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It was a special kind of feeling, when the sharp, sweltering heat of the day had died down into something a little softer, syrupy, dusky evening with the traces of sunset long disappeared over the horizon.
Despite promising himself he would spend his free time over the summer training, the pleasant weather had tempted Izuku into a beach day with almost half the class; anyone willing to brave sunburn and a quirk-fueled sandcastle competition. That turned out to be nearly everyone, though a certain person was conspicuously absent. He tried not to let it disappoint him too much, but—well. Izuku had never been great at stopping himself from getting his hopes up.
It had been a long time since Izuku went to a summer festival. Back in middle school, the fact that his classmates looked at him as if he were a meter-long dead snake in the back of the classroom was enough to discourage him from reaching out to suggest they go together. He went a few times with his mother, but in the end, it was more comfortable to stay at home, curl up on the sofa, and watch All Might videos until he fell asleep.
Even his far-fetched dreams of being accepted to U.A. had never stretched beyond the vague, shimmering mirage of the entrance gates; a handshake with All Might, maybe, a few lessons he’d heard older students discussing in the public library. Abstract images that paled in comparison to the wild, chaotic whirlwind his first year proved to be. He never stopped to imagine that he’d one day wander around the grounds of his local temple with a real friend; Endeavor’s son, of all people.
“Midoriya.”
That startled him out of his thoughts. “Huh?”
His head snapped to Todoroki, who was appraising him with that mild, milk-in-a-pan expression he wore so often. “You’ve been staring at that All Might plushie for two minutes now. I asked if you want it.”
“Oh, no.” He smiled, scratching the back of his neck, right over a mosquito bite gone swollen in the humidity. “I was just thinking about middle school. It’s weird, how much has happened in the last year.”
“I’m not sure if I’d use the word ‘weird’.”
Izuku let out a huff that wasn’t really a laugh. “I guess so. Maybe it’s best not to think too much about it.”
“Probably,” he agreed, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. He’d cropped it short after flames singed the ends during the war. He kept them for a few days, occasionally reaching up to finger at the split, weakened strands, but after a week, showed up to class with the burned ends chopped clean off with a pair of household scissors. “Shall we try out one of the games?”
The festival was bustling, bright lights strung between the stalls and lanterns hanging from tree branches that formed a twisting canopy overhead. The last time he came to this temple had been early in the morning during the first day of the year, and there were very few people around, the extensive grounds silent except for the chirping of birds and the distant, bubbling sounds of a river. It was a change to see it so full of life, filled with laughter and the smell of street food wafting through the air.
They stopped in front of a shateki stall featuring colorful prizes lined up in rows, complete with signs declaring proudly that they included everything from pencils to limited-edition hero merchandise.
“I’ve never played this before,” Todoroki commented as they joined the queue, made up of a single person with an armful of plushies.
“Really? It’s pretty common. What did you play?”
“Not a lot. We tried a few, but my brother always got really competitive and my father didn’t like it.”
“Oh.” He offered him a smile. “Well, let’s try it, then.”
Todoroki gave the owner of the stall a few coins—three tries if the first shot didn’t land—and accepted the toy gun. He lifted it, aimed at a bear plushie dressed in an Endeavor costume, and before Izuku could warn him to shoot for an easier target, pulled the trigger. P
The rubber bullet landed straight in the bear’s chest, knocking it backwards off the platform.
He turned back to Izuku, calm as always. “Did I do it correctly?”
“You’re a natural,” he confirmed. Looking satisfied, Todoroki went over to claim his prize, then knelt down to offer it to a young girl standing nearby with her hand in her mother’s. Beaming, she hugged the bear, elated.
Todoroki drifted back to his side, his expression soft with lingering pride. “Are you going to try?”
“I’m not sure I want to anymore,” he said, only half-joking.
Still, he paid the shopkeeper and took the gun, scanning the prizes ahead of him. To optimize his result, he had to aim for a target that wouldn’t be too challenging but was still decently valuable. The perfect candidate: an All Might notebook with a fountain pen attached to the side. He had a notebook at home that was almost identical, but the costume on the cover of this version rippled with a shiny, metallic effect, drawing him like a magpie.
His shot wasn’t quite as precise as Todoroki’s, but it still hit the notebook, knocking it down.
