—. My Hero Academia 180 Degrees.—
45. Where Bakugo is more relaxed, and Deku thinks about Uravity during his shower
(Segments marked with * contain explicit IzuxOcha content)
"Hey, Bakugo!" Kirishima called out, quickening his pace to catch up with him in the hallway. "Aren't you happy? That guy, Togata, accepted your hero name because he thought it was funny! Any other teacher would've rejected it."
Bakugo kept his expression serious.
"Tch. That idiot-faced bastard," he muttered with disdain.
But something outside the window caught his attention. At first barely noticeable, tiny raindrops began to patter against the glass and the ground outside.
Kirishima followed his gaze, furrowing his brows in thought.
"You've noticed it too, huh?" he asked. "It suddenly starts raining out of nowhere, and we're not even in the rainy season. The atmospheric pressure keeps changing. You think it's someone's quirk?"
Bakugo didn't answer. He just stood there, staring at the droplets collecting on the pavement, his mind drifting to another time and place.
The solid impact of his fist against that dark, tar-like mass that had trapped Izuku inside.
He remembered how, for just a brief moment, his eyes had stung—overwhelmed by the emotions surrounding him.
He focused his gaze again. This time, another sound filtered into his memory: the rhythmic creak of the arm exerciser from when he had talked to All Might about what had happened that day.
He had been alone in the gym. Despite the intensity of his training, his face remained neutral, almost expressionless. His arms moved with steady, powerful motions on the machine, but there was no fire in his eyes—none of the fury that usually drove him. Before, on nights like this, his mind would be filled with images of his rivals falling before his strength, of the victories waiting for him in the future. But now… now, there was only emptiness ahead of him.
Minutes later, his fists crashed into the punching bag with mechanical precision. The dull thud of each blow echoed through the silent gym, matching the rhythm of his breath. Sweat began to roll down his skin in slow streaks, but it didn't bring the usual satisfaction. He wiped his forehead with his arm, exhaled sharply, and kept going. One hit after another, until even that stopped feeling like it meant anything.
He climbed onto the treadmill and ran. At first, his strides were quick, driven by unwavering determination, but with every kilometer, that energy that had fueled him began to fade. And then, without warning, he just… stopped.
He let himself fall back, his feet slipping off the belt until they hit the wooden floor with a soft thud. He stayed there, staring blankly at the droplets of sweat hitting the ground.
He didn't notice the exact moment the gym door opened—nor when someone stepped inside.
"I'm surprised to find someone here this late," All Might announced in his deep, signature voice as he stepped through the door. "I heard most of the first-years went to karaoke. Why didn't you go with them?"
"They're just a bunch of losers," Bakugo scoffed without hesitation.
"Come on, don't say that. They're your new classmates, and it's best to get along from the start," All Might reasoned in a conciliatory tone. "You'll realize that—"
"I'll call them whatever the hell I want! Don't try to change me!" Bakugo snapped, spinning around sharply. "And what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be out patrolling the city or saving someone? Classes are over!"
All Might let out a small chuckle—not mocking, just calm, as if he had expected that reaction. He had understood Bakugo's personality the moment he met him.
"You might be right. Maybe someone out there needs me right now," he admitted, glancing at his open palm before slowly curling his fingers into a fist. "But over time, I've come to understand that no matter how hard I try, I can't be everywhere at once. I can't save the ones I can't reach."
He took a couple of steps forward, studying Bakugo carefully.
"That's why it's important to find a balance between being a hero, resting, and having meaningful conversations. Like this one."
Bakugo looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the calm atmosphere All Might was trying to create—and the predictability of his words.
"That aside, I'm not too worried. There are plenty of good heroes out there making sure everything's under control," All Might added with a smile, placing a hand on Bakugo's head. "You don't have to be so serious all the time. Though, I have to admit… you remind me a little of Endeavor."
The reaction was instant. Bakugo smacked his hand away and shot him a glare like daggers.
"Don't you dare treat me the same way you treat Izuku!" he growled, his voice laced with restrained fury. "And don't think I didn't notice! …You were going to choose him from the start, weren't you?"
For a moment, Toshinori recalled that night at Aoyama's mansion—how he had scolded Midoriya in front of his friends for not answering his phone, only to pull him into a hug right after. Bakugo had been there. He had seen everything.
"Believe it or not," All Might said calmly, "you were the first one I watched after the sludge villain incident. But along the way, things changed, and I ended up wanting to give young Midoriya a chance. His body was incredibly weak. And as you said back then… I, too, wanted him to keep walking alongside us."
Bakugo said nothing. His expression remained hardened, but the anger in his face wasn't quite the same.
