All mites thrive.
The classroom buzzed with a strange kind of tension, the hum of crayons scraping against paper filling the air. Soft chatter floated through the room, punctuated by the occasional loud laugh or squabble.
The vibrant yellow walls, once cheery, now felt oppressive, the brightness almost too much for Izuku's eyes as he rubbed his wrist absently, still stinging from the burn. The smell of the warm room—a mix of crayons, ink, and something faintly floral from the cleaning supplies—lingered in his nose.
Nei-chan, with her usual cheerful energy, had completely misinterpreted the situation. After the chaos had finally subsided, she and the other teacher had taken it upon themselves to dissect what had happened. Her conclusion, for some reason, was that the Pomeranian drawing was the root of all evil. Izuku didn't really care enough to correct her.
After all, her theory seemed almost right, but not quite. It wasn't the fact that both he and Katsuki had claimed the drawing as their own that caused the explosion of chaos — it was something far more complicated. Something that only Katsuki really knew.
Actually, Katsuki's crimson eyes continued to burn through him from across the room, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line, a permanent frown creased on his face. He didn't even bother to hide the hatred boiling in his gaze, but neither of them dared to say a word to one another.
Izuku felt an odd pressure in his chest as their silent war stretched out between them. He winced, rubbing his sore wrist, the sting from the wax burn still sharp, even if it had been properly bandaged by the kindergarten's nurse. Katsuki's glare was an unspoken challenge, a storm simmering under the surface, but they both understood one thing: they were being watched.
The teachers, whose names Izuku still hadn't fully caught — too many new faces and too many new voices — kept them under constant surveillance. It was as if their every movement was monitored, a careful dance of caution and vigilance. They moved together in sync, one following the other, with their eyes darting between Katsuki and Izuku, ensuring neither of them would spark another catastrophe.
In the corner, a group of children giggled as they continued colouring. The pastel brightness of their drawings were a stark contrast to the tension in the air, with their innocent chatter and loud voices not quite reaching the level of tension Izuku felt in his chest. To his left, the girl with pigtails, the one who had been so excited to show her bunny drawing, glanced over at him, her eyes wide.
She hesitated, then gave him a timid wave, and he awkwardly returned the gesture. Katsuki's gaze remained fixed on him, his clenched fists and barely concealed fury a constant reminder of their volatile encounter.
Nei-chan called them over to help with setting up snacks, her bright voice cutting through the quiet like a bell. Izuku didn't want to go, but there was little choice. She waved them over like they were still little, still innocent.
"Come on, you two!" Nei-chan called, her hands on her hips. "You'll help me with the snack time, right? A smart boy like you, Izuku, can carry these, and you, Katsuki—" She smiled at him, seemingly oblivious to the storm simmering inside the small boy— "you can set up the plates."
Katsuki's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "Tch, I can do it myself," he muttered, but he got up with a huff, striding toward the snack table like a small storm cloud.
Izuku, still a little dazed by the ordeal, followed after him slowly. He could feel the weight of the teachers' gazes on his back, heavy with unspoken words. His hand brushed against the corner of a chair, the cool plastic of the armrest soothing against his fingers. As he stepped closer to Katsuki, the air between them felt thick, almost suffocating, but there was an odd comfort in the silence they shared. Neither of them spoke as they worked, their movements quick and precise, yet awkward and hesitant.
It was only when Katsuki growled under his breath that Izuku dared to glance over at him. The boy's eyes were narrowed, his small hands fumbling with a plate, and yet there was something oddly vulnerable about him. Something that told Izuku that even beneath the anger, the burning intensity, and the fists clenched in frustration, Katsuki was as lost in this world as he was. More or less.
They were both out of place, two small figures in a large world, struggling to understand their place in it. The teachers hovered like silent ghosts, casting quick glances at the two boys as they set up the snacks, watching for any sign of a flare-up. Neither of them spoke a word as they worked side by side, the tension in the room a constant, unspoken force.
Nemi-san, the older teacher, had given Katsuki a stern talking-to. But even from the start, it was clear that her scolding had barely made a dent. Katsuki's scowl deepened as she tried to reason with him, her voice soft but firm. So amusingly stubborn.
