Disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia the manga, the anime, or any other related works for the series.

Pairing: Bakugou x Uraraka – guest starring Horn Buddies, Kirishima and Ashido.

Genres: Romance, Humor

Rating: T for coarse language.

This takes place before the events of the first chapter. Basically, this fic doesn't flow chronologically, but will alternate between the past and present with each chapter – for no other reason than because I tend to unnecessarily complicate things. Enjoy!

(No, I have no idea what I'm doing. Ever.)

Chapter 2: Torched

As with most things, it had started out harmless and completely unremarkable.

They were living in close quarters now, their rooms stationed on the same floor. There were little moments when they would meet each other in the halls – heading down the same way for meal times, in opposite directions, with friends in tow or just the two of them. On the latter occasion, he would respond to her greeting smiles with curt nods or grunts instead of flat out ignoring her.

Then came the group project that had paired the two of them along with Iida and Jirou for their Heroic Law course. Their task had been to setup a mock-trial to demonstrate their understanding of public and criminal offenses, and their sentencing procedures.

Planning out the trial and a script for their argument had been simple enough. The real challenge had been deciding on which one of them was to play the offender. Jirou had already been juggling two roles as the plaintiff and jury, and Iida had been more suitable for the position of judge (not to mention neither Ochako or Jirou could manage a straight face with his over-the-top criminal persona).

So, the position had narrowed to Ochako and Bakugou, and he hadn't taken kindly to her offhanded comment about him already looking the part. His outburst had only earned corroborating opinions from Iida and Jirou, as well as a second strike from the librarian.

In the interest of their grade – and their well-beings – Ochako had taken up the role. Bakugou had a better grasp of civil law than she did anyway, and made a pretty kickass prosecutor. She had told him so during a rehearsal in her room (it hadn't taken long to earn that third strike), in earnest and as an apology for her earlier remark.

"Damn straight," he had snapped, but with less bite than before.

Iida and Jirou had left earlier that day, having finished their individual practice runs for their presentation. Since Ochako and Bakugou had the lengthier part to play, they had been left behind to perfect their mini-interrogation.

"The fuck's wrong with your face?"

"Hmm? Gah!"

Ochako had rubbed the sore spot between her brows where he had jabbed his fingers. Despite his roughness, she had met him with a good-natured grin, undaunted by the stern glare he was pinning her with.

"What? I was just gettin' into the part. Gotta channel the hard-boiled, intimidating criminal!"

"You're playing a petty-ass thief busted for larceny and unlawful use of a duplication quirk," he had retorted, arms folded and impatiently tapping their rolled-up script against his bicep. "If that ain't lame enough, you think sittin' there and looking constipated is gonna intimidate anyone?"

"I mean, doesn't it work for you?"

Iida – who had left his folder behind on accident – had been the one to rescue Ochako from the headlock Bakugou had placed her in. Otherwise, it would have taken her at least a few more seconds to free herself.

Maybe not totally harmless.

Speaking of which, on the battlefield, it was near impossible for them to miss each other. Ochako often faced off against Ashido at Gym Gamma to hone her offensive technique, and their resident Alien Queen had the best reflexes out of all the girls in their sparring circle to help her.

In contrast, Bakugou only ever regularly trained with Kirishima. If not accompanied by his redheaded partner, he mostly kept to himself unless provoked.

Perhaps it had been because the four of them were the only ones present at the training grounds that afternoon, but Ochako hadn't been able to keep her focus on Ashido. Her attention had kept wandering to the intense match raging on between the two boys.

It had been basic hand-to-hand, a quirkless scrimmage. No bursts of light, plumes of smoke, or sparks flickering in her periphery. No booming ripples or clashes of solidified skin resonating in the air.

It had just been the force of their fists, the momentum of their limbs, and the strength of their spirits. The passion, the fierceness, the raw drive to win blazing so bright in his eyes and his smile at the height of their fight at the Sports Festival that hadn't been able to look away.

Thankfully, Ashido's perfectly-timed uppercut to her jaw had brought her back down from the clouds.

