Summary:The morning after is anything but quiet. Izuku and Bakugou return to class, but after what happened between them, keeping their connection secret becomes harder than either of them expected—especially when tension follows them into the training field.
The next morning, sunlight poured in through the high dorm windows. Izuku sat at the edge of Bakugou's bed, pulling his shirt back over his head. The room smelled like him—like citrus body wash, smoke, and sweat. Familiar. Dangerous.
Behind him, Bakugou stirred.
"You're leaving without saying anything?" he grunted, voice rough from sleep.
Izuku glanced over his shoulder. "You want me to stay?"
"…No."
Izuku chuckled. "You're a terrible liar."
Bakugou didn't respond. He sat up, blanket sliding down his bare chest, eyes sharp but unreadable.
"We've got combat drills in an hour," he said. "Don't get soft on me just 'cause we—"
"I'm not going soft on anything," Izuku said as he zipped up his jacket. "And I still plan to win."
He turned toward the door, pausing.
"You okay?"
Bakugou glared. "Yeah. You?"
"Better than I've been in a long time."
Then he was gone.
U.A. Training Grounds – Later That Day
The third-years lined up in two rows across the field. Aizawa stood between them, arms crossed, looking exhausted as always.
"Pairing off for full-contact combat," he announced. "Try not to break anything vital."
Bakugou rolled his neck, eyes locked across the field.
Izuku stood on the opposite side, gloves flexing.
They hadn't spoken since that morning.
But everyone could feel the tension.
Especially Todoroki, who walked past them both and muttered, "Are we fighting each other or whatever's going on between you two?"
Bakugou scowled. "Mind your business."
Todoroki raised a brow. "Hard not to when you're staring at him like you're about to explode."
Aizawa's voice cut through the chatter. "Midoriya and Bakugou. You're first."
A beat passed.
Izuku stepped forward. "Understood."
Bakugou cracked his knuckles. "Finally."
They took their positions—ten meters apart.
No one spoke.
Even the wind held its breath.
Aizawa gave the signal.
And they charged.
The clash was instant—raw, powerful, perfectly matched.
Izuku ducked under a blast, sent a shockwave into the ground to trip Bakugou off balance. Bakugou recovered mid-air, countered with an explosion that grazed Izuku's shoulder.
They weren't holding back.
Each hit came fast, precise—like they were testing each other's limits and trust at the same time.
"You've been holding out on me," Bakugou snarled mid-clash.
"I had to see if you could keep up," Izuku shot back, landing a clean hit to Bakugou's side that sent him skidding.
Their classmates were silent—watching two legends fight like gods.
But beneath the flurry of blows and sparks, the truth lingered between them.
This wasn't just a fight.
It was everything they hadn't said.
Every missed call. Every late-night thought. Every breathless moment from the night before.
Izuku pinned Bakugou against a training wall, breath ragged.
"You still think I left you behind?"
Bakugou growled, grabbing his collar. "You think this is about the past?"
"I think this is about right now."
Their faces were inches apart.
The world could've been watching—and maybe it was—but neither of them cared.
Bakugou's voice dropped. "You better not lose your edge. Just 'cause you've got me now."
Izuku smirked. "I never had to lose to win you."
Then he pulled back just enough to throw one final punch—gentle by his standards, but strong enough to take Bakugou to one knee.
Aizawa called the match.
Izuku offered a hand.
Bakugou stared at it… then took it.
Their fingers lingered a little too long.
Enough for Todoroki to whisper to Kaminari:"…Yeah, they're definitely not just sparring anymore."