Chapter Text
He rolls over in bed to see Satoru dozing off in the late morning sunshine next to him, not quite fully asleep but not quite fully awake either, just enjoying a rare morning off for both of them.
It’s been a few days since they’ve had a moment like this— just the two of them, with no pressing outside obligations pressing in from all sides. Hawks has spent more time than he’d like back in Fukuoka, his presence acting as a deterrent for anarchy even as he does little else but paperwork and random managerial tasks that have piled up in his absence. His sidekicks can easily handle the unrest from the Commission’s fall from grace, but just having him flying around the city in sight of the masses works wonders in keeping morale up within the populace. Additionally, he is really behind on paperwork, so even if he’s not really needed to keep the streets clean he’s definitely needed in his office.
Hawks smiles as he watches Satoru finally stir into true wakefulness, looking grumpy and thoroughly displeased that his internal alarm has betrayed him in such a manner.
“I hate that adulthood has conditioned me into waking up early every day,” Satoru grouses, scrunching his eyes shut in an attempt to keep the morning at bay. “I want to be a teenager again and sleep in until the afternoon.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I absolutely do not mean that, you’re right.” He makes a face and rolls over, fishing his phone off of the charger on his bedside table. “Being a teenager again was the worst. I’m not even sure how I survived a second adolescence, looking back on it.”
“Plenty of crime and chaos, I imagine,” Hawks quips, without missing a beat.
Satoru slyly grins up at him from over his phone. “I’d tell you all about it, but it might be best for you to keep some plausible deniability.”
Satoru probably has a point. He’d heard from Kobayashi that Satoru’s mere presence at her side during her tour of Tartarus had all the prisoners falling in line. He often forgets that Satoru had a viciously well-earned criminal reputation that started long before the police ever got wind of it. Even knowing what he’s capable of, it can be hard to reconcile him as a villain or a criminal, especially now, when it’s coming to light that the former S-rank villain is a lot more heroic than a great deal of the country’s registered heroes. But he supposes that duality is exactly why his existence has upturned the carefully crafted lines between heroes and villains.
At any rate, Hawks is likely better off leaving most of his criminal history unexamined, but there’s still an entire adolescence Hawks doesn’t know much about. At some point, Satoru went from Endeavor’s unruly eldest son to a dangerous villain turned pop punk gremlin, and he— and the rest of the world— still don’t really know how.
“When exactly did you start No Scrubs?” He asks, curiously.
Satoru’s brow furrows as he taps his phone against his chin. “Huh— I’m not entirely sure? I think I was eighteen when Makoto and I first met.”
Hawks rolls over to face him. “And how was that?”
At this point he’s heard quite a bit about this period of time in Satoru’s first life— Satoru always makes a point to answer whatever questions Hawks has on his past life in great detail— but he’s a bit surprised to realize he doesn’t know much about that same period in his current one.
Satoru looks amused as he replies, “She was staying at the same hotel I’d taken up residence in, and I found her at the lobby bar halfway to wasted, ranting to the bartender about how much she hated pop music. Somehow by the end of the night she’d decided the pop music industry needed to be destroyed, and we should start our own band to do it.”
Hawks laughs. “Well, I guess you succeeded in a way?”
Now that he’s been paying attention to music on the radio, he’s definitely noticed there’s been less of that manufactured, mainstream stuff, and a lot more No Scrubs inspired songs. He can’t say he dislikes it, although in his not-so-objective opinion, none of that music even comes close to what No Scrubs puts out. On second thought, maybe it’s more of an objective opinion than he might assume; after all, No Scrubs is universally popular for a reason.
“I can’t say that was my personal goal in recreating all these songs, but I also can’t say I’m unhappy with the results,” Satoru chuckles.
“I’m sure Makoto-san is currently basking in her own glory,” Hawks says. She definitely seems the sort.
Satoru looks back down at his phone, expression turning a bit dry. “She has less time for gloating than you might imagine— I certainly keep her on her toes… huh. Speaking of Makoto…” He trails off, expression turning a bit mystified as he scrolls through his phone.
Hawks leans over to see what’s captured his attention so thoroughly. It looks like some kind of social media site, but he’s not familiar with it. “What’s that?”
