Hello guys! As I said yesterday (at least in my timezone), here's the next side-chapter! This time, we get a POV of Bakugo!

Hope you enjoy! We'll get another pair of side-chapters (probably), before going on Chapter 11! However, I don't really know who it will exactly be... Lock will get one, that's sure, maybe someone else... Or I'll just go on Chapter 11 directly...

Anyway, now onto the reviews!

BoltSamIam: That's classified data ;). Only thing I can tell is that it won't be the 'little brawl' like it was in the anime.


Chapter 10-2: Dark Promise

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Bakugo's eyes fluttered open, the sterile whiteness of the room piercing through the remnants of unconsciousness like a dagger. A sharp scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, and the steady beep of medical equipment echoed in his ears. It took him a moment to find out where he was exactly, and to figure how he probably could have arrived here. He was in UA's infirmary with what his half conscious brain managed to register, but he seemed to be in a recovery room, with a simple bed he was on, the medical instruments, a chair in a corner and some shelves as the only furnitures.

The events of the training exercise flooded back to him in a chaotic rush. And slowly, as his brain chased away the fog of unconsciousness, pain manifested itself, his body ached, each tiny movement he made sending jolts of pain through his limbs.

He groaned, trying to sit up, but a firm hand on his shoulder gently pushed him back down, making him groan of pain and growl of anger.

"Take it easy, Bakugo.", came the familiar voice of Recovery Girl, who completely ignored his growl, "You're still healing."

The blond wasn't used to be ordered around, he wanted so badly to snap at that old woman, to tell her to fuck off, that he was fine, that it was only a scratch, a flesh wound, but when he tried to stand up again, the old nurse pushed him back on the bed harder.

He knew he wouldn't get up, whatever he said or do, and he wasn't in a state that allowed him to fight or argue, he reluctantly admitted to himself. So he obeyed against his will.

Currently, Bakugo's mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, frustration, and a deep-seated sense of humiliation. He had been so close, so infuriatingly close, to finally putting Deku in his place. But now, here he was, laid up in a bed while the green-haired nerd was probably basking in undeserved praise.

"How long…?", the pommeranian asked, voice hoarse, throat dry after he used so many water to actually sweat his last attack.

"A few hours.", Recovery Girl replied, her eyes filled with concern as she adjusted the IV drip. "You were unconscious when we found you. It's a miracle you didn't suffer more severe injuries, especially knowing how heavy the debris your classmate's clones had to move."

The old nurse walked over to one of the shelves, and grabbed a bottle of a sort of orange liquid, before she handed it over to the boy, who grabbed it and popped the cap. He approached the neck of the bottle and drank. A sort of spiced water, a strange liquid. He felt warmer, and his thirst faded away.

"You put everything in your last attack, you overworked your body, be careful, dehydration is a danger with your quirk, as well as hypothermia.", said Recovery Girl

Bakugo clenched his fists, the memory of his final explosion and the subsequent collapse of the building replaying in his mind. He had thrown everything he had at Deku, but it hadn't been enough. The frustration boiled within him, threatening to spill over.

"Deku…?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Midoriya is in the hospital. He took quite a beating, but he'll recover. He's a resilient boy."

Bakugo's jaw tightened. Of course, Deku would recover. He always did, no matter how many times Bakugo tried to prove his superiority. The fact that Deku had survived, had even managed to counter his final attack, was a bitter pill to swallow. It felt like a mockery of all his efforts.

"Damn it!" Bakugo slammed his fist against the bed rail, pain flaring up in response. He ignored it, focusing instead on the burning anger in his chest.

"You need to rest.", Recovery Girl said gently, but firmly, "Your body needs time to heal."

Bakugo barely heard her. All he could think about was how Deku had outmaneuvered him, had somehow turned the tables despite being at a disadvantage. The thought was unbearable. He had to be the best. Anything less was unacceptable.

Suddenly, the door opened, making the two look at the door, as a clone stood in the doorway, looking back at them. The clone stood there for a moment, expression unreadable behind the visor of his helmet, before he spoke.

"Ma'am, Mirdip is doing it again. We need a new bucket."

The nurse sighed and nodded.

"I'm coming…"

The clone made a salute, and left, closing the door behind him. Recovery Girl gave a look to Bakugo, before saying.

"Rest. You should be fine by the end of the day."

The old nurse then moved away, her cane tapping the ground.

As Recovery Girl left the room, Bakugo's mind continued to churn. He replayed the fight in his head, analyzing every move, every misstep. How had Deku known to dodge at that exact moment? How had he managed to counter Bakugo's explosions with such precision?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Deku hadn't just been reacting and dodging; he had been strategizing. Despite the pain, despite the injuries, Deku had kept his wits about him and had turned Bakugo's own aggression against him. It was infuriating.

"Deku…" he muttered, the name a curse on his lips.

He wanted to scream, to lash out at something, anything. But he was confined to this bed, his body a testament to his failure. The pain was a constant reminder that he hadn't been strong enough, hadn't been smart enough to defeat Deku, hadn't been smart enough to find out the greenette's plan.

But then, a dark, twisted sense of satisfaction crept into his mind. Deku might have 'won' in some twisted sense, but Bakugo had left his mark. The burns, the bruises, the broken bones—those were his doing. Deku would carry those scars as a reminder of their fight, a testament to Bakugo's power.

The thought brought a grim smile to Bakugo's lips. He might not have won the way he wanted, but he had still inflicted damage. He had shown Deku, and everyone else, just how dangerous he could be, and how he was the best, how these fucking extras weren't even at his heel.

"Next time…" he whispered to himself, the words a promise and a threat, "Next time, I won't hold back. Next time, Deku, you're done."

His mind shifted gears, focusing now on the future. He would train harder, push himself beyond his limits. He would find new ways to harness his quirk, to refine his techniques. Deku might have won this round, but Bakugo would make sure there wouldn't be a next time. Deku might have won the battle, but Bakugo was going to win the war. He would be ready like never.

He closed his eyes, the pain in his body mingling with the simmering rage in his heart. He would come back stronger. He would make sure Deku never forgot this lesson. He would prove, once and for all, that he was the best of the best, and that everyone else was just shit under his boot.

As sleep began to pull him under, Bakugo clung to the thought of his next encounter with Deku. He envisioned the green-haired boy's face twisted in pain, his body broken and defeated. It was a comforting image, one that brought a perverse sense of peace.

He would heal. He would train. And when the time came, he would destroy Deku.

Bakugo drifted into a fitful sleep, his dreams filled with explosions and the haunting echo of Deku's screams. The room was quiet, the steady beep of the electronics the only sound disturbing the silence. But in Bakugo's mind, the battle raged on, a promise of the violence yet to come.


Seeya next time! :)