A rough, familiar voice came from behind him, sending a jolt of electricity up his spine, like lightning had struck the ground and tossed everything into blinding color. “Not bad, nerd.”
He turned to see Katsuki standing there in a traditional black yukata, tied expertly alongside a scarlet band at his waist. It stood stark against his hair, shimmering golden under the festival lights. Summer heat brought a light sheen of sweat that glistened above his flushed cheeks, vivid. The air around him turned ripe with energy, humming, a brilliant explosion about to ignite.
“Kacchan,” Izuku stammered out, dragging his gaze up from where the color reached Katsuki’s smooth, pale collarbones. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
“The hag made me go out,” he said, a little grumpily. It was weird to hear him speak so conversationally without spitting any insults. “Kirishima’s somewhere around here, but he went off with Dunce Face.”
Indignance rushed through him. “He ditched you?”
“Nah. Probably thought I was behind them.” His gaze landed on Todoroki, and his face soured. “You dorks here together?”
“Yeah. I mean, not together together—we are together, but not, you know, like boyfriends or anything—I wouldn’t—not that I wouldn’t, like, ever—not with Todoroki-kun, at least, he’s a friend, but—”
Todoroki chimed in. “He keeps talking about you.”
“Todoroki-kun!” His face flaming, he whipped back to Katsuki. “I wasn’t—” Yeah, denial. That’ll make him believe you. “I was just talking about your quirk and how impressive it is that you’ve figured out modifications that mean you can still use it with, you know—” He flails limply towards Katsuki’s right arm, weaker than the other, even after extensive therapy. “You know what I mean.”
Katsuki snorted. “You’re an idiot.” He glanced over at the stall. “You give this a shot yet?”
“No, I was—”
“Good, because I’m gonna kick your ass in it. Move.”
Izuku quickly grabbed the notebook he’d won, then moved aside. When they were little, he had never managed to beat Katsuki at this game, who could shoot all the most valuable prizes with ease, but when he picked up the gun with his left hand, it was unsteady, trembling.
In a breath, he took back all his childhood hopes. Please let Kacchan do better than me.
With his left hand, Katsuki raised the gun, aiming at a shiny All Might figurine, emblazoned with the special-edition label, on the top shelf. It was one of the hardest targets, especially when shooting with a non-dominant hand, but Katsuki would never be satisfied choosing the easier route.
Seconds ticked past. The hesitation was starting to worry him, but he forced himself to remain silent. Katsuki had been working hard at his ability to stay calm, and insinuating that he was struggling would be needless provocation.
Katsuki’s chest heaved with a slow, deep breath, then a muffled shot rang through the air. The bullet hit the boxed figurine in the bottom right corner—it teetered for a tantalizing moment, then toppled over.
Relief coursed through Izuku, followed by a surge of pure admiration. “Kacchan, amazing!”
Katsuki was glowing with satisfaction, his scarlet eyes lit up, glittering like they did whenever he won a fight. “Of course I am.”
“That figurine’s super cool, too. I saw an advertisement in the shop the other day, but they were already sold out by the time I got there.”
A pause, and Katsuki held the box out to him.
His eyes widened, even as Katsuki forced the box into his hands and retreated so Izuku couldn’t push it back to him. “N-no way! Kacchan, you can’t give me that figurine! It’s way too valuable, and you love All Might, and it’s yours, you won—”
“Shut up and take it.” The corners of his lips quirked up. “Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to come over and eat Auntie’s katsudon.”
Izuku could feel tears blurring his vision, all attempts to be cool thrown aside. All the same, he managed to hold himself back from bursting into sobs, rearranging his features into a watery smile. “Sure. Anytime you want.”
“Don’t cry about it, idiot.” He cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m gonna find Kirishima.”
“Oh. Okay.” His voice came out embarrassingly disappointed. “See you later.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Izuku watched him as he disappeared into the crowd, then turned back to Todoroki, who was watching with a knowing expression. He coughed, trying not to meet his gaze. “So, what should we do next?”
“Talk about your huge crush on Bakugou?”
He cringed. “Let’s not.”
It was hard, however, to avoid talking about his crush when his attempt to change the subject by directing Todoroki to the goldfish-scooping stall led them straight to Kacchan again.
