Deku P.2

Did I give Kuro a hero's name? I can't even remember... but if I didn't make sure to give me one. I'll probably include it.

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The faint hum of medical equipment and the gentle murmur of voices brought Tenya Iida back to consciousness. His eyelids fluttered open, the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room coming into focus. His body felt heavy, and a dull ache radiated from his shoulder. As his senses sharpened, he caught snippets of conversation nearby.

"Oh, look, he's alive," came a familiar, sullen voice. Iida turned his head slightly, his vision clearing enough to spot Katsuki Bakugo leaning against the wall, arms crossed and scowling as usual. His tone was dry, but there was the faintest hint of relief buried beneath the sarcasm.

Iida's gaze swept the room, taking in the sight of Izuku Midoriya standing awkwardly near the foot of the bed, fidgeting nervously, and Kurokami Tenshin spinning lazily in a chair, a grin plastered across his face. "Do you remember what happened, Iida?" Izuku asked tentatively, his voice laced with concern.

Iida nodded slowly. "Some of it," he replied, his voice raspier than usual. His hand instinctively went to his bandaged shoulder, and the memory of Stain's blade flashed in his mind. "What's happened while I've been out?"

"Oh, oh! Can I say the rest?!" Kuro chimed in, nearly spinning himself out of the chair with his eagerness.

"Why not?" Bakugo said, his smirk widening slightly. "I'd love to know what our Vice President did to end up looking this bad."

Kuro cleared his throat dramatically, sitting up straight as if preparing to deliver a speech. "Ahem, well then. First, Iida has a ligament rupture in his shoulder. This could have caused serious bleeding and might've even rendered the arm useless if it had been any worse. But! Luckily, Midoriya followed my brilliant instructions and kept your arm stable until proper medical assistance could arrive." He beamed, clearly proud of himself.

Izuku nodded, scratching the back of his head. "As… eccentric as Kuro is, he's surprisingly skilled in medical practices," he added, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Iida reached out to touch the bandages on his shoulder, but as the movement sent a sharp twinge of pain through his arm, he stopped, grimacing. "Thank you," he said, his tone quieter now. "Thank you both. I wasn't exactly the role model a Vice President should be…"

Kuro immediately pouted, spinning back toward the desk in the corner. "Does that mean I get to slack off too?" he asked innocently.

Iida sighed, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite his embarrassment. "No, Kurokami. It's because your Vice President was inadequate that you must try harder. Someone has to uphold the standards."

Kuro sighed dramatically, crossing his arms and sulking in the corner. "No fun," he muttered, though his grin betrayed his act.

"Well, looks like you're back to normal, four-eyes," Bakugo said, his tone sharp but less biting than usual.

Iida frowned, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "And I see you're as persistent with your nicknames, Bakugo."

"At least I'm not the one in a hospital bed, dear Vice President," Bakugo shot back, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

That hit Iida's pride, and his jaw tightened as he adjusted himself against the pillow. "Funny," he retorted after a pause. "Considering you weren't much help either. Why is that, I wonder? Could it be that you were… scared of the Hero Killer? At least I dared to face him."

Bakugo's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "What'd you just say?" he growled, stepping forward, his fists clenching.

"Guys!" Izuku interjected weakly, holding up his hands in a futile attempt to calm them. "You can't fight in a hospital…"

But his words went largely ignored, as the two rivals locked eyes, the tension in the room thickening. Iida's sharp gaze met Bakugo's fiery one, neither willing to back down. Before Izuku could try again to defuse the situation, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

"K-Kuro, what are you doing?" Izuku stammered, pointing.

Kuro looked up innocently, a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth. "Hmm? Is something wrong, Midoriya?"

Izuku blinked, dumbfounded. "That's Iida's hospital food," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, is it?" Kuro replied, glancing at the tray he'd pilfered from the bedside table. "Sorry, I was bored. And hungry. Stress eating, y'know?" He continued eating unabashedly, oblivious to the incredulous looks from the others.