“She sent this link to me at some point last night, and it’s really blown up,” he comments, brows rising. “It’s a post from an old bandmate of mine.”
“Old bandmate?” Hawks repeats, and it’s his turn to look a bit mystified.
He knew, in the abstract, that Satoru had played in what he called ‘middle school garage bands’ as a kid mainly to piss off his dad and entertain himself through the ennui of childhood, but it felt surreal to realize those kids he must have played with would all be adults now. Adults who now knew his real identity.
“Yeah, I messed around in a few as a kid, but there was only really one that I stuck with. This guy probably saw my interview with Gentle where I mentioned that band in particular, and decided to post about it.”
Hawks frowns slightly. “Is it bad?”
“No,” Satoru returns, sounding surprised even as he says it. “It’s, um, kind of flattering actually. Also wildly incorrect, because I did not actually write any of those songs, even if he’s making it into a pretty plausible possibility.”
Satoru scrolls down, looking pretty invested in what he’s reading. At this angle, it’s a bit too fast for Hawks to catch. Hawks decides to just leave him to it, rolling back onto his own pillow to stretch his arms over his head. The idea of an entire day off seems almost too good to be true, and yet shockingly daunting by that same turn. He doesn’t even know what to do with this much free time. Take Eri to the playground or something? But she gets plenty of time at the playground in U.A’s daycare, so that might be too boring for her. They could brave the outside world and do some shopping, but he shudders to think of the pandemonium they’d cause if they just dropped into a random department store. It might be nice to just laze around in bed and do nothing, but neither of them are very good at sitting still, and additionally, that’s pretty hard to do with a six year-old running around.
“Oh,” Satoru says, after a long pause. Hawks cranes his neck to see him blinking furiously down at his phone. “... I can’t believe I forgot about that song.”
Hawks yawns. “What song?”
Satoru doesn’t answer him, or at least not directly. He tucks his phone away and throws the covers off as he jumps out of the bed, with far too much energy than anyone without three cups of coffee to their name should reasonably have. Hawks squints up at him. And where the hell did all that energy come from, anyway? Satoru had been half asleep himself just a few moments ago.
“Did you have any particular plans for the day?” He leans over Hawks as Hawks tries to curl up under the remaining heat beneath the blankets, with an excitement that means he already has a plan for them whether Hawks has one or not, and that plan does not involve lounging in bed all day.
Hawks sighs, giving it up as a lost cause. Without Satoru blazing like a furnace beside him, the bed just isn’t as comfortable. “No, but I’m assuming I do now?”
Satoru grins down at him. “Yes, you do! You see, Makoto keeps bugging me to be more active on social media, but then she turns around and tells me to stop posting the stuff I’ve been posting!”
“Probably because most of your posts are borderline unhinged.”
“The internet loves my shitposts,” Satoru returns, unbothered. “Anyway, I just got a great idea for engagement that has the added bonus of not being a shitpost, and also cheering Izuku up!”
“Midoriya-kun needs cheering up?” Hawks gets up, rubbing at his eyes.
Satoru taps his chin. “Truthfully, I think all those kids could use some cheering up. It’s been a lot for them, y’know? Their whole futures have changed right before their eyes.”
Hawks sits up with a wan smile. “For the better, if I have anything to say about it.”
“It will be for the better,” Satoru replies, steadfast. “There’s no way it won’t be, when you’re the one who’s making it happen.”
Hawks ducks his head under the pretense of scratching at his neck. People smother him with compliments all the time: in the media, in interviews, on the streets. He can usually take them with some amount of grace, but something about Satoru’s unflappable and earnest praise always has him flustered. It means more, when it comes from Satoru.
At any rate, he thinks it’s a good idea. Change of any kind can be difficult at that age, and the entire country shifting before their eyes is certainly more change than they could ever have been prepared for. It’s been a tough situation for all those kids. Hawks has seen it firsthand with Tokoyami; his little edgelord has been edgier than usual ever since their internships were suspended, and while Hawks tries to find him on campus when he can, he very rarely has the time to really give his poor broody intern any attention. He’s sure all those kids are feeling something similar, restless and uneasy and feeling caged in their school— even if it’s for their own safety.
