He shrugs off his gauntlet and its wrappings, and stares at his calloused palm, white ash scented and fresh with scrapes. His skin is rough, dry and creases as he bawls it into a fist, knuckles shaded alabaster. He inspects this hand that belongs to him, cold air caressing its veins, free from the compress of his glove.
It feels foreign to him.
"I'm going to get stronger and beat you."
It's a sentence Deku reiterates every once in a while, the first at Ground Beta and the most recent before he left to the States, to express his desire to close a gap between them. The taste of loss is bitter on Bakugo's tongue, and it's not one he knew back in middle school. Power is fleeting, but Deku inches closer and closer to it while it flees from him. The boy's dare haunts him because he is obsessed, infatuated, with it and how it consumes him, and he doesn't know what he is without it.
The UA Sports festival hangs on the horizon for his second year. Last year, when Bakugo was chosen for representative of the first years, he declared a victory that he made legitimate. He proved there was bite to back up his bark. This year he stands with the reigning champion title that was made disputable by Todoroki's failure to fight him wholly.
He wants to beat that Icy Hot prick.
He wants to pummel Deku back into his place.
He wants to prove himself.
Indisputably, whether it's Endeavor or All Might in his prime, he'll rise above them all. They've been saying it since he was a kid and it's more true now than it ever was. He won't be the symbol of Peace, a second coming, a cover of a song. The sequel is never as good as the original. No, let Deku appease himself with the empty name of All Might's heir. The chosen one is handed the brickwork, the easy guide to power and the connections left by a lifetime of the number one hero's work.
He's no longer jealous the way he once was, like when he learned of his teacher's transferable quirk, because he doesn't need the handicap.
He's going to be more than that.
He'll become a symbol of undeniable victory, and no villain will dare him.
"I didn't think you'd wait for me," is how the brunette greets him, scratching her head like an invalid and smiling to mask her apologetic demeanor. She composes herself with a crumpling posture and it pisses him off. She holds herself like a sheep in front of a wolf and it irritates him because she held herself differently when they first fought and he's got no idea what changed.
She presented a challenge before that made him acknowledge the name Uraraka.
"You're fifteen minutes late, Cheeks." He says coolly.
"Sorry, Aizawa-sensei asked me to stay back."
Now she feels a need to justify herself.
"Whatever." He pulls his gloves back on and sets his gauntlets aside. He's dressed in hero attire, but his sparring partner is clad in her gym gear. He wants to test her abilities, push her; he wonders if she'll take this seriously. And if she doesn't, he'll leave her eating dust and move elsewhere. He assumes a fighting stance. "No quirks. Come at me."
Panic sets in her face. "Wha- Right away?! No warm up?" She tenses.
"Pros don't get to warm up when villains attack," he reasons. "You have to train in different ways to prepare yourself. Got it, round face? So fucking come at me with everything you got."
"But-"
"Got a problem?"
She inhales and gathers her resolve. "I guess not."
Sweat draws on her brow and she steels herself, stepping back on her hind leg and raising clenched fists. Her expression gives away her nervous state and she makes a beeline running directly toward him. Head on, straight forward, to the point. It's a beginner's tactic, but it's efficient and he approves. He applies the tactic readily but it won't work for Uraraka against him. She's a bull charging recklessly and he's a matador taunting her with a red cape.
Only an idiot assumes their opponent will remain a stagnant figure like in target practice, and Uraraka's immediate switch to defense upon rushing him means that she's more than ready. She's studied his moves and remembers the right hook he starts with in every fight. She's not prepared for the feint when he side steps her and she loses her balance. She jumps back to evaluate her options but doesn't expect when he goes with her, twists so his back faces her and sweeps his legs past her ankles. She assumes his uppercut because its her head she's twisting back in order to gain momentum, but he turns his left arm in the last instant and clamps down on her wrist with both hands before he's thrown her over his shoulder.
