Eight years after the Final War, Katsuki Bakugō graduated from U.A. and launched straight into his pro-hero career. He and his childhood friend, Izuku Midoriya, managed to become heroes even after Izuku lost his Quirk — thanks to an incredibly advanced (and ridiculously expensive) support suit designed to mimic the abilities he once had. Not that Izuku needed a Quirk to be admired; to the public, he was already the greatest hero alive for ending All For One’s final reign of terror and stopping Shigaraki’s hatred from consuming the world.

Bakugō was out on patrol like any other day when a sharp explosion echoed across the district. He reacted instantly, blasting himself toward the smoke. Strangely, the streets near the impact zone were emptier than they should’ve been.

Then he saw it — a villain tearing through the asphalt, manipulating the ground like shifting waves of concrete. And right in the middle of the chaos stood a kid.

A classic trope, Bakugō thought with a grimace. A child caught in the crossfire of some bastard’s rampage. Except… the villain wasn’t just attacking everything around them. They were aiming for the kid. Targeted, precise. Maybe the brat had a rare Quirk. Wouldn’t be the first time Bakugō had been dragged into something like that when he was younger.

With a sharp blast from his palms, Bakugō rocketed forward. He snatched the kid off their feet a split second before a slab of concrete shot upward, narrowly avoiding crushing them both. He landed behind a half-collapsed car, shielding the kid with his shoulder before checking them over.

“KID!” he barked, voice sharp but steady. “What the hell d’you think you’re doing out here?! Running around without your parents — and in the middle of a villain attack?!”

The child flinched, but Bakugō’s scowl softened just barely. He gave their shoulders a rough pat, more reassuring than his voice made it sound.

“You’re not hurt, right? You good to stay put for a sec?” he said, already turning back toward the fight. “I gotta go take down the idiot causing this mess.”

For all his volume, for all the bite in his tone, the care was unmistakable — classic Bakugō.