Chapter Text
Katsuki sits in his usual seat, usual row, usual homeroom class. He’s preparing for his normal day of classes, some of which he likes more than others but all of which he knows he’ll pay attention to. It’s with low expectations that he looks up for Aizawa’s announcement - that is, until Katsuki notices his classmates buzzing. Notices who’s not already in their assigned spot.
It’s irritating, when someone’s out of place. Even if he doesn’t like them, there’s an order to things when every seat is filled in and the background noise isn’t missing one voice among a symphony of people he doesn’t care about. However, Kirishima is different than most.
If everyone else is a symphony, Kirishima is the single note amongst the rest that sends a buzz up the back of your neck. He’s the note that pulls the jazz cords together, the softener that mellows everyone out when they lean towards sharp.
So Katsuki sits up and takes notice when Aizawa points out the fact that Kirishima never came back to the dorms after his internship.
“Don’t ask the other internship kids,” Aizawa instructs the class, “they can’t tell you any more than I’m about to. And don’t ask Kirishima, either - that’s not going to work.”
“Yeah, I’d wondered. What do you mean, not going to work?” Kaminari needles without raising his hand.
Jumping on the train, Ashido pouts (at least she raises her hand, though she doesn’t wait to be called on). “Is this why Kiri isn’t answering my messages?”
We get it, Katsuki thinks irritably. You text him and call him nicknames, and know when he’s not back from his internship. Such great friends. “Can you idiots let Aizawa get to the point?”
“Ah, sorry!” they chorus. Katsuki rolls his eyes and fixes his gaze back onto their teacher, challenging.
Why didn’t he know Kirishima was back from his internship?
“You can try reminding him of things you’ve discussed, but try to refrain from distressing him.” Aizawa continues, waving his hand at the door. There’s a heavy pause in which the remaining nineteen students crane their necks towards the exit, internship students exchanging worried looks that Katsuki wants to smack off their faces.
Kirishima’s strong. He can take more than they’re implying. What right do they have, to look so obviously concerned?
Speaking of Kirishima, the redhead himself is entering the classroom with cautious steps unbefitting him. “Kiri!” Ashido coos, and Kirishima jolts before breaking into a smile.
“Ashido?” he tilts his head, walking over to her desk. “Man, when’d you get so tall?”
“Kirishima, my dude? She’s not that tall. Dunno if she’s grown in the three days you’ve been gone,” Sero mumbles nervously.
“Oh,” Kirishima frowns. “Um, this is kind of awkward, but do I know you?”
The class stares at him in collective horror.
“We haven’t explained the situation yet.” Aizawa groans. “There was -”
“A villain got Kirishima with her quirk, and then she escaped, and we don’t know what to do!” Deku nearly shrieks in the tone of someone who’s been keeping this quiet to the point where it nearly killed him.
Katsuki rises from his chair with a screech, calling attention to himself in a way he can’t bring himself to regret. Kirishima’s attention is on him, burning, and Katsuki slams his way over to Ashido’s desk to stare into his eyes. “For All Might’s sake, Shitty Hair, what’re they teaching you at this internship?”
“Do you - what - my hair’s not shitty!” Kirishima splutters, and Katsuki narrows his eyes to lean in further.
“Getting a little close there, Bakugou,” Kaminari points out, and Katsuki snorts but backs up.
Aizawa sighs. “His memory is basically reset to before he came to UA.”
“So he doesn’t remember any of us?” Jirou asks. Her earphone jacks are flicking back and forth, showcasing her distress. “How long will this last?”
“I looked into her files,” Deku says, calmer now that he’s not hiding anything. He’s still fidgety and annoying, but he’s grown into himself since coming to UA, since their fight. Katsuki can’t say he’s less annoying, but he’s deserving of some attention. “And files of others with this type of quirk. It should last about a week, two if he’s unlucky. I mean, that’s just my estimate and who knows if her quirk really lines up with Mindtwitch’s, I have to study -”
Uraraka sets a hand on his back to quiet him as Katsuki’s mind slowly implodes. “What, so he only remembers Raccoon Eyes?”
