Two teams were to go at once, allowing both teachers to watch over the groups while the students observed their peers' techniques and strategies. It seemed like a pretty solid plan, I mean, what could possibly go wrong?
Bakugou Katsuki, that's what could go fucking wrong.
The two groups were both going at it, Kirishima and Sero both seemed like good competition for each other, but the redette had the slight upper hand. Though Sero tried his best to restrict the sharp, rigid swinging arms of the hardened male, his tape kept getting torn through.
On the opposite side, there wasn't much competition between Jirou and Mineta. The diaper clad boy was mostly screaming, tears falling down his chubby cheeks as the female behind him kept trying to poke his eyes out. You had to admit, it was a humorous sight to see, but your shaking body wasn't allowing a single smile.
Crossing your arms and gripping onto your waist, you tried so hard to keep yourself from showing any sign of weakness to the people around you, but even as your fingernails dug into the uneven skin of your body, you continued to shake.
Your breath hitched as Kirishima landed a powerful blow to his friend's face, sending the male skidding a couple of feet away. Just as Sero was about to get up, the redette pounced onto his prey's body, straddling the male with a fist hovered over his face in a threatening way.
"I-I forfeit!" The dark haired male beneath him shouted, assuring safety to his now bruised face. All Might called out, claiming victory to "Young Kirishima" as he stood on the sidelines, more or less reffing the match.
Just as Kiri began to stand up, your gaze moved to the opposite side once again, watching as Jirou kicked the shit out of Mineta. Somehow the purple male found himself curled in a ball at the center of their battlefield, crying out, "I forfeit" as best he could as Jirou stood behind him, hands in her pockets nonchalantly, kicking over and over again at the small pervert.
Though the purple kid yelled out that he gave up, Aizawa Sensei did just about nothing to stop the match. His uncaring gaze was on the small child, just watching—he wasn't even watching intently like All Might was, he was staring at them like one would stare at a blank T.V screen. You swear he wanted to see this kid suffer a little more as he finally rolled his eyes and called Jirou victorious.
When the match was finally called to an end, you felt like you were hit by a truck.
All the anxiety that had let up from all the waiting was now swarming you like a wasp. You felt sick, your limbs heavy, your head and heart both racing.
You took a small glance at 47, hoping he'd give you some sort of encouragement, or even some tips, but all you got was his cold stare that bore into your eyes as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
Bakugou, Mina, Tokoyami and yourself were the one's who began to walk to the battlefields, everyone anxious in their own ways.
Just as each of you approached the heroes, the words spoken by All Might did nothing to ease your nerves.
"Mina, Tokoyami, you two will have to wait for the next round. These two are going to have to be watched by both of us."
With a small whine from the pink female, the pair of them headed back to their respective areas, awaiting their return to the battlefields.
"47, we'll need you too." Aizawa spoke up this time, his voice strong as he ordered the male.
As 47 began to march his way over, Bakugou and yourself were told to stand on opposite ends of the battle grounds, and right before you turned in the opposite direction as your partner, his stern, almost irritated voice got your attention,
"You better not fucking hold back against me."
The competitive male immediately walked away, not paying a single glance back.
If he had turned around, his gaze would be on you—pulling at the roots of your hair in complete horror and frustration as you slowly walked to your corner, hoping that the longer you took, the greater the chance you wouldn't have to do this.
Already reading your mind, your black haired teacher spoke as he stood beside the other two adults,
"Akuma, you're going to fight Bakugou today no matter what... just get this over with."
Scurrying to your corner to "get this over with", you found yourself in the maddening gaze of a certain hothead. His palms were already smoking, his body barely holding back, his eyes showing you the complete aggravating desire to tear you apart.
With a exaggerated sigh, All Might rose his arm above his head, ready to yell the words that were already taunting themselves at the back of your head on repeat.
After a few passing seconds and a couple of sideways glances, the muscular arm of the hero was thrusted downwards, his booming voice yelling one word,
"FIGHT!"
—————————~~—————————
"EEEP!" You yelped as massive explosions erupted in front of you, allowing the hothead to lunge himself at you, the only thing you did was watch in terror as the boy's smirk only grew at your timid form.
Trying to think of a quick plan, the greatest idea popped into your head: run away from this sick bastard.
So you did.
You started lapping the arena, making the whole fight seem like you were a track runner in the wrong place. Every step of the way you were panicking, gasping for breath as the relentless male used his explosions to chase after you.
Within minutes sweat was dripping from your forehead, your classmate still refusing to let you run around.
"STOP RUNNING AND FIGHT ME AKUMA!" The male yelled behind you.
"NO, FUCK YOU!" You yelled back, immediately regretting your decision because it took more oxygen than you initially thought it would.
With a gruntled yell and a large explosion, the ash blonde caught up to you, emitting a large burst upon your small frame. Jumping out of the way, you tumbled to the ground, unsatisfied that Bakugou was still chasing you, and now frustrated that your pants were torn at the knees.
"FUCK YOU!" You yelled at the male as he sent another blast your way, singing one of your arms in the process. Your body quickly mended the wound, the bloody spot soon turning a light shade as a scar appeared.
"I KNOW YOU HAVE A QUIRK! FIGHT ME WITH IT YOU WHINY SHIT!"
"I SAID NO!" You yelled again, breaking out into another run the moment you gathered yourself from the ground.
"STOP FUCKING RUNNING!"
"NO!"
You could only focus on your opponent, everything around you didn't matter at this point. Aizawa, All Might, 47, they were doing nothing to help, so your only option was to keep running. As you passed your so called teachers, you couldn't help but give them a helpless look, hoping they'd save you. Yet the best thing you got was a thumbs up from All Might—Aizawa stared at you boredly, and 47 bore his eyes into your head with zero interest.
