Kuro had barely settled into the comfort of doing absolutely nothing when his phone violently buzzed across the floorboards.
The screen lit up.
EXPLOSION MURDER GOD
📷 [An aggressively scowling Bakugo profile picture]
Kuro stared at it for a moment.
"…Ah."
The strange melancholy hanging over the room vanished instantly.
He answered.
"Bakugo?"
Immediate screaming detonated through the speaker.
"HEY, DON'T IGNORE ME, DAMMIT! THE OTHER IDIOTS DON'T HAVE YOUR NUMBER, SO I HAD TO CALL. GET OVER HERE NOW."
Kuro winced slightly and pulled the phone away from his ear.
Even from several inches away, Bakugo's voice retained explosive force.
Cheerful as ever, Kuro replied casually, "I can be there really soon… but everyone in class has my number, Bakugo."
Silence.
A dangerous kind.
The kind where Bakugo wasn't yelling because yelling no longer properly conveyed the depth of his irritation.
Kuro immediately began silently praying for whoever convinced Bakugo to handle communication duties.
"…I see."
Oh no.
Calm Bakugo.
The rarest and most terrifying variation.
"We're meeting at the usual place at five."
"Sure! See ya there!"
Kuro hung up instantly.
Self-preservation mattered.
Even to him.
He stared at the phone for another second before sighing dramatically.
"…Poor soul."
Somewhere out there, one of his classmates had probably forced Bakugo into the role of organizer.
That person was either extraordinarily brave or already dead.
With time still left before the meeting, Kuro pushed himself off the futon and moved around the room aimlessly.
Well—
Not aimlessly.
He cleaned.
Because apparently Turles' habits had infected him permanently.
He reorganized shelves.
Folded clothes.
Swept dust from corners that absolutely did not matter.
Then made himself lunch while loudly criticizing his own cooking.
"This rice lacks passion."
The rice did not respond.
Afterward, Kuro settled near his desk and opened several notebooks filled with Support Course theory.
Most people assumed Kuro only fought with instinct and overwhelming force.
That assumption was hilariously wrong.
His notes were dense.
Detailed.
Filled with mechanical sketches, energy calculations, support gear analysis, and various concepts scribbled with alarming enthusiasm.
Though several pages also contained phrases like:
"What if it exploded harder?"
"Potential issue: user survival rate."
"Mei says fear limits innovation."
Clearly dangerous material.
As he worked, sunlight slowly shifted across the room.
And near the edge of his desk—
Partially hidden beneath folded cloth—
Sat a damaged metallic headband.
Blackened.
Cracked.
Its circuitry warped from excessive energy exposure.
Oddly familiar in design.
Very familiar.
In fact—
It looked nearly identical to the device Wolfram had worn during the battle on I-Island.
Kuro's eyes drifted toward it briefly.
The cheerful energy around him dimmed slightly.
"…Still can't fully stabilize it."
Quietly, he picked it up.
Even damaged, faint energy still hummed beneath the ruined shell.
Dangerous.
Unfinished.
Theoretical.
Exactly the kind of thing no responsible person should possess.
This explained perfectly why Kurokami Tenshin owned one.
He rotated the cracked headgear once in his hands before setting it back down carefully.
"…I really should destroy this."
A pause.
"…After I finish studying it."
...
Naturally.
The entrance of the massive shopping mall had become the site of what several nearby civilians were confidently assuming was either:
a hostage situation,
a bizarre street performance,
or a cult ritual.
At the center of it all—
Bakugo Katsuki violently struggled against enough metal chains to restrain a small supervillain.
"MMPH!!"
His furious, muffled screaming echoed through the plaza.
The duct tape over his mouth somehow failed to lessen the aggression.
Nearby pedestrians wisely chose not to involve themselves.
Toru Hagakure hid entirely behind Kyoka Jirou, only her gloves visible as she pointed accusingly toward Bakugo.
"I WAS JUST TRYING TO HELP HIM SOCIALIZE!"
Bakugo somehow screamed louder through the tape.
Jirou sighed.
"To be fair, you did tell him 'normal people have friends.'"
"That was motivational!"
"That was psychological warfare."
Momo Yaoyorozu stood nearby, attempting to maintain authority over the situation.
Keyword:
Attempting.
"Bakugo, violence is not an appropriate response to your classmates trying to assist you socially."
Bakugo's eye twitched violently.
"Furthermore, excessive hostility only reinforces unhealthy—"
"MMPH!"
Momo flinched slightly.
"…Language."
Unfortunately for her, being visibly adorable while trying to act stern completely ruined the intimidation factor.
Denki Kaminari, meanwhile, had fully abandoned the chaos in favour of more important matters.
Specifically—
Trying to steal a drink from a broken vending machine.
"C'mon…" he muttered, sparks crackling around his fingertips as he attempted to jumpstart the machine electronically.
The vending machine remained unimpressed.
Shoji stood silently nearby, observing the entire scene like a weary anthropologist documenting the collapse of civilization.
Then—
A black blur shot down the street.
"KATSUKI!!"
Several civilians screamed as Kurokami Tenshin practically launched himself into the plaza at dangerous speeds before skidding to a dramatic stop.
Wearing his usual black martial arts gi instead of civilian clothes, Kuro looked far more like someone arriving for battle than a casual outing.
His eyes immediately locked onto Bakugo.
A beat of silence passed.
Then—
"…Why are you restrained like a captured demon?"
Jirou pointed at Hagakure without hesitation.
"Hers."
"TRAITOR!"
Kuro nodded solemnly.
"That tracks."
Bakugo immediately began yelling again through the duct tape.
Kuro crouched slightly.
"Hm?"
More aggressive muffled profanity.
"Ohhhh, you want me to free you."
"MMPH!"
Kuro considered this deeply.
Then looked at the others.
"Should I?"
"NO," half the group answered instantly.
Todoroki, who had spent the last several minutes completely unfazed by the situation, finally spoke while holding a canned drink he absolutely did not pay for.
"I still don't understand why everyone was staring at us."
"…Because Bakugo looked kidnapped," Jirou answered.
"That's dramatic."
Bakugo nearly burst a blood vessel.
Kuro, meanwhile, reached down and casually ripped apart several of the metal restraints anyway.
"Freedom always wins."
The moment Bakugo was loose—
Jirou immediately prepared to dodge.
Instead—
Bakugo ripped the duct tape off his mouth and pointed furiously at Hagakure.
"YOU MOTHER******."
Hagakure hid behind the shoji now.
"YOU SAID THIS F******* SH*T WOULD HELP ME MAKE FRIENDS!"
"It technically worked!" she argued.
"You TRICKED me into calling THAT F*****!"
Kuro blinked.
"…Wait, that's why you called me?"
Bakugo froze.
A dangerous silence followed.
Then—
"SHUT UP."
Kuro burst into laughter instantly.
Not a normal laugh.
A full-body, doubled-over, tears-forming kind of laugh.
"Oh my god, THAT'S amazing!"
Bakugo looked two seconds away from committing murder in public.
Momo sighed helplessly.
Shoji silently accepted that this trip would absolutely become exhausting.
And somehow—
Despite the chaos—
The group eventually entered the mall together like a vaguely functional friend group.
_______________________________________________________________________
[Auther: Untreated scars cut deep into your heart.
Oh, right, yesterday was a holiday or something...I can't remember, but I did manage to write a whole bunch, so I'll probably double-post.
]