Iida sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with his uninjured hand. "Kurokami, put that back."

"But I already started—"

"Put it back," Iida said firmly, his voice carrying the authority of a Vice President who was used to reigning in Kuro's antics.

Kuro sighed dramatically but obeyed, plopping the half-eaten tray back on the table with a flourish. "You guys are no fun," he muttered, though his mischievous grin remained intact.

Bakugo, who had been glaring at Iida moments earlier, now found his ire redirected. "Oi, President! You seriously think this is the time for your crap?"

"Why not?" Kuro replied cheerfully. "It's good for morale."

Bakugo looked ready to explode, but before he could, Todoroki's calm, even voice cut through the tension as he stepped into the room. "Are we having another class meeting?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sort of," Izuku mumbled, glancing helplessly between his friends. "It's… complicated."

Todoroki surveyed the scene—the bickering, Kuro's antics, and Iida's strained but recovering demeanor. With a small sigh, he set a plastic bag down on the side table. "I brought snacks," he said simply.

"Thank god," Izuku muttered, grateful for the distraction. The tension began to ease, the conversation shifting into lighter banter, though the underlying emotions remained. For Iida, there was still the sting of shame. For Bakugo, the frustration of falling behind. And for Izuku, the weight of what they had all faced in Hosu.

But for now, they were together, and that was enough.

...

As Todoroki opened the bag, the scent of grilled meat and fried delicacies wafted through the room. The assortment of skewers, ribs, and bread elicited mixed reactions from the group. Bakugo leaned forward, eyeing the food with mild disdain. "Is this street food, Icyhot?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a slight frown.

"Yes," Todoroki replied bluntly, as stoic as ever, taking a skewer of beef for himself.

Bakugo sighed, shaking his head. "It's decent, but it'll ruin your taste if you eat too much of it."

Kuro grinned, already halfway through a beef rib. "I like it! Though I gotta admit, Bakugo's food is better." He chomped down on another rib, juice running down his chin.

Todoroki raised an eyebrow, glancing at Bakugo curiously. "You can cook?"

Bakugo rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "Of course I can cook. Unlike a one-trick pony like you, I'm multi-talented."

Kuro laughed, though he nearly choked on a shrimp skewer. "You sound so proud. Bet you scream at your food to 'get good' while you're cooking it."

"Shut up, President," Bakugo growled, his tone edged with irritation but lacking real venom.

Meanwhile, Izuku carefully nibbled on a piece of bread, his face a mask of cautious concentration. His weak stomach didn't take well to overly greasy food, and the thought of street food made him extra wary. "Still," he said between bites, "thank you, Todoroki. I was really hungry after a certain… someone ate my food." His gaze slid to Kuro, who was now devouring a piece of shrimp and very obviously avoiding eye contact.

"You're welcome," Todoroki replied simply, though there was a subtle upward twitch to his lips.

Iida adjusted his glasses, sitting up straighter in his bed. "But still… this meal has given me renewed energy! It will motivate me to truly become a—"

The door creaked open, interrupting Iida's impassioned declaration.

"Hello, everyone. Deeply sorry for the interruption," came a calm, measured voice.

The group turned to see a man with a literal dog's head walk into the room, dressed impeccably in a sharp black suit. His posture was formal, and his yellow eyes were sharp and calculating as they swept across the room.

Bakugo's scowl deepened immediately. This guy's probably one of those annoying types—police or something official.

Kuro's face lit up with curiosity. "Hello, sir!" he greeted cheerfully, as though he were talking to an old friend.

Izuku, ever cautious, took a step forward, his expression a mix of nervousness and politeness. "Would you mind clarifying your identity, sir?" he asked, his voice tentative.

The man gave a slight bow, his tone professional. "Kenji Tsuragamae, Chief of the Police Force. Pleased to meet you all."

The room fell quiet as the weight of his presence settled over them. "I have a few questions for you," Kenji continued, his gaze unwavering, "and perhaps a few answers as well. Namely… do any of you know what happened to Hero Killer Stain?"