Katsuki was leaning over the open tank, eyebrows furrowed and forehead scrunched up in a way that was so cute Izuku had to fight to wrestle down the sudden, wild urge to kiss away the tension. His hair was flopping into his face, and he blew it away with a sharp puff of air as he leaned over further to get the paper scoop into the right position to scoop up a goldfish moving faster than the others. Kirishima was beside him, laser-focused on a different fish.
“Kacchan,” Izuku piped up before the rational part of his brain could point out that Katsuki came to the festival with Kirishima, and had wandered off with the explicit intention of hanging out with him.
Katsuki jolted, nearly dropping his scoop, and spun around. “Are you stalking me?”
“N-no! Of course not! Todoroki-kun and I were just looking for a different game, and—”
“He wants to hang out with you,” Todoroki supplied, far too nonchalant.
It was hard to figure out how the mind of Todoroki Shouto worked, but the consequences of his convoluted thought processes were usually less innocuous than him turning into a dirty traitor. Izuku shot him a glare with as much fire as he could muster, which admittedly wasn’t a lot for the one person who actively enjoyed spending time with him outside of class.
“Sorry, I meant ‘we’,” Todoroki corrected dutifully, making Katsuki’s eyebrows raise. “We both want to spend time with you. And Kirishima.”
Katsuki didn’t look convinced, but a frantic splash from the tank drew his attention back to his fish, which was now racing towards the other end of the tank. With a muttered curse, he stuck his scoop back into the water, but the swift motion made it fall apart, dissolving into clumps.
Eyebrows knitted together, Katsuki turned back to Izuku, who was now shrinking back, a scarlet mess, with a sigh. “Alright, I guess.”
Izuku took back everything he ever said about Todoroki. He was a genius.
Summoned by his name, Kirishima turned around, brightening when he saw them. “Oh, hey! I was wondering if we'd run into you guys. How's it going?”
“The festival’s great,” Izuku volunteered, thankful for the diversion. “I’m looking forward to the fireworks.”
Katsuki glanced up from where he was dipping another paper scoop into the water. Even as a kid, neither money nor the repetition of playing the same game over and over were obstacles in the pursuit of victory, especially when the alternative was admitting defeat to a goldfish. “You still like those?”
The words drew out a single thread of memory: two kids, knee-high, pushing their way through the crowds to find somewhere to watch the fireworks. Izuku would stare at the sky with his mouth hanging open, awed, while Katsuki popped crackling sparks in his palms to match the display, showering them in plumes of smoke and fizzling light. “I have good memories.”
He was quiet for a long moment before he replied. “Me, too.”
The conversation lingered there, a wistful standstill, until Todoroki spoke up. “Are we playing?”
Izuku shook himself out of his daze. A few crumpled bills scrounged from his pocket brought him the reward of a paper scoop and a spot next to the tank beside Katsuki. With everyone trying to catch the quick-moving fish, the surface had dissolved into a chaotic swirl of ripples, but beneath it, he could make out shifting patches of gold, scales reflecting the light from the lantern hanging from the wooden rafters.
“Damn it!”
He looked to the side to see more paper deteriorating into an algae-like mass. Katsuki was steadily getting more frustrated, his face glistening with a subtle sheen of sweat. Even if Izuku couldn’t stand to see him upset, there was something sweet about him getting so worked up over a festival game.
“You need to be slower,” Izuku pointed out, jerking his head towards the third paper scoop Katsuki had obtained. A glance at one of the advertising signs confirmed these scoops were flimsier than the standard, making them a bigger challenge! “The paper is delicate.”
“I know that,” he shot back, glowering at him. “It’s not my fault these stupid fish move so fast.”
Carefully, he set his own scoop onto a ridge beside the tank, then sidled up to Katsuki, closing his fingers gently around Katsuki’s left wrist and wrapping his free arm around Katsuki’s waist to steady himself. Warmth fizzled along the line of connection between their bodies, but with a shaky breath, he pushed it from his mind, training his focus on the elusive fish, wriggling along in the generated current.
“You need to move it slowly,” he said, the words hazy to his own ears through the tingling bliss that was Katsuki’s body pressed against his. To prove his point, he guided Katsuki’s wrist forward, letting the scoop cut a smooth line through the water. “No sudden movements. You could scare the fish.”