“‘Raccoon Eyes’?” Kirishima whispers, like he’s not sure whether he can laugh or if Katsuki’s actually going to hurt Ashido’s feelings.
“He comes up with cute little nicknames for his friends,” Ashido replies easily.
“Like fuck I do,” Katsuki grumbles. “The hell are we going to do in the meantime?”
Kirishima reaches up to his hair, frowns, and lowers his hand. Katsuki takes note of this, takes note of the way Kirishima sticks close to the pink haired girl and regards the rest of them with vague interest. It makes sense, because she’d be familiar to him, but Katsuki doesn’t have to like it.
“Deku, send me those files!” he demands, slamming his hand on Ashido’s desk. The class has begun to get a little too close, and Kirishima folds into himself a little more. “And back up, extras! Give him space, it’s like you’ve never seen him before. Don’t you morons have studying to do?”
Groaning, Class 1-A shuffles back to their seats with varying levels of compliance. “Who’s this?” Kirishima hisses at Ashido, eyeing the blond. “He seems important. Is he the class president or just angry?”
“Damn right I’m important.”
“Bakugou! Please, refrain from swearing on school grounds. Friend Kirishima! I am the class president, and as such I can take charge of your wellbeing during these two weeks!” Iida shouts, waving his arms while sitting straight up in his seat.
Katsuki sneers. “Nah, you’ll turn him into some kinda robot.”
“What he means is that the Bakusquad can handle this!” Kaminari beams. “Thanks, class prez!”
“Who’s the Bakusquad?” Kirishima wonders, and Sero moves to stand next to him.
The dark haired boy raises a hand as if to pat him on the shoulder, thinks better of it, and gives Kirishima a friendly nudge instead. “Us. Aizawa-sensei, we clearly need time to show our boy Kirishima here everything he needs to know.”
“Fine,” Aizawa gumbles. “It’s not like anyone’s going to do anything worthwhile after this, anyways… class dismissed for the day, but we’re working twice as hard tomorrow.”
Excited babble fills the classroom as twenty children gather supplies and race for the door, before their homeroom teacher clears his throat. “Let me make this clear: only the “Bakusquad” is allowed to interact with Kirishima for today, so he’s not overwhelmed.”
“Sensei, were the quotation marks needed?” Ashido complains, shepherding her friends out the door.
“So, you’re Bakugou,” Kirishima points at Katsuki, “and you named your friend group after yourself?”
“Oi, don’t think I had anything to do with that!” Katsuki roars.
“That nugget of genius is allllll mine,” claims Ashido, skipping ahead. “Here, let’s go to the dorms.”
“And you’re Sero, Jirou, and Kaminari…” Kirishima continues, pointing at each classmate in turn.
“The one and only!” Kaminari chirps, finger gunning. Kirishima laughs quietly.
Jirou shoves Kaminari gently, making him stumble and wince. “Alright, Denki. Maybe say something useful?”
“We’ve been friends since, like, the first week of school.” Sero interjects, walking between Katsuki and Kirishima. “You, me, and Kami. Then we became good friends with Ashido in… dunno, sometime in the first month.”
“I showed up about three months in, because I was already friends with Kaminari and Ashido. And Bakugou, not that he’ll accept it.” Jirou explains. Katsuki snorts. “And of course Ashido is a childhood friend of yours, kinda.”
“So who’s Bakugou?” Kirishima asks innocently, glancing over at the end of the line. Katsuki’s not sure when he got used to Kirishima walking alongside him, instead of behind, but it feels different when it’s Sero.
Kaminari bites his lip. “Bakugou’s your best friend, dude. He’s - well, I’ll explain later.”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Katsuki snorts, tossing his head.
“He’s my best friend?” Kirishima says slowly, looking at Katsuki as if he’s got the answers.
He exhales loudly. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Tsundere, you love us. Especially Kirishima, remember when he cooked us a midnight meal because Kiri came back from his internship late and hadn’t had food?” Ashido betrays him with a sly smile and a blown kiss.