The air seemed to tighten.

Kuro shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. Bakugo met Kenji's gaze head-on, his expression fierce and unyielding. "And I should answer because?" Bakugo challenged, his voice dripping with defiance.

Izuku, already starting to sweat, whistled nervously as he struggled to think of a diplomatic response. Before he could stammer out a reply, Iida spoke up, his voice surprisingly calm.

"He escaped after letting us go," Iida said, his tone measured. His face betrayed nothing as he added, "He said something about us being too young to be tried as real heroes."

Kenji's sharp eyes lingered on Iida for a moment, as though assessing the truth of his words. The silence stretched for a beat before the Police Chief spoke again.

"Thank you for your honesty," Kenji said, his tone unreadable. Then, he stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back. "Now for the other part. Do any of you know why the rule forbidding the use of quirks without authorization exists?"

Izuku perked up, eager to give the textbook answer. "To stop people from abusing their quirks?"

Kenji nodded. "Exactly. That law exists to maintain order. And yet, all of you broke it." His tone was calm, but the words landed with the weight of a hammer.

The room was silent as Kenji continued. "Because of that, your deeds will not be publicized. Officially, they will be swept under the rug to protect you from legal repercussions. But know this: what you did, no matter how noble your intentions, was against the law. If this happens again, you won't be given the same leniency."

He paused at the door, glancing back at them. His yellow eyes softened slightly, and his voice carried an uncharacteristic warmth. "…But as a believer in justice, I will say this: thank you for your help. Your actions may not have been lawful, but they saved lives. Don't forget that." With that, he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a long moment, the room remained silent, each of them digesting his words.

"Tch," Bakugo finally muttered, breaking the silence. His fists were clenched tightly, and his scowl had deepened. "That's the equivalent of telling us we'll be arrested if we pull that crap again."

Izuku nodded quietly, his mind swirling with conflicted thoughts. He'd always believed in the system, in the laws that heroes followed, but this encounter left a sour taste in his mouth. Not every part of hero society is amazing, he thought grimly. But I didn't expect it to feel this… bitter.

Iida sat back against the bed, his usual composure shaken. The weight of Kenji's words, coupled with his own failings during the encounter with Stain, pressed heavily on him. "He's right…" Iida murmured, mostly to himself. "We acted recklessly. I acted recklessly."

"Reckless or not," Kuro piped up, his cheerful tone cutting through the tension, "we made it out alive. That's what matters, right?" He grinned, though his eyes flicked to Iida with a rare flicker of concern. "Come on, Vice Prez. Don't let one dog's opinion ruin your day."

Iida sighed deeply, but his lips quirked into a small, tired smile. "Kurokami, you never change."

"And I never will," Kuro replied brightly, shoving another piece of shrimp into his mouth.

As the group bid farewell to Iida, wishing him a speedy recovery, the hospital room grew quiet. Each member of Class 1-A knew their internships were coming to an end, and it was time to return to UA. Their time at the various agencies had been eye-opening, forcing them to confront their strengths, weaknesses, and, in some cases, the darker realities of hero society.

The group gradually parted ways, with Bakugo and Kuro walking together toward their agency. The air between them was tense but not hostile, Bakugo deep in thought as Kuro hummed a jaunty tune, spinning a pen he'd pilfered from the hospital room.

Bakugo's mind, however, was far from the playful antics of his companion. His thoughts kept circling back to Deku. That damn nerd… he thought, scowling. Deku had said something about his quirk, something about being able to use 9% of it now. Bakugo clenched his fists in frustration. Nine percent or not, he's catching up. He might even surpass me someday if I don't figure this out. That's not happening.

Deku had a clear path forward—training to increase his percentage bit by bit. But what about Bakugo? His quirk, Explosion, was powerful, destructive, and versatile, but it lacked a clear trajectory for growth. He'd been relying on instinct, refining his techniques through experience and combat, but now it felt like he'd hit a plateau. How the hell do I get stronger now?