The boy didn't seem to care, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and determination, making it painfully clear that he wasn't about to back down on his hatred, no matter what.
Still, Nemi-san stayed on him, keeping an eye on him from a distance, like a hawk monitoring its prey. She made sure to keep him away from Izuku for the rest of the day, though it was unclear whether this was meant to calm him or simply avoid further catastrophe. Probably just the latter.
Nei-chan took a similar approach with Izuku, but hers was less about keeping him in check and more about attempting to soften the situation. She made sure he stayed away from Katsuki too; it was kind of funny, how a little kid had so much power.
She handed Izuku one of the infamous drawings—at least, that's what she believed had caused the argument. His Pomeranian drawing had apparently disappeared somewhere, so Izuku ended up with the other paper that had being signed by Bakugou, for some reasons. - complete with bright orange letters spelling out his name, but missing the scraggly Pomeranian.
Izuku couldn't help but find it amusing, in a bitter sort of way. All of this chaos—the burns, the tears, the hair-pulling, the fighting—had stemmed from a green crayon and a poorly drawn Pomeranian. In a way, it was almost too ridiculous to believe, but in another, it made perfect sense. He loved it.
Katsuki had never been one to handle anything lightly, least of all something as personal as a crayon drawing. And, of course, the fact that his name was written on the side of it only added fuel to the fire.
Izuku held the signed paper in his hands, feeling a strange sense of warmth as he studied the crumpled paper. The colours were vivid, the lines messy, but it wasn't the form that mattered, was it?; Just a childish whim.
Later, when Inko arrived to pick him up, she was immediately struck by the sight of his swollen wrist. Her heart sank as she rushed toward him, green eyes wide with worry. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she gently took his wrist in hers, the tenderness of her touch a stark contrast to the way the Bakugou had almost cut it off.
She asked him what had happened, but her words were drowned out by the frenzied explanations from the teachers. They repeated the story to her seven times before it finally settled in her mind, each retelling more convoluted than the last.
Inko's brow furrowed as she listened, the confusion and concern clearly written on her face. The teachers had been kind enough to give her water and sugar, a vague but well-intentioned attempt at soothing both her and her son. She really was appalled.
But the bizarre nature of the whole ordeal had left Inko feeling dizzy, her head spinning from the chaotic details. Izuku could only watch as his mother tried to piece it all together, the memory of the explosion, the wild fight, and the strange connection between him and Bakugou running through his mind.
She looked ready to declare war, her green eyes bright and furious. But as she took her time, her gaze shifted, she focused on the white band wrapped around his swollen wrist for a moment before her eyes moved up to her son's face, softening as she took in his expression. She sighed, relieved.
Well. His green jacket was all creased at the edges, dirty with orange stains along the entire length of the open zipper; the half-work that Inko had managed to accomplish with her hair had been dissolved into a tangle that stung the air. He was cute, anyway.
His tiny wrist was wrapped in a white band, yes, visible just below his sleeves, against the pale skin of his small hands. They said maybe that would have left a scar. Nevertheless; his eyelashes fell slowly over his unusually lively eyes. Not dull and just grey like the crying sky, but more awake and greenish.
His small pink lips were pursed at the corners. They seemed on the verge of mustering a smile, but without actually knowing how to bring it to life. It almost seemed like, well, he had enjoyed being scarred by that other bully kid. Inko took a deep breath, the cold air settling in her throat, that was parched with worry. Izuku seemed really fine.
"'Zuku," she murmured, stepping toward him and running a hand through his hair—still so soft. "Have you made any friends?". She tried to sound casual, pretending she hadn't just been informed by Nemi-san about what had happened with Bakugou Katsuki.
She knew Izuku could see right through her, the apprehension in her eyes too clear for him to miss. He was so unnecessarily sharp that sometimes it broke her heart. Maybe she should've done more for him — sent him to a better school, given him better opportunities.
To her surprise, Izuku's lips finally formed the faintest smile, the one that always hung on the edge of his words. It was fresh, new, soft, and by his standards, it was almost a laugh. "Mh," he murmured, nodding his head firmly.
