Chapter Text
Sunday - 3:01 PM
U.A. Training Grounds - Ground Gamma
Bakugou moved like the ground itself was trying to keep up.
Explosions snapped behind him in controlled bursts. Short. Efficient. Nothing wasted. Each one launched him forward through the maze of concrete pillars, his boots barely touching the surface before he was gone again.
The air was sharp. Cold enough to bite at his skin the moment he stayed still for even a second.
He didn’t stay still, there was no reason to. He kept moving, trying to stop his mind from wandering.
But in the end, it was in vain, as his mind drifted anyway.
Deku.
And that damn notebook.
Bakugou clicked his tongue as he twisted midair, blasting himself off a broken wall.
That damn nerd was always scribbling away at it, acting like everything around him was a system waiting to be solved.
You build ten.
Bakugou landed hard, dust kicking up around his boots.
Tch.
Although he’d hate to admit it, Deku wasn’t wrong.
And that was the problem. It implied Deku was right and there was something to solve in the first place.
Bakugou pushed off again.
For a moment, the world narrowed into rhythm. Blast. Move. Impact. Repeat. It was clean, simple, the way it was supposed to be. Fighting didn’t need layers nor pages of notes or strategies stacking inside strategies.
You hit. You adapt. You win.
That was all it was.
That had to be it.
But his thoughts didn’t end there. They never did.
The 2v2 battle surfaced again.
Not as a memory that made sense, but in fragments.
Deku standing there, eyes wide in that way that didn’t look like fear anymore. Like something clicked into place mid-fight and he’d stopped reacting and started calculating.
Bakugou had expected him to fall back, to hesitate, to do what he always did when pressure hit too hard.
But he didn’t. He moved, adjusted and stayed in it.
It had been irritating then.
And it was still irritating now.
Because Deku had always been easy to read.
Too easy.
And then suddenly, he wasn’t.
Bakugou blasted forward harder, almost like he could outrun the thought.
He landed, concrete cracking between him.
His breath was supposed to be steady.
It wasn’t.
Just a slight break in rhythm, barely there, easy to miss.
But it was there.
Sunday - 3:11 PM
U.A. Training Grounds - Ground Gamma
Then lunch came next.
Of course it did.
That stupid cafeteria.
Noise. Clatter. Eyes everywhere.
And Deku, sitting there like he wasn’t doing anything important.
Except he always was, wasn’t he?
The notebook.
The pencil.
The way he sat alone instead of talking with his usual dorks.
Bakugou could still see it clearly.
And then—
My plans... they will outmaneuver you.
Not whispered.
Not softened.
Just said.
Directly.
To him.
Bakugou’s palm sparked mid-step, a small explosion snapping against the ground out of instinct.
Dust flared.
He barely registered it.
What stuck wasn’t the confidence.
It was the certainty behind it.
Deku used to flinch when he spoke.
Used to hesitate like every word had to approved before it left his mouth.
Now?
Now he looked him in the eye like he had already accounted for the reaction.
Like Bakugou was just another variable.
Bakugou’s expression tightened.
Tch.
He hated that.
Sunday - 3:16 PM
U.A. Training Grounds - Ground Gamma
He pushed off again, sharper this time.
Explosions echoed louder through the training grounds as he accelerated, weaving through pillars with brutal precision.
Heroes win.
That’s how it works.
That’s how it always worked.
The strongest lead.
The strongest decide.
The strongest don’t lose.
His grip tightened.
Because if you lose—something was wrong.
Not with timing.
Not with luck.
With you.
Bakugou’s eye narrow as he launched upward again, detonations cracking the air beneath him.
He didn’t allow space for anything else.
Because losing wasn’t just failure.
It was proof.
Proof you weren’t enough.
And he refused that idea on principle alone.
Especially now.
Especially with Deku changing in ways he didn’t like.
In ways he didn’t fully understand.
A cold frustration settled under his skin.
Not anger exactly.
Something sharper.
He didn’t like not knowing where someone stood.
He didn’t like Deku being unreadable.
He didn’t like the idea that someone who used to predictable could become something else entirely without permission.
Without him noticing fast enough.
Bakugou landed hard again.
The ground cracked beneath him.
