Chapter 17: Breaking point

How are we only halfway through the day? Akane groaned internally.

Lunch hour was in full swing. As per usual, Akane wanted nothing to do with the rush and hubbub of hungry students. She shrunk away, keeping her head low, when two familiar figures stopped her at the bottom of the stairs.

Bakugou crossed his arms. Todoroki hovered beside him, ready to put him in his place should he try to overstep again.

Akane stopped. She gripped her unopened energy drink.

"Headed to the roof?" Todoroki asked.

"Where else would she be headed?" Bakugou grumbled. "Maybe this time you'll stay out of the damn way."

"I'm not the only one getting in her way," Todoroki reminded him.

"You know what?" Akane sighed. "Never mind."

She turned to leave. Rather than reach out and grab her, Bakugou leapt off the stars and blocked her path once more.

"Out with it," he said, "what's up with you? One minute, we're making out, the next, you're dodging me."

"Making out?" Todoroki echoed.

"And now your limp's gotten worse," Bakugou went on. "'Cause you pushed yourself, beating up damn shitty hair."

Todoroki almost smirked. "Jealous?"

Bakugou spun around. "Jealous?"

"Well, Akane was 'beating up' another guy. For you, that's practically flirting."

"What the hell kind of perv do you think I am?!"

As though he'd been summoned, Kirishima picked this moment to appear from the canteen. He carried his lunch tray toward an empty table. Seeing him, Akane didn't even stop to think. She just saw the opening and took it.

By the time Bakugou turned back around, Akane was halfway across the cafeteria.

"Hm," Todoroki said, watching the scene unfold. "Spoke too soon."

"What is she doing?" Bakugou snarled. "She hates spending lunch down here."

"Maybe, right now, there's something she hates even more."

Bakugou shot him another lethal glare. "You've really gotta death wish today, don't you?"

Meanwhile, Akane approached Kirishima. She cleared her throat.

Kirishima startled to attention. His eyes popped, clearly surprised to see her.

"Oh hey, Akane." He grinned. "Not here to kick my butt some more, are you?"

Akane hesitated. She knew this was the moment she was supposed to smile back, or make a joke, but it was all she could do to tune out the background noise. The chaos of the cafeteria was starting to catch up to her. If she wanted to drown it out, she'd have to distract herself somehow.

"Can I sit?" She asked.

"Sure." Kirishima said. "It's been ages since Bakubro ate lunch with us. And having you around is an added bonus!" He glanced around. "Where is the big man anyway?"

"He's not—" Akane swallowed. "It's just me. If that's okay."

"Oh." Kirishima considered for a moment, but chose to drop it. "Yeah, that's cool. Totally cool."

Silence ensued for the next several moments. Akane was aware of the awkwardness, even as she and Kirishima kept occupied by drinking and eating, but could think of nothing else to say. She worried that one wrong word would start a chain reaction that ended up in giving herself away. Or, as a best case scenario, making a fool of herself.

Loud. Talking. Too many people. Too much danger. I shouldn't be here. Run. Hide. HIDE.

"So you're pretty smart, aren't ya?" Kirishima asked through a mouthful of curry.

Akane blinked.

Kirishima swallowed. "You're a strong fighter, sure, but I think it's more important that you're smart."

"What're you getting at?"

"I was just thinking about our last fight. Even with a quirk like mine, it all came to timing. You kept picking the exact worst moment to attack me. I feel like that's the kind of skill you don't get from training alone—you'e gotta be super smart, too. Gotta have an eye for it."

"I mean…you can train your eyes, too."

Kirishima laughed. "Alright, alright. I'm saying you think on your feet. Choose the move with the highest attack stat."

Akane tilted her head. "Do you not?"

"Are you kidding me? I can fight, or I can think. Not both."

Before Akane knew it, she was having a conversation. The two went back and forth; talking fighting tactics, class structure, and even personality differences. It wasn't much, but it was simple. For the second brief, comforting time that day, Akane felt normal.

That was when she heard it. Two or three tables over, voices of other students—

"That's her, isn't it? The girl who got those third years suspended."

"Seriously? What did she do to them?"

"More like what they did to her."

Akane stiffened. Her facial scar felt like it was burning; begging to be seen. To be noticed.

Meanwhile, Kirishima was too busy chattering away to take notice. It was a good few seconds before he even noticed Akane had gone silent.

He tilted his head. "What's up?"

Akane drunk from her can. "Nothing. What were you saying?"

