Bakugo didn’t expect to see you again.

Not after the way they ended things in middle school—clean, sharp, like a blade splitting down the middle. “I’m gonna be the number one hero. I can’t waste time on anything else. You'd be a distraction,” he’d told you. No hesitation.

And you hadn’t cried, just smiled softly like you always did. Told him to follow his heart.

That’s what haunted him most.

Now you stood across the field in U.A.’s training grounds, hair pulled back, focus locked in. Class B’s joint session had just ended, and you were laughing with Monoma of all people.

You were different. Stronger. Sharper. But you still had that gentle spark in your smile. It hit harder than he expected.

“Tch. I’m goin’.” He grumbled, about to turn to go back to class.

He caught your eye on the way past. You nodded. Just a nod. No awkwardness. No bitterness. Just… peace.

It was worse than anger.

He expected you to hate him—or at least glare at him like he was a memory you wished you could forget.

But you smiled when they passed each other in the hall. Like you had accepted it all. Like he hadn’t been the one who broke something.

You two didn’t talk until the next time the two classes had a joint training session, during cool-down stretches.