𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑.

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This writing piece is for IC’s Winter Solstice Event for all to complete.

I decided to do a story about Bakugou and Best Jeanist but heavily lining down the most recent chapters in the manga so definite on spoilers if you aren’t caught up.

[Draft edit :: why the fuck do I take so long to write hhndbbsh it’s been a month]

[Draft edit 002 :: ITS CHINESE NEW YEAR, THATS BASICALLY A WINTER SOLSTICE WHATEVER ]

Word count | 4,537

DISCLAIMERS | #ICWinterSolstice

MANGA SPOILERS | MENTIONS OF DEATH

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     Seriously, heavy spoilers.

            

       

    

            

       

    

            

       

    

            

       

    

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13 days, 2 hours, 19 minutes, 43 seconds.

   Red blank, tired eyes stared at the beeping alarm clock. It blared it’s ugly hue of the same dark red and the drone of its persistence slowly reached Bakugou’s ears.

   Springing a lazy rough hand out, he slapped it down, silencing the abused tool for the morning. It was 8 am now, the training from Endeavors agency still fresh on his aching bones from the day before. Today, gratefully, a break from all that but that was just his body speaking. His mind thrived endlessly to be active in whatever way possible; to never slack and afford to take breathers. Ignoring his other halves complaint of sore numbness, he urged himself upward in a push-up position, groaning out in small pain.

      The room was still dark save for the sliver line of light escaping into the dorm room from his curtain and the bright monitor of his laptop that sat dangerously on the edge of his bed. Once sitting up, barefeet hitting the carpet floor, he pulled the laptop to him, his eyes adjusting to the last thing he searched up.

13 days, 2 hours, 22 minutes, 12 seconds.

That’s how long Best Jeanist has been missing.

    He wasn’t precisely convinced that he was worried. A missing case on an adult was new; hell, a missing case on a pro-hero of all people is alien to most. Why look it up? Was he just curious? He didn’t feel all too worried, just impatient.

“A name is a wish.”

  At the time during the internship, Best Jeanist adjusted Bakugou’s head straight forward for the 20th time like a natural stylist, patient with his temporary apprentice.

“It is what you want to be and what you ought to be. You have yet to look outwards.”

  Bakugou had merely grunted in response but smoothly, the pro-hero continued.

“I would like to show you the outside world.”

“Once you’ve become a second-year and received your provisional license, come back here.”

          “When the time comes,

                  I’ll have you tell me your hero name

                        once again.”

  The thought drifted off just as it came. Yes, he was impatient. He was hoping Best Jeanist would return to the hero world by the time his second-year hit, just as he had asked. Here it was. Now, where was he?

“Damn geezer, late to his own invite.”

  Some time after the internships, Bakugou had in fact settled on his hero name but sat on it silently for what seemed like ages. It didn’t bother him much to keep himself shut-mouthed about it; he did this with practically anything and everything he ever thought of. The externally loud but internally silent observer.

    Christmas was just around the corner but his classmates had something else in mind.

“The hell is a solstice?”

“It’s not just any solstice, it’s a WINTER solstice.”

   Kirishima corrected him at the time, waving the colored yellow paper in his hand. They had been at the training grounds together, Bakugou trying to ignore the paining cold breeze, his arms geared up with tight braces to help relieve his aching muscles. Turning away from the bright red-haired teammate, he returned to trying different moves; anything that would deliver smoother explosive blows or something more permanently damaging in the long run. Kirishima was persistent though, holding out the paper to Bakugou despite him swatting it away from his practice space.

“I really hate bothering you but everyone wants you to go! There’s going to be lanterns we can light up and they’ll all collectively float away and-“

“I’m not going, Kirishima.”

“Man, will you at least think about it?”

   Bakugou graciously stopped in his combative stance, taking a glance to the side at Kirishima’s pouting expression. Wanting to get back to his training, he snatched the paper from Kirishima, crumbling it up in his winter gym pants pocket.

“I’ll go if you leave me alone now.”

“Oh hell yeah!”

    Fishing for his gym pants that had been discarded on the floor of his room, Bakugou found the crumbled up paper, unfolding it and smoothing it out on his laptop for easy reading.

21 December

Winter Solstice Festival

- Longest Night of the Year -

- Meals & Snacks

- Traditional Games

- Lantern Lighting

    Ignoring the rest of the unnecessary fonted paper that Kirishima had given him, he set to preparing for his off day; a list of tasks fresh on his mind.

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“Again, kid? I said I would tell you if he showed up... You know, for a smart guy you’re actually really impatient!”

