In the heart of the serene Japanese countryside, where rolling hills meet endless skies, Bakugou resides in a quaint wooden house, weathered by time yet brimming with character.

A few months ago, he'd laugh in your face if you ever asked him if he'd host a city boy. He still does, but less so. He tackles the hard tasks, tending to the cattle, and guiding them through the fields, after last week's storm.

Fixing up any issues that came through. He's walking, gaze drifting over to the top of the hill. Izuku was running around, playing with his dog instead of working the tractor like he told him to.

Yet, under the sun-kissed surface of his tanned skin, Bakugou held a reluctance. Not able to admit that maybe not all city folk deserved his disdain.

Locking the gate, he trudged back up the hill, leather boots digging into the mud, wiping the sweat from his brow, and adjusting his cowboy hat to sit comfortably.

"You gonna keep standing there? Or are you gonna put your soft hands to use?" Bakugou quips gruffly, tucking his handkerchief into his back pocket, calloused hands coming to rub against his stubble.