Dodging the continuous blasts that left the male's palms was irritating, not to mention tiring. Blast after blast after blast, dodge after dodge after dodge. It was all getting repetitive and tedious, you wanted to forfeit, you just wanted to heal yourself. Your body was already aching before you even entered this battle, and you knew you didn't have enough nutrients to keep this up, to keep healing yourself from these stupid explosions.
Exhaustion hitting you, somehow your pace must've slowed, because before you knew it, you were found face first in the dirt, a heavy body atop your lower back. You let out a loud groan as you realized what happened, but you really weren't planning on doing anything but forfeiting. The dirt was covering your nose and lips grossly, the taste of earth in your mouth every gasped breath you took.
One of his hot hands were pressed against the middle of your shoulder blades, assuring that you wouldn't be moving anytime soon, his other hand hovering above the back of your head, threatening you with mini explosions.
"WHY ARENT YOU USING YOUR QUIRK?! YOU HAVE ONE FOR A REASON! FUCKING FIGHT ME YOU STUCK UP BITCH!"
"NO!"
"DO YOU THINK IM NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO FIGHT YOU?!" He yelled again, this time surprising you slightly, he almost sounded... hurt, I daresay?
"Good enough...? Bakug—" you began, puzzled by the male's choice of words, but you were abruptly cut off by more harsh explosions.
"I WILL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF RIGHT NOW IF YOU DONT USE IT." The male threatened, the hand on your back getting increasingly hotter, his other hand draping closer to your head. By this point, you were a little pissed off, and you really doubted your classmate's threats—no matter how strong he was, he wasn't going to be that stupid... right?
So why not piss the hungry tiger off more?
"DO IT. I DARE YOU!" You yelled back, angry he was so persistent, and honestly you were surprised by your own words. Why did you say that?
The moment those words left your mouth, you regretted each of your choices that led to that single moment. With an eardrum crushing noise at blank point, you felt as if your soul had left your carcass, your body rebounding against the hard ground like a rag doll as saliva spewed nastily from your gaping mouth. On top of it all, the only thing you could feel, and the only thing you could focus on was an excruciating, searing hot pain travelling from your back to your chest.
Your ears were ringing, a consistant buzz rattling your brain, not to mention the warm, coppery smelling substance leaking from them; your head was dizzy, a little more than fuzzy, making you disoriented; your vision was slightly blurry as you laid against the dirt, trying to figure out if you were seeing a massive ghost or a bunch of smoke surrounding you.
You started to lift yourself up, that heavy feeling on your back gone—the prick probably thought he won the fight, but there was this uncomfortable sensation that made you wish Bakugou was sitting on you again instead of this feeling. It was tormenting, it felt like someone was trying to cauterize your insides, yet it also felt like someone stuck their hand through your body, your chest and back had this feeling as if they were filled with lava, like they were burning—and you wanted it to desperately stop.
Finally gaining the strength and will power to sit yourself up on your ass, you realized that your clothes were becoming increasingly heavy, wet, sticky even. It was only natural to look down at this burning sensation, for only seconds later, to really wish you hadn't. As they say: 'Ignorance is Bliss', and right about now, you needed that bliss. Taking a second glance, you thought your hazy eyes were deceiving you, yet when did anything go your way?
Because the only thing you could see was blood, and the only person taking blows was your sorry ass.
It was pouring out of you in pints, the hole between your breasts was gushing, and you could only panic as your body refused to mend itself together. There was no sign of the muscles stitching themselves together, no sign of bones reforming, no sign of blood pumping into your body instead of on the ground. Everything felt like it was on fire, yet you shivered in your spot.
Tears were forming in your widened eyes from all the smoke surrounding you and your panicked state, your labored breathing wasn't helping with the blood flowing out of your body, and on top of it all, you felt grossly faint.
You needed help, and you needed it badly.
Desperately grabbing at the hole in your chest, hoping that if you pulled it together yourself, it would magically heal—you pleaded in your head, praying, wishing, hoping that one of the teachers were coming to check on you. After a close range explosion like that, who wouldn't check to see if their student is alive? Terror was the only thing you could describe in this moment, from your panicked mind to the way you were holding your insides, trying to push the gushing blood back into your system—it was an awful sight.
Frustrated, exhausted, pitiful tears began running down your cheeks, and your head began pounding from the ringing in your ears and the constant praying for anyone to come find your bleeding body. You swear things couldn't have gotten worse, but when that familiar urge came to your deranged state of mind, you jinxed yourself.
It was a very unwelcomed urge.
You could feel your body trying to confiscate for the massive blood loss, the only thing in mind was replenishing that blood with someone else's.
Hunger.
You pressed on your chest, in hopes of stopping the blood before more soaked your singed clothing, but it wasn't helping. Watching the blood only made things worse. Much worse. Even if it was your own blood.
Your eyes were shifting, your canines digging harshly into your lip, your dark colored kagune trying to escape the confines of your body. You could feel the disgusting tear of your muscles and skin as it ripped open the flesh at the small of your back, the only thing you could do was watch in horror as 4 black and red rinkaku swung by your sides as if they had a mind of their own. You felt helpless, you didn't have enough strength to stop any urge you were feeling. There was no stopping your kagune, hell, you couldn't even heal yourself and your dying body. Your hands found themselves clinging to the sides of your head, your fingers digging into your scalp and face, pleading this was all a dream—but when you saw that deathly colored tentacle sway in front of your face, you knew it was just another nightmare you were living in.
"FORTY SEVEN!" You screamed pathetically through the smoke, your swollen throat only allowing so much to leave your lips as you tried to contain your bloodlust for the only one still standing in the arena.
But it was already too late. You could smell him.