Jirou grins fondly. “Or when I couldn’t find my eyeliner, so he insisted on doing mine for me along with his?”
“You guys make him sound like a housewife instead of a brat,” Kaminari muses.
“Hah?” Katsuki yells, pushing up his sleeve. “Come over here and say that, off brand Pikachu, and I’ll -”
“Why don’t you wear ties?” Kirishima interrupts, staring at Katsuki’s collar.
“Uh,” Katsuki lowers his fist. “What?”
“That’s an excellent question!” Sero leans forward, inspects Katsuki’s tie-less neck. “I mean, there’s a dress code.”
Like hell Katsuki’s going to tell them that he doesn’t wear ties because it feels like he can’t breathe. Because it reminds him of sludge filling his vision, of being powerless. Because it reminds his of a cold hand around his neck, pulling him into the void. Of Deku, both times, lurching to save him because he couldn’t save himself.
“It’s because he’s a rebel,” Jirou decides. The explanation is generally accepted, and Katsuki rolls his eyes to cover up his gratitude that he doesn’t have to volunteer information. Kirishima gives him a look that Katuski can recognize as the ‘bullshit, but I’m not calling you out on it here’ face.
When they hit the dorms, they make their way up to the floor Kirishima and Katsuki have rooms on. Ashido glances between the two doors, then opens Kirishima’s. “We’ll talk in here. Maybe it’ll jog some memories.”
“What’s the other one?” the redhead asks as they file into his room, face open and curious. Like a puppy, or something.
“Bakugou’s, but you and Jirou are the only ones who’ve been in it,” Sero mopes. “I want to know what he’s hiding in there!”
Jirou just laughs. “Hey, I’m not losing room privileges to satisfy your curiosity!”
“I think it’s a shrine to All Might,” Ashido suggests. “Like, as bad as Midoriya’s.”
Katsuki flops onto the floor, ignoring them. Sero settles across from him. “You’re right. I bet he’s thinking something like “Deku’s paltry excuse of a collection is no match for my treasure trove of hero memorabilia!””
“I think it’s just a cube, with no decoration.” Kaminari says. “‘Cause he goes to bed at eight thirty all the time, so he needs no distractions.”
“I get up at four, I’ve gotta sleep!” Katsuki retorts, finally deigning to glare at the group.
“As good as a confession!” Kaminari shouts, jabbing a finger into Katsuki’s face. “Empty box room it is!” Kirishima laughs, settling down next to Katsuki on the mat.
“Baku tutors you, so you probably see his room more than anybody but him,” Ashido tells him. “But you never tell us. Something about ‘bro code’, which I think as a girl I’m exempt to.”
“Girls can be bros.” Kirishima informs her sagely.
“Jeez, Ash, ever heard of gender equality?” Jirou teases, sitting loosely cross legged next to Kaminari.
They’re silent for a brief moment, before Kirishima laces his hands together in his lap. “Uh, I’m sorry for taking you all out of class. I know UA is really prestigious - I looked it up a little while ago.” He hesitates, then corrects himself. “I mean, before the entrance exams.”
“We’re friends, Kirishima,” Sero reminds him in an attempt to be reassuring. “Also, I’d like to inform you that none of us are particularly great at school -”
“Ahem, ahem, King Explosion Murder, ahem.”
“Hush your face, Ashido.”
“Well.” Kirishima doesn’t look reassured. “Thanks.”
Now it’s Katsuki’s turn to give him a Look, fingers twitching. If Kirishima remembered everything, he could grab the redhead by the wrist and shake him until he felt better. Or give him money? Didn’t that work before?
“Crap,” he mutters, stiffening. If Kirishima doesn’t remember anything after the entrance exams, if he doesn’t remember Bakugou or their classmates or - “Do you remember Kamino Ward?”
Kirishima looks up from his lap. “What’s that, again?”
“Nothing.” Katsuki replies gruffly. Still feels a rough hand in his, pulling him up and away as they crackle across the sky, feels a ferocious grin pull at his face as he holds tight - “Nothing at all.”