Dust rose and slowly settled.
He stood there for half a second longer than usual.
Then clicked his tongue.
Tch.
It didn’t matter. He’ll figure it out. He always does.
Because at the end of it all, the only thing that matters is that he wins.
That’s the only acceptable outcome.
Anything else just means he didn’t try hard enough.
Sunday - 3:24 PM
U.A. Training Grounds - Ground Gamma
That was when he heard voices.
“...There he is.”
Bakugou didn’t bother hiding his irritation as he turned his head.
A small group lingered near the entrance to Ground Gamma.
Not training.
Just standing there.
Waiting.
His expression flattened immediately.
Great.
One of them stepped forward.
A Class 1-C student.
Nervous enough that it showed.
“So... you’re the hero leader, right?”
Bakugou crossed him arms.
“You got eyes, don’t you?”
The guy flinched.
“Right, well—”
Bakugou already knew where this was going.
He’d been dealing with versions of this all day.
The moment people learned who the leaders were, everything changed.
Looks lasted longer.
Conversations got akward.
And suddenly everyone was so very kind to him.
“...I wanted to ask about joining.”
Called it.
Bakugou started at him for a second, then snorted.
“No.”
The guy blinked.
“I didn’t even explain—”
“Don’t care.”
Confused murmurs spread through the small group.
Bakugou looked unimpressed.
“What, you think I can’t tell?”
His gaze swept over them.
Too clean.
Too careful.
Nobody came here to challenge him.
They came because he was the hero leader.
Because “hero side” sounded safer.
Because people like good odds when they were too scared to pick a real fight.
That annoyed him more than he expected.
Another student spoke up.
“But you’ve got openings, right?”
Bakugou looked over.
Different voice, same problem.
“And?”
The student hesitated now.
Then shrugged.
“I mean... people want on hero side.”
There it was again.
Bakugou felt irritation crawl up his spine.
Not because they wanted to join, he couldn’t give a rat damn who joined.
Because of why.
Like this was some sort of shelter.
Like this was a gamble whether or not you pick the “winning team” instead of building one.
His jaw tightened.
“You idiots think this is about winning by association?”
Nobody answered.
The silence told him enough.
Tch.
Pathetic.
His eye narrowed.
“I don’t need people hiding behind me.”
The word came out sharp. Flat. Final.
Deku flickered through his mind again.
You build ten.
Bakugou’s mouth twitched downward.
Stupid nerd.
Acting like this was some kind of military operation.
Still—
Bakugou known Deku long enough to undestand one thing.
He wasn’t dumb.
He may be annoying, overthinking everything, way too wrapped up in his own head.
But not dumb.
And if Deku was building plans—
Bakugou wasn’t about to drag dead weight into a fight against him.
A faint crackle sparked in his palm.
The group shifted slightly.
Good.
Maybe they’d stop staring.
Then another voice cut in.
Footsteps followed.
Bakugou looked up.
More students.
Of course.
Word spread fast.
A girl from 1-B crossed her arms.
“We hear you were recruiting.”
Bakugou barked a laugh.
“The hell gave you that idea?”
She blinked.
“...You’ve got openings.”
“So?”
“...So people want to join?”
His expression darkened.
People.
That was all they kept saying.
Like numbers mattered more than capability.
Bakugou rolled his shoulders and looked over the group again.
Some looked nervous.
Some looked eager.
A few looked way to confident for their own good.
He hated all of them equally right now.
Then—
Lunch flashed through his head again.
My plans... they will outmaneuver you.
His eyes narrowed.
Tch.
Like hell they would.
A grin slowly pulled across his face.
Sharp. Dangerous.
The atmosphere shifted imediately.
“If you wanna join the hero side—”
Everyone straightened.
His palm crackled.
“—then earn it.”
Confused looks spread through the crown.
Bakugou’s grin widened slightly.
“Training match.”
Silence.
“...RIght now?” someone called out
He snorted.
“You want a free ride or something?”
The sparks intensifited.
“Prove you’re useful.
Then—
BOOM.
The explosion slammed into the ground beside him.
Dust ripped upwards.
Several students jumped back instantly—mostly from 1-B.
Good.
At least they had decent reflexes.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then—
“...fine.”