"Just about endurance training. One of these days, I'm gonna hit that five-minute plank—and keep my hardening up at the same time."

The conversation a couple tables down hadn't ended. In fact, even more people seemed to have joined in, gossiping amongst themselves.

"I still say she had it coming. No one looks that creepy without having a dark side."

"Yeah, it's not like Kiera would've gone after her without a good reason."

"Not to mention we still don't even know her quirk. Sketchy as hell."

Muffled snickering ensued. Akane took a deep breath, trying to block out their voices. Aizawa had warned her about this—it was high school, after all, and people were bound to indulge in rumours. He told her to remember it was only empty speculation. The UA staff had implemented safety measures to keep Kiera and her friends from exposing her. Something about being liable for blackmail charges.

But those words—those deadly, ugly accusations—were almost too much to handle. Dark side. Quirk. Had it coming.

"Akane." Kirishima finally got her attention. "Damn, don't tell me I'm boring you?"

"No," Akane said, but her tone was hard and stuck out against Kirishima's friendliness. Not even he was ignorant enough to miss it.

"Hey," he said, a little softer. "You seem kind of out of it."

"I'm not," she returned, just as hard. Only when she spoke did she realize how short her breaths had become. How loud her heartbeat was. She could hardly hear herself think.

Those voices. Their laughter. The suspicion. She wasn't safe here. The energy drink began to tremble in her grip. She glared at the table, focusing all her energy on just calming down. She was going to embarrass herself at best, and at worst…

Oh, God.

Somewhere far away, she heard Kirishima asking about her. Wanting to know if she was okay. If she didn't respond, and soon, who knew what he would think.

"It's fine," Akane was vaguely aware of herself saying. "Just…a second."

She should stand up and bolt out of there before this got any worse. It was becoming increasingly clear she couldn't talk herself out of this—not until she was long and far away from all the commotion of the cafeteria. The longer she sat there, glued to her chair, the more her thinking spiralled. Cold sweat. Shallow breaths, if she was breathing at all. Dizzy. Losing…control.

"Akane," Kirishima was still there. "Hey, hey, everything's okay. Can you hear me?"

Shit. Shit. She was drawing attention to herself.

"Woah," Kirishima tried to stay calm. "A-are you going to pass out? Here, I've gotcha—"

He reached out to steady her, as Akane slipped in her chair. But then, in an unexpected burst of motion, she swatted his hand away.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry," Kirishima said, "I shouldn't have—"

She couldn't do this. Not alone. She just wanted to be safe again. Before she was even aware of the desire, she blurted out—

"B-Bakugou."

Instantly, Kirishima understood. "I'll get him—it's gonna be okay."

By this point, people had started to take notice. Honestly, Akane's episode wasn't drawing half as much attention as Kirishima's flustered response. He stammered about, frantically pulling out his phone and dialling Bakugou.

Of course. This had to be the one moment of the day that Bakugou wasn't in direct sight of Akane. Under Todoroki's instructions, he'd stepped outside for some air, trying to keep a level head so as not to impose himself again.

"Hey man, where are you?" Kirishima was demanding into his phone.

Around her, people muttered and whispered. Akane's vision got splotchy, tinged red and black as the panic manifested into a migraine. Was she going to be sick?

"We need you now," Kirishima went on, "like, right now."

Akane couldn't hear the response. All she could hear, apart form her own roaring blood, was someone at the table next to hers.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Holy crap, is that girl okay?"

And then, some vaguely familiar voices of other 1A students. People she recognised but couldn't for the life of her name.

"Akane! Hey, just breathe."

"Where the hell is Bakugou?"

"Get a teacher."

A touch. Someone touched her. Akane's world dipped and spun.

"No, don't!" Someone else warned them.

Thunk! Akane's drink fell against the table, spilling everywhere.

"Sorry…" she whispered, too afraid to speak any louder. "I…I'll…"

"HEY!"

There it was. A single deep, harsh tone that split the chaos in half. Bakugou charged towards her. The small crowd parted to make way for him, giving him access to Akane. If they hadn't, god only knew what kind of fury Bakugou would've unleashed to reach her. The very fact that so many people had gotten so close and invaded her space made his blood boil, but there would be time later to rip their heads off. First and foremost, he needed to get her out.

"Hey," he said again, much softer, and crouched down in front of Akane's chair. Instinctively, he reached out to hold her.

Kirishima stepped back in. "Easy, man. Trust me—she doesn't like that."

"Don't tell me what she likes," Bakugou snapped. "Just get these damn extras out of our way."

