Point of Impact ?Katsuki Bakugo?

0.16

Recovery Girl moved to intervene again. “She’s not grounded—her field is unstable, and your presence is going to overload her feedback loop. You’re triggering flare proximity just by being here—”

“I’m not leaving.”

His voice cut through the space like a blade. Sharp. Controlled.
Unmovable.

"She could die if you don't. She has a Dominant-Possessive Quirk, as do you, no matter how noble your intentions. Only a bonded partner or parent could help her. Cassian is already in a flight here. I have her stabilized, but that won'tlast long if your Quirks start fighting."

“I’m not leaving,” Bakugo said again—quieter this time.

But quieter didn’t mean softer.

It meant final.

Recovery Girl stiffened. “You don’t understand. She’s in neural shutdown. Her Quirk is overriding basic autonomic systems—if you activate, even by accident, you could push her into field hemorrhage. You could kill her.”

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t fucking move.

Because she was pale.

Because her breath was wrong.

Because her grip on that pendant—the one she never took off, the one he’d stared at a thousand times—was the only thing keeping her tethered to the present.

“I’m not gonna trigger her,” he said. “I’m gonna ground her.”

Just sat there on the ground beside her like he belonged there. Like he’d fought his way into this position with blood and breath and instinct—and no one, not even Recovery Girl, was going to move him.

“I’m gonna ground her,” he repeated.

Recovery Girl folded her arms over her chest, expression tightening with a kind of war-weathered authority that didn’t crack for anyone—not even him. “Neither of you reported sync symptoms.”

“No,” he said, teeth grit. “We didn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “You understand what that means, Mr. Bakugo? You’ve been imprinting without medical documentation. Without bond supervision. Without emotional regulators.”

He didn’t look up.

Just adjusted his position—slow, deliberate, anchoring himself at her side.

“I know.”

“She’s a Dominant-Possessive,” Recovery Girl said again, voice sharper now. “And so are you.”

His jaw locked.

Because yeah. He fucking knew that part.

His Quirk didn’t ask. It took.

And hers? Hers didn’t yield either. Not unless it wanted to.

Two dominant fields trying to stabilize at the edge of collapse? That wasn’t chemistry.

That was war.

But he wasn’t afraid of her fire.

He was afraid of what would happen if she didn’t come back.

“Let me,” he said. Quiet. Almost reverent now. “Please.”

That got her.

Not the word.

The tone.

Bakugo Katsuki didn’t say please.