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The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the training grounds. I had just finished another punishing round of drills, sweat staining my shirt and making my hair stick to my forehead. The grind was relentless, but I thrived off it—every explosion a testament to my strength. I sought out challenges with ruthless determination, pushing myself harder, faster, stronger.
Still, today felt... different.
I wiped the back of my neck, glancing over at my classmates wrapping up their sessions with lighthearted chatter. But my gaze fell upon a specific figure: Nishimura. She was focused and intense, practicing with a fire that drew my attention. Jiro was there too, cheering her on, but I could only see her—the way she channeled her energy, how effortlessly she moved.
"Damn it," I muttered, shaking my head. It was ridiculous how she could capture my focus. It shouldn't matter, but it did. It always did. The memory of our recent... encounters lingered, keeping me on edge.
"Hey, Bakugo!" Kirishima's voice pulled me from my thoughts. His goofy grin was as persistent as ever. "You look pretty intense today! What's going on?"
"Shut it, idiot," I snapped, crossing my arms. "Just thinking."
"About Nishimura?" he teased, nudging me with his elbow.
An annoyed growl escaped me, but I didn't rise to his bait. "Why the hell would I think about her?" I retorted, my voice harsher than I intended. But even as I said it, the irritation prickled—Kirishima wasn't entirely wrong. I couldn't shake the buzz of recent nights spent with her; our arrangement was a dangerous game I played, and here he was, pushing buttons I didn't want to acknowledge.
Kirishima shrugged, still grinning. "Whatever you say, man. Just don't be a jerk about it."
I scoffed and turned my focus back toward Nishimura, unwilling to let anyone see just how much she got to me. It wasn't just her fighting skills—it was the way she carried herself, always so confident and unyielding.
With a huff, I stalked over to where she was training, the air buzzing with her intensity. "Oi, Nishimura!" I barked, my voice slicing through the murmurs around us. She turned, her face lighting up at the sight of me.
"Hey, Bakugo! You came to watch me train?" she said playfully, her grin bright.
"Cut the crap. Show me that new move," I ordered, my tone as sharp as ever, trying to mask whatever else was bubbling beneath the surface.
"Alright! Watch closely!" she replied, without missing a beat.
Suddenly, she charged forward, determination fueling her every step. As she executed The Harmonious Union, the energy crackled around her, igniting an impressive display of power. It was bold and beautiful—just like her.
"Nice try!" I shouted, dodging her initial blast, feeling the rush of competition surging in my chest. "But if that's all you've got..."
