[ He's patiently waiting for Katsuki to catch up to his Quirk being proof, although from the way Katsuki reacts Izuku's expression falls. He came from the same place and time, but Izuku has always and forever been the one reaching out a hand and Katsuki's role nine times out of ten has been to smack it away. He can recognize Katsuki in the way he moves, in his Quirk, in how he speaks.

Of course he shouldn't have expected the same in return, but Izuku has to admit he kind of did.

As to Blackwhip, it was just two taps. Not an attack. Izuku isn't moving beyond that. ]

Are we ever gonna stop being four years old? [ If he sounds tired it's definitely because he is. Still, he adjusts to the knowledge that however much progress they've made it's not enough for Katsuki to know him in the same way Izuku can recognize him.

Reluctance in every line of his body, Izuku says: ]

What you're guilty of right now and back then is the same thing. [ He knows he has to say it to burst the bubble, and even so his teeth catch on his lip again, before he reminds himself he's not a punching bag and Katsuki has the same information he does and is making entirely different leaps with it for one reason. ]

Pride. [ It's quiet, tired, and just a little sad. It's understanding, too, because Izuku isn't even condemning him for it here. He's known this about Katsuki for their entire lives. ]