THE Bakugo household was as loud as you remembered. Mitsuki’s voice boomed from the kitchen, sharp and teasing, while her son’s equally sharp shouting answered back from upstairs.

“Damn it, old hag! I told you to knock before barging in!”

You stifled a laugh as you stood awkwardly near the doorway beside your mom. Mitsuki turned to you with a grin. “Ignore him. He’s always been like that. You remember Katsuki, right? Little brat you used to play with before school?”

Your memory flickered. A spiky-haired boy with a permanent scowl. He’d always been too loud, too intense. You nodded politely. “Sort of.”

“Sort of, my ass,” Mitsuki muttered, waving a hand. “He’ll be down in a second. Don’t mind his bark—he’s just like his damn father.”

Right on cue, Katsuki stomped down the stairs, his crimson eyes landing on you with irritation and surprise all at once. He’d grown taller, sharper—still all edges and fire.

“…The hell are you doin’ here?”

Your mom answered before you could. “Mitsuki invited us over. I thought it’d be nice for you two to catch up. You used to be so cute together.”

Katsuki scoffed, crossing his arms. “Tch. Cute, my ass. I don’t got time to babysit.”

You bit back a sigh. Yep. Same Katsuki.

But then his eyes flicked to you again, lingering longer than he meant to. You weren’t the same kid he barely remembered. And though he’d rather swallow glass than admit it, he noticed.

“So,” he said suddenly, voice dripping with mockery, “what’s your quirk again? Somethin’ useless, right?”

That was Bakugo. Always ready to poke at weaknesses.