- It Wasn't Over -

A/N: The cat is finally out of the bag after two whole years.

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Depiction of PTSD, Mild Gore and Language

Of all the things Bakugou Katsuki had done in these sixteen years of his life, he had never ever been late for school. Until their short-lived summer vacation came to an end.

Dim light welcomed him when he woke up that morning. Outside, crickets were singing their annoying song. Their presence wasn't necessary to figure out the heat though. It stagnated around him like a humid cloud. Bakugou blinked, the haze of sleep still fogging his mind. The room remained shrouded into semi-darkness from the half-closed shutters. Boxes covered every inch of it, stacked into makeshift little towers. The carriers U.A. was going to send hadn't arrived yet.

What time is it, then? He thought.

If his screeching alarm hadn't waked him up, his mother should have barged in and raised the shutters instead. But neither had happened. His gaze searched for the clock on his nightstand. Its red numbers weren't glowing at the moment. Bakugou shot up, alarmed. Following the clock's cable, he saw it was unplugged. Several curses left his mouth as he kneeled down to fix this unreliable piece of junk. He could swear it was working when he went to sleep though. The clock came back to life with a muted buzz, signaling the time was ten to eight. Shock dropped like a bucket of cold water on his shoulders. Class would start in about half an hour and he was still home.

Bakugou scrambled back to his feet and reached for the nearest box. His fingers scratched only its surface. His school uniform was gone, the realization stopping him in his tracks. After a thorough look around and not seeing the uniform immediately, he decided it wasn't worth spending more time on this. Thanks to his efficient packing system, Bakugou found his winter uniform in the blink of an eye. He got dressed and grabbed his bag from the floor which had been in its rightful place, at least.

Anger beating hot in his chest, Bakugou ran down the stairs and into the entrance hall. The pleasant smell of fried bread and eggs streamed from the kitchen but he gulped the saliva forming in his mouth. No time for breakfast. He bolted out of the house, his mother shouting something in his wake. Her exact words were lost to the wind as he sprinted towards the station.

The AC sent prickles to his sweaty nape when Bakugou stepped inside the station. He had made it just in time for the eight o'clock train. It stood at the platform like a dormant metallic beast. Passengers turned their heads in his direction as he pushed through the crowd to get ahead. This was an emergency; to hell with appearances. Still, the barrier remained closed when he passed his wallet over the checkpoint.

"What now?!" he muttered, flipping the wallet.

His eyes fixated on the empty pocket of his rail pass, and a monotone tune started ringing in his ears. Bakugou clenched his teeth. Suppressing the heat building up inside his palms, he set course for the ticket machines. The spare change was enough, at least.

Over the speakers came the announcement of the train's departure. Bakugou squeezed between the automatic doors seconds before they closed. The wagon was packed like usual for this time of the day. Ignoring the bad odor of the person next to him, Bakugou stared absentmindedly at the familiar view outside his window. All he had wanted was leave last week's events behind; forget that gloomy bar where the League of Villains had kept him prisoner; pretend his idol—All Might—retiring was just a bad dream. This shitty morning wasn't making it any easier.

As soon as the train reached the school's stop, Bakugou dashed outside. U.A. stood like a fortress on top of the hill, its glass windows shining brightly. Trees flanked the road leading there but didn't offer any shade. He ran, panting after being confined in his house for a week. If he had still been allowed to use his explosions, he'd be in class already. The school gates came into view. Bakugou crossed under the archways without slowing down. The courtyard was deserted—a relief really. He was in no mood to deal with any onlookers at the moment. His steps echoed in the hallway as he approached the 1-A classroom. He skidded on the tiles for the last meters and opened the door with a thud. Nothing prepared him for the sight he encountered.

Aizawa stood in front of his podium instead of behind it, a concerned expression contorting his face. His students in the front rows also stared uncertainly at the two people standing in the back. Sero's tail figure overtopped Kirishima's but the red-haired boy gave him a sullen look regardless. Bakugou never thought Kirishima was even able to make this sort of expression. And yet, he had just stumbled in the middle of an argument between the most easy-going guys of 1-A.

"We know he is a jerk sometimes," Sero said. "But he wouldn't stoop so low."

"Then what was that, man?" Kirishima countered, gesturing at the front of the classroom. "You think we all—" His eyes widened when he noticed Bakugou hunching on the doorframe. "Hallucinated it?"

The rest of the class followed his gaze. On other days, Bakugou would have ignored their angry glares. He didn't step back or flinch but the intense hate cloud seeped through his skin all the way to his bones.

He gulped to stop the panting. "I..."

Aizawa clapped once. "Everyone, back to your seats." Even with his poker face back in place, he seemed grimmer than usual. "You too, Bakugou."