Inko turned toward Nemi-san, who stood behind her, looking just as confused as she felt. The woman was frozen in place under the hall's light, her mouth half-open in silent disbelief. "Really?" Inko asked, clasping her hands nervously. "What is his name?".
Izuku's smile twitched at the corners. He swung the paper in his hand in front of her, holding it by the corners between his index finger and thumb. The words Bakugou Katsuki were written in warm orange ink.
"Does he know that you are friends?", Inko murmured, her gaze filled with growing worry. Izuku shook his head gently, his hood swaying as he moved. He extended his small hand toward her, his steps light as he began walking toward the exit.
"It doesn't matter if he knows it, he'll get there sooner or later," Izuku said, the words plain but certain. His voice was steady. Friends don't hurt each other, Izuku. Inko wanted to say it, but the words caught in her throat. What are friends, anyway?
After all, Izuku had hurt Bakugou too. Yet, as she watched him walk forward, her son's face was bright with an innocence and contentment she hadn't seen in him for a long time. Despite the chaos, the injury, and the argument, there was a new spark in his eyes.
Maybe, just maybe, this Bakugou Katsuki — despite their clash — had the power to become a real friend to Izuku. The thought settled somewhere soft in her chest, a quiet hope that was almost too fragile to hold.
By the time they were on their way home, the amazement still clung to him like a second skin, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Something more than just the events of the day. Something between him and Bakugou that he couldn't quite put into words. All he could do was glance at the paper with his autograph in his bag and wonder how, out of all the things that could have happened today, that damn Pomeranian had caused it all.
It really was a turn.
Izuku spent the weekend, during which he was allowed to stay home, exploring the surroundings of his house. The neighborhood felt both familiar and alien, a quiet suburb filled with narrow streets and small houses that seemed to blend into one another. The faint hum of cicadas accompanied him as he roamed, the sun warm on his cheeks, though a subtle unease never quite left him.
He had reluctantly realized that if he wanted to survive in this new outside world, it was extremely important for him to acquire as much knowledge as possible. Every corner turned, every observation made, felt like a necessary step toward reclaiming the control he had lost when he'd woken up in this new body. His little legs grew tired quickly, but the burning curiosity in his chest kept him moving. It was really necessary.
The world was softer there—quieter. No threats loomed around the corners; no shadows waited to swallow him whole. But even the peace was unsettling, as though the silence could snap at any moment. He observed the comings and goings of neighbors, the way people carried on with their lives, children shouting and laughing as they chased each other down the streets.
It felt so strange, so ordinary. It made his new reality feel suffocating, yet strangely hopeful.
He tucked these observations away, little puzzle pieces of a life he was still piecing together. The weekend passed in this quiet haze of discovery, his mind always turning.
His week kept going spent in kindergarten, where he had been moved to another group of kids, - so that he and Bakugou practically never met, if not during snack-time or play-together-time. Anyway, the teachers assured they hadn't space to fight. Yet, Izuku lived for those glaring at each other moments; he didn't even know why.
Katsuki woke up a street-smart part of him. He was fuel and fire and he lit Izuku up like a candle, remembering him the willing to live he had always had in his past life.
Two or three months passed, the wound around Izuku's wrist had turned in a scar - similar to a bracelet. The same had done the bite mark on Katsuki's forearm.
The kindergarten teachers found themselves facing a task they would have preferred to avoid: bringing Katsuki and Izuku together for a very important event — Bakugou Katsuki's birthday. A vip party, practically.
Apparently, the rowdy, attention-loving child had decided that everyone, from the other kids to the teachers, would partake in the big celebration. There was no avoiding it, so the teachers had to make it happen.
Black and orange plates, cutlery, and glasses were carefully arranged on every table in neat, precise lines, all matching the fiery theme Katsuki had chosen. The room was filled with an unmistakable air of excitement mixed with a touch of chaos. A large banner, bold and bright, read "Happy Birthday, Katsuki!"—though it was clearly more of a declaration than a greeting.
The walls were decorated with streamers, and balloons in shades of black, orange, and yellow floated around the room like rebellious fireballs. All Might's face was everywhere.
