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Shouto was familiar with most sayings which involved fire. Regardless of Endevaor’s many failures, the man knew how to own a theme. His beard was made of fire, that’s how hard he owned it. ‘Fire knows no mercy’ was one he’d heard countless times growing up, and he’d lived his fair share of trials by fire. Now though, sitting exhausted next to Bakugo’s cot at the field medic station someone had set up for those who needed to be stabilised while waiting for some manner of medical transports to arrive, one of the rarer sayings was bouncing around his head, knocking loose stray thoughts as it went.
“Hey, DynaMight.” he said, and got a vague grunt he chose to interpret as acknowledgement. “Did you know, some people in one of those Western religions think that babies don’t have a soul until they’re baptized?”
Bakugo’s eyes slitted open, his face screwing up in confusion. “Th’ fuck did you hear that?” he mumbled. Shouto shrugged.
“Internet.” he swayed slightly where he sat, but fought the urge to lie down. If he laid down, he was going to pass out, and he’d rather not do that until he was already en route to a hospital. Much less drama that way.
“Soun’s bu-” Bakugo coughed, the sound wet and worrying. “Bullshit.”
“Maybe.” Shouto shrugged again, and passed a hand over Bakugo’s forehead to turn his sweat into ice, the most his powers could do for wounds such as his classmate’s. “It’s just, I remembered a saying a bit ago. Baptism by fire.” he dropped both his hands to the ground behind him, leaning back on them slightly.
“I know- that one.” Bakugo’s breaths sounded laboured, but not notably more so than before. “Came-” he coughed again. Shouto looked away and very firmly told himself Bakugo’s whole body had been covered in blood before he laid down, what looked like fresh red on his hand was just a trick of the light. “Came outta- one of those old wars.”
“Did it really?” Shouto tilted his head slightly, considering the new information. “Makes sense, I guess.”
“If- you’re tryin’ to-” Bakugo devolved into a violent coughing fit, and Shouto forced himself to his feet to flag down the nearest self-designated medic.”
“What happened?” the Pro Hero- he couldn’t identify their costume under the layer of blood and grime- asked as they hurried over.
“He was talking, and then...” Shouto gestured helplessly at Bakugo, now convulsing with the force of his coughs. If he’d been able to open his eyes, Shouto was sure he would’ve been on the receiving end of a death glare.
“The first of the helis is almost here.” the Pro Hero said, though who they were trying to reassure Shouto couldn’t tell. “Two minutes and we’ll have proper healing quirks on the ground.”
Shouto nodded, and sat back down gingerly, leaning on the edge of Bakugo’s cot as his classmate’s coughing subsided. Bakugo probably shouldn’t be talking anymore, they’d just have to talk about their mutual baptism by fire at a later date. Maybe now would be a good time to think of a better hero name than just his own given name.