“I know, dumbass.” Despite the brashness of his tone, he sounded fainter. A subconscious reflex, he was leaning back into Izuku, allowing Izuku to bracket his body with his own. “The bastard keeps escaping.”
“You’re scaring him. Do it like this.” He moved Katsuki’s wrist forward again, and his thumb slipped, brushing against the inside of Katsuki’s wrist. He could feel a pulse hammering against his skin, drawing frantic blood up to the surface. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you okay?”
Immediately, Katsuki jerked free of his hold, raking a hand through his hair. “Y-yeah. I’m fine. It’s just hot, that’s all.”
His gut sank as he realized he probably made Katsuki uncomfortable. Of course he did, moving in so close without asking him first. Izuku was lucky Katsuki didn’t snap at him and call him a pervert in front of everyone. Swallowing, he took another step back, giving Katsuki plenty of space as he approached the tank from a different angle, reaching for his own scoop once again.
With a swift flick of his wrist, a small goldfish was squirming in his scoop; he transferred it to his bucket, then peered over to check that it was alright before handing the bucket to the shopkeeper so he could place the fish into a transparent bag for easier transport.
An idea occurred to him, and he looked over at Katsuki. “Kacchan, do you want to take the fish home?”
His mouth was twisted in a pout as he turned to Izuku. “I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity.” He gave him a tentative, hopeful smile. “I’d just like an excuse to eat Auntie’s spicy curry.”
A pause, then Katsuki softened, a rare smile flickering across his face for a shining moment. Biting his lip, he extended his hands to accept the fish. “That’s alright, then.”
It was always easy to tell when the fireworks were about to start, because a new, urgent sort of energy struck the crowds, like the charged air before a thunderstorm. The hours had melted into each other, turning into a blur of games, jokes, and playful arguments. Izuku hadn’t realized how much time had passed until he started to hear those telltale excited whispers.
He grabbed Katsuki’s sleeve, who stopped, eyes snapping to where Izuku’s knuckles clenched the fabric of his yukata. At some point, the group had split up, and the fact that he couldn’t remember where he last saw Todoroki and Kirishima brought a slight twinge of embarrassment, though not enough to stop him from plowing onto his objective.
“Kacchan, I know a great spot to watch the fireworks. Want to come with me?”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”
Izuku cocked his head. “There’s no catch.”
Katsuki shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. The heat of the festival must have been getting to him, because the flush across his cheeks had deepened, turning a shiny, sunburned red. “Fine, then. But I’m not gonna be the one to hunt down Todoroki.”
“Actually.” He swallowed, mustering his courage. “I was thinking just the two of us.”
“Oh.” His expression was almost hesitant, so much so that Izuku wondered if he should take back the offer. Maybe it was weird. Maybe Kacchan thought Izuku wanted to steal him away and do horribly perverted things to him—in a temple garden, of all places. “Okay.”
He smiled, relieved. “Great. Follow me.”
“I don't need to follow you, shitty Izuku,” he declared but fell into step beside Izuku anyway.
Izuku led him away from the festival, down a narrow, winding path that led into the forest. The noisy din of the festival grew fainter, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves, bird calls, and the crunch of flora underfoot as Katsuki trekked along beside him. Something about being in the darkness together had his heart thrumming, his fingers trembling with the urge to reach out, touch.
Katsuki was right there. It would—could—be so easy.
Eventually, the path opened up to a clearing on the hilltop. From here, there was a perfect view of the festival unobstructed by trees, all moving figures and glowing lights. Katsuki crouched down, setting Izuku’s notebook and the plastic bag with the fish in a safe corner beneath a tree, then stood back up.
“The view isn't bad,” Katsuki said, almost impressed. In Kacchan-speak, it was as good as a sonnet’s worth of compliments. “How’d you even find this place?”
“I was wandering around when I came here for New Year’s and found this trail. It’s pretty, right?”
He made a non-committal noise and strolled over to the edge of the clearing, where there was a low wooden railing, cracked and weakened from neglect. The crowds below were starting to flow to a central area like electrons through a wire; a sign that the fireworks display was going to start soon. From here, the chaos was a blip in the distance, a backdrop to tranquil silence.
