The cool water rained down, draining all the sweat and grime off of Hina's creamy skin. She lathered the body wash, her muscles instantly unknotting from the calming buzz from the mint and eucalyptus oils. The frigid scent went in and up her nose, clearing her lungs from all the anxiety and stress that built up during their training.
As the suds started to cascade along with the water, she started to recollect all that happened since morning.
Two words she'd use to describe it: tremendously emotional.
The immense outbreak of emotions she felt was almost burdensome.
Starting with the naked exposure of her past horrors, and finishing off with the confusion from the hand-to-hand combat training.
It was all too perplexing.
She'd already come to terms with her false animosity against Bakugo, which in turn had unveiled her insecurities and shame. To think she believed a villain who'd tormented her.
She nodded her head in shame and subconsciously rubbed the burn scar on her right bicep, the embossed handprint lifted above the untouched skin. It was her constant reminder of how the purple scarred villain was always looming in the back of her mind. Her constant reminder that he will come after her again. That he was somewhere in the shadows ready to snatch her from this illusion of safety. This illusion of assurance with the ash blond hero.
Yes, Hina had finally accepted that Bakugo's company gave her a sense of security from her past demons, and no longer blaming him for her torture ever since she was brought to this carnal universe. Yet it didn't mean that every time she remembered his name, she wasn't doubling over in pain from the massive headache from hearing stitch face's gravelly voice.
Months of torture and conditioning are hard to reverse, Hina knew that. But those painful months had only temporarily made her despise the hero.
It ultimately succeeded in making her more frustrated herself.
Self doubt was a new disease she was afflicted with since her acceptance of the ash blond alpha. It crept in her lungs, drowning her breaths with anxiety of becoming someone insensitive. Of becoming someone heartless. And the mere thought of her losing herself and her morals because of a villain's sloppy attempt of brainwashing had scarred her more than the burn she caressed.
Ten days was all it took for her to differentiate her allies from her enemies since her escape. Ten days, which felt like an eternity filled with piles of dark and dirty damp rags of her nightmares.
But there were times when she was gifted with a new memory like soft cotton. Pure and clean, the scent homely and reminiscent of a peaceful summer breeze that brought warmth up her skin.
She recalled those warm, subtle gestures of care. Every time her throat was sore, he was there by her side with a glass of water. The way he bought foods that he noticed were finishing quicker than normal. How he'd been brewing her tea every morning just the way she liked it. And even his distance when she needed it, not necessarily when she wanted, was appreciated by the omega.
It was his brash anger which brought fits of her laughter, a sound she'd long forgotten after so long in captivity. His tender touches, silently pulling her away from her dark, dreary cavern of her foreboding thoughts. His little nuisances and bickering that distracted her from the foreign voice in her head.
Those memories were what she chose to hold on to.
Those memories were what helped her feel serenity in the gray house she now resides in.
Those memories would become her anchor in the raging sea of her new life.
And her lifeboat was the explosive ash blond alpha she was supposed to loathe.
-----
Bakugo was drenched in ice cold water.
He'd usually always resort to hot showers considering cool temperatures are bad for his quirk. Today, however, he decided he would soak his skin in the cold atmosphere.
The horde of things happening today compelled him to physically cool down, especially with his brain working overtime in trying to understand his confusion.
First, the revelation of the mental and physical torture Dabi inflicted on Hina conjured deadly thoughts of irrational murderous intent. Something he has never experienced; not even during the war against the League of Villains.
Second, Bakugo's cloudy mind whenever he thought of Hina, especially with his inner alpha's voice being so much more vocal and demanding ever since he encountered the ravenette on the coast.
Third, his emotions went haywire simply cause he noticed he was a few inches away from her. And for some reason she could feel them. He knew she could, because the look she gave before she resorted to her anxious ticks. It made him feel bare. It made him feel exposed with her eyes scrutinizing every little nook and cranny in his brash mind.
He hated it.
All of it.
He hated how he paid attention to her every tremble, her every giggle, her every glance. How he noticed her every like, dislike, and indifference. How his heart raced and skipped a beat whenever she gave him a beaming smile. How her eyes pulled him in, the turbulent waters mesmerizing him despite the danger apparent when being involved with the omega.
How every single time he touched her skin, his left wrist would thump with its own pulse and has its very own beat to its very own song.
Every single god damned time.
It was just wrong.
Wrong that these feelings were starting to grow in his scorching desert of a heart. Wrong because of the secret he kept hidden behind the black leather cuff encasing his wrist.
That black leather was the barrier separating his head from his heart.
So he needed to squash the life out of the seedling budding in his core before it bloomed into a flower. Before it bloomed, demanding blinding love and showers of care to keep it alive.
After all, whatever he felt for the ocean-eyed woman was only temporary.
He huffed a deep breath and closed the rain pouring on him. Getting out of the shower, he grabbed a towel, drying his skin and rubbing mandarin scented cream.
He wore fresh pairs of undergarments, his favorite pair of black sweats and black skull shirt, and put on his home hearing aids. The soft polyester hugged his skin loosely, relaxing his muscles, melting his skin in endless comfort.