"Hey, dwarf," Bakugo said abruptly, his voice cutting through Kuro's humming.

Kuro blinked, looking up in surprise. "Huh? What is it, Katsuki?"

"You've got the brain for this," Bakugo muttered, his voice low and gruff. It was obvious he hated even asking, but his pride wasn't so fragile that he couldn't acknowledge when someone else had something he didn't. "How would you suggest getting stronger?"

Kuro tilted his head, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "You're asking me for advice?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I'd prefer to be back at UA to answer this. Maybe even the Support Department. You know, Mei Hatsume's got this killer workstation—"

"I don't care about your nerd friends!" Bakugo snapped, his tone sharp but lacking real venom. "Just spit it out already."

"Alright, alright," Kuro said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He thought for a moment before his expression turned serious. "You've separated your quirk into two parts, right? The thermal energy and the kinetic force."

Bakugo crossed his arms, nodding. "Yeah, what about it?"

Kuro leaned forward, his excitement bubbling to the surface. "Instead of trying to level them up together, what if you focused on leveling them separately? Imagine focusing on just the heat output—turning your explosions into pure, concentrated fire attacks—or isolating the kinetic energy to make concussive blasts without the flames." He gestured animatedly, his ideas spilling out faster than he could explain them. "You could develop two entirely different modes of combat instead of relying on a single destructive output. Think about it—precision over power in certain situations, and vice versa when needed."

Bakugo's scowl faded as he mulled over Kuro's suggestion. Slowly, a dark grin spread across his face. The idea made sense—perfect sense. By breaking his quirk into its components, he could expand its utility while fine-tuning each aspect individually. "I think I get it now," he said, his voice quiet but brimming with satisfaction.

"I've got a lot more ideas for you, Katsuki," Kuro continued, his tone eager. "You sure you don't want to hear—"

"Shut up." Bakugo held up a hand, cutting him off. The grin on his face didn't fade, though. That damn nerd isn't leaving me behind. No chance in hell.

Meanwhile, Izuku walked alone down a quiet street, the cool evening air helping to clear his mind. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it for now, focused on the list of errands Gran Torino had given him. "Eggs, milk…" Izuku muttered under his breath, the list of mundane tasks feeling oddly comforting after the chaos of Hosu.

"Seriously," he mumbled to himself, "Gran Torino must be the only Pro Hero who uses his interns for grocery runs…" He shook his head, though a small smile tugged at his lips. The old man's quirks were part of his charm.

As he continued walking, Izuku glanced down at his phone, realizing he'd almost forgotten something. "Right," he murmured. "I almost forgot to update the group."

Class 1-A had turned their internships into a friendly competition, with everyone posting updates about their experiences. Even the students who hadn't gotten formal offers were participating, sharing pictures of their training or encounters with heroes. Izuku wasn't much for technology, but he didn't want to be left out.

He scrolled through the chat, seeing pictures of Momo sparring with her agency's heroes, Kirishima showing off his improved durability, and Mina posing with a group of sidekicks. A pang of guilt flickered in Izuku's chest—his time at Gran Torino's agency hadn't been glamorous, but it had been life-changing.

He hesitated for a moment, then uploaded a picture he'd snapped earlier in Iida's hospital room. It showed him sitting awkwardly in the chair next to Iida's bed, holding a tray of untouched hospital food. The caption read: "Hosu was intense, but I'm learning a lot. Glad Iida's okay!"

The moment he hit send, his phone buzzed with a reply.

Todoroki: "You need a better caption, Midoriya."1

Izuku sighed. "Figures," he muttered, stuffing the phone back in his pocket.

As he walked on, he couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. The Hero Killer Stain, the chaos of Hosu, the scars it had left on all of them—it was a lot to process. But at the same time, he felt stronger, more determined than ever to keep pushing forward.

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[Auther: I really need to make a page to write down every single ability, power-up and stuff I have characters learn or have. Anyways, this is it for Bakugo, I'm being fully serious, his discovery of his quirk ends here.]