Bakugou didn't waste time and bee-lined for his desk. The scraping of chairs covered his steps as the class settled down, but the suffocating atmosphere pressed on. Some of his classmates refused to look at him with Kirishima being a notable mention. Others tried to be inconspicuous about it, stealing glances as they arranged their belongings on their desks. The only one Bakugou caught blatantly staring was Deku. It couldn't be helped since their desks were one right behind the other, but it unnerved the blonde like nothing else so far. Deku had an analytical frown on his face as if Bakugou was a puzzle he was trying to solve. He only averted his eyes when the other boy glared hard enough as if to bore holes into Deku's skull.

What the fuck is going on? Bakugou thought as he plopped onto his seat.

Sure, it was kind of irresponsible to be late—especially this morning. He had been the guy pro-Heroes and police worked so hard to retrieve from the Villains. Not showing up on time—despite his perfect attendance record—would have made anyone think the worst case scenario. But it didn't justify having such animosity directed at him. Under all his layers of denial, Bakugou had hoped these rowdy idiots would silence the white noise buzzing in his head ever since he had returned home.

The school bell chimed, signaling the end of homeroom and snapping Bakugou out of his thoughts. He had barely made it for the last ten minutes.

"Your luggage should have arrived in your appointed rooms by now," Aizawa said over the ruckus. "Remember, you are moving into the dorms after classes end today. So don't enter the buildings till then, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Just great! Bakugou thought. Missed the announcement about this too.

On his right, Jirou strode to the back of the classroom, her jacks swinging in time with her steps. She left Kaminari reaching after her, seemingly eager to have a conversation together. He sat down again with a defeated sigh. At that moment, Bakugou saw an opportunity. Kirishima was still at his desk. Maybe he'd be less adamant to ignore him if another member of their self-appointed little group was there too.

A quiet gasp made Bakugou pause, directing his attention to the desk behind him.

Deku opened and closed his mouth, uncertain. "I don't think it's a good idea, Kacchan," he cautioned in the end.

Irritation prickled along Bakugou's spine. "That's none of your fucking business, nerd."

But the other boy wasn't the only one watching him as he approached Kirishima's desk. Everyone's eyes were locked on him like sniper scopes. Sero's questioning gaze was added to the pile when Bakugou stopped in front of him. He was resting his chin on his folded arms, his usual grin nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," Bakugou said.

Kaminari jolted at the sound like he had been hit by his own electric current. "Hey…"

The pen hovered over the page for a moment, before Kirishima resumed writing without even a side-glance.

Some involuntary sparks crackled around Bakugou's fingers. He clenched them into fists. "So where are the dorms?" he asked.

"Huh?" Kaminari's jaw dropped. "You're joking, right?"

"Do I look like—"

Kirishima's Quirk activating split the pen in half inside his fist. Placing the pieces in his notebook, he entered the corridor in-between the desk rows.

"Dude! Where are you going?" Kaminari asked.

"To get some fresh air. I don't wanna deal with this farce right now."

Bakugou followed him; rage beating under his skin and begging to be released. "What's your damn problem?" His voice echoed thunderously even in his own ears.

"My problem?" Kirishima turned around. Hurt and disappointment were etched on his face like some grotesque mask. "I can't believe you, man! How can you be so casual after what you did?"

"I didn't know it was such a fucking crime to be late!"

"You're seriously going to deny what happened? Accept your responsibilities like a man, Bakugou. You owe everyone at least this much."

"You make it sound like I did this on purpose."

"So this is how it's gonna be. Fine, be my guest. But before that, take these back." Kirishima pulled something from his pocket and shoved it at Bakugou's chest. "Return them to the poor soul you extorted them from."

Catching the stack before it fluttered to the ground, he stared at the yen bills in disbelief. What the hell? When did I give him these?

Bakugou grabbed Kirishima by the shoulder.

"I'm done," the other boy said. "Let me go."

"I will when you start making some goddamn sense, Kirishima."

"So you remember my name now?"

"That's enough," Aizawa said from the entrance of the classroom. "Bakugou, get your things and follow me."

Kirishima pried Bakugou's fingers open and stepped back. "Just go."

Aizawa didn't say anything on their way to the teachers' office. It allowed Bakugou to think. No matter how many times he went over it, nothing made sense. Kirishima had been his regular upbeat self for the past week—as much as Bakugou could tell over the phone.

When did this change? He thought. The yen bills grated under his tight grip as the door opened.

Several grouped desks were placed parallel to each other with an identical arrangement of stationery on them. Bakugou hadn't been to the teachers' office before, but this looked exactly like the one in his middle school—perhaps a little more spacious. It was pretty normal for a prestigious hero academy. Considering they had ordinary classes in the morning, maybe U.A. wanted to keep the high school setting's authenticity.

Aizawa's desk was in the back. The purple floor mat spreading into the entire room muffled their steps on their way there. The teacher restarted his computer in silence. Aizawa had been a person of few words from the beginning of the semester. But causing a scene after the man had defended him on national TV made Bakugou feel like he had to confess what went wrong. But he didn't even know that himself yet.