"I hope that's not a reason for you to start treating young Midoriya badly again," All Might continued. "I truly believe you two could make a great team if you learn to balance your differences and strengths."
"I suppose I should be mad that you chose him over me…" Bakugo muttered, his voice steady and controlled. But there was something different in his tone. Something deeper. Something honest. "And yet… ever since I apologized to him, I stopped feeling that deep-seated hatred I used to have for him."
All Might watched him intently.
"Someone sentimental like him would probably say I've been freed," Bakugo went on, "but I know the truth."
"And what truth would that be?"
Bakugo locked eyes with him.
"It's this damn power you gave me to save him!" he shouted, his voice raw with frustration. "It makes me feel like someone I'm not! I hate this stupid sense of peace!"
All Might seemed to reflect on his words. And then, suddenly, a memory surfaced in his mind—Yoichi placing a hand on Bakugo's shoulder.
He couldn't see him now. But he could sense it.
The first wielder's influence… that's what Bakugo was experiencing.
But… would it be wise to tell him?
"I don't want it anymore! Take it back!" Bakugo yelled.
"That's not possible," All Might replied bluntly, feeling as if they had suddenly fallen into some kind of comedic routine.
Bakugo grabbed his head in frustration, his brows furrowed deeply.
"No! If I'm going to become the number one hero, I want to do it with my own strength!"
All Might studied him for a moment. Then, an idea crossed his mind—psychological reverse tactics. He had read about it in a book on teaching strategies. He felt strangely proud to finally put it into practice, but he kept his expression serious.
"That day, you got to experience One for All at its full power. You even created rainfall with the force of your punch against All for One's power. Though, in the process, you completely wrecked your arm," he stated.
Then, after a brief pause, he added:
"I suppose having that much power can be intimidating… Maybe—just maybe—it's a little bit of your fear of getting hurt that's talking right now."
Bakugo was silent for a moment, mulling over his words before snapping,
"Don't try your cheap psychology tricks on me!"
Didn't work, All Might thought, frowning slightly.
"Anyway," he continued, "I hope we can all sit down and talk things through soon. We need to figure out what comes next. I just need to gather some more information first."
"Yeah, whatever," Bakugo muttered, turning his back to him and heading for the gym exit.
All Might watched him go, and with a tired but sincere smile, he called out,
"That's fine! And don't be afraid to tell me how you're feeling! I'll always be here to listen!"
Bakugo didn't turn around. But for a split second, his steps faltered—just slightly—before he disappeared through the door.
...
Izuku pushed the door open and switched on the light with a tired, automatic motion, fully aware of the exhaustion weighing down his body. His slumped shoulders and heavy gaze spoke of the intense training he had endured that day, but it was the adhesive strips on his face and the bandages wrapped around his arms that told the full story.
Without thinking too much about it, he dropped his backpack onto the chair beside his bed and stretched, feeling the tension clinging stubbornly to his sore muscles.
Then, something in the room caught his attention, momentarily distracting him from that sensation.
His eyes landed on a large box in the corner—the one All Might had stored for him and recently returned, filled with his collection of figures and posters. Izuku recognized it instantly; it was the same box that, almost a year ago, he had nearly thrown away after his second meeting with All Might. Almost without realizing it, he stepped closer and lifted the lid.
He carefully pulled out one of the action figures of the legendary hero and held it in his hands. It was actually his favorite. He studied it in silence, his fingers tracing over the details of the suit and the heroic pose, as if trying to decide what to do with it. His gaze wandered across the room, stopping at the shared shelves. Since it was a space for two, he wasn't sure if he could fit everything on his side without making a mess.
But then again, Bakugo was also an All Might fan. Maybe he wouldn't mind if some things were placed in the common areas.
Would Kacchan get mad? he wondered. It was hard to tell these days; his mood shifted so often that he had become unpredictable.
Suddenly, his mind drifted to a recent memory from that very morning. He thought about his own words when he had chosen his hero name:
"Maybe because… some things change when you grow up."
His gaze returned to the action figure in his hands, and for no apparent reason, a completely different image surfaced in his mind—Uraraka's smiling face.
He pictured her in her new hero costume, the small accessories in her hair accentuating the shape of her face, her bright and cheerful expression… and how pretty she looked.
The memory took on a life of its own, and before he could stop it, his mind's eye drifted downward. Small details of the suit floated through his thoughts—the way it fit her body, the way it hugged her chest, the curve of her waist, the roundness of her hips…
Izuku felt a shiver run up his body and quickly covered his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform, as if that could contain the heat rising to his face. He lowered his head and stood up, leaving the All Might figure on the bed.
