Hidden Bonds

The Incident

For once, everything felt... normal.

It had been a week since Class 2A's daring takedown of the villain group. After a long round of scolding from the teachers, tight hospital bandages, and even tighter hugs, life had finally calmed. The school buzzed with peaceful routine. There were classes again. Tired laughter in the dorms. Dumb hallway bets between Kaminari and Sero. Shoji and Koda caring for rescued animals. Toga now often seen laughing with Uraraka near the vending machines or sitting with Class 3B in the common area. Dabi quietly adjusting to his new role in 2A, trailing behind Shoto during lectures and frowning at homework like it personally offended him.

Even Hawks, now technically on "vacation," lingered around campus more than usual, always with one eye on Dabi and another on his younger siblings.

And Bakugo? He had started to smile more.

Just a little.

Not in the big, teeth-baring, happy-go-lucky way Midoriya smiled—but in that rare, fleeting way that looked like a sunrise cracking through storm clouds. He wasn't yelling at Midoriya anymore. They trained together. They talked. He'd even started listening during Todoroki's rambling monologues about fire dynamics and coolant applications, and Todoroki was... enjoying the attention.

"I'm just saying," Bakugo had muttered the day before, "ice is cool, but your fire's a real beast."

Todoroki had blinked, unsure if he'd heard right.

Now, on a clear sky morning, the class gathered at the outdoor training fields for flight drills.

"Alright!" Present Mic shouted from the ground, clipboard in hand. "Today we're testing mid-air stability, aerial agility, and upper-level endurance! In the air for at least three minutes!"

Bakugo had been the first in the sky.

He always was.

Explosions under his palms sent him rocketing through the air like a firework. He twisted in graceful arcs, flipping midair, spiraling with ease that made it look like flying was second nature. His classmates stopped to watch, some cheering.

Todoroki watched from below, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Show-off," Midoriya mumbled, grinning.

But something changed.

A stutter in his trajectory.

A moment of stillness.

Bakugo hovered for half a second, then wobbled.

And then—he dropped.

Like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Kacchan—?" Midoriya's voice cracked in confusion.

"Bakugo!" Iida shouted, already running.

"Wait, wait, wait—!" Kirishima's boots slammed the dirt, but he was too far.

Bakugo plummeted from 10 meters.

He didn't catch himself.

Didn't ignite.

Didn't scream.

He hit the ground with a sickening thud.

For a split second, the world stopped.

Then everything exploded.

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The Silence After