At some point, Kirishima had slipped up and delivered a hardened hook that had grazed the side of Bakugou's face. It had earned him a crude earful – one he took in the same carefree stride as he did with any other kind of tantrum his buddy pulled – but Bakugou had seemed more pissed about the use of his quirk than the jagged line of red carved into his cheek.

Ochako and Ashido had been taking a quick break on the benches, entertaining themselves with the squabble across from them. Somewhere in the momentary suspension of activity, Ashido had what she continued to call to this day 'a stroke of genius.'

"Hey, Bakugou!" She had called out, bouncing to her feet with renewed energy. "Switch partners with me!"

Ochako – who had nearly choked on her sports drink – and Kirishima had let out a collective "Huh?" while Bakugou had turned his aggravation on their pink classmate. Ochako hadn't missed the brief flicker of his scarlet gaze to where she had been sitting.

"The hell for, Raccoon Eyes?" He had demanded.

"Uraraka here's having trouble keeping her eyes off you boys," Ashido had explained, blithely ignoring the mortified squawk from her partner. "And you two have already fought before, so facing off now's a great way to see how you've improved. Look alive, Kirishima!"

"Hey, wai –!"

The sound of the redhead's strangled cry as Ashido pounced on him had resounded across the training grounds, but Ochako had barely any time to wince for the poor boy before Bakugou's attention riveted to her. Astonishingly, he had paid no heed to the fact that his partner had just been abducted, and had instead lobbed a razor-eyed look in her direction.

"Well?" He had barked, startling her. "You just gonna sit there, or you gonna come at me?"

"Uh, s-sure." Her response had been wobbly – more out of surprise than fear – as she bolted to her feet, treading across the training mats to stand at a distance from him.

"You better not fucking slack, Uraraka," he had warned lowly, taking on a defensive stance.

With no shortage of perplexity, Ochako had drawn in a calming breath and, in turn, steeled herself.

What Ashido had said was true, to a point. Point-blank explosions to her face aside, her main struggle from her first fight with Bakugou had been the difference in speed and stamina. A rematch was a terrific way to tell how she measured up against him after her internships under Gunhead and Ryukyu.

If the four times out of five that he had thrown her to the ground had been any indication, the gap had closed by only a modest margin. But Ochako had always been a glass-half-full kind of girl.

So, after their fourth round, when she had managed to grab his arm in mid-swing, haul him over her shoulder, and slam him to the ground with a short and sharp smack against the training mat, she had been more than a bit pleased with herself.

Bakugou had stood back to his feet slowly, winding out the shoulder she had stretched into oblivion with that last throw, breathing heavily. She had anticipated more of an explosive reaction to the loss, as was his custom, so she'd had no idea what to expect from his eerie calm.

But when the corner of his mouth had twisted upward, scarlet eyes searing with a newly torched flame – a tone brighter than the blood that had trickled out from the gash on his cheek – Ochako had found herself grinning back.

Her defeat after their fifth and final round had done little to dampen her spirit.

"Three o'clock."

"Huh?"

Afterwards, he had caught her outside the locker rooms with that tidbit of info. His vagueness puzzled her, to which he had shot her an irritated look. He had yet to patch up the cut on his cheek.

Burnt orange hues had bled themselves into the sky, falling over the courtyard in a soft, warm haze. A faint sheen of sweat had glistened off his skin, and under the waning sunlight, it had almost looked like he was glowing.

Sadly, his prickly attitude had shattered the rather pleasing image.

"I'll be here tomorrow then. Come or don't come. Just don't expect me to wait on your ass."

With that, he had slung his gym bag over his shoulder and stalked off towards Heights Alliance, deserting her on the empty training grounds.

Odd how neither of them had noticed how Ashido and Kirishima had left hours ago.

For whatever reason, Ochako had lingered a bit longer after he had left. The smarting strain on her muscles had banked into a pleasant burn, and she had felt lighter on her feet, in the fleeting way she sometimes felt just before drifting off into the air.

The battle had ended long ago, and yet her pulse had still been fluttering under her skin.

Perhaps not so unremarkable, after all.

A/N: Next chapter will be back in the present. I hope the transitions won't be too awkward.

Lemme know what you think. Thanks for reading!