Bakugo
Five years ago
Kaido has been staying under Hawk's watch in the apartment below his. He never strays too far. Keigo set up a camera outside the door to catch when Kaido tries to leave. Under our agreement, if he behaves, I'll keep helping him.
It's been two months since Kaido left that knife with a rusted blade on the table. Since then, he's been my shadow. I don't take him on missions. That's too risky. Both for him and my employees. It's not that I don't trust him. He's thirteen, not some kind of murderous psychopath.
He's a damaged kid. His perceptions of what is right and wrong are skewed. I didn't skim over his evaluations. I read them in full. There are clear signs he was abused. His doctors estimated from his scans that his ribs were broken several times before the age of six. From his bloodwork, he seemed well-fed, but again, before the age of six, it's evident he was malnourished, that he lacked sleep. I haven't asked Kaido about his life and I don't think he would tell me anything if I did. All his injuries have healed over the years except for slitted scars across his back and a birthmark blooming from his lungs. He has a tattoo there. Doctor's notes. It covers his heart. Sometimes, I catch him putting his hand there, curling his fingers around his shirt.
I haven't told anyone about him except Yin. She asked if I needed her help. I declined, not because I don't need it, but to keep her safe. Also, strangely, even if I don't trust Kaido yet, I have faith in his ability to grow. Like I said it's been two months. Already, there's progress. Never thought I'd say this about an intern, let alone one who hasn't even been in high school yet. But him and I just click. His past doesn't matter. It's his and he has no obligation to share it with me. What matters is moving forward.
"I don't want to live with him," Kaido says. He grits his teeth, hands held behind his back. He's taken to standing like a soldier when we're together, discipline worn on his shoulders.
"Tough," I say as the elevator continues to descend.
Kaido gives me a look. He's barely shorter than me. At fucking thirteen. Whatever genes he's got, they're turning his pre-adolescent stink-eyes hard to look down on.
"I can live on my own," he says.
"I bet."
"You know he won't actually take care of me." His voice drops.
"He'll put a roof over your head," I say. "He'll feed you and he'll make sure you stay out of trouble."
"I only went through him to get to you. I have no interest in Hawks." And yet he managed to infiltrate his agency by barely lifting a finger.
"That's funny." I almost laugh.
"Why would that be funny?"
"No, it's funny you think you have any say in the matter." My gaze thins in his direction. Kaido's frown weighs down his face and he makes a 'tch' sound beneath his breath. Maybe two months of shadowing was too much. He's becoming too much like me.
I had his costume made specifically for him. It's similar to Yuki's for the temperature effect, permeable membrane to allow his fire to escape safely without destroying the fabric. I requested the binding be made of the same material as my gloves. Hopefully, that'll help him reach his quirk since it can intensify pressure.
Kaido told me he's only used his quirk twice. The first time he was five. The second he was eight. I asked what prompted him to use it. He was silent for a while, chewed on the answers, deciding whether or not to spit them out. He did, eventually. He said whenever his quirk arose, he felt threatened. I saw the memories gleam past his eyes in red and then I understood. Whoever hurt him when he was young? They deserve more than prison. If Kaido used his fire to escape them, it wouldn't be too difficult for me to look the other way.