“So what exactly is your plan for both cheering up a bunch of kids and getting more engagement, if it’s not your usual shitposting?” Hawks is probably not as smooth with his subject change as he thinks he is, but mercifully enough, Satoru doesn’t call him out on it.
Instead he just grins wildly. “More music, of course!”
//
Katsuki is unsurprised to find the entire class has come to join them, because none of them are ever going to turn down an entire afternoon with Ru-kun, even if none of them know the first damn thing about drums.
Satoru insists, with rather intentional vehemence, that this isn’t a competition because there is no right or wrong answer. He even takes off his glasses to stare down Katsuki and Yui with unerring earnesty as he says it, which was really just unfair and wholly unnecessary. Katsuki has gone through enough therapy to admit he is dangerously competitive in a lot of things, but he’s long since accepted the fact that Kodai Yui is a far better drummer than he is. And that thought doesn't sting the way it used to, in the same way that Deku being a worthy hero and rival to him doesn’t sting either. He wouldn’t really call either of them friends, but he respects them and can acknowledge their strengths, which is really all that matters in this instance.
And anyway, even if he does take this assignment a little too seriously, he’s not in any danger of throwing hands with any of his classmates. He’ll probably just skulk off to brood somewhere no one will bother him.
Kirishima hangs off his arm as they all head over as a big, lumbering group towards the main campus buildings, where most of the classrooms are housed. He’s talking a mile a minute like he’s been electrified by one of Kaminari’s static shocks, and even if Katsuki wanted to listen to a word of it— which he does not— he wouldn’t be able to make out a word of it through the surging white noise in his own head. He’s going to be playing music with Ru-kun again! And this time, he doesn’t have to bother with all the tedium of a school festival in order to do it! This reminds him that Ru-kun lives on campus now, and theoretically speaking, might have enough time in his busy schedule for more impromptu band sessions… not that he’d ever be able to work up the courage to ask. He’d combust on the spot.
He knows damn well that having a crush on a celebrity is stupid— it’s even more stupid when the celebrity in question is walking ahead of him next to the love of his life and possible fiance, with their small child between them. But even repeated exposure to Ru-kun’s everyday chaos hasn’t quite inured him to the star power he emits just by existing, and Katsuki is hardly the only one in the class that isn’t immune. Although from the way Ochako is sighing dreamily at Hawks instead of Satoru, the former villain might have some competition for his spot as Class 1-A’s resident heartthrob. Not that he imagines either of them care about that dubious title. On second thought, Satoru probably does— he’s definitely the kind of person who finds that shit funny and takes pride in causing hormonal teenagers to trip all over themselves at the sight of him.
At any rate, what had started out as a ‘favor’ Satoru had asked of Katsuki and Kodai has turned into an entire class outing, and has unfortunately attracted a bigger crowd beyond just Class 1-A as they make their way to the music room.
A couple third years from Hado-senpai’s ridiculous Dabi fanclub are tagging along with lovestruck gazes, and a few of the teachers and students from the business school are careening in from the hallway for a better look at the action. Even 1-B is here, with Kendo mercifully holding Monoma with a hand over his mouth to stop his blathering. Their part-time teacher ignores all of it with a blithely unaffected air that Katsuki doesn’t think is an act at all, he’s probably just so used to his fame at this point that a crowd doesn’t even register to him, and continues on fixing the camera and fiddling with his tripod. Yui is just as unaffected as she helps him move the instruments into the video frame, so their stunning lack of nerves is probably just a natural response for people who regularly get up on a stage and perform in front of massive audiences.
The same could not be said of Katsuki, who is starting to sweat to the point he worries he might accidentally spark something.
He thinks he’s holding it together decently enough, but then Makoto and Kenji shoulder their way through the crowd and he really starts to panic.
They go over to greet Hawks and Eri first— Hawks having found a decent perch next to Tokoyami, atop an old piano where he and Eri won’t be jostled by the crowds of exuberant students— before Makoto launches herself at Satoru and starts yelling at him. Katsuki can’t hear what she’s saying over all the excited chatter from the audience, but he has to imagine that she’s less than thrilled about being called out here for whatever her bandmate has in store for them.
