The training field shimmered under the late morning sun, blades of grass glinting with dew as Class 1-A gathered for combat drills. Aizawa stood at the edge of the field, clipboard in hand, his gaze sweeping over the students like a hawk.
"Today's pairings are randomized," he said, voice flat. "You'll be evaluated on coordination, reflex, and restraint."
Y/N's stomach tightened.
She already knew what was coming.
Aizawa's eyes flicked toward them. "L/N. Bakugo. You're up first."
Bakugo didn't react. He stepped forward, hands in his pockets, jaw set. Y/N followed, heart thudding, every nerve on edge.
They hadn't spoken since the rooftop.
Not really.
A few glances. A brush of fingers in passing. A message sent late at night that simply read: Still thinking about you.
But now they stood across from each other, surrounded by classmates, expected to fight like nothing had changed.
Bakugo cracked his knuckles. "Don't hold back."
Y/N nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Aizawa raised a hand. "Begin."
Bakugo launched forward instantly, explosions flaring from his palms. Y/N dodged, countered with a pulse wave that rippled through the air, knocking him off balance. He twisted mid-air, landed hard, and fired again.
They moved like magnets — drawn together, repelling, colliding.
Every strike was precise. Every dodge calculated.
But the tension between them was more than combat.
It was memory.
It was heat.
It was everything they weren't saying.
Then it happened.
Bakugo misjudged a landing. His ankle twisted, and he dropped hard, skidding across the field.
Y/N's instincts overrode everything.
She ran to him and dropped to her knees.
"Are you okay?" she asked, voice too loud, too raw.
Bakugo's eyes widened — not from pain, but from panic.
Around them, the class stared.
Kirishima tilted his head. "That was... fast."
Mina raised an eyebrow. "Y/N, you good?"
Y/N swallowed. "He fell hard. I just—"
Bakugo stood, brushing them off. "I'm fine."
Aizawa's gaze lingered.
Y/N stepped back.
The fracture had formed.
And it was growing.
—
Later, in the locker room, Y/N sat on the bench, staring at the floor. Her hands trembled slightly, adrenaline still buzzing through her veins.
Bakugo dropped beside her , towel slung around his neck.
"You panicked," he said.
Y/N didn't look up. "You fell."
"I've fallen before."
Y/N turned. "Not like that."
Bakugo's jaw tightened. "You can't react like that in front of them."
"I know."
He leaned in slightly, voice low. "They're watching us now."
Y/N nodded. "I felt it."
Bakugo exhaled. "We need to be smarter."
Y/N met his eyes. "Or we need to stop hiding."
He didn't answer.
Just stared and after a few seconds he spoke "Not yet."
Y/N stood, grabbing her bag. "Then we better learn how to lie."
Bakugo caught their wrist. "I'm not lying."
Y/N paused.
He looked at her— really looked.
"I'm just not ready to share you."
Y/N's breath caught.
she nodded and walked away.
But the fracture lines were spreading.