Cussed (Kacchako)

ONE

//chapter artwork: https://www.deviantart.com/tommsama/art/My-Hero-Academia-Fan-Art-Bakugo-Katsuki-707193796

Katsuki tapped the first two fingers of his right hand on the table top. A quick beat, a distracting beat. He focused on those taps, not on the words that the chief of police was blabbing at him and the others in the room. It was something he had learned near the end of his final year at U.A. and had perfected in his twelve years as a pro. He was angry and impatient, but he was always angry and impatient. He had to find an outlet that others couldn't exploit. So...tapping. The whole reason he was here was stupid. Tap. It's not like he meant to destroy things on purpose. Tap tap. And it's not like he destroyed things without cause. Tap tap tap. No one died, no one was injured, except for the villain, it was just a damn building. Tap tap taptaptaptapta—

A hand came down hard on his shoulder and his head jerked over to see who had touched him. Shitty Hair was standing next to him, looking at the front of the room where the police chief was still fucking blabbing on. Katsuki stopped his tapping, the hand was removed from his shoulder. He clicked his tongue. He didn't need to be told to control his anger. He knew he had to, and he fucking did, dammit. His fingers lifted to begin tapping again and he stopped. Fuck.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Ground Zero?" The police chief asked, a smug grin on his face.

Katsuki opened his mouth but closed it when his friend coughed lightly. Smug Face just quirked a brow. That bastard had had it out for him ever since he came back to Japan a few years ago. Always bitching about the damage to the city, the cost of having pros running around "unchecked". The bastard was never around when the shit hit the fan though, he was behind a desk. He had always been behind a fucking desk. He was promoted because the fucker knew how to penny pinch. He was always going on about cost without considering the actual price that was paid when heroes weren't around. There had been a heated exchange or two in the past, when Katsuki had first come back, and since then the asshole had been gunning for him. A quick glance around the room suggested he had supporters this time around. It hadn't been a small building.

Katsuki unclenched his fists and forced himself to place his hands flat on the table. "I stand by my actions."

"Of course you do, you've never cared what cost you are to the city."

"What cost to the city?" Katsuki spat, "Every last one of us is insured up to our damn eyeballs! Every time there's damage, the city charges out the ass for repairs to buildings that were already falling apart. You make money every time one of us defeats a villain."

"And your insurance policies are largely subsidized by the taxpayers. They're not happy at the increased hero taxes over the last few years, they're getting angry that government keeps raising them. Then they see you," the disgust was almost palpable, "pissing away their money and they demand for us to leash you."

Katsuki growled, but Shitty Hair put his hand on his shoulder again. A new voice spoke up, "Yes, yes, we must keep the people happy of course, they pay all of our salaries." Katsuki blinked, when had that damn mouse shown up? "But it's hard to deny Ground Zero's numbers, eh? He's easily one of the most effective pros out there!"

"Nezu-san, you know that capture rates aren't the only thing that matters."

"Yes, yes, of course, but surely they matter enough that you can't justify revoking his license."

Katsuki stiffened. Is that what that damn bastard had been threatening? Was he insane?! No one had his numbers! The number of serious plots he had stopped in the last two years alone made up for any of the damage he had done in the process. That fucking bast—

"I feel we should go with my suggestion," the mouse said, tapping his cane on the floor. "It's the best of solutions. He will be out of the way most of the time, but still being useful; and he'll be able to be called up in a pinch if it proves necessary."

"Please, the last thing I want is for this wrecking ball to be influencing children."

For the second time that evening, Katsuki found himself blinking in surprise. Children? Wait. No. Fuck no. No fucking wonder Nezu was here. He opened his mouth and Kirishima's hand on his shoulder tightened and then hardened into a vice, forcing him to remain seated. Unless he was prepared to blow that hand off, he wasn't moving.

"This won't be his first time trying to move the hearts of the young. It was part of his provisional training. He did surprisingly well. And, if we're to prepare new heroes for the struggles of the future, who better to teach them how to handle themselves in combat than this young man?" Nezu paused and cocked his head. He went on when the chief just glowered at him. "Besides, you know that it's already been approved by the council. Bakugo Katsuki-san will become a teacher at U.A. for the next three years, guiding a hero cohort through their training. It will be his probation."

The mouse's voice lowered in register to something sterner, "And then he will be allowed to return to the profession of his choice. It's been decided."

*********************************************

Katsuki dropped his towel on the floor and sat down, wet from his shower, in what would be his home for the next three years. A suite of rooms in the dorms that he had left over a decade ago. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. Fuck. He hadn't hated this place, but it was not some place he had ever wanted to come back to. He was not one of those pathetic middle-aged men who wished to relieve their glory days from high school, he was right in the middle of his fucking glory days! They were being stolen from him because fucking penny pinchers didn't fucking care if lives were saved if it cost money. Buildings were apparently worth more than people, and now he had to fucking babysit. Fuck. Fuck.

He stood quickly, knocking the chair to the ground. He needed a drink. Or to move. Something to distract him. Tapping wasn't going to do much damn good tonight. He dragged on a pair of sweat pants and slammed open the door. The kids weren't returning for a week, he had the building to himself. He stomped along the hallway towards the kitchen. Going on a run would be better, but he was already exhausted. They had dragged him to that damn office the moment he had captured that damned bubbled bastard, just after he had an entire building come down around his head. Then that stupid meeting and the complete rearrangement of his his life. He needed a drink. Shitty Hair had told him he had thrown a six-pack in the fridge, and he needed to finish it before the brats showed up next week. Beer would be fine for tonight.

He turned the corner and froze. Apparently, he was not the only one in the building. The fuck? A student? No... The woman, and it was definitely a woman, was petite to be sure, but far too curvy to be a child. She was humming, bent slightly with her head stuck in the fridge, and rummaging around for something. She was in an oversized brown shirt that came down just past her slightly swaying behind, and was quite clearly not wearing any pants.

"Who the fuck are you?" He demanded, striding into the kitchen and slamming his hand down on a counter.

The woman 'eeped' and stood up quickly, slamming her head against a shelf in the fridge. A mild curse followed, and she stepped back before turning and glaring at him, a beer in her hand. He hadn't seen her in person since graduation, but he had seen her enough on TV and online in the decade since they parted ways. Her face was still round, and he assumed that her cheeks were normally still pink, though now they looked a little red as she glowered at him.

"Uraraka...what the fuck?!"