Chapter Text
The bus wheezed to a stop at the edge of the gravel road, a rusty sign barely holding on to its post: Kamiyama National Forest—Survey Access Only. No town. No station. Just trees, mist, ice, snow, and silence.
Izuku Midoriya stepped off with a duffel and a canvas pack slung over his shoulder.
The air was cooler up here, with that deep-green and white mountain smell—pine, old rain, and earth. He adjusted his shades and scanned the trailhead. The van from the Wildlife Division wasn’t there yet.
Just one other person waiting.
And the moment he saw that familiar spike of ash-blond hair and the way the man’s arms were crossed like a barrier, Izuku felt his stomach drop.
Katsuki Bakugo.
Of all people.
Katsuki hadn’t changed much—still built like a coiled wire, hard-edged and silent, with the kind of scowl that made people cross the street. His clothes were plain: a black thermal shirt, worn jeans, hiking boots dusted with dirt. Izuku swallowed, he’s definitely put on more muscle. His pack was already on the ground beside him, like he’d been here a while.
They locked eyes.
Izuku opened his mouth, then thought better of it.
Katsuki beat him to it.
“You,” he said flatly.
Izuku winced. “I… didn’t know you’d be part of this assignment.”
Katsuki looked him up and down, unimpressed. “You still talk too much.”
“I just said one thing.”
“And it was already one too many.”
Typical.
Same old Katsuki.
Izuku looked away, pretending to check the clipboard the Forestry Division had sent him. He could feel the heat of Katsuki’s stare on him like a second sun.
They hadn’t seen each other since graduation—five years ago now. Back then, Katsuki had stormed out of their high school with a scholarship to a trade program, and Izuku had followed the academic track until it all collapsed beneath him.
University didn’t stick. Friends didn’t stay. Eventually, he’d found temporary work in government field projects—low pay, remote posts, plenty of time to think.
Or forget.
A rumble pulled them both out of the silence.
A forest ranger’s van came crunching up the gravel and stopped with a lurch. The driver, a middle-aged woman in a wide-brim hat, leaned out the window.
“You two the survey crew?”
Katsuki grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulder in one easy motion.
“Yeah.”
Izuku nodded. “That’s us.”
“Good. Hop in. We’ve got a two-hour ride into the foothills, and I want to get there before the sun drops.”
They climbed in, sitting opposite each other in the back. The road twisted higher, narrowing into a single lane, snow covered trees closing in on all sides.
The ranger explained the assignment: two-man wildlife monitoring in an underdeveloped zone, sleeping rough in a forest cabin, hiking survey routes during the day, logging data by hand. No cell service. No backup.
“You boys good with that?” she asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.
Katsuki didn’t hesitate. “I’ve done worse.” To which the woman let out a quick laugh.
Izuku offered a polite smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
The van rattled over a pothole. The silence stretched again.
Katsuki broke it this time. “Didn’t think you were the type to do this kinda job.”
Izuku kept his eyes on the passing trees. “Things change.”
“Yeah. You used to cry every time someone raised their voice.”
“I stopped crying,” Izuku said, sharper than he meant.
“Good,” Katsuki muttered.
The rest of the ride was quiet.
They reached the drop point just before dusk.
The cabin was barely more than a shed—one room, wood stove, no electricity, two cots, a table, and a supply trunk with survey gear. Outside, the forest opened into steep ridgelines and dense underbrush, snow everywhere and there was a long fence where horses were roaming and munching on any grass the could uncover.
As the ranger drove away, her tires crunching into silence, Izuku stared at the cabin like it might disappear if he blinked.
Just him. Just Katsuki. For eight weeks.
He turned to find Katsuki watching him, unreadable.
“You scared of the woods, nerd?” Katsuki asked, one eyebrow raised.
Izuku met his eyes. “No. Just thinking.”
Katsuki slung his bag onto one of the cots.
“Think quieter.”
“Thinking is as quiet as anyone can get, kacchan” izuku sighed and moved to the other cot, set his bag down gently, and started unpacking.
“Nah, yer just naturally so loud that I can hear your dumb brain turn”
Izuku looked at him in disbelief before rolling his eyes with a scoff
“Still the same old kacchan”
That earned a flick on his head.
“‘M not the same, you moron”
Behind him, he could feel Katsuki’s presence like static—close, tense, and full of all the words they hadn’t said in five years.