Truthfully, Katsuki isn’t entirely sure what it is himself, and he’s supposedly a major part of it.
All he knows is that Satoru burst into their dorms with his kid and his boyfriend (fiance?) in tow and startled the hell out of all of them as he called for his bandmate. The commotion had the whole class stumbling into the common room, and in the meanwhile Satoru had then turned to him and asked for him to come too. And then of course he urged Midoriya and Todoroki to join them, because one was sort of his little protege and the other was actually his little brother (which Katsuki had totally called ages ago), so of course the rest of the class had to pile on.
But Satoru hadn’t really explained what they were supposed to be doing, other than making music for his social media. He said he had a song and he wanted both Kodai and Katsuki to play their own versions of the drum part. But not as a competition. Just as… a way to get different options, maybe?
From the way Makoto is pinching the bridge of her nose and Kenji has started uproariously laughing, Katsuki has to imagine neither of them were told the specifics either.
Nonetheless they both seem to agree with whatever Satoru is up to, and start to unpack their instruments— to the utter delight of the crowd. And they don’t seem to mind the growing audience turning this whole classroom into a safety hazard for the fire department, although Makoto does ask everyone to wait to post their videos until after their own has gone out. This causes a couple of dismayed expressions from the assembly, but Makoto assures them photos are fine.
“And not that I don’t appreciate the crowds— but I was actually only given the tabs for this song a few hours ago—” And here she spares a cutting look towards her lead singer and bane of her existence, who only laughs sheepishly, “—so I’m going to need a few takes to figure it out myself. Bear with us in the meanwhile, okay?”
Satoru only looks slightly sorry for the trouble, even as Makoto complains loudly at him as she runs through the bass part a few times. Mostly he just looks excited, and his energy is a little contagious. Even Makoto starts to change her tune as she gets more familiar with her part, and Katsuki can see— or rather hear— why. There’s a very strong and emphasized bassline through the entire piece, which Katsuki knows from his time on way too many No Scrubs forums to be Makoto’s favorite kind of song.
Kenji hadn’t even bothered to run through hers; she’d just taken one look at the sheet music and just nodded along and started fiddling with her pedals. Katsuki supposes she’s been playing music for long enough to be able to easily sight read it on the fly— and has been playing music for long enough with Ru-kun to know how to improvise while she’s doing it.
“Are you even going to explain any of this to anyone else, or are you just going to keep everyone in suspense?” Makoto asks drily, after she’s comfortable enough with her part to play it live.
“Oh, right!” Satoru laughs, running a hand through his hair and tousling it up. “I’m getting ahead of myself here, aren’t I? We’re here to make a song!”
“After I just told you to cool it with the new music,” Makoto cuts in, drily.
“Well, technically it’s not new,” Satoru counters, still smiling widely. “So you can’t get mad at me for this one! And you were the one who told me to make more wholesome content for social media to begin with!”
Makoto looks like she’s about to argue with him, before Kenji cuts in between them with a laborious sigh. “Could you two keep it together for a hot second so we can get on with this? We’ve got an audience waiting and everything.”
They both look sheepish as they lean away from each other. Katsuki looks between them with big eyes, nerves temporarily settled as he gets a front row seat to the inner dynamics of his favorite band. He’s seen them live, but actually being in the thick of it with them is a rather spiritual experience. By his side, Kodai just looks done with all three of them.
“Okay, so here’s how this is going to work,” Satoru claps his hands as he finally starts to explain. “We’re going to play this song— that is not actually new, even if it’s new to No Scrubs—” he sends a pointed look Makoto’s way. Makoto just rolls her eyes. “And it’s called Mr. Brightside.”
Katsuki perks up at the mention of that name. He’d seen the post from last night, and evidently so had Satoru and most of the class, if the way they all start stirring up like a kicked beehive is any indication.
“The catch is that we’re not going to be playing it with drums!” Satoru continues, beaming at them. “That’s where you two come in! We’ll give you a first playthrough so you can hear it in full, and come up with a drum part for the song. Then we’ll take turns playing it with your drum parts included.”
