a tight hug.
"Please come anytime," Izuku says, and is met with a hug from Toju. Mothers and their supernatural abilities to give good hugs. Izuku can never understand.
Toju-san doesn't say anything, but when their eyes meet, Izuku understands what is being unsaid.
Thank you.
Izuku nods, and the Saiki family leaves. Huh. He glances at the clock in the living room. Only three in the afternoon, but Izuku already thinks, what a day. He has totally filled up his people kuota for a whole week.
He still got that practice in a few hours, though—Ojiro-senpai is coming today, and he'd promised to show up. He'd also promised to run with Toshinori-san tomorrow. Look at him, the paragon of social interaction. Incredible. Maybe this is his peak, huh?
Let's not jinx it, he thinks. He's got seven months until U.A entrance exam, after all.
And Izuku has ideas.