Bakugou looked up.
One student stepped forward.
Then another.
Then another.
Interesting.
His grin sharpened.
Maybe this wouldn’t be a waste of time after all.
He flexed his hand.
Eye narrowing.
“Come at me.”
Sunday - 3:34 PM
U.A. Training Grounds - Ground Gamma
The air stills for barely a second after the explosion settles.
Dust hands low over the cracked training field.
Three people step forward.
Sero cracks his shoulder once, tape already forming at his elbows.
Tsunotori steps in carefully, eyes focused, hooves pressing lightly against the broken ground as she steadies herself.
Kamakiri doesn’t speak, he just lowers his stance slightly, blades flexing at his arms.
Bakugou’s eyes move across them once.
Fast.
Measuring.
Not random.
Range. Mobility. Pressure types.
Good.
Different capabilities.
That’s what he wanted.
His palm sparks.
“Don’t hold back.”
And then—
the move.
Sero strikes first.
Tape snaps out in wide arcs, not aiming to hit but to control the space. Limit movement. Force prediction.
Pony moves right after him, lifting off with controlled motion, trying to break Bakugou’s sightline from above while her hooves scrape against debris mid-air to adjust trajectory.
Kamakiri disappears from the front entirely.
Too fast, too sharp.
Bakugou clicks his tongue.
“Tch.”
He doesn’t retreat, he explodes upwards instead.
A blast launches him above Sero’s tape mid-arc, heat ripping through the air as he twists.
The tape misses.
Barely.
Pony adjusts instantly.
“Got him—!”
Bakugou drops.
A controlled explosion slams into the ground beside Pony’s landing point, forcing her to shift mid-air instead of commiting.
Her trajectory breaks.
Kamakiri appears from the blind side immediately.
Clean timing.
Too clean.
Bakugou reacts mid-turn—
BOOM
A short burst knocks Kamakiri’s angle off just enough to avoid impact.
Not a win yet, just a disruption.
He lands.
Doesn’t move.
For half a second, they hesitate.
Good.
At least they’re not stupid.
He exhales through his nose.
Then—
“Hold it”
Avoice cuts through the field.
Not Bakugou’s
Not any of the three fighting.
It was Monoma, stepping forward from the edge of the training ground like he’s been waiting for the exact second things became predictable.
Bakugou clicks his tongue immediately.
“...Tch. What now?”
Monoma smiles.
“You do realize hero-side is the default placement, yes?”
Silence.
It doesn’t hit anyone at first.
Then—
“...WAIT WHAT?!”
Confusion erupts instantly.
“DEAFULLT?!”
“So we don’t need to fight?”
Sero lowers his tape slightly, blinking.
Pony tilts her head.
“...OH?”
Kamakiri narrows his eyes.
Bakugou doesn’t react.
He just stares at Monoma.
Monoma continues smoothly.
“This was never a recruitment trial.”
He gestures lazily toward the field.
“It’s a role confirmation system. Everyone here was already assigned hero-side.”
Beat.
“You were being observed under pressure conditions.”
That lands differently.
The reactions split immediately.
Some students explode.
“So this is pointless?!”
“This is stupid!”
“I could’ve been training properly!”
But others pause.
Think.
Then go about it differently.
“...No.”
Kamakiri crosses his arms.
“He was testing reaction under uncertainty.”
A pause.
“That still counts.”
Pony nods slightly.
“...it did feel like a test.”
Sero sighs, “...we were being measured.”
Another student mutters quietly.
“At least he actually has a plan.”
“I’d rather this than someone winging it.”
That line lingers.
Bakugou hears it.
Doesn’t react.
But his gaze shifts slightly.
Not approval.
Just acknowledgment.
Monoma watches everything unfold.
Then smiles.
“...Good.”
Bakugou exhales loudly through his noise.
He looks at Monoma briefly, “you talk too much.”
Monoma grins instantly.
“And yet you’re still listening.”
Bakugou doesn’t respond.
Because that part—
is true.
A beat.
Then he turns back towards the field.
“Move.”
Everything resets instantly.
Sero repositions.
Pony steadies her stance.
Kamakiri lowers his center of gravity.
Bakugou’s palm sparks once.
Good.