He definitely needed a shower before Bakugo came back and found him like this. Besides, he knew his new roommate couldn't stand having the light on past 8:30.
He made his way to the bathroom, unbuttoning his uniform as he went. One by one, his clothes fell into the laundry basket. But as he undressed, new memories resurfaced—ones from the locker room…"
"Midoriya! Your suit is totally awesome!" Kaminari exclaimed with enthusiasm. "You look seriously intimidating—like one of those antiheroes we're not supposed to talk about!"
"R-Really?" Izuku looked down at himself, surprised. "That wasn't my intention. At first, I was going for a more friendly design, but when I started drawing and writing the specifications, I think I let my imagination run a little wild. And it looks like the support department did the same with these gradient colors..."
"You look like you stepped right out of a post-apocalyptic world," Tokoyami remarked as he passed by, a discreet smile on his face. "Not that I find it unpleasant."
"T-Thanks..." Izuku replied, not entirely sure how to respond to that.
"Hurry up! You're taking way too long!" Bakugo's voice rang out from the locker room entrance. He stood there with his arms crossed, looking thoroughly annoyed.
"Yes, sir! We're on our way!" Kirishima teased, nudging Kaminari with his elbow. "Nice to see you finally taking responsibility instead of dumping everything on Midoriya!"
"Shut the hell up, idiot!"
As they exited the locker room, the boys crossed paths with the girls coming from the other hallway. The analytical side of Izuku was already prepared to pull out his notebook and study the details of his classmates' hero suits, trying to figure out how each one enhanced their quirks. But before he even realized it, his eyes instinctively searched for one person in particular.
To his surprise, she was the one who spoke first.
"That's amazing! You can really tell how much knowing how to draw makes a difference!" Uraraka said, visibly impressed. "I wish I had asked for your help designing my suit, because it turned out kind of..."
Izuku turned toward her voice, and at that moment, he was incredibly grateful to already be wearing his mask. Because his face immediately burned the second he saw her.
Uraraka—or rather, Uravity—looked… Not just cute, but genuinely stunning. Or maybe a better word would be…
"Close your mouth. You're drooling," Bakugo muttered as he walked past him.
Izuku instinctively clamped his hands over his mouth with a startled jolt—until he realized that Kacchan couldn't have actually seen his face behind the mask. He was just messing with him.
Still, before he could retort, something caught his attention for a split second. A faint glimmer in the nearby bushes, followed by a rustling of leaves, distracted him.
"Something wrong?" Uraraka asked, stepping closer to him.
Izuku tensed at her sudden proximity, suddenly aware of the slight tremor running through his body.
"N-No, it's nothing... I just thought I saw—"
"Quit the chit-chat and get over here already!" Bakugo's shout abruptly cut off their conversation.
(*)
Back in the present, Izuku held the bucket with both hands and tilted it over his head, letting the cold water cascade down his hair and onto his skin in a sharp, chilling rush. His body shuddered at the contrast between the heat still lingering inside him and the icy sensation enveloping him. It was as if he were trying to wash away traces of something that shouldn't be there. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the droplets slide down his face and torso, gradually easing the warmth that had taken hold of him.
Now that he thought about it, even though he had a shower both at home and here, he had always preferred sitting while bathing, following the traditional onsen method, even if he wasn't planning to soak in the tub afterward. Maybe it was just habit. Something deeply ingrained in his memory since childhood, when his mother used to bathe him the same way—carefully pouring water over his head while whispering affectionate words to him as a baby. It was soothing.
With slow movements, he poured a bit of shampoo into his palm, rubbing it between his fingers before running it through his hair. His hands sank into the damp strands, massaging his scalp methodically as his gaze drifted into the void. It didn't take long for him to realize that his mind, as if it had been waiting for the perfect moment, was pulling him back to the dream from the other night. And honestly, he wasn't going to resist too much—he was a little curious about it.
How would that dream have continued if it hadn't been interrupted?"
Darkness again. That floating sensation between wakefulness and dream. But this time, it wasn't just him and Uraraka sharing an intimate moment in the middle of the night like a couple of ordinary teenagers.
Suddenly, he saw himself in his hero suit, lying on the couch in the main room, with her straddling his waist.
"Uravity."
His breathing grew heavier in the dream as she adjusted herself on top of him, her soft legs on either side of his hips. Instinctively, his hands settled on her thighs, feeling the warmth of her body through the tight fabric of her suit.
He tried to maintain eye contact with her, with those brown eyes glowing in the dim light, until he saw her lean slightly back and close her eyes. Her hand, with an almost teasing slowness, slid toward the zipper on her back.