Katsuki, the birthday boy, stood in the center of the room, his hands on his hips, chest puffed out in pride as he surveyed his little kingdom. His blonde hair looked as messy as ever, but today it seemed like a badge of honour, like he could take on the world with just his attitude. He actually could.
Banners bearing All Might's face were hung on the walls, and even between the air ducts, posters plastered the canary yellow walls. It would have been terribly unethical if anyone had been left out of the picture.
Izuku hadn't exactly been thrilled at the idea of attending a chaotic birthday party, especially with Katsuki involved, but there was something about it, that just allured him, the decorations filled the room that caught his attention. Black and orange plates, cutlery, and glasses had been neatly arranged on every table, and the energy in the room seemed to buzz with excitement.
Despite the tension of the situation, Izuku felt oddly drawn to the noisy atmosphere, the exaggerated display of Katsuki's personality filling the space. He might have been unsure of the event at first, but there was an undeniable curiosity that kept him rooted to the spot, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of kids running around.
Inko had hoped he would have stayed home to avoid the potential chaos, but seeing Izuku's interest in the celebration had made her smile. For a brief moment, she couldn't help but feel a sense of hope—maybe, just maybe, he was starting to engage with the world in a way she hadn't expected. So, he managed to be there. Why?; he didn't know.
He was standing between some other kids in line to get an All Might balloon, feeling a bit awkward. He wasn't exactly sure what was expected of him. Was he supposed to play along? Was he supposed to give Katsuki a present?; He had no idea.
Katsuki's sharp gaze scanned the crowd of tiny kids all excited in the line, his eyes quickly locking onto Izuku, who was quietly observing the children taking one by one the balloons disposed for them on the tables.
He was absorbed in something only he could focus on. Katsuki scowled, irritated by the sight of Izuku blending in with the background, completely uninterested in the spectacle Katsuki had meticulously crafted for the day.
He wasn't going to just let Izuku ignore him on his birthday. No, that wasn't gonna happen. When Izuku's turn to take his balloon came; with a growl, Katsuki stomped over to and grabbed the All Might balloon from Izuku's hands, his fingers twisting it with exaggerated force. He didn't want to outright call attention to himself—he wasn't that desperate—but maybe if he popped this thing loud enough, Izuku would have looked his way.
Katsuki pulled the string tight, his breath held in anticipation. With a quick, sharp twist, he let go, sending the balloon flying in a burst of noise. The loud sound echoed through the room, and, sure enough, Izuku's head jerked up, his wide gray eyes scanning the chaos.
He smirked to himself, he made another ballon burst, pretending to be doing that just for fun, but his peripheral vision was locked on Izuku's reaction. His heart raced, though he wouldn't admit it in a million years.
Some other kids were already screaming, all amazed. Why wasn't he?; Katsuki slowly tuned toward him, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Hey, nerd," he said, his tone oddly casual for the situation. "You gonna stand there all day or what?" He nudged Izuku with his elbow; it looked playfully, to not alert the teachers, put the pinch in Izuku's side was sharp enough to make him flinch.
Izuku blinked, caught off guard, but the corner of his lips twitched up in the smallest smile. "I guess I should say happy birthday." He paused, glancing at the extravagant setup. "This is a big deal." He shrugged.
Katsuki snorted, clearly pleased with the attention. "Of course it's a big deal. It's my day, dumbass. Everyone should know that by now." He crossed his arms, as if daring him to disagree. Expecting it.
Izuku chuckled softly, feeling a small sense of camaraderie in the midst of Katsuki's usual arrogance. He knew this was just how Katsuki operated. "Yeah, I can tell," he said.
Katsuki's smirk widened at Izuku's response, but something about the calmness in the other boy's tone dug under his skin. It wasn't loud or flashy, but it felt like Izuku wasn't impressed. And that? That wouldn't fly.
"You can tell, huh?" Katsuki repeated, his voice high and sharper now., as he childishly swung his head from side to side. "What's that even supposed to mean? You think you're better than me or something?".
Izuku blinked, slowly. What the hell? Where did that come from?; "What? No, I didn't say that." He turned completely to face the small devil, frowning so hard his head almost hurt.
