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Intro

          Bakugou Katsuki sat in the dirt of a small room with no windows, four metal walls, a single fluttering light bulb, and a heavy iron door. Shackles chafed his ankles and chains connected them to his wrists. From these handcuffs a sort of metal glove was made around his hands, so that if he used his quirk, it just burnt his hands instead blasting away the metal.
          His hands were raw because of how many times he tried to blast his way out.
          With bleeding hands cased in metal he held his head and wracked his brains for a way to get out of this mess. He could break the chains holding him down and fight, if only he could use his quirk. He could blast through the walls and run, if only he could use his quirk. He could blow the door off its hinges and escape, if only he could use his quirk. This was the first time his quirk had completely failed him, and it terrified him.
          Everything seemed hopelessly out of his control and every fiber of his being hated it. The League of Villains had taken him and they thought he would become one of them. He couldn’t run, couldn’t escape, couldn’t fight! When even villains think you're evil, serious reflection on how you've been living is forced into your brain like a disease. The only thing you can think about for hours and hours on end, until...
          The door opens.
          Bakugou raises his hands to at least block a few blows. Instead a lump is thrown on the floor. The door slams shut, and locks. Bright blue eyes stare lazily through a slot in the door.
          “You sleep for now Busu, but don't expect it to be long.” he drawled lazily before chuckling and turning away.
          The lump realized there was another person in the room and hurriedly scrambled into the opposite corner of him. Eyes wide with horror, and limbs shaking, barely supporting their weight. Bakugou lowered his arms slowly, in what was supposed to be a placating gesture, but the chains screeched against each other and both winced.
          “Sorry…” he mumbled.
          Their eyes widened even further. Then they stood, and slowly stepped into the flickering circle of light the one bulb provided. They was a she. She stood trembling, hair a light brown with a slight purple sheen to it in some places and a blue... dress. Though it was closer to a nightgown covered in dark stains, which on closer inspection were streaks of blood, and sleeves, once long, were torn from their seams and slipping off her shoulder.
          She stepped forward cautiously, but when he shifted, shuffled back quickly. He looked up at her in a silent apology, surprising himself, and she met his gaze, carefully searching for something. She must have found it for she visibly relaxed a bit.
          “May-” her voice broke slightly and she coughed. “May I see your injuries?”
          He scanned her once more and decided chains or not he could probably push her off if the need arose. He nodded.
          She knelt in front of him and put her hand over his heart and closed her eyes. Her hand and his chest started to glow and the light slowly crept through his veins. In a moment of amazement, Bakugou felt like the star on top of the Christmas tree glowing from the inside. The glow reached his hands and the girl winced, but she furrowed her brow in reconcentration.
          “I can heal this,” she paused. “But I might be a bit dizzy afterwards, if I start to tip would you- um can you catch me and keep my hand over your heart?”
          Bakugou blinked. “Sure, whatever.”
          She closed her eyes again and his hands started to feel like a bee was flying around inside the cuffs. It was a sort of buzzing feeling for lack of a better word, but it didn't hurt and for that he was grateful.
          The girl's body began to lean to one side, but he stuck one arm out to put her right side up again. He used his other arm to awkwardly fold her hand to his chest, his hand resting on his opposite shoulder and her hand pinned by his forearm. An uncomfortable position to say the least, but those damned specially made cuffs prevented any other solutions.
          The buzzing faded and the pain in his hands was completely gone. The ache in his shoulders from overusing his quirk in the forest had disappeared along with his bruises and cuts. He felt better than he had for a long time aside from the tiredness from sitting up ever since he was brought here out of paranoia. The girl opened her eyes and moved away stumbling to the other corner. She sat down heavily and sighed.
          “Man your hands hurt like hell,” she groaned. “It's a nice exercise of my stamina and threshold for pain though.”
          Since Bakugou wasn't feeling as much like a piece of shit and pain, his louder self was coming back slowly. He shifted into a criss cross position and slumped lazily like he was back in class. “What the f*ck even is your quirk?”
          “It's hard to explain,” she sighed. “I'll tell you later, if I see you after tonight. First let's start with names.”
          “Bakugou Katsuki.”
          “Morimoto Akina. Nice to meet you even if the circumstances aren't as nice.”
          “Whatever sh*tty glow. Why are you locked up here in the first place?”
          “My parents got into debt with some villain who killed them and took me,” Morimoto glanced around the room, but they never landed on him. “Shigaraki, basically bought me from him. Originally for my quirk, but now for his own sick amusement as well.”
           “I assume you're the UA kid they kidnapped, I saw you in the sports festival,” she tilted her head at him. “Although, none these idiots have ever been the best judges of character, I don't know how they think they're going to convince you of all people.”
          “Really?” Bakugou’s eyes widened.
          He couldn't help himself. Almost all his life people said he had the wrong temper for a hero. It was always that he swore too much, he was easily angered, or he was too loud, obnoxious, disrespectful, the list went on. He usually ignored those dumb extras, but when villains capture you to become one of them, you start to think. Now here was someone who'd been living with villains for a while, and she seemed smart, kind, and well, just not evil. Then she tells him he's obviously not going to become a villain when she's only seen him once in the worst televised moment of his life that had people talking crap about him for weeks. How does he respond to that?
          “What do you know? You only saw me once.”
          “Ah yes, and what a brilliant first impression,” she gave a half hearted smile. “Truly the best for a young aspiring hero.”
          He grunted and rolled his eyes. “Bullsh*t.”
          “Maybe,” she shrugged. “Maybe not.”
          “What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?”
          “Maybe we'll talk later,” she curled up on her side. Basically in a fetal position with her back against the wall. She pulled out a piece of wood, seemingly from nowhere and placed it in front of her. “Some of us have an early morning, and I'm exhausted. I used up a lot of stamina on you.”
          “Wha-” he started, but shut up when Morimoto touched the piece of wood and branches started growing and twisting in a small protective ball around her small frame.
          “You seem nice enough,” a voice came from the mess of branches. “If you and I both survive tomorrow, you can call me Mori.”
          He decided to finish his sentence.
          “What the f*ck!”