A gasp escapes Uraraka's lips when her back crashes to the dirt and pain shoots through her. She rolls on her side, refusing to be defeated so easily. He turns toward her and is about to bring a kick down on her, but he's a second too late when she dives for his supporting leg, grasps the side of his shin and pushes her bruised shoulder forward on the inside of his leg. He curses as he's quite literally forced, his body mass working against him, to sit on his ass.
Uraraka, outmatched by his speed, has to get creative to outwit him.
He crunches his abdomen as he grabs round her neck with one arm, sets it against his shoulder and twists their positions so he gains the leverage advantage from her. She tries to drive his still clenched shin into the mat to throw him off again, but he allows himself to fall to his side to cancel out the move and slips his arm round her neck. He clasps his palm around his own wrist to support it, and squeezes lightly with his elbow.
"Touch my arm twice to tap out," he orders.
Her arms flail out, she tries to squeeze her head through the gaps in his arms and she lashes out at the floor with her legs, but she wheezes more as each attempt to push or pull her body away from him is thwarted by his firm grip on the submission hold. Within seconds, her strength is slipping her and her loss to him is imminent. It's as good as over.
She taps his wrist twice, and yields.
He loosens his grasp the instant she does and removes his arm from her, retreating his body and creates a comfortable distance between them. He seats himself on one crash mat, cushioning his aching derriere attained from the embarrassing stunt she pulled while he lets her catch her breath. It's not hard to keep a straight face because he refuses to let the weakness show.
She pants, then knits her eyebrows together and smites him with a glare to have her anger known. He returns his own to her in response, and scowls to mask his confusion.
"I almost passed out, Bakugo," She accuses him.
He shrugs. "Don't ask me to go easy on you, cheeks."
He's barely broken a sweat yet.
She makes to protest but he speaks first. "This isn't going to be like fighting with Deku. If you can't handle it, don't waste my time."
She thanked him at the festival for not letting his guard down, in front of a crowd that booed him for not underestimating her, before she dropped a mountain's worth of cement debris on him. He beat her but she displayed spunk he rarely seen in his enemies and that's why he agreed to train with her.
He flattered her yesterday but he wants to fight that girl.
Not this extra.
He's resigned to walk away, but she can no longer keep up the pretense. "But that was so fun!"
A second bout of confusion is the first thing that crosses him, then he realizes that he may have jumped the gun a bit. Chestnut dopey eyes light up the room and her laugh tingles in his chest. Her dumb grin is contagious so he matches it with his smirk. "That's only round one, cheeks."
Later, her expression sticks with him.
He dumps his bag, currently only holding his gauntlets and water bottle, on top of a folded pile of newly washed clothes on his desk. On it, various papers lay scattered in organized mess. He shuffles them into a pile and neatens them up before returning them to their respectful place. He jumps unceremoniously onto his made bed, tangles himself and under into the duvet, and stares up at white specks of paint on his ceiling.
Her bobbed brunette locks tousled in disarray, the faint smell of walnut and pine lingering from the shampoo she washed her hair with. Light glinting in dozy brown pupils, her smile too big for her cheeks. She's so stupendously bright it blinds him. Her look reminds him of a squirrel. Or one of the British Queen's dogs, with its short stubby legs and a chestnut mane. She kind of struts like a corgi too, he thinks.
She's such an idiot.
There's an obnoxious knock on his door and an arrogant prick walks in because he knows Bakugo won't bother to answer him. "You still sulking?" Kirishima's head pops round the wood. He keeps his body hidden halfway for cautious reasoning. He expects a bitter lashing out or something to that affect, Bakugo supposes.
Surprisingly, he's over it.
"How was not training with Pinky?" He smirks. He doesn't regularly inquire about other people's business when it has nothing to do with him because its a waste of his energy. An exception can be made for the guy he considers his best friend.