The first firework exploding into life took Izuku by surprise, a dazzling shower of crimson and orange against the expanse of darkness. The next one came, then the next, a thousand shades of gold lighting up the sky, accompanied by bursts of noise that thundered in his ears and rumbled in his bones, so loud that it felt like they shook the ground beneath them.
A blast of fiery orange smeared across the sky, tiny starbursts arranged into explosions, and instinctively, his gaze drifted down to Katsuki, silhouetted by the fireworks, face tipped up and gazing at the show with rare, childlike awe. The lights turned his hair into molten gold, streaked with orange, a shifting, iridescent shimmer. His skin was bright with it too, a soft glow reflecting off his fine blond hairs.
Slowly, his breath caught thick in his throat, Izuku stepped forward, standing beside Katsuki with one shaky hand on the railing to steady himself.
Katsuki turned to him, lips softened into a small smile that faltered when he saw Izuku. “Why're you looking at me like that?”
He should be nervous, but he couldn’t feel anything over the thudding rhythm of his heart and the sheer want sweeping through him. “Like how?”
“I don't know.” He dipped his head, loose locks of hair falling around his forehead, and looked up, an odd, hesitant look on his face. His pale eyelashes caught the light, shining with that same orange glow.
The surroundings fell into darkness, then launched back into color with a neon pink starburst. Izuku barely noticed it, his gaze fixed on Katsuki, intent, awed, like he was seeing him for the first time all over again. He was so different from the little kid he had known all those years ago, or even the teenager who blew up his treasured notebook, crowing in triumph that he'd managed to hurt him.
Kacchan, more precious than anything else, gazing back at him with a nervous, shy kind of look, closer to him than ever before.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft in the loaded silence. “I… It wasn’t bad running into you. Today.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I enjoyed it, too.”
“I know I—” Katsuki made a frustrated noise, looking down at the ground. It felt like the air was vibrating, preparing for ignition. “When we were kids, I really looked forward to this. The food, games, everything. Most of all, I liked running around this place with you. After—” He cleared his throat. “You know. I really missed it. I almost invited you one year, and my old man even said I should, but I chickened out.”
“Really?” he said, surprised. “I didn’t think you cared that much.”
“Well, I did.” He sounded offended, like it should have been obvious. “I know you reached out to me a lot, and I pushed you away each time. I shouldn’t expect anything, but…” He took a deep breath. “If you reached out again, I wouldn’t turn you down this time… Izuku.”
Crimson sparks showered over the landscape, a final detonation to close off the show, as Izuku leaned forward. Katsuki met him halfway, an echo of shimmering gold glinting in his eyes before they slid shut.
It was soft and chaste in the dark, brief as chocolate melting under the sun. The sensation of Katsuki’s lips against his had only just sunken in when Katsuki began to pull away so slowly that Izuku took it as a message to bring his hand to the back of Katsuki’s head and tilt his own to go in for a second kiss.
A small part of his mind was devolving into chaos at the fact that he was kissing Kacchan, but the rest of it had gone pleasantly fuzzy, a jumble of warmth and feeling. Katsuki’s face had gone pink, and for the first time, Izuku realized that maybe he had done that. Kacchan looked flustered because of him.
Izuku couldn’t resist poking at him—not when he’d had a lifetime of interpreting Katsuki’s roundabout language. As his childhood friend, it was practically a right. “That’s what you wouldn’t turn down, huh?”
“Shut up.” He pinched Izuku’s shoulder, but it didn’t even make him flinch. “I didn’t ask you to kiss me.”
“You kind of did.”
Kacchan looked a little scary and a lot cute when he was embarrassed. “I’ll push you off this cliff.”
With a laugh, he set tentative hands on Katsuki’s hips, smiling at him. “Can I kiss you again?”
Izuku had always liked seeing Katsuki stumble around the innocent requests he considered embarrassing, whether it was class notes or Todoroki Fuyumi’s mapo tofu recipe, but there was something special about the times when he tossed aside his reservations. Not Bakugou Katsuki, but Kacchan—earnest, genuine, and apparently just as besotted with Izuku as Izuku was with him.
Katsuki smiled back at him and looped his arms around Izuku’s neck. “You’d better.”