Heroes, Vigilantes, and Villains

Chapter thirty

3rd person POV

The day progressed slowly from there as the classes moved towards until lunch, but not a single student present could truly tell anyone anything as to what they were supposed to learn that day. All of the students of class 1A were watching the new body in the room, their minds burning with questions that they couldn't ask until the break. They all watched the way that Midoryia and Shinso seemed much more familiar with one another than any strangers had a right to be.

The shorter of the two was slouched down in his chair and leaning his head against the brainwasher's desk as the boy in question absentmindedly played with the tuffs of green hair. No one else in the room knew the lengths that it took for the pair to become so comfortable around another after every other touch before them had been something violent, something scarring. But they didn't need to know to see and understand the product of it all.

The bond was something untouchable, even if the pair didn't quite know that.

Not yet anyways.

What drew the attention of everyone in the class other than the unbothered pair was the utter lack of reaction from the resident explosive blond in the class. The lack of anything. All the boy was doing was sitting and staring out the window. For a moment Kirishima wondered if he was even breathing at all, but then he saw the teen twitch at the sound of the vigilante's voice and knew that the boy was alive.

When the bell rang to signal the start of lunch the pair had managed to escape from the room before any of the other students could hope to corner them and question the two, much to Mina's dismay.

Sometimes when Bakugo was young and still possessed the emness belief that all children seemed to hold, he would wonder what it would be like to see a ghost. To witness spirits that should no longer exist persisting and doing so anyways. He grew out of such thoughts not long after the world started viewing him as a hero for his power, but watching the two familiar figures walk away to lunch, their sides pressed tightly together as they allowed the other closer than they ever would anyone else, Bakugo thought that he knew. (Maybe he always did, maybe that was why the thought had lost its wonder.)

The green haired teen, though his features looked like the boy that he once knew, the other boy wore them differently, without any of the lingering light that Bakugo himself had tried so hard to kill. It was as if the world had taken something from the boy as a price to allow him to remain on earth for longer than he should and this was all that was left now, a spirit in a man's corpse.

Bakugo has always been full of himself and today he thought that perhaps he was the world.

(He'd never thought much of the boy after those times that he saw him, but now that Bakugo was put into such a familiar setting with the other, now that he was put somewhere where he knew how the teen should act, the difference was too much to ignore anymore.)

The pair walked to lunch together, their voices dropped into a conspiratorial whisper as they worked their ways through the line, getting ouch from the food hero and grabbing a table.

"You know that they're going to ask questions, right?" Hitoshi asked, picking boredly at his rice as the rest of the students, their classmates, trailed in through the doors.

Izuku shrugged, looking just as much of a corpse as the other boy's mother had once named him. "Of course they will," he agreed, because how could they not? He was the most interesting thing to appear since whatever the children's last shock had been. "We could make it interesting though."

The purple haired teen quirked a brow at the other boy's words. "What do you propose?" He asked, losing all interest in the bowl of rice that he'd been playing with for the better part of a minute now.