Katsuki’s heart skips a beat. So he really gets to make up the drums for a No Scrubs song? This seems too good to be real. He’s starting to feel a bit faint.
Kodai frowns as Satoru explains his grand scheme, before turning towards Katsuki. She leans over and nudges him with her drum stick to prod him out of his fugue state. “Do you want to play first, or would you rather me do it?”
It’s kind of her to ask. It also feels a bit like a bucket of cold water being tossed on him, as he remembers that he’s not really writing a bunch of cool drum solos in his head— he needs to formulate an entire drum part for a whole song, then perform it in front of a crowd. The idea is absolutely fucking awesome, but also daunting as hell.
“I’ll go first,” he blurts out. He’ll probably lose his nerve otherwise.
Kodai just nods, as if she could have gone either way herself. She probably can. As Katsuki had reminded himself earlier, this isn’t a competition because she’s a professional. She’s the actual drummer of the band, and he’s just getting a guest appearance. It’s not as if they’re really going to use his drum part if they ever release this song for real. Knowing Ru-kun, he probably already has one in mind.
“Great, love the initiative!” Ru-kun cheers, as he moves to stand in front of the tripod. Hawks has migrated away from his secluded corner to presumably work the camera for him, leaving Eri wedged between a far too stoic Tokoyami, a far too eager Midoriya, and a sullen-as-usual-looking Todoroki, standing around her like a trio of mismatched guards surrounding their princess.
“I’m ready when you are,” Hawks calls, after spending a few moments adjusting the camera. “Just let me know when to hit record.”
“Thanks, give me one more second.” Satoru sends him a smile, before he turns back to he and Kodai one more time, settled behind their drum kits. His expression turns a bit more serious as he says, “Don’t worry too much if it’s not perfect, okay? Even Ken-chan and Makoto are learning this on the fly. This isn’t about getting it right, but having fun!”
“You played this song before with your old band, right?” Kodai tilts her head. “So you must already have a drum part for this. Why go through all this trouble?”
To his credit, Satoru doesn’t brush it off as a joke, but gives them a real answer. “Well, seeing Kaito-kun’s post had me feeling nostalgic for this song, but it also made me realize that he’s probably the only person other than me who knows what the drum part for it really sounds like. And… that’s not actually a bad thing! I love this song, and I want to share it with everyone, and I thought a cool way to do it would be to give people a chance to really make it their own.”
“By making up their own drum covers for it,” Katsuki realizes.
“And maybe even coming up with something I like better than what I have in mind for it already!” Satoru agrees, without missing a beat. “I’m not a drummer, so who knows? Everyone has a unique approach to music, and I can’t wait to see them all.”
“So you plan on releasing the backing track and having fans upload their own drum parts?”
Satoru nods, looking rather pleased with himself. “Not a bad idea, right?”
“It’s actually rather inspired for you. I’m impressed,” Kodai deadpans, causing Satoru to gasp in mock outrage.
Satoru’s not wrong though. It is an awesome idea. He’s sure it’ll be a hit online, and he hopes they try this with even more songs. And he especially hopes they’ll invite him back for the first take each time.
“Satoru!” Makoto calls, dragging his attention back to this impromptu stage.
He rolls her eyes at her impatience, keeping his smile fixed on them. “You ready, kids?”
Katsuki takes one look at that smile and finds himself stupidly blurting out, “I’ll come up with something so cool you’ll have to use it for the real release.”
He shuts his mouth with a snap, utterly mortified at his own bravado. Luckily, Ru-kun just laughs it off and doesn’t take it as the blasphemous insult it is. “I’m looking forward to it!”
//
An update from the Dabi Fanclub: Ru-kun is up to something at U.A today!
@mysticmelody: Bless these students for all their hard work giving us the content we all need while Ru-kun is still basically on social media hiatus
@allscrubs: Tbf to Ru-kun he never really posted all that much to begin with. Maybe once or twice a week? And it’s not as if he isn’t posting at all right now. He’s obviously just busy.
