BakuJirou Oneshots

Trust

Katsuki liked to make food from scratch, so it wasn’t uncommon to see him preparing his own blend of ingredients at the kitchen counter of their U.A. dorm kitchen. He was in the process of chopping bell peppers when Jiro entered the room and gloomily opened the fridge, stared at it for a good moment and sighed before she got herself a bottle of green juice.

Any normal day, Katsuki wouldn’t care the last bit about people around him, but it was another thing altogether when he was in the kitchen. He thought the bunch of extras he called classmates already knew better than to bother his only ever zen moment, but Jiro’s mood was ruining it all.

That was the only reason he put the knife down and turned to her when she leaned against the sink and managed to drink her juice, even though she was pouting.

“The fuck is wrong, Short Stuff?” he asked, hoping that his death glare would make her get the hell out, even though she, okay, was one of the people he tolerated.

She set the bottle down, eyes focused outside through the window, and she sighed again.

“You know the Jean Jott show that will happen next month in Tokyo?” Jiro said when he started to think that she wouldn’t answer at all. Katsuki nodded. “It sold out in 3 minutes and I didn’t get a ticket.”

She moved to take another sip of juice, but decided against it and capped the bottle again, setting it on the sink. If possible, her pout was even pouter.

“You know who I’m talking about, right?” she asked.

“Do I look like a fucking idiot?” he replied. Jiro didn’t even flinch, and when she talked again, she was dead serious.

“She changed the history of rock, Bakugo,” she said, seeming taller than she could possibly be. Impressive. “And she’s old now. She won’t return to Japan! And she’s gonna die! It’s sad because she’s my idol and she’s gonna die and I won’t see her!”

“Gee, Shorty,” Katsuki said leaning back. “Aren’t you from a family of musicians or some shit? Can’t you pull some strings?”

“My parents aren’t that important,” Jiro said looking down and then she groaned frustrated.

Katsuki looked at her for a moment or two, pondering if he should do what he thought of doing, and then it was his turn to sigh, mumbling a fuck it under his breath. He dried his hands on a cloth and fished his phone from his pocket, fast dialing his father.

“What…” Jiro asked confused at his sudden change in demeanor and he held a finger up in both a silence and a hold on signal.

His father picked up quickly.

“Hey, dad,” Katsuki greeted and was met with a brief silence on the other side.

“What’s wrong?”

Katsuki shrugged.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You sound like a human being. Something has to be wrong.”

Leaning against the sink, Katsuki rolled his eyes but tried to control his genius just this time.

“Anyway,” he said instead. “Are you still pals with Jean Jott?”

By his side, Jiro grabbed Katsuki’s arm, stared at him wide-eyed.

“Oh, that’s random. But yes, I am. She’s coming to Japan soon, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, next month. You think you can get a couple of tickets for me?”

“I thought you grew tired of her,” his father said with a bit of humor in his voice. Katsuki groaned.