He glanced at the time, his hand resting on the door knob. It was seven-twenty-four in the evening; he was almost half an hour late to cooking dinner. He heaved a heavy sigh, opening the door only for the scent of strong chili to kick into his face.
For most people, the overwhelming spice revolted them, forcing involuntary tears to pull from their eyes. But to him, it reminded him of home. Reminded him of his mother cooking in the kitchen, especially with how the familiar smoky heat engulfed in the entire house.
He stomped down the stairs, watching Hina stirring a pot of what looked and smelled like spicy curry. Quietly, he got a glass of ice water standing beside her, leaning his weight on the counter with his back facing the coffee brewer.
She looked up, gave him a small smile and continued stirring, a small "good evening" whispered from her lips.
He grunted "evening" back, sipping the cool liquid down his throat. He held the glass from the bottom, the base flat on his palm, while his fingers gripped from all the sides.
He's so weird. Hina glanced the unique way he held the glass from the corner of her eye, then resumed stirring the curry.
He silently sneaked a few peaks at her mixing the soupy mixture, intently listening to her hum an unfamiliar lullaby.
After two moments, Bakugo broke the silence. "So who taught you to fight like that?"
"My father." Hina said, smiling wistfully. "He owned a dojo and trained me since I was four years old."
"He taught you well."
She smiled, stirring the pot some more after adding another spice she measured in a bowl.
A whiff of the scent surged to his nose, making him salivate even more.
"Since when are you good at cooking?" He asked with sarcasm curling around his tongue that masked his befuddled disposition. It was hard to believe she was the same girl who ransacked his kitchen when baking a few days ago.
Scoffing in mock annoyance, she defended herself. "I'm not that bad at cooking." Angrily, she stirred the pot with more aggressiveness, still careful enough to not spill its contents.
He huffed an amused breath, a playful smirk tugging on his lips. "My oven would say otherwise."
"I can't bake okay, but I can cook." She held two fingers up, shoving it in his face. "Two different things."
He swatted her hand, his scowl returning on his face when she resorted to her condescending tone.
She kept her eye on the bubbling brew and took a sip of the meshed flavors, making sure it tasted just like back home.
"Salt is less." She grumbled, grabbing the small wooden box and added a measured teaspoon of salt.
She stirred the pot some more while thinking of her family, her humming ensuing once more.
After training hand-to-hand combat, skills she learned from her father, Hina started feeling extremely nostalgic about her family.
Back home, when her parents were still amongst the living, she'd train with her father for a few hours and come home to her sister writing on the sofa, her mother cooking her signature spicy curry. She was glad she learned the recipe before her mother's passing since it is now one of the sources of comfort for the ravenette.
"Can you get me some plates?" She asked after having a final taste of the curry.
Perfect. She hummed in approval as the spicy concoction slid down her throat. The inflammatory burn from the chilies was a comforting sensation; it reminded her of cerulean curtains and ivory tiles, her mother's voice singing, bouncing off beige walls in the small Tanaka condo.
Bakugo turned around and opened the cupboard above the coffee maker, taking out two burnt orange deep dish plates. He pulled the drawer open, took out two spoons, placed them in the black plates and brought them to Hina's side.
Hina took one plate, spooning some sticky rice and pouring the curry beside it. She handed him the filled plate, then repeated the process for herself.
"Water?" She nodded her head to the fridge, while taking out chopsticks from the drawer.
"Hm," he hummed in agreement, grabbing the black wooden sticks from her palm.
He started eating small bites of rice as the water trickled into the glass, only pausing when she turned around, placing it in front of him.
She sat down beside him, a single spot for a ghost to occupy remained between them.
He took a bite of the curry when she started eating, catching her gaze flickering to his mouth from his peripheral vision.
The curry was perfect in every sense to the fiery ash blond alpha.
The kick of spice the moment the creamy liquid touched his tongue was nostalgic to his mother's cooking. The perfectly boiled vegetables remained soft yet firm enough to chew proper bites. The small chunks of juicy beef were tender, melting in his mouth with the broth only bringing the curry together in unified semblance.
His eyes widened as he continued chewing the delicacy, his hand slowly putting the spoon back into the bowl.
Why is this so good?
Hina had halted all movement, her chopsticks frozen against her curled fingers while she openly gaped at his disgruntled expression.
"Is it bad?" She asked, hoping her voice didn't reveal her defeat at his furrowed brows and downturned lips.
Bakugo remained silent for a minute, slowly chewing the beef between his molars, sucking the stringy fibers of its broth.
Finally, he swallowed the meat, his face twitching in urgency to take another bite of the heavenly meal. "It's not bad." He muttered, taking another spoonful of the curry.
But this time, after taking the second bite, his lips twitched until they curved up ever so slightly, letting a small smile grace his lips.
Hina smiled too and started to eat her meal.
And after they finished their food, cleaned the kitchen, and parted in soft murmurs, they retreated to their respective rooms.
Both falling asleep on their cloud like mattresses, ignoring their conflicted resolutions.
After all, today they'd learnt how to smile together.