That comment nearly made your ears start ringing.
It even earned him a little side eye on your part.
Why was he getting so angry?
Sure this was Bakugo, but he was winning wasn't he?
You hadn't knocked him down once, you hadn't even gotten close to getting him off his feet.
"Am I gonna have to pick you up every time." He snarled, watching you wipe the dust from your arms.
"You never had to."
With that, you sat yourself up against the closest tree, observed the clearing around you now marked with every spot you'd fallen.
You weren't phased by any of this, in fact you were used to it.
You were more bored than tired.
It all felt pointless.
Bakugo wasn't going to get any better tossing you around and you weren't learning anything you could take home to Shoto.
Tightening your ponytail, you let your head fall back against the tree, let your quirk still asking to be let out breath for a moment as you closed your eyes.
You felt the individual atoms of every part of the bark scratching your scalp, the leaves ruffling above, the wind that danced with them.
From a distance Bakugo waited for you to stand.
He watched your eyes flutter beneath their lids as if you were dreaming.
He noticed a scratch on your chin, one he'd probably put there, the dirt on your hands, the way you didn't seem to care about any of it.
And though from that short distance, you truly seemed beautiful...
It just made him angry.
"How long does Endeavor usually make you train for?" He asked, your eyes fading back awake.
"Why?"
"Answer the question."
You rolled your shoulders back, shaking your head slightly at his never delicate commands.
"It depends." You sighed. "Before school started, it was 12-15 hours a day. Now, a little less."
Your fingers fumbled together as you spoke, as if you were remembering all the little things Shoto and you had taught each other about combat.
It sure seemed useless now against Bakugo.
It made you wonder if Shoto could beat him when it came down to straight hand to hand.
Bakugo wasn't talking though.
Actually he was being uncharacteristically quiet about the whole thing.
When you looked back up, he was frowning.
Heavily.
You smiled in question.
"What's that look for?"
He made a tsk sound and bared his teeth.
"12-15 hours." He repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Tell me why we've only being going for three and you're already starting to give up."
"Excuse me?" You let out a chuckle. "I'm not giving up."
"Don't lie to me. I can see it." He bit.
His shoulders tensed as he spoke, his fists clenching.
"You're not here. I can see it in your eyes." He said, stepping closer, planting his hand against the tree right above you. And looking you dead in the eyes, he said in the most contemptuous way he possibly could, "You're just worried about him."
Removing his arm and stepping away, he walked back over to the center of the clearing, expecting you to follow.
But you didn't.