The sound of the zipper lowering filled the air with a tension so thick it was almost tangible. Moments later, the upper half of her suit slipped down to her hips, revealing the softness of her skin under the room's faint light. His hands, which had been tracing her legs until then, moved reverently to her waist, as if afraid she might slip away.
Lifting himself slightly onto his elbows, he took her in more closely—the way her breathing slowed and deepened in her stomach, the subtle rise and fall of her chest with every inhale. The delicate way she took his hand and guided it to the center of her chest.
What he felt for her... was too much.
Too deep.
Too intense.
In reality, Izuku raised another bucket of water over his head but remained frozen. His hands held it in midair, unable to complete the motion.
He knew that if he didn't shake off that thought, he would dream of it again. And once more, Kacchan would kick him out of the room.
He needed to get rid of it. To push it out of his mind... and his body.
He set the bucket back on the ground and closed his eyes, trying to focus.
"Uravity…" he whispered almost unconsciously, tilting his head back as heat rushed to his face, coloring his freckles.
In his fantasy, his hands traced her back, slowly moving up to the clasp of her bra. With a smooth motion, he unhooked it, feeling the slight shiver of her body in response and the gentle bounce of her breasts.
Izuku, in reality, took a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh, squeezing his eyes shut.
In the dream, Uraraka's hands slid down his arms to his shoulders, and his own hand traveled back to one of her thighs to hold her while the other brushed away the last piece of fabric covering her chest, letting it fall to the floor.
The heat and tension between their bodies were so palpable he could almost feel them on his real skin. The need to be closer, to close the distance between them...
Izuku clenched his jaw.
He craved that unbearable friction.
He had completely lost control of himself.
In the fantasy, he buried his face between her bare breasts, tilting her slightly backward and letting his ragged breaths mix with hers. With a movement of his leg, he made her rock against his hip, creating a tantalizing friction. He continued, over and over, until the Izuku in reality felt a deep, growing tingling at the base of his stomach. And his arousal intensify.
His hands tingled as well, and his teeth clenched tightly.
He didn't want to finish too soon, but he couldn't help increasing the pace—both in the fantasy and in reality.
He wanted to feel her, and he wanted her to feel him, too. He could almost hear the soft whimpers of her caramel voice.
That was until he finally let out a rough sound, feeling the tension in his body dissolve with a shudder that left him breathless. His heart pounded against his chest, his ragged breathing filled the air of the bathroom, and his cheeks burned in contrast to the cold surrounding him.
He didn't want to open his eyes right away. He remained still, allowing the sensations to fade little by little, letting the fantasy dissolve back into reality.
It was the first time he had done something like this consciously.
When he finally felt ready to return to the present, he opened his eyes and stared at the blank ceiling for a few more seconds, sighing.
Maybe he would feel guilty later for what he had just done, but right now… he didn't really think he had done anything wrong.
The sound of the main room's door opening broke the silence, alerting Izuku, who let out another sigh before glancing at the bucket of water in front of him. He had to finish now.
"Are you in there?" Bakugo's rough, direct voice called from the main room.
"Yeah! I'm coming out!" Izuku responded hastily.
As soon as he finished speaking, Bakugo heard the sound of the water bucket being dumped over Izuku, rinsing him off.
Bakugo walked across the room and dropped his gym bag on his side of the dorm. Then, his sharp red eyes landed on the All Might figure, lying on Izuku's bed on its side, as if it had been forgotten there.
Moments later, Izuku emerged from the bathroom with a towel draped around his neck, rubbing his damp hair with absentminded movements.
"Sorry," he murmured instinctively as he passed by Bakugo.
The other didn't respond. He simply stepped aside with his usual serious expression and closed the bathroom door behind him.
Izuku continued drying his hair, moving naturally around the room, until his eyes caught something that didn't seem right. He blinked a couple of times, confused. The All Might figure, which he was certain he had left on his bed, was no longer there.
He looked up and suddenly found it on their shared desk, now standing upright in its signature pose, perfectly placed.
A disbelieving smile formed on his lips. And then, on instinct, he glanced at the box filled with the rest of his All Might figures and posters.
"Don't even think about covering the walls with all that trash in that box!" Bakugo growled from the other side of the door, as if he had read his thoughts.
"N-no!" Izuku hurried to reply.
He was still smiling when Bakugo came out of the bathroom, and Izuku hung his towel on the balcony before the lights went out.
The room was swallowed by darkness, and the All Might figure remained in its new spot, its eternal smile frozen in the shadows.
...
Author's Notes
Your comments are always welcome! Thank you so much for reading, following, and liking. It always makes me smile :)