“Don’t insult me you overgrown parrot.”

   Hawks, in response, pretended to be wounded by the hypocritical remark. Grasping his chest, hand scrunching up his hero costume jacket pocket, he dropped the handful of papers that he was holding in a stack just for the purpose of his lame exaggeration.

“Th-the pain..!”

“Grow a pair.”

  It was too early in the day for heroes at the Genius Agency to be fully up and running. For the past week, it was slowly shutting down in work progress due to their bosses disappearance. Hawks, whether it was because he was wishing to help the missing No.3 hero or not, the winged No.2 took it upon himself to handle any left out work to be done at the agency for a smoother temporary close. Heroes and apprentices were being sent home, offices and calls closed down, and any clues left behind were all handled by Hawks and a few of the strays of detectives sent by the police force. Hurriedly, the front desk receptionist helped Hawks pick up the papers off the ground, scolding him under her breath for the trouble as he apologized with a smile.

“I know you said you would tell me. I ain’t dumb though, the media and anyone who isn’t that close to him would know last. I can’t keep waiting around for that bastard, I’ve got something I need to return to him and it’s holding me back.”

“What...? Oh, did he lend you a movie disc or something? Did you like it?”

“I’m not playing around!”

   Bakugou snapped making Hawks rub the back of his neck uncomfortably with an uneasy sigh.

“Look, I’m just as concerned as you are...many people are as well. In this position right now, there’s nothing much we can do other than keep looking for him.”

  The stern but sad expression after his words made Bakugou consider he was possibly telling the student something he didn’t want to hear.

‘Assume the worse.’

     Roughly, Bakugou turned on his heel and strode out of the buildings main corridor. It was a lost cause to keep poking around at the same places. He wanted to dig deeper but many were right, was it his place to dig? Once he was out the two glass framed doors he felt the sprawling chill of something watching him, glancing around as he walked with his shoulders tense. Hawks and the receptionist were paying no more mind to him as he took a glimpse toward them before disappearing behind the front buildings wall. The chill was surely just the cold december air, haunting his skin.

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“I don’t know what I’m wasting my time giving a shit about this.”

        Bakugou leaned back in his seat, plastering his palms on the sides to keep it steady as his feet rocked him on the two backs of the legs. His mother didn’t like this, snapping him back up straight with a fighting glare as he spoke willingly out about Best Jeanist.

         He hated it really, talking to his parents about anything but after heading from the Genius Office, he was left with an array of growing spite. Obviously, he wasn’t a very patient guy and wished he wasn’t so pinned up on some pro-hero who only took him in on a whim.

“He’s a grown man, adults go missing all the time but he’s also a pro-hero. It’s hard to keep a pro-hero hidden for long cause they always turn up eventually, right honey?”

       Mitsuki had crossed her arms over her chest, glancing across the table to Masaru who jumped at being spoken to so suddenly. He nodded feverishly and leaned over on the wood, elbows propping his gesturing fingers up.

“I’m sure he’s fine, son. Best Jeanist the No.3 hero you know...Pro-Heroes tend to go M.I.A. for a short time on their own accord as well.”

“He wouldn’t have. He wasn’t that type of guy.”

    To his parents, they were clearly mutually wanting to help assure their son. With all that Bakugou had been through on a personal level, having a temporary mentor and someone you had a promise to let alone was like a kick to the gut.

“...Alright, are we gonna eat or what, I’m starving damnit!”

       The unnatural calm in the household was replaced with Bakugou’s loud and demanding statement and his mothers interjecting argument, snapping at him for talking to her that way. They bickered about the food as Masaru hid his head down, their calm faces and previous worry for their son was justified; he would be just fine. Strong kid; strong mind.

     As a family on their sons break-days, they commonly ate together as if he still lived with them rather than at the U.A. dorms. Bakugou didn’t mind at all coming over if food was involved and even if he never stated it aloud he considered his mothers food pretty kickass. It was also a refresher for the kid, even if he fought with his parents, it was better than being closed off from his classmates due to his own wavering thoughts that clouded him constantly. Training and keeping himself busy seemed to do the trick but when he couldn’t? That was when everything about the situation would eat at him like a starved mutt picking its teeth at bones.

    He shook his jacket on after the meal, cleaning his plate of all firsts and seconds of the curry they decided to have. Masaru cleaned up the rest, saying goodbye to his son with a small quiet voice before disappearing into the kitchen. Bakugou kicked his shoes on at the door as Mitsuki followed after him, digging her fingers into her hips and growing irritable again.

