"Mr. Bakugo—" Tsukauchi began, raising his hand in a calming gesture, his voice steady despite the tension in the room.
Bakugo swatted his arm away sharply, his expression hardening. "Shut up." His brows furrowed deeply, eyes narrowing with frustration. "Even if I wanted that moon lover dead, I couldn't do it." A bitter laugh escaped his lips, echoing hollowly in the spacious office. "It took me weeks to actually lay a hit on her, and she let me hit her on purpose." His voice rose as he glared toward All Might, the legendary hero standing stoically behind his desk. "This was the urgent matter you needed to discuss?" He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is stupid."
He stormed toward All Might's desk, each step heavy with anger. "Was that crap Aizawa said during Kamino a joke or something?" Bakugo demanded, his tone dripping with contempt. He stepped away abruptly, his pride visibly wounded.
"That clears him, right?" AllMight responded, his voice calm but laced with concern as he looked over at Tsukauchi.
Tsukauchi sighed, scratching the stubble along his cheek thoughtfully. "I don't think anyone could fake a reaction like that," he remarked, his eyes fixed on Bakugo with a mix of skepticism and worry. "But still, he's the prime suspect."
Bakugo turned his head between the speakers, his lips parted in a mixture of disbelief and irritation. "Prime suspect?"
"For kidnapping and assault," Tsukauchi replied, methodically gathering his papers from AllMight's desk. "But I still want your help with this case. Can you do that?"
Bakugo furrowed his brows, the lines on his face deepening with frustration. "Help find her?" His voice trailed off, uncertainty flickering in his intense gaze.
All Might stood up, his towering presence commanding the room. "I have some theories, but I'd really like if we took this off the school premises."
"Here." Bakugo suddenly said, pulling a ticket from his blazer pocket with swift precision. "My excuse for a leave of absence." He patted his pockets again—a small, muffled pat sounded. "I don't have my phone. I need to get it."
"You can do that," Tsukauchi assured him. "Just let AllMight go with you." He stood up from his chair, pulling out his phone and tapping the screen anxiously. "I'm going to make some phone calls. Meet at the station in two hours."
Bakugo glanced over at AllMight, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "It'll be fast. I'm gonna change and I'll be out." He turned and started for the door, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
"I'll let the school know of the plausible information," AllMight said, gathering a few papers into a neat stack. "I'll meet you at the dormitory, Young Bakugo."
"Maybe I'll have time to shower then." Bakugo thought as he hurried out of the room. A wave of nausea washed over him, making his stomach churn. "What the hell happened to Tsuki? " he wondered, jogging down the hallway with urgency. "The front door was smashed? " His mind raced as he grabbed at his shirt, his thoughts tumbling over each other. "If there was blood, she must have used her curse..." He paused, trying to piece together the fragments of information. "But who could have intimidated her enough to make her use it? I only made her use it the first time because she didn't want to lose our training privileges ... Howitzer Impact is my strongest move... so someone managed to top that strength and ... win? " His breath caught in his throat, panic tightening its grip. "Did she ... lose? "
His hand slid along the railing to the staircase, the cold metal against his skin grounding him slightly. A few students walked late to their first period, their footsteps a distant murmur in the expansive halls. The faded scent of rice and chicken seeped from the air vents, mingling with the sterile smell of the school corridors as the kitchen staff began prepping meals for the day. The sole of Bakugo's shoe echoed sharply against the concrete, each thud propelling him toward the back entrance. The morning breeze carried a chill that sent a shiver from his ears to his fingertips, causing his pace to quicken into a light run. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of his desperation.
"I just saw her," he thought to himself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I was just there." Anger spiked through his veins, heat searing his temples. "Did they really think it was me? " he wondered, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "Does that place have cameras? " Bakugo pushed himself harder, his legs pumping rapidly as he ran faster. The sound of his shoes thumping against the concrete only amplified the pounding in his head, each step fueled by a mix of fear and fury.
"Damn it," he whispered, feeling a searing heat travel toward his inner eyes, a lump forming painfully in his throat. "Damn it. Damn it." His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps as he fought to maintain his momentum, the weight of the situation pressing down on him relentlessly.
...
Bakugo grabbed a towel, rubbing harshly against his hair as he hurried over to his room, wrapped in the towel; his slightly damp feet thudded against the floorboards. He shoved open his door. The towel dropped to his ankles as he neared his dresser. He got dressed in his summer hero costume, having forgotten his winter one at school. He walked over to his bed and tossed his blankets aside.
"Where is it?" He grabbed a pillow and tossed it aside as well. "Did it fall when I was sleeping? " he wondered, walking over to the edge of his bed and tugging on the mattress. A loud thud echoed; his phone slipped and banged against the wall before dropping onto the floor. He stood up straighter and walked toward his nightstand, near the front of the mattress. He hunched over, surveying the space he had created.
"Crap," he cursed, leaning over and extending his arm through the crease. "I can't reach it—" His fingers caressed the back of his phone case. He grunted quietly before pushing himself forward. His hand grabbed at his phone; it thudded again against the floor, closer this time. His hand finally secured his phone. He slowly got to his feet, flipping his phone in his hand. "My moon (;—" His heart dropped.
"She—she texted me," he realized, his hand freezing. He pressed his finger against the glass screen, unlocked it, and opened iMessage. His eyes landed on her name at the top of his screen before falling on the gray bubble that read, "I think there's someone following me."
...
