Point of Impact ?Katsuki Bakugo?

CHAPTER TWELVE

No one spoke.

The room still buzzed—quiet, charged, unstable—like something had flared and hadn’t quite cooled yet.

Aurelia didn’t fidget. Didn’t flush. Didn’t say a word. She just stared, calm and unreadable, at Mina like she was waiting for the punchline to a joke that hadn’t landed.

Bakugo’s hands were flat on his thighs. His jaw tight. His breathing a little too even.

Neither of them looked at each other.

Which, of course, made it worse.

Because everyone else was looking at them.

Mina’s voice, when it returned, was high and brittle. “You—seriously. Neither of you remember what just happened?”

Aurelia blinked. “We sat. You asked questions. We answered.”

“Yeah,” Bakugo added, eyes narrowing. “You act like that’s new.”

“It is,” Jirou muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

Kaminari groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Guys. You didn’t just answer questions. You—synchronized. You were linked.”

Bakugo scowled. “We were focused.”

Mina’s hands flailed, wild and exasperated. “You were breathing in sync! Finishing each other’s sentences! You said—you literally said you’d pull her closer and she said she’d take your hand—”

Aurelia tilted her head. “Did I?”

“You don’t remember saying that?” Sero blurted.

“I remember the game,” Aurelia said evenly. “I remember the questions.”

“But not the answers,” Kirishima said quietly.

Bakugo’s fingers twitched.

“No,” he said flatly. “Not all of them.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was stunned.

Because field sync wasn’t just rare. It wasn’t just powerful.

It was felt.

And the fact that neither of them noticed?

That meant their bodies had done it on their own.

Mina looked like she might spontaneously combust. “Okay. Okay. We are taking a break—”

“No,” Aurelia cut in, standing. Calm. Level. “I'm done. It's past midnight and Aizawa has me scheduled for an early round in The Gauntlet."

"But tomorrow's Saturday!" Mina whined.

"And your point is?" Aurelia countered.

Mina threw her hands in the air like it physically pained her. “My point is, you can’t just emotionally obliterate the entire room and then leave like it’s nothing!”

Aurelia didn’t budge. “Nothing happened.”

Jirou stood slowly, arms crossed. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

Bakugo still hadn’t moved.

His gaze was pinned to the floor, jaw twitching once, hard, like he was holding something back. Not rage. Not denial.

Just confusion.

Or maybe something worse.

Because he didn’t remember. Not all of it.