@noscrubs.exe: Yeah I’m glad to see him taking a break and doing something fun. I’ve been so worried with all this hero stuff he’d have to stop playing music
@nimrod: I will throw hands with god if that ever happens
@tastycake: Brother you have my sword
@sunnyd: AND MY AXE
//
For the record, Mirio is not actually part of Hado’s ridiculous fanclub. He was just forced to sign up by virtue of being friends with her, and has since been forced to attend every meeting since. He puts on a smile and participates and is friendly with all the other members because that’s just in his nature, but he wouldn’t say he’s truly a fan, the way everyone else seems to be.
But to that end, he isn’t really sure why he isn’t one.
There’s not much to dislike about Dabi, when you really get down to the bottom of that impossible reputation of his.
Yes, he’s an incredibly dangerous individual, and his reputation as a villain was— despite what the vocal twitter mobs might insist— very well-earned. He’s killed people, probably more than they’ll ever know, and Mirio has never gotten the impression he regrets it. His fans like to argue he’s never hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it, but who are they to say who deserves it or not? That’s the whole problem with vigilantism; putting justice in the hands of individuals, and not the system, leads to all sorts of moral conflicts. But in truth, while that’s historically been a point of contention in the vigilante discourse, Mirio actually considers this a point in Dabi’s favor. He’s never hid behind a system that absolves him of guilt; he’s taken responsibility for every life he’s taken, and he’d not ashamed to admit it. That’s more than Mirio can say for most heroes these days— so many of them have ended up being traitors to the system of justice they’d pledged their honor on.
But beyond his criminal activities, there really isn’t much to disapprove of.
In person, he’s actually somewhat difficult to read and a bit distant, even if he can come off as affable on the surface, but there’s nothing cruel or unkind about it. He’s just more open about the distance he puts between people he does and doesn’t trust than most people are, and again, that’s actually something Mirio respects. Actually, Mirio himself has his own form of distance, and one he finds more disingenuous than Dabi’s; he tends to use his loud and gregarious nature as a shield, which feels deceitful when people end up considering him a good friend when he doesn’t view them in a similar fashion.
Dabi is, in fact, a rather shockingly kind person, even if Mirio isn’t entirely sure he’d ever consider him nice.
He’s taking time out of his day to put on this show for them, after all. And yes, a part of that is self-serving in that he’s recording this for his social media, but there are thousands of easier and less time-consuming ways to create media content that don’t involve entertaining an entire student body’s worth of kids who have been going through a rough couple of weeks, and Dabi chose none of them. He instead elected to give up one of his few free afternoons to give the rest of them a chance to have fun and enjoy themselves.
He rescued— and even adopted— Eri, the little girl he and Midoriya couldn’t save on their own, even though taking sole responsibility for a small child probably upended his life in more ways than Mirio can ever fathom. He rescued Mirio too, during that whole mess with the Shie Hassaikai. Mirio and dozens of others heroes— heroes Mirio himself had failed, leading them all into a trap.
Maybe that’s the root of it all.
Mirio is just jealous, and he doesn’t know how to handle it.
He’s never been jealous of anyone in his life, so it’s a bit of a surreal experience.
He’s always had unshakeable faith in himself, and has never felt the need to compare himself to others. What was the point? They were working towards the same goal, and it didn’t matter how short or long that journey was, comparing himself to them was just silly. Even during the long years struggling to master his quirk while everyone else effortlessly breezed through all their trainings, retaking tests no one else failed, putting in hours no one else needed to— he’d never felt jealous. He’d felt honored to have the quirk he did, and he felt every hour of blood, sweat, and hard work he put into mastering it was valuable in and of itself. Those long hours taught him about himself, his determination, and his focus. They honed his character. They were the reason he never paid attention to what others did, unless it was to congratulate them.
But as the fractals of Dabi’s past have started to come to light, cracks have started to form in his own faith.
