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An unstoppable force meets an immovable object.
Katsuki Bakugou’s hand implodes against Eijirou Kirishima’s arm; a flurry of sparks surround them with a sound that rings between his skull.
This is something he knows how to do well. With every blow that Katsuki unleashes, he feels Kirishima retaliate with more, responding like a dance to his every movement. Katsuki is a fine-tuned instrument of destruction, every muscle on his body worked with the intention of winning.
His back, flexible from years of stretching, twists around as he spins in midair to unleash a flurry of miniature, controlled explosions. His shoulders, the sturdiest part of his body, brace him as he rolls against the ground and absorbs the impact of returning to earth. His legs, built from running endless miles, coil underneath him as he jumps back up, forever ready for action.
Katsuki hears Kirishima laugh, his hands raised to protect his face. He already knows what’s coming when Katsuki raises his hands.
While the rest of his body may be useful in a fight, only his hands are truly necessary.
Calluses line his palms and fingertips. His hands flex into a bent-open shape. Scars twist from the sides, proof of past failures.
These are hands created solely for ruin.
He launches himself at Kirishima.
They begin their weaving dance again– Katsuki lands two blows for every swoop of Kirishima’s legs or arms, feeling the anger and satisfaction burning like twin flames beneath his ribs. Kirishima always seems to last longer every fight, causing Katsuki to move more, losing stamina and exposing his weak spots.
Katsuki is a man of science, and he considers himself decent at physics. Understanding the molecular structure and the trajectory of an explosion felt relevant to his work, so he took electives and studied extra.
He knows this scenario well, but has yet to find an answer for it. What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? What happens when someone who always wins goes toe-to-toe with someone who refuses to lose?
Kirishima spits at the ground, flexes his arms, and somehow toughens his skin even more. A wicked grin takes over Katsuki’s face.
At first, he thought that the solution to this paradox was Kirishima always losing. The issue with that? Kirishima wouldn’t stay down .
“Again?” he asked, the reply the same after every defeat. Katsuki always nodded, as much as it pissed him off. He had to respect Kirishima’s goals. He wanted to be undefeatable, strong enough to take on anything that came his way.
Katsuki didn’t think he realized that he already was unbeatable due to his spirit alone.
Now, Katsuki thinks that the solution to their physics problem was simple all along. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object, a knife meets a stone, both of them get stronger, sharper, better, make each other better.
Until, finally. Kirishima grips Katsuki’s ankle as he flies overhead. He made a mistake.
Katsuki goes down, gets pinned, and loses his breath in an instant. The pain is instantaneous and leaves quickly when Kirishima’s smiling face comes to hover over his eyeline as he unpins Katsuki.
He’s breathing heavily, sweat dripping into his eyes and making him blink.
“Need a hand up?”
Katsuki’s hand slowly raises. He looks at it before he places it in Kirishima’s, wondering if it might have more than one purpose now. Kirishima’s hand is rough and warm as he yanks Katsuki to his feet. He’s glowing under the midday sun, and he should be: this is the first time he’s ever beaten Katsuki in a sparring match.
He expects Kirishima to gloat or to celebrate or to at least beam with pride, but he does none of those things.
Instead, he utters the same old call.
“Again?”
Something thrums within Katsuki, deep down, an answer.
He looks at Kirishima, who is unwavering in his stance and his gaze. He accepts.