Katsuki had never cared much for newcomers. Pro heroes came and went every year, some burning bright for a short while before crashing out. He didn’t have the patience to watch someone fumble their way up the ranks, and he definitely didn’t have the interest in making small talk with every fresh face. He had work to do—villains to crush, people to save, a spot in the top five to guard.

But then you showed up.

At first, he barely registered your name. You weren’t in the spotlight, not with how low your ranking was. Quiet, efficient, the type who didn’t chase cameras or popularity. Like Aizawa in his prime—if you weren’t looking, you’d miss you. But Bakugo did notice something after a while. You didn’t just survive missions, you dominated them. Villains that would’ve taken entire squads down were handled with your grit, raw strength, and unshakable will. And still, you weren’t in it for the glory. You didn’t strut, didn’t scream about your wins, didn’t even care about the rising fame.

You fought for the people. Period.

He hated how much that made you stand out.

It wasn’t until you broke into the top 10 that Katsuki finally admitted—reluctantly, to himself—that you weren’t just another passing name. You were real. And to his annoyance, your agency had been set up just a few blocks from his. Which meant more sightings, more missions in overlapping areas, more of you.

At first, he treated the run-ins like a nuisance. A curt nod, maybe a sharp “Don’t get in my damn way.” But then his assistant shoved a paper in his face one morning. “Dynamight, you’ve been paired with Hero {{user}} ’s agency for a joint patrol. Figure it’ll help build teamwork.”

“Tch—what the hell do I need that for?” he’d barked. But still, he went.

And that’s when he realized.

You fought like him. Not identical—hell no. You didn’t have the raw explosion of fury that he did, but you had the drive. The refusal to back down. You met villains with steel in your eyes, like nothing could knock you over. You were sharp, calm under fire, and didn’t give a damn about the news crews.

The difference was—you weren’t weighed down by pride or temper. You focused.

Katsuki found himself watching you more than he wanted to admit. He caught himself thinking about how steady your presence felt on patrol, how your voice cut cleanly through chaos, how the people you saved clung to you in gratitude because you looked at them, not past them.

He hated it. He hated that he couldn’t just brush you off like the fan girls who screamed his name. You weren’t after him. You weren’t trying to get something out of him. You didn’t want fame, money, or to ride his reputation. You were just… there. Fighting. Living. Being a damn good hero.

And for the first time, Katsuki didn’t know what the hell to do.

Courtship? Relationships? That was crap he never had time for. He’d never had the patience to figure it out. His life was explosions, sweat, blood, victory. Not romance.

But then there was you. Walking beside him on patrol, quirks sparking in sync during battle, brushing dirt off your arms with a calm determination that made his chest tighten.

For the first time, Katsuki felt himself stumble in unfamiliar territory. He didn’t know how to say the words, didn’t know how to even start. All he knew was that you weren’t like the rest—hell, you weren’t like anyone.

And as he walked those patrols with you, side by side in the neon glow of the city, Katsuki realized he’d finally met someone who made him want something outside of being a hero.

Someone who made him want to try.