"Sure sounded like it," Katsuki cut him off, stepping closer, his hands on his hips and his crimson eyes narrowing. "You think you're too good for my party, don't you?"
"I don't think that." He assured him, getting more and more confused. "Why would I even come if I thought that?"; that Bakugou Katsuki's too developed brain got damned.
Katsuki jabbed a finger at him, as he had done back then with the Pomeranian. "I dunno, maybe so you can stand there like a weirdo and act all bored!". He puffed his chest. That was a long sentence for a newly four years old. He dragged the words.
"I'm not bored!" Izuku shot back, well, he was. Anyway, that wasn't the point. He thought that party was pretty cool, for a kid. "You're just making things up."
"Making things up?" Katsuki snarled, his palms sparking with tiny pops. "I don't make things up, nerd! I see stuff. You're all smug or something!" He was smug?;
Izuku's eyes widened a little. The boredom left his smoky grey eyes for a split second - I see stuff. What did Bakugou Katsuki see in him?; somehow, he was really curious about that. "I am not smug! you are the one that always acts like this, Kacchan."
His voice was calm, yes a bit crispier than usual; strangely, that seemed to bright Katsuki up. Or was the nickname that had slipped on Izuku's tongue the reason?; He had been wondering when to introduce it. He liked how it sounded. Very much.
Katsuki bristled at that, his chest puffing up like an agitated cat and his cheeks getting dark red. "I'm not like anything! You're the one being stupid, shitty nerd!".
Izuku's hair touched his temples as he concisely tilted his head, his mesmerised grey eyes shining with an analytic kind of curiosity towards Bakugou actions. "You're the one yelling and there isn't even a reason-."
"It's because you idiot don't like my party!" Katsuki yelled back, now fully in Izuku's face. As he realised what he had just said, the tension snapped like a balloon popping. The redness got down his neck and up his ears. Katsuki, fuelled by frustration, shoved Izuku with both hands. He managed to get away from him by pushing back. Katsuki stumbled, more surprised than hurt, but the second he steadied himself, he exploded (figuratively and literally) with a BOOM!.
"Oh, you're so dead now!" Katsuki bellowed, leaping at Izuku with a wild swing. Izuku ducked, but Katsuki was relentless, grabbing for him with small, surprisingly strong hands. Izuku retaliated by grabbing his arm and yanking with all his might, the two of them toppling to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
It wasn't a fight—it was an all-out playground brawl. Katsuki grabbed for Izuku's hoodie, yanking it over his head as he scrambled for a hold. Izuku, half-blinded, flailed and latched onto Katsuki's arm, digging his nails in. "Let go, you nerd!" Katsuki growled, sparks crackling from his palms, burning Izuku's green hoodie, leaving black bruises.
"Then stop pulling my hoodie," Izuku snapped, twisting to escape. "You already destroyed my jacket last time." The two rolled across the floor, kicking up dirt and sending All Might plates and balloons flying.
"Make me!" Katsuki shot back, grinning wildly through his frustration. Other kids gasped and laughed, crowding around to watch the chaos unfold. But Katsuki and Izuku were too caught up in their fight to care.
Katsuki managed to free one arm and aimed a tiny explosion at Izuku's sleeve. It didn't hurt, but it startled him enough to loosen his grip. "Ha!" Katsuki barked. "Too slow, nerd!"
Izuku growled in frustration, retaliating by tugging on Katsuki's hair—hard. "OW! You stupid—" Katsuki yelped, swiping at Izuku's hands. "Why do you always bite and pull hair? It's not fair! Are you a dog?!".
"Maybe if you stopped getting us on the floor every time we meet, I wouldn't have to!" Izuku shot back, his cheeks red with effort. His hair had fell on his eyes and he was breathing heavily from his nose.
"Stop biting me, dog!"; Katsuki roared, finally managing to pin Izuku's arms. But Izuku, true to form, squirmed loose and kicked out, landing a solid hit to Katsuki's side. The two tumbled apart, panting and dirty, their fight far from over—until, from the corner of the room, a sharp, commanding voice rang out.
