|| Illusion || K. Bakugo

I'm not fragile.

Ok guys I am on a roll like actually so let's hope I can get more chapters written before a slump comes again 🫡

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The gym was empty by the time you arrived. Bakugou stood in the center, arms crossed, already warmed up. His eyes met yours—sharp, unreadable—but something flickered in them. A quiet understanding.

"You're late."

"I'm exhausted."

"No shit," he muttered, tossing a sweat towel aside. "That's the best time to train, when you are in battle you think a villain is going to ask if you need a rest?."

"No." You sighed dropping your bag, fingers twitching slightly as you stepped onto the mat.

This was the second day you trained with Bakugo and you were tired as hell. Waking up for school was one thing but waking up to get charged at for two hours was another thing. You couldn't complain too much cause you did ask for this, and you did appreciate him taking the time to help you even though you didn't know why he did.

"Why are you helping me?" You asked watching him stretch a bit. "Not that I am complaining but you don't seem the type to go out of the way for other people."

"To prove I am the best." He hummed not looking up.

You rolled your eyes. "That can't be the only reason."

"How do I prove I am the best if I only fight against people who have never been trained to fight?" He grunted looking over at you. "That's not a win that's just an unfair advantage. If I wanna prove I am the best then I need to fight against people who know what they are doing and are skilled at what they do. It's not a win otherwise."

You didn't say anything in response, what he said made sense but still he wasn't going out of his way to help train anyone else, and you were at this school to do just that so what made him do extra work where he didn't gain anything?

"Get ready. I'm not gonna go easy just 'cause you flinch." Bakugo stated as he got into a fighting stance.

You pressed your heels to the ground and locked your knees to steady and brace yourself.

Your quirk buzzed just beneath the surface, a nervous hum in your chest. Nightmare fog. It always responded to fear—and fear was the only thing you had in full supply.

He circled you once. "I'm not hitting you. Just coming in close, closer than last time. You back up, we start over. You hold your ground... we move to contact."

Easy to say, tough to do.

Bakugou took a step forward.

Your body screamed to pull away.

You held still.

Another step. Your breath hitched. He fist just came centimeters from making contact with your face.

The moment he breached your reach, instinct took over. A low crackle in your ribs. Heat surged through your veins—and suddenly a thick, smoke-like mist poured from your lips.

It wasn't heavy, but it shimmered faintly, dark with something unspoken. Emotion.

Bakugou paused as he inhaled a bit and then stumbled back.

You froze. "I—I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," he said, voice calm but clipped. "Just get it under control."

Your fingers trembled. "I can't—I don't know how"

"Then stop whining and start figuring it out."

You recoiled slightly at his tone. But when your eyes met his, he wasn't angry. Not really. His fists were loose. His stance was open. He was giving you space—not to escape, but to decide.