Thankful for something to do, Kirishima and the other 1A students who were around—Midoriya, Denki, and Tsu—tried to dispel the onlookers.

Bakugou tried to catch Akane's eye. "I'm gonna get you out of here," he promised. "Can you walk?"

Akane tried to respond yes. She grit her teeth, frustrated when the word wouldn't come.

"It's okay," Bakugou assured her, practically reading her mind, "you don't gotta talk." He looked behind him, planning their escape route. "I'm gonna help you up. You can lean on me."

Akane jaw ached. Still no words.

"Akane," Bakugou insisted. "Need you to nod for yes if that's okay."

That, she could manage. Akane gave a single, focused nod.

"Good."

No further dialogue needed, Bakugou slipped an arm around Akane's shoulders. He coaxed her to he feet. For a second, she faltered, but Bakugou kept his word—catching her with ease.

"I…I…" Akane tried.

"I swear, if that shitty-ass sentence is supposed to end with sorry, I'm gonna put you over my shoulder and carry you out."

Akane shut her mouth, thoroughly convinced to hold her apologies for a later date.

Leaning on Bakugou, half hiding against his chest, Akane escaped the cafeteria. The entire walk out, Bakugou kept muttering to her—his voice giving her something to hold on to.

"Don't try to think," he was saying; lowly, gently. "I'm here. I got you. Everything's okay now."

And then, in his head, he cursed Todoroki for taking him away from Akane in the first place. Where was that half-and-half bastard anyway? It didn't matter. He didn't need anyone else's help. Right now, Akane was his responsibility and his alone.

Bakugou doubted Akane would be able to make it all the way up to the roof, so he opted for an empty classroom instead. He shut the door behind them and propped a chair against the handle. When he turned around, Akane was struggling to stand. She gripped the corner of a desk, rocking erratically on the balls of her feet.

"Hey, hey, hey," Bakugou swept in. He took Akane's forearms, steadying her.

Akane stiffened, but didn't struggle.

"Put your weight on me," Bakugou encouraged.

"I—can't—" Akane rasped.

"But I can. So come on—lean on me. I can take it."

Akane hesitated for another moment, so tense she could hardly move. Then, as a fresh wave of panic struck and her head got fuzzy, she finally gave in.

Bakugou caught her with ease. Even as Akane's legs went slack and her head fell into his shoulder, Bakugou didn't waver. He gathered he against his chest and held her there. Firm, tight, but not suffocating. She was hyperventilating enough as it was.

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Bakugou dropped his chin on Akane's head. "Alright," he said, "that's good."

Akane's gloved hands trembled. She tried to fold them into fists, curling gently into Bakugou's shirt. She warned, "I'm…dizzy."

Bakugou paused. Oh shit, he thought, please don't pass out on me.

Aloud, he said, "'Cause you're not breathing right." He leaned back slightly, trying to catch her gaze. "I'm gonna sit. Ready?"

He waited until she indicated her consent—a short, vague nod—before moving. Drawing Akane close, he guided their bodies to the floor. Akane landed on her knees, but the seated position didn't seem to be calming her down.

"Hang on," Bakugou said, "just a second, promise."

He propped himself up against the classroom wall and opened his legs for Akane to slot between them. He manoeuvred her posture so her back was pressed against his chest, and his arms were draped around her waist.

"Bring your legs up," he instructed, as gently as he could.

Slowly, Akane did as she was told, loosely hugging her knees to her chest.

"Good," Bakugou encouraged, relieved at her compliance. "Real good. Now, put your head between your knees."

This, too, she obliged; hanging her head between her knees, glaring at the floor.

"So good. Really damn good." Bakugou never knew he had this much praise in him, but it just kept rolling out. He couldn't help but be proud of her—knowing how hard she was working to stay with him. To not fall irreparably apart.

"Now," he went on, "one more thing, alright? Most important thing. You gotta breathe."

Akane gave a muted syllable of distress. Angling her body was one thing, but dragging air into her lungs? Not so easy. She wanted to listen to Bakugou, to be good for him, but what if she couldn't? What if she let him down? Was he going to….punish her?

"I know it sucks," Bakugou's voice cut through the panic once again. "I know it's hard. But you can do this. Big, deep breaths. Like me."

He started to model the ideal breathing, his chest rising dramatically for several counts, stilling, and slowly falling once again. He did it twice, three, five times before Akane realized she was subconsciously beginning to follow suit.

Under his breath, Bakugou whispered, "Thank fuck."