The tension leaves Kirishima's shoulders and he steps in, closing the door behind him. The blonde eyes him with obvious suspicion. Shitty Hair's been acting all weird and skittish and it's not like him. Even now, there's a weird blush coating his friend's features that mirror pinkie's skin. "W-well, it was good... She's my girlfriend now." The statement leaves the redhead in a hushed mutter, like he's unsure of the reality himself.
Bakugo sits up and takes it in with mild perplexity. "Took you long enough."
"Yeah." A small smile adorns his friend's face.
Ugh, he can't be dealing with this flustered feelings bullshit. "So, how was she?" Bakugo asks and the innocent conversation takes a mischievous turn.
"How was what?" Kirishima looks puzzled and then his face reddens more. "God, man, you're disgusting! We've only held hands, you damned pervert! Since when do you think like Mineta?!" On any given day, Bakugo would scoff at the comparison. He's nothing like that dwarf grape head whose goals are too narrow to best Bakugo's ambition and the midget couldn't make a dent on him any given day with that ridiculous squishy ball quirk of his. Not to mention he's not on the wavelength of that actual pervert.
Today, though, he just laughs and stuns Shitty Hair further into the realm of bewilderment he seems to have been visiting a lot recently. "You telling me you haven't thought about it?"
"Course not! We've only just started going out!" It's so much more entertaining to mess with people.
"So why you here then?" The blonde cuts to the chase and saves Kirishima from further embarrassment. "Oh right," a flash of recognition casts over him. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to train tomorrow."
"Sure," Bakugo responds. "Great!" Kirishima's usual enthusiasm perks back up. "Are you going to movie night on Friday?"
"And spend more time with those extras? Hell no." He shuts down the hopeful look shot his way with no hesitation.
"Aw, c'mon, man!"
"No."
"What'll get you to come?"
"Nothing."
"Everyone's convinced you ditch it too much and I kinda told them all you'd be there. Do it for me," he pleads with big eyes and intertwined fingers. He aims to imitate a puppy, but he looks more like a damn mongrel.
"Not my problem." Bakugo flat out refuses.
So Shitty Hair changes tactics. "I'll never train with you again if you don't show," he drops the friendly facade and finalizes with a threat he knows will leave a mark, even if Bakugo's inflated ego would never allow him to admit it.
"...You fucking bastard."
And then his damn friend grins and skips to open his bedroom door. "You're a great friend, Bakugo!"
"Get the hell out!"
"Night, sleeping beauty!" He whistles as he exits and disappears into the hallway.
The top ten heroes have little room for social lives. The hero profession, the government-entrusted responsibility to the public, is a pro's life. Katsuki aspires to be the same, to be the best, and there is a sacrifice there he has to make even if he's quite private anyway. He trains every day as he has done since his quirk manifested. From the little firecracker spitting bursts of light off his fingers to the explosive flames he wields as a top UA student now, he would become a man who spun hell's wildfire.
So he swears under his breath at Kirishima for implementing scare mongering tactics to get him to appear at the class movie night that took place weekly. It's not exactly an exclusive event. What's so great about watching a movie he won't choose with a mass group of people where one asshole whispers spoilers throughout while another rustles and chews too loudly and half the class are on their phones anyway?
He slips out his costume and dumps everything it includes on top of the bag on his desk, uncaring about mess in his current foul mood. He shoves on sweats and gets to working on the paperwork for school.
He yells when he sits down because he forgot about the pain in his ass.
A/N: Thanks for reviews/favs/follows, guys! I really appreciate it!
I just wanted to put that I'm not the best at writing fight scenes but I wanted to challenge myself with this story and I imagine sparring to be the way Bakugo and Uraraka would bond.
I'm also not the best writer around and I'm nervous in particular putting this work out there because I'm proud of the direction its taking so far and I suppose the feeling I'm getting is like stage fright but for writing. So, for those of you enjoying this story, thank you for taking the time to read it because it holds a special place in my heart and it feels good to see it doing pretty well thus far!
~Saki