According to the more ardent members of the Dabi fanclub— who spent way too much time fixating on the man, in Mirio’s opinion— he’s been active as a villain since just after he’d ‘died’ as Todoroki Touya. He couldn’t have been older than fourteen or fifteen at the time he started cremating people out of existence. He was still just a kid, but he’d been powerful enough to leave his mark on the criminal underworld, to have even the most hardened villains fearing to even speak his name. In the only interview he has out on the subject, he’d laughingly called his teenage self the Phantom Menace of the criminal underworld, after admitting he’d tried and failed to name a band to that effect. He’d called himself a little punk and edgelord, but that little punk had enough power to topple the balance of an entire country’s criminal enterprises.
At that age, Mirio was still trying not to end up tripping over his feet and through several walls.
Maybe the similarities of their ‘quirks’ is what really drove these feelings of inadequacy and jealousy home in a manner no one else had ever managed.
He realized now why Midoriya and Kodai had had such an easy time disengaging them during their training session last year. They were used to fighting against an opponent with an ‘infallible’ ability. They’d been trained to fight against the most powerful man in the world— of course they’d manage to best Mirio, even under multiple limitations. Even if they had similar abilities on paper, nothing about Mirio and Dabi was similar in any capacity. Whatever Mirio could do, Dabi could do better, and in half the time.
He’s tried to dismiss the feeling as unreasonable and useless, now that he’s identified it.
Being jealous of someone is pointless. He’s always known that. And those same small morsels of Dabi’s past that have risen in these past few weeks don’t paint a picture of anything to be envious of. If Dabi mastered his impossibly powerful quirk at an impossibly young age, that mastery was born out of terrible circumstances. Whether that was fighting to prove superiority in the cutthroat criminal underworld, or fighting to prove his worth as an eldest son to an unforgiving father, pure and simple survival had likely been the catalyst of his abilities.
Mirio had struggled plenty, but his life had never been hanging in the balance of those struggles.
A lot of Dabi’s life is still shrouded in mystery, and that’s unlikely to ever change. Mirio, and the rest of the world, might never know what he’s been through. But Mirio can infer enough. You don’t get that strong unless you have to be. Unless life has forced that strength out of you, through pain and suffering.
So he knows there’s nothing about Dabi to be jealous about. Not his abilities, or how he got them.
But even now, months after the fact, he can still remember the visceral, wretched feeling of shame and failure crawling down his back, as Dabi had hauled him out of the depths of his own brazen foolishness, like he was an unruly puppy being brought to heel. He’d never been so humiliated in his life, although he knows Dabi likely hadn’t intended to make him feel that way. But he’d been saved, judged, and then summarily dismissed within the course of a few minutes, and he doubts Dabi even remembers it. Everything he’d spent years working towards, forgotten about in a matter of moments. Dabi probably doesn’t even know his name.
He named himself Lemillion because he wants to save millions of people. It was both a goal to aspire to and a summarization of his own hopes and dreams for himself. He wanted to save millions of people, and he wanted to be the kind of person who could save millions of people.
Dabi already managed that, in the span of a single afternoon, on live television for all the world to see.
That’d be a hard pill to swallow for any hero, not just Mirio. What was the point in even trying, knowing full well that there was always going to be someone better?
Mirio shakes his head. This is ridiculous. He’s better than this.
His movement has Nejire glancing over at him, elbowing him in the side as she asks, over the music, “Hey, hey, are you okay over there? You look like you swallowed a lemon!”
“I’m fine,” Mirio assures her, pasting on a smile. He definitely doesn’t want her worrying about him, not now, when she’s finally getting the front row seat to a No Scrubs concert she’s always wanted.
Mirio tries to shove his feelings away to focus on the moment. Nejire had been beside herself with joy ever since they’d realized No Scrubs was putting on an impromptu show for them, and Mirio doesn’t blame her. He’s never really listened to them before, but they’re just as good as everyone says. Even that first year, Bakugou, sounds exceptional as he starts his first take on the song.
He must be a really excellent drummer, Mirio thinks. He’s no musician himself, but he can’t imagine hearing a song all of once, improvising a drum part for it, and then playing it live in front of a crowd. Bakugou seems up to the challenge though, looking determined and excited more than nervous as he settles into a groove with the rest of the band.
Mirio has to imagine Dabi is pretty close to the kid, if he asked him to do this. Asking Kodai, that’s obvious, being his bandmate and all, but as far as Mirio knows Bakugou is just a kid from Class 1-A that Dabi is only peripherally aware of.