“Not going to thank me for the food, brat?”

“Get over yourself, you already know I don’t hate it, old bat!”

“Oi.”

   He grumbled, turning around to see what she wanted and was greeted with the rough ruffling of his spiky down by her hand, taming his mess affectionately. Her face was content and her eyes as sharp as his. Bakugou sometimes forgot where he got that initial intimidation from and how as observant as he was, his mother topped it off by always knowing as well what was going on in her sons head.

“Don’t get yourself into trouble, got it?”

    She sighed out a breath afterwards, her voice smooth in its natural tone. Bakugou had stayed facing her for a moment longer, ing Best Jeanist smoothing his hair back constantly to try and maintain it like his own. He felt tired suddenly, shaking her hand off his head and pushing his last shoe on.

“Yeah yeah, I’m not an idiot.”

“You sure do act like it sometimes.”

“Shut it!”

   His foot hit a something solid on his way out, a box, small and tightly wrapped with brown tape but with a quick glance down, no address. He dismissed it, hurrying out down the walkway as Mitsuki scolded him, picking up the package he kicked.

“Be more careful! Katsuki! This has your name on it!”

“I’ll get it later!”

   She yelled something back to him, catching something about ‘reeking’.

Only thing that reeks is her damn attitude.

     Ignoring her per usual, he took himself down the sidewalk as she shook the box in his direction with a firm hand.

Yes, surely he’ll get it what’s coming to him later.

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The blaring alarm clock again. The radio clicking on during the obnoxious tone.

“Reports about the obscure packages are still being DNA tested though, it’s a strong lead to the-“

Slammed off. It was way too early for all the noise.

14 days, 4 hours, 56 minutes, 23 seconds.

“Hey, you gotta focus you’re going to-!”

    To eat shit and that’s exactly what he did; face first into the concrete flooring and his explosions making him roll painfully against the ground. He was up in no time anyways, covering his bloody lip and nose with his heavy gloved hand in a sitting-up position.

   Hawks ran his hand over his already slicked back hair, muttering out as he walked toward his trainee as Deku hurried faster past him.

“Kacchan, are you okay?? I’m sorry, I probably should have watched where you were going first!”

“Forget it. I don’t need your apologies.”

“Alright..maybe we should try the move again?”

“Yeah, just hurry up.”

   Deku nodded confidently, adjusting his gloves and returning to his position across from where Bakugou was stationed. For the day, the small team up group they had was with Hawks yet again; their last one was such a successful hit despite the arguments so training on structured possible future move sets was something they needed to obtain. Things like this were a cinch to him any other day; it should have been simple enough for him today.

    As he slid his palms down and hoisted himself up, Hawks boots stopping by his side and bending down on his knees slightly.

“Say, it’s alright to take a break, I’m sure Midoriya will understand.”

“That ain’t an option now buzz off.”

   Hawks was silent for once. Bakugou didn’t bother to glance over to see his expression, he already knew the pro-hero was raking his brain on how to go about this. They both knew mutually it was because they couldn’t help each other out when it came to Best Jeanist. Bakugou didn’t need the typical comfort others might ask for in a time of need. Hawks had no groundbreaking evidence for Bakugou which is what the teen truly desired to have.

      Bakugou shoved himself up to standing, turning his back to Hawks and clicking his arm braces into place, making sure nothing had been damaged in his tumbling crash down.

“Don’t try and reassure me with empty promises.”

     Glimpsing back now, he was almost sure Hawks would have that kind, reassuring expression that any adult would care to plaster on in order to dwindle away the cruel thoughts circling the teens head. No. It was dread. Dread like he was swallowing down the painful truth. At least, Bakugou mused, Hawks had done exactly what he asked.

“DEKU. GET READY.”

“H-huH RIGHT!”

    The move was difficult in a partner pairing but simple if timed correctly. In the center of the training grounds in the gym at the Endeavor Hero Agency, Hawks had placed up a wooden but strong and sturdy mantled pole. Within it, it’s interior had been carved out hollow and layered with stacks of cement. Kicking it at a slated angle or improperly at such a fast pace would surely break your foot in half and that was exactly what they had been trying not to do. The attack was a knockout move. An attack from above and an attack from below.

     Deku kicked his feet up on the tall fencing of the gym, stancing forward and waiting to kick himself off and downward when Bakugou was in the timed position.