He kept doing it—those big, modelled breaths—until Akane's heartbeat had slowed. She didn't raise her head, though, and she certainly wasn't ready to form full sentences. In fact, one wrong word could still send her spiralling again. So Bakugou held he close, lightly dropping kisses on the back of he head. His breath fluttered down her neck; warm and constant.

"What'd I tell you?" He muttered. "You got this."

All Akane could do was hum; not in agreement or argument, but simply acknowledgment.

Satisfied, Bakugou tightened his embrace ever-so-slightly. It wasn't often Akane made herself available for physical contact. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity to hold her close—even if the circumstances were less than idea.

"You're safe now," Bakugou promised. "Anyone even thinks about touching you, or messing with you, and I'll blow them the hell up. I'll keep those shitty extras in their place."

"Bakugou."

He stopped. Akane's voice sounded almost clear, though not unstrained.

"What is it?" He asked, immediately gentle again.

"I don't…want that."

"Want what?"

She exhaled. "You saved my ass today. I won't forget it. But all this…following me around, telling me what to do, watching me like a hawk…it's too much."

Bakugou bristled, struggling not to take offence. "I'm just trying to protect you."

"There is a difference between protecting me and smothering me."

"I'm not smothering you, I—"

"This life is still new to me," Akane pushed on. "And one of the things that makes it new is that, for the first time, it's mine. Not my family's, not the villains', mine."

Bakugou hesitated, wondering what she was getting at. "Well…yeah," he said. "Obviously."

"Do you know what makes it mine?"

To this, Bakugou had no response. Akane sighed.

"Because I'm free. Free to make my own choices, to pick my own battles, and to figure out what matters to me." Then, hiding a blush against her knee, she added, "Who matters to me."

It begun to dawn on Bakugou then, and only then, what Akane was saying. If Akane didn't have autonomy—the very thing she was deprived for the first fourteen years of her life—she could never be her own person. She'd always be the infant daughter who murdered her family, or the kidnapped recruit for a gang of villains. She'd never just be Akane.

"Akane," Bakugou started, "shit, I…"

Knock, knock, knock!

Instantly, Akane stiffened. Her breath caught. Bakugou curled tighter around her, as if he could shield her from the noise.

"It's me," Aizawa's voice filtered through the door. "Open up."

Bakugou had to bite his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to snap at the teacher to piss off, but getting all aggressive wasn't exactly going to preserve Akane's current state of semi-calm.

Knock!

"I know you're both in there. Whatever's going on, let me help."

Tentatively, Akane tilted her head to look at Bakugou. Her helpless gaze indicated she wasn't ready to talk to anyone else, let alone let them 'help' her.

So Bakugou called back, "Not now!"

Aizawa's frustration was practically palpable, seeping hotly through the door. "I wasn't asking, kid."

"She wants to be alone," Bakugou snapped.

"Okay," Aizawa grated, "then she can be alone at home. And not in a school classroom."

At the same time, Bakugou and Akane seemed to realize that fifth period was about to start. If they didn't get out of here, soon, Aizawa would be the least of their problems. Bakugou probably would've been stubborn enough to keep fighting regardless, but Akane spoke first.

"I want to go home. Is that…okay?"

Instantly, Aizawa softened at his daughter's voice. He breathed a small sigh of relief. At least she seemed to be okay.

"Of course that's okay."

"I'll take her," Bakugou butted in.

Aizawa returned, "You're not going anywhere until you come through me."

Bakugou considered a moment. He scanned the classroom and smirked.

"Window," he said.

Aizawa stopped. "Window. Seriously?"

"Less prying eyes!" Bakugou insisted.

It was all Aizawa could do not to groan. The childishness. The defiance. Truthfully, he knew the main reason eh was so frustrated was because—in his view—Bakugou was the only thing keeping him from his distressed daughter. But if Akane had calmed down, and Bakugou really did take her straight home…Aizawa could handle things from there.

"Akane. I'll see you at home in 15 minutes. Understood?"

"Understood," Bakugou said.

"Wasn't asking you."

Akane swallowed. Quieter, she said, "Understood."

Aizawa stood at the door for another moment. He gave another sigh. Then, finally, he drifted away, begrudgingly leaving his daughter in Bakugou's care once more.

Weakly, Akane shifted out of Bakugou's arms. They shared a look.

Bakugou gave a faint smirk. He fixed Akane's hair, tucking a few loose strands behind her ears, before cupping her face.

"Let's get you home, newbie."