"Katsuki Bakugou, Izuku Midoriya, what do you think you are doing?!". Both boys froze mid-move - Katsuki's hand on the verge of bursting Izuku's ankle and and Izuku's teeth two centimetres from his cheek, their heads snapping toward the source of the voice: Nemi-san, her hands on her hips and her glare sharp enough to cut steel.
Before either could respond, Nemi-san, the soft-spoken yet surprisingly agile kindergarten teacher, swooped in like a hawk. "Alright, that's enough out of both of you!" she declared, her voice calm but firm as her arms shot out to grab them by the backs of their shirts. Katsuki's hands were still mid-swing, sparks popping weakly from his palms, while Izuku's foot dangled in the air, ready for another kick. Well, better safe than sorry.
Nemi-san lifted them off the ground effortlessly, their flailing limbs suddenly rendered useless. "What is wrong with you two?", she asked, glancing from one red-faced boy to the other. "Even today?".
"I started it!" Katsuki barked, twisting in her grip. "So, he is the one in the wrong; he made me mad."; Izuku's mouth snapped open, together with Nemi-san's. What a twisted way of thinking. That wasn't how it worked.
"Oh, really?" Nemi-san interrupted, setting them both down but keeping a firm grip on their shoulders. "Because from where I'm standing, you're both equally responsible."
Katsuki opened his mouth to argue, but the sharp look she gave him was enough to make him snap it shut. He muttered something under his breath instead.
"And you," she turned to Izuku, who flinched under her gaze. "Kicking, pulling hair, and biting are not how we solve problems, no matter what started it. Understood?"
Izuku bit his tongue. He didn't agree at all. That was the stuff that kept you alive.
Proudly, Bakugou grinned at him with uncovered teeth. Little shit.
Satisfied, Nemi-san released their shoulders but remained towering over them like a judge ready to pass sentence. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to apologize to each other—properly. Then, you're going to clean up this mess. If I hear even a peep of arguing, you'll both be sitting out the rest of the party, I don't care at all. Got it?".
Katsuki glared at Izuku, crossing his arms tightly. After a long, reluctant pause, he muttered, "Sorry, Deku." Izuku frowned. He was a bit touched, actually. Was it strange?
Nemi-san blinked, confused. "D-Deku? What's that supposed to mean?".
Her brown eyes were flickering behind her glasses as she looked back and forth between them.
Katsuki smirked, pleased to finally have the upper hand. "It means he can't do anything, he is a dummy. He's useless and doesn't enjoy anything, just empty like a puppet.
Like a Deku!" He puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his insult. That kid had problems.
Empty like a puppet. Well, that stung, little shit. "He's not useless!", Nemi-san cut in sharply, her tone warning. "No one is, everyone just has different timing to find his meaning in life." What a deep speech.
Katsuki huffed, rolling his eyes. "Good," Nemi-san said firmly, crossing her arms. "Now, go grab a broom and start cleaning. And remember—no fighting."
As the boys trudged off toward the supply closet, Katsuki nudged Izuku with his elbow, muttering, "You're still a Deku." His ruby eyes were sparkling like crazy, his blond hair all messy on his head, looking soft and shiny more than pointy, for once.
Izuku turned to blankly look at him, "Does that mean we are best friends, now?," he said. His voice was plain and simple, even if it was meant as a joke. Katsuki's head seemed to burst as his cheeks flushed and his hand bursted again with pops.
"Ah?!", he screamed, so loudly every kid in the room turned towards them as Izuku's lips flickered and he innocently looked at him throughout his black eyelashes, the broom in one tiny hand. "Fucking die, already." He sprayed the sanitiser towards him as if he was a germ, swinging the broom stick.
From across the room, Nemi-san sighed and rubbed her temples. "It's going to be a long year," she muttered, watching them bicker even as they started sweeping up their mess.
The party went on, filled with the usual chaotic energy of young children trying to navigate a space that was much too big for their excitement. Katsuki dominated the room, naturally, but it was clear that there was a strange, budding understanding between him and Izuku. Neither of them quite knew how to navigate it yet, but in that moment, with cake being passed around and laughter filling the air, it seemed like maybe they were just starting to get the hang of it.