"When did you arrive this morning?" Aizawa asked.

It caught him off guard. "Excuse me, sir?"

"You said you were late. What was the time when you reached the classroom?"

The station's clock was pointing at twenty to nine when Bakugou got off the train. "Around eight fifty."

"Why?"

"I missed the earlier train because my alarm died."

Aizawa tapped his index finger on the desk. "And your parents?"

"My mother didn't come to wake me up."

"Maybe she thought you had already left the house."

His mother's words resurfaced into his mind like a forgotten melody. What are you still doing here, Katsuki?

Had she really seen someone leave the house earlier and thought it was him?

"My summer uniform was missing," Bakugou breathed out.

Aizawa took a good look at him from top to bottom. "Give me your pass," he said, switching on his computer screen.

Bakugou politely stuffed any opinion he had about the cat-full wallpaper. He handed his student pass, staring at the time schedule on the whiteboard. Next period would be English as usual. The only difference from that day's regular program was fewer hours of hero training in the afternoon. Bakugou's attention remained there while Aizawa searched for his ID's number in the school's logs. Every ID handed to students and personnel had a chip. This was what the main gate's system detected and allowed them to pass the U.A. barrier. If the teachers wanted to see who and when this person had entered the school, all they had to do was search for their chip's unique number.

Aizawa held his breath. Bakugou didn't manage to read the names on the log's list as his teacher stood up in a hurry. But if the highlighted one was his, then the fact there were two of them was concerning. He went only once through the main gate, after all.

"Take this and return to the classroom immediately." Aizawa bopped Bakugou on the forehead with his ID. "And make sure you stay there."

Bakugou suppressed the urge to slap it away. "Sir, what's wrong?" he asked.

"The Principal needs to hear this first," Aizawa said. "I'll explain later."

Only a handful of students walked in the hallway on his way back, even though they still had two minutes left before next period. Not that Bakugou cared much. He was preoccupied with this new mystery. The ID's lamination glimmered under the sunlight as he examined it from all angles. Nothing seemed out of place; his personal information and photo were intact. Then how did his name appear twice in the logs?

Thoughts were circling his mind like vultures when he turned the corner and bumped into someone. The other person squeaked, backtracking a couple steps.

"Ah, I'm sorry!" A familiar female voice said.

Brown side bangs framed her flustered round face when Uraraka took a good look at him. Her meek attitude changed as soon as she recognized him. Widening her stance, she clenched her fists and glared with the intensity of a tiger.

"One time wasn't enough for you?" she asked.

It was the last straw. The universe was out of luck if it wanted to further test his patience because this was as far as he could go. Bakugou sniggered, the tension bubbling up from his lungs like compressed air.

"You think this is funny?"

"I don't know. Why don't you enlighten me?" he said, splaying his hands. "What did I do? Cursed your parents and all your ancestors to hell or something?"

"I can't believe I misjudged you this much, Bakugou. I really thought you're just bad at talking about your feelings." Uraraka huffed exasperatedly. "But it turns out you're nothing more than a self-centered jerk who doesn't care about others at all!"

Bakugou dragged a hand along his face. "You know what. Believe whatever you want, Uraraka. I'm done with yours and everyone's shit," he said. "Step aside. Gotta go back to class."

Not only she didn't. She stared wide-eyed at him too. "You called me by my name," she mumbled.

"Yeah, I did. Contrary to popular belief, I remember your sorry-asses names. Now move."

Uraraka's hand shot out and grabbed his bag as he tried to walk past her. Turning around, his stomach did a somersault at the sight. She had a nasty hand-shaped burn around her wrist; made by a hand a lot bigger than hers. Bakugou knew only two people who could do this, and Todoroki wouldn't use his flames on a classmate.

"Who did this?" he demanded.

Uraraka pulled back, her eyebrows knitted together. She covered the burn again. Dropping her shoulders, she shifted from one leg to the other—restless. Her lips curled downward as if she had swallowed something sour and the taste still lingered, no matter how much she had tried to get rid of it.

Frustration overflowed from Bakugou's chest like boiling water. "Spill it already, dammit!"

Her honey eyes flickered almost gold when she met his gaze. They pinned him where he stood like lances of liquid fire.

"You did, Bakugou," she said.

A/N: Oh boy, this chapter was a lot harder to edit than actually write tbh. I had to re-write the entire thing and join what was originally two chapters so it can gather a bigger punch in the end. Not that I wasn't already stabbing myself in the gut with Kirishima's emotional outburst. I don't think we've seen him pissed off at anyone but Villains so it was hard to imagine how it would go with Bakugou of all people. I tried my best ^w^

Also, I had made a pretty extensive playlist for this fic so each chapter is going to have a song accompanying it. This chapter has What you Deserve by No Resolve You'll find in the next chapter whose POV is the song from because it's definitely not mine. No one deserves what happens in this story XD