‘This is going to be a lot like flying, not only for Midoriya but for Bakugou as well. Even if you’re only inches off the ground, you both need to pull this off or else someone’s going to crush their bones...don’t worry on that thought too much, good luck and all!’

    Of course, hearing those lame instructions at the time sent regret through Bakugou and Deku both for having to team up to do this move but overtime, their combined force improved. Was Bakugou in the right mindset though?

   Bakugou slid his boot against the gravel and turned sharply, twisting himself into a starting run before throwing his good hand backwards and blasting himself forward into a low-ground twisting Howitzer. The only kicker was there was no ‘impact’, the red eyed trainee would have to completely turn his momentum around to be able to kick the wooden block from underneath.

     They always say to have a clear mind, controlled breathing, anything calming while fighting or training head on.

Screw that.

    His frustration was at its boiling point. How many times was he going to get planted into the ground just because of some dumb mentor slipping up and disappearing in thin air?

Don’t blame it on him.

     Yeah, that was right. It wasn’t his fault, he wouldn’t up and leave unless someone was behind the mess. Be angry at them. Turn your anger toward them.

    A low rumbling growl sounded from his throat as he barred his teeth, twisting himself around in the Howitzer until he successfully had one boot forward, inches off the ground and coming in fast toward the wooden opponent. Then, it hit. Timed almost perfectly, Deku had already made his way down, full cowl active and a strong mid-air roundhouse kick snapping the head of the wooden target just as Bakugou’s foot swiped from under, colliding momentum and strength into their impact. A perfect knock-out move, almost too perfect for the wood at the bottom split off in the kick, flying and past Hawks face at 15mph and protruding from the fence of the gym. Cemented dust blew over the gym floor as Hawks slowly clapped his hands, eyes wide with shock and an on-coming terrified sickness.

“Ah, good job, let’s call that a day, huh? Try not to kill me next time, Bakugou..ahah..”

    Both classmates, out of breath, proceeded to the interior section of the agencies gym, already releasing themselves of their gear to air out their sweat. Deku as always, happily chirped over their move success, going through anything that might need adjustments or alternations Bakugou didn’t pay much mind to his ramblings usually but still listened for anything worthy regardless. Though, at the moment his eyes were trained up to the television screen set above the center wall inside the indoor gym. They had grabbed towels from the side, drying their faces free of sweat and dust from their training and soon, Deku had caught attention to the television as well. Hawks was too busy chatting away with one of the employees in the gym room to notice the news and how Bakugou’s face slowly fell grim.

“As it was broadcasted again, this morning, the Police Force are still recovering the packages sent around to Musutafu residents. The packages containing none other than human remains. Oddly enough, DNA testing results have not been released to the public yet but due to the certain residents receiving the unaddressed packages and our recent missing No.3 Pro-Hero Best Jeanist, rumors are spreading that these remains may belong to Tsunagu Hakamata—“

    Of course, rumors were rumors, but the glimpse of what the package looked like on the television screen is what set Bakugou’s blood to run cold.

   How could he forget, he had kicked it on his way out yesterday from his parents house.

’Be more careful! Katsuki! This has your name on it!’

‘It reeks.’

Bakugou stumbled out the door.

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“Hey man...just calling again. I don’t know whether you’re sleeping or not so I just decided to leave this message. You don’t have to come to the winter solstice festival, ya know, everyone completely understands. I understand too! It’s been a few days and we’re worried about you but we know you’re as tough as nails. If you ever want to go work out again or get back to class, let me know! I’ll bring you the manliest breakfast ever, yeah? I’ll hang up now, see you.”

The dial beeped.

16 days, 5 hours, 34 minutes, 4 seconds.

     They had finally found Best Jeanist but he was in no shape to return home. Ironically enough, not in one piece. Bakugou’s parents had been disgusted at the fact that the package would be sent to them, let alone, addressed to their son of all people. A scorched hand. Fingers pointed toward the league of villains and their only flame-typed quirk Dabi. Others said it could have been done by anyone but they seemed to forget that Best Jeanist was the No.3 hero. He didn’t have this title for no reason.

      Bakugou huffed and sat up, his eyes tired as he clicked on his phone and the bright screen light flooded the void room. All the news circled around Jeanist. All media was about Jeanist. All text messages were about Jeanist. Closing his eyes, he clicked it off, surrounded by the rooms darkness once more.

     The Winter Solstice was that night and going out to play games and partake in traditional activities was on the last of his agenda.

Well, you can’t lay around like a slob either.