As for why Bakugou would even agree to it… well, he supposes that’s obvious too.
He watches Bakugou slam into the chorus to the cheers of the crowds around him, all of them moving in time to the beat of his drums, throwing their hands up to Ru-kun’s voice. He’s grinning wildly, looking like he’s having the time of his life up there. Mirio doesn’t miss the way his eyes constantly drift over towards Dabi— probably trying to make sure they’re all in sync, but there’s something else there, too. A desperate look for approval, one that Dabi sends his way at every opportunity, smiling in encouragement at the drummer between his lyrics.
Watching them, Mirio feels like something in him clicks into place. This feeling he gets whenever he thinks about Dabi, about the way Mirio must have been nothing but an afterthought in his head, it’s really rather familiar.
He’s been in this position before. Everyone doubting him, forgetting about him, moving onward without him. He’s had to prove himself to everyone before; he’s had to prove himself to someone before. He’d had to force Sir Nighteye to look at him, to take a chance on him as an intern and give him a shot. He’d been dismissed by the hero at every turn. But he’d managed it, in the end, and now Sir Nighteye never made a secret about much he was proud of him.
Mirio frowns out at the crowds, at Dabi grinning exuberantly at his boyfriend behind the camera as he sings, while Bakugou knocks his rendition of the song out of the park.
Is that what he really wants from Dabi? Acknowledgment? Just like he’d gotten from Sir Nighteye?
He looks out at the sea of students, so excited and besotted by the villain turned rockstar singing in front of them. Isn’t that what all of them are here for, in the end? This single man has the entire world fixated on his every move, has both his most ardent fans and his most vocal detractors all equally obsessed over him. Love him or hate him, no one ever shuts up about him. Are they all here just craving some form of his attention?
What an awful life that must be, Mirio realizes, with a jolt.
What an exhausting life it must be. What a miserable existence to trudge through, pushed onto this pedestal by consequence and circumstance, exalted as either a devil or a god or both. The weight of the world and the court of public opinion an endless pressure surrounding him on all sides. Everyone knows his name— even people like Mirio, who don’t subscribe to all the gossip and the media, because his fame is just utterly inescapable.
It’s not fair of Mirio— of any of them, really— to expect these kinds of things from him.
His jealousy tempers as he’s jostled around the throngs of cheering students, Nejire lacing their elbows together as she throws her other hand up in time with the music. Dabi doesn't deserve his jealousy or his envy; he’s never done anything but try his best for himself and the people around him. And maybe one day Mirio will be the kind of person, the kind of hero, who he’ll turn to and acknowledge, but Dabi doesn’t owe him that. It’s up to Mirio to become that person, just another goal to work towards on his quest to save millions of people.
And maybe Mirio is looking at this the wrong way.
Dabi might be impossibly powerful and seemingly infallible, but he’s as human as everyone else. He has people he loves and cares about, who he worries for and fights for, just like everyone else. Who’s to say that Dabi can’t be one of those millions of people Mirio can help?
He disentangles his arm from Nejire’s, causing her to once again look his way. “Togata-kun? Where are you going?”
“Ah, my ears are starting to hurt.” He’s not lying; the music room is large enough for the full school orchestra to practice, but with the live music and all these people in it, it’s a little loud for his tastes. He has no idea how Hawks is managing it, but he assumes earplugs are involved.
He glances over towards the double doors out into the hall. “And Kodai-chan is all alone out there, isn’t she?”
That was part of the whole game— Kodai and Bakugou would both hear No Scrubs play their song without the drums, and come up with their own parts separately. Bakugou had wanted to play first, so after their first listen, Kodai had left so she wouldn’t get influenced from hearing Bakugou’s version. Mirio knows she’s a professional and all, and with her experience with Ru-kun will probably have no issue coming up with her drum part, but the idea of her sitting out there alone still doesn’t sit well with him.
He’s fairly certain Dabi wouldn’t want her out there alone, if the way he cares for and coddles his other kids is any indication. But he obviously can’t be out there now, and that, at the very least, is something Mirio can do.