Now they’re not guessing.
Now they’re responding.
That’s what matters.
“Again.”
And the next exchange beings.
Sunday - 3:45 PM
U.A. Training Grounds - Ground Gamma
Sero moves first again.
Tape fires out in layered angles this time, not just blocking space but deliberately splitting in into zones. Left pressure. Right denial. Center bait.
Pony lifts immediately, adjusting mid-air instead of committing to a fixed path. Her movement is less chaotic now, more intentional. She’s watching Bakugou instead of reaching straight away to him.
Kamakiri doesn’t rush either this time.
He waits.
Just long enough to force Bakugou to noice that he’s waiting.
Good.
They’re learning.
Than’s when—
“Too slow.”
Monoma’s voice cuts in again from the edge of the field.
Not loud.
But sharp enough to slice through focus.
Sero flicks his eyes briefly.
Pony hesitates mid-adjustment.
Kamakiri shifts his stance slightly.
Monoma steps forward like he’s commenting on a performance, not a fight.
“Sero, your tape spread is too linear. You’re telegraphing containment instead of restriction.”
Sero stiffens slightly.
Monoma continues without pause.
“Pony is overcorrecting vertically. You’re giving up ground control just to maintain visual tracking.”
Pony blinks once.
“...Oh.”
“And Kamakiri—”
Monoma tilts his head.
“You’re waiting for permission to strike.”
That lands heavier.
Kamakiri’s jaw tightens.
Bakugou hears all of it.
Clicks his tongue.
Not annoyed.
Focused.
Monoma’s wrong in tone.
Right in structure.
Bakugou noticed it all too.
They’re reacting in isolation.
Not as a unit.
Tch.
Balugou exhales through his nose.
Then moves.
A blast kicks him sideways through Sero’s left zone, breaking the tape structure before it fully forms. He doesn’t destroy it completely. Just disrupts the pattern.
Sero stumbles a fraction.
That’s enuogh.
“Now.”
Bakugou voice cuts through the field.
Sharp. Instant.
Pony shifts—
Bakugou is already there.
A second explosion forces her angle downward instead of forwar.d
Kamakiri finally moves.
Too late.
Bakugou twists mid-air.
BOOM
A controlled blast knocks Kamakiri off timing instead of distance. No damage. Just interruption.
Bakugou lands.
Still.
Watching them.
A pause.
“...You’re not a team yet.”
Silence.
Even Monoma stops talking for half a beat.
Bakugou continues.
“You’re three individuals moving in the same direction.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“That’s useless and inefficient.”
Sero straightens slightly.
Pony adjusts her stance.
Kamakiri exhales slowly.
“Tch.”
Then he points.
Not randomly.
Directly.
“Sero. You control space.’
A shift in Sero’s expression.
“You’re the net.”
Finger moves.
“Pony. You’re mobility and reposition.”
Pony blinks.
“You don’t lead. You reposition others.”
Then—
“Kamakiri.”
Bakugou’s gaze sharpens.
“You’re close combat.”
A beat.
“You don’t wait.”
Silence.
Then Bakugou exhales.
“Again.”
But something changes.
They don’t just move this time.
They align.
Sero spreads his tape differently now, less coverage, more forced direction.
Pony stops overcorrecting and starts adjusting other’s angles instead of her own.
Kamakiri moves instantly on openings instead of waiting for the perfect one.
Monoma watches this shift.
Slow smile forming.
“Ohhh...”
He leans forward slightly.
“So that’s what you’re doing.”
Bakugou doesn’t look at him.
But he hears him.
Monoma continues, almost impressed.
“You’re not just fighting.”
“You’re assessing and assigning their roles mid-combat.”
Bakugou clicks his tongue.
“Tch.”
“Obviously.”
Monoma laughs lightly.
“Of course you’d think like that.”
Bakugou finally glances at him.
Sharp.
“You done talking?”
Monoma raises a hand.
“For now.”
Bakugou turns back to the field.
“Good.”
A pause.
Then louder:
“Move faster.”
And the fight becomes something else entirely.
Not chaos.
Not individual clashes.
Something closer to structure under pressure.
Bakugou doesn’t smile.
But his eyes sharpen slightly.
Because now—
This is useful.