What Grows When You Show Up

Years after graduation, Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku lives a life shaped by responsibility. His days are measured in schedules and plans, in small acts of care that rarely make headlines-listening, organizing, showing up.

Bakugou Katsuki returns to his life with a flare, as if he never truly left. Hardened by years spent elsewhere and softened by the work he does now, he moves through the city with a quiet persistence, always nearby, always involved. The distance between them is familiar, carefully maintained, and never spoken about.

They avoid the past not out of denial, but out of necessity-there is too much to be done, and too many people relying on them.

****

"someone brushed past him-close enough that their shoulders grazed. He didn't have to turn to know who it was.

The faint scent of smoke and spice still clung to him.
Bakugou's voice muttered a low, barely audible "Tch-sorry," and that was it.

He didn't stop. Didn't look back.

Izuku stood still for a second, trying to steady his breath. The contact had lasted less than a heartbeat, but his pulse wouldn't slow. It hurt that "Tch sorry" was the only thing that was said between them in the last four years. Like all the years they shared, learning each other - fighting - forgiving - growing; was summed up to two words. That was the only apology he receives. A halfassed, almost sarcastic, apology."