    He understood why the rest of his class wanted to go to the festival, of course, they had mourned for the loss as equally as everyone when it came to such a highly respected pro-hero. They just didn’t know Best Jeanist in the way Bakugou did. They didn’t work with him and Best Jeanist hadn’t laid down such an important request to them as he did to Bakugou.

Nice going, bastard.

   He stood up, his dark sweatpants and tank top hanging off him as droopy as he himself was. There was a small tap at the door as Bakugou smoothed his mess of hair back, groaning out.

“Kirishima, I already got your message. You don’t need to keep pestering m-“

   Upon opening the door open, nobody awaited on the other side of the dim-lit hall. He should’ve known, really, that everyone would be out already preparing to go to the festival. He edged himself out to peer across the hall but his foot nudged something instead at the floor. For a painful moment, he was almost convinced it was the package again that reeked of burnt flesh but, to his confusion, it was a red tinted lantern, dropping to the side due to its dead flame. He suspected it was something that was being used for the winter solstice and once he crouched on his feet, he slipped open the small tucked note that laid itself inside the lantern.

‘You can still tell him.’

    ing what this meant, he flipped the note around twice over to make sure there was nothing else written. Nobody knew about his silent promise to Jeanist and if anybody were to have had a hint to it, he supposed it would have been Deku or Todoroki. Though, he brushed that conclusion off entirely. Todoroki wouldn’t have intruded like this and Deku was too protruding to just leave a note and make a dash. Lifting the lantern up by the basket bottom, he dragged it in with him and yanked up the winter solstice festival flyer that had been rotting away with curled corners at the end of his desk. Of course, you didn’t have to tell Bakugou how idiotic it was to listen to a strangers mysterious note but before he knew it, he was tugging his jacket on over his tank top and pulling on jeans to replace his sweatpants. Right, the lantern would be traveling upward. Bakugou wasn’t superstitious to say in the least but trying to ignore that name at the tip of his tongue that was to be shared first with Jeanist and Jeanist only had sulked in the pit of his chest.

‘You can still tell him.’

I will.

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   Just as it had been stated on the paper, this was truly the longest night of the year it seemed. Bakugou didn’t know how long he had been waiting beside the hill, a good distance away from the festival itself. He wanted this to be a private exchange, something not for the cluttered ears and loud sounds that the festival would drown out once the time came.

    An hour ed, then two. Frogs chirping by the bridges water flow was more blissful to his mind than the excessive cheers far behind him. With his hoodie up and his arms protected in his sleeves, no big minded his presence during this time.

      Three hours ed. He strolled around the hill, leaving his lantern to rest at the top while he waited, recollecting everything that had happened at the Genius Agency during his stay. He had hated it. He hated it because he had learned.

          “When the time comes,

                  I’ll have you tell me your hero name

                        once again.”

  He captured a glimmering light in the sky, then two, then 10, which only grew to 30. The red tinted lanterns condensed together but floated one by one into the long-darkened sky, spreading out and rising with the wind in their dim-lite cocoons. Stepping over to his own, he sat down with it in his lap, carefully cupping his hand over the sparked line and creating a flame with the small self-made bombshell from the palm of his hand. He was grateful that his hand didn’t move much from this trick, given that it would have ripped the lantern up from making its safe flight.

     The lantern grew in his hand, straightening itself up like a polite guest in the overbearing void of the night. He cupped it, feeling it tug upward; it’s only choice being up at this point. Bakugou wasn’t ready to let go of it just yet.

“You told me to tell you when I hit my second year and I get it alright? It’s a little too early for that but you’re in the same shit-hole...you kinda left a little too early so deal with it.”

       Bakugou felt embarrassed, seemingly talking to this lantern as if it were Jeanist himself but, ittedly, he felt that tension start to dissipate from his chest. With this notion, he continued.

“I’ve had my name, held it on for awhile and just waited for that chance. Don’t tell me to keep a promise you can’t even fulfill next time. Anyways, listen up good. I’ll tell you my name and you’ll be hearing people cheer me on with it no matter how far away you are.”

    Hearing it slip from him gave him a rush of relief. The feeling, the burden of holding onto the name many people will learn to know was out in the open now, only for him and Jeanist to hear on this longest night of the year. He let the lantern drift out of his hands, the rough grip spreading away and dropping into his hoodie pockets as the student craned his head up, watching his solo lantern drift in its own sanctuary. The festival was celebrating. Bakugou was having a memorial. The same sky shared different feelings that night. A spark of renewal, a lift of pain, a swallow of regret.

Two red feathers drifted down in flee.

#featurethis