The stadium was silent when she collapsed.

Bakugou paused mid-sprint, raising himself from his offensive stance. He was on guard, watching rough finger pads scratched the stage surface, struggling to lift their owner to her feet. She'd managed to drag herself up enough to meet his gaze, chocolate locks falling into her faded eyes, fighting them open. As quickly as she'd brought herself up, though, she lost composure and fell unconscious.

Bakugou stood upright, lips slightly ajar. Midnight ran to her, placing a gentle hand on her back and raising the other to cease his oncoming attack.

"Uraraka is out of commision. Bakugou advances to the second round!"

The crowd roared. Robot medics rushed to where his opponent lay wasted on the platform. Bakugou watched the gravity user being carefully lifted and carried off, her pink pads visible as her arm hung loosely off the side of the stretcher. Dust particles floated in the air around between them, lightly circling under the stretcher, around his boots and brushing his arms.

The teen looked down at his seared, calloused palms. His arms and hands covered in a sheen of nitroglycerin induced perspiration. He clenched his sweat soaked hands into tight fists as his eyes shifted to the singed jacket crumpled by his feet. He scowled.

"Tch."

She'd almost had him.

That small, pink cheeked girl he took for prey was a hair width away from almost annihilating him, securing her victory. He turned to the stadium where the debris from her meteor shower laid dormant.

Present Mic's usual booming voice was a disheartened mumble as he announced Bakugou's victory.

He looked to the cheering crowd, eyes drifting past their destruction- half of the attendees seemed impressed while the remainder were as surprised as he was. His eyes narrowed when they reached the - now silent - loudmouthed heroes that accused him of villainous behaviour. They'd made the mistake of underestimating his opponent's strength.

He did, too.

He won't be making that mistake again.

He didn't bother acknowledging the highlights of their fight replaying on the jumbotron. Nor did he care to see his face plastered on the screen, 'victory' flashing in a vibrant green. He bent at the knees and picked up her jacket, stuffing his free hand into his pocket as he strode out of the arena. Bakugou continued under the bleachers and into the prep hall, ignoring the shouts of his classmates among the crowd.

Bakugou trudged to where their prep room was located, navigating through the wrapping hallways. His forearm throbbed. That final blast had left lava pulsing through his veins.

He always planned one step ahead. Many times, he used his opponent's body language to his advantage to overtake them, but she managed to pull the wool over his eyes. Had he not looked above a second sooner, there was a greater chance she might've won the match.

He scoffed. The girl had almost beaten him at his own game.

His brows furrowed, bottom lip jutted out deep in thought. What kind of idiot rushes into battle with an insane plan like that? It was beyond reckless- it was suicide. There was no guarantee she wouldn't have been hit by those slabs of falling concrete. What made her so sure that this would have worked in the first place?

His fist tightened around the jacket it held. Angry eyes twitched with a familiar scowl returning to his face. Deku. He had to have been the one to formulate such a strategy. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from reducing her jacket to ashes.

Speak of the devil.

Stepping up the final staircase that led to the participant waiting rooms, a head of green curls came into view. Bakugou growled.

"K-Kacchan…!"

"What the-?! What the hell do you want?!" Knowing the nerd was going to see the gravity manipulator sparked an unusual flame deep in Bakugou's stomach.

"Die, scum!"

Deku stuttered unintelligibly, blabbering on with his nonsense. Bakugou scoffed.

"That was your idea, wasn't it? That damned desperate plan?"

"Uraraka was leading you around by the nose."

Deku's annoying words repeated in his head. So it was something she concocted all on her own.

Tsk.

Bakugou leaned back against the wall adjacent to the waiting room, far enough to go unnoticed by any passersby. He held his palms out in front of him, thinking back to the determination in her big brown eyes.

She was fierce, he'd give her that much. Her ferocity rivaled his own and that, he thought, deserved recognition. Uraraka was a force to be reckoned with. It was a shame her body was unable to exert the same will to continue the fight.

So consumed in his own thoughts, he nearly missed the bob of green walk the opposite way towards the staircase.

Bakugou shot death glares at the retreating teen as he waited a moment before guardedly stepped to the door. He stood within its frame, observing the lone girl in the room. Her disheveled hair had been tamed. Her soft, fair skin bore light bruises and scratches, the more prominent wounds from battle tended to. Her cheek wore a thick bandage, covering its usual rose glow.

Her eyes downcast to her fingers twiddling her phone under the table. The television on the adjacent wall playing a recap of their battle. After another series of statistic highlights, the camera panned to Cementoss repaired it in sections. They'd really dealt it some serious damage.

He watched her exhale a heavy sigh through her nose, chewing on her bottom lip, narrowing her eyes.

He cleared his throat, demanding her attention.

Except he didn't receive it. She, instead, frowned at the hem of her black tank top as her fingers moved to toy with it delicately. His brow twitched.

"Oi!" His irate tone filled the small space.

Uraraka jolted upright, not realizing she had company, forcing her out of her thoughts. Her previously dejected eyes were now wide with surprise as they flitted to where Bakugou slouched against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. She stared in choked silence, missing her school jacket hanging loosely in the loop of his arm.

With a swift movement, the fabric of her jacket smacked against her face. Uraraka gingerly pulled it down from her face, her senses filling with the scent of burnt sugar and charcoal.

"Don't do stupid shit."

She glanced up, quirking an eyebrow to the ashen blonde who had crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. She leisurely tossed her jacket onto the chair beside her.

"Excuse me?" Her hands pushed hard against the table, skidding her chair across the floor.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. "Are you deaf, Round Face?" She frowned at the nickname, standing to her feet and advancing towards him. He mirrored her movement. "Your desperation will only get you so far."

They stood inches apart, Bakugou towering over her. Uraraka curled her fingers into fists at her side and Bakugou stared her down. The determination returned to her eyes as she met his glare with her own.

"It was enough to almost beat you."

Bakugou snorted. Stubborn little shit.

Present Mic's booming voice filled the space between them. Bakugou stared her down before he turned his attention to looked up, the television flashing to the start of the next match.

When his eyes returned to her, she, too, had turned her attention to the television. Without her eyes on him, Bakugou took a step back and examined the girl before him. He started at the top, her brows knitted while she listened to the announcements blaring from the Television. He moved down, noting how her chocolate hair gently framed her round face. His eyes fell to her lips, still being tugged between teeth. His heart skipped a beat.

They traveled a little lower to where cat-like finger pads rested on her hips, then tracing over every dip her curves offered.

Bakugou's eyes widened and he shook his head. What the hell was he doing?!

Bakugou huffed, pivoting on his heel. He needed to get back to the matches, not ogle over some girl- regardless of how she'd unknowingly earned his respect.

His focus back on the matter at hand, he made his way back towards the door. His abrupt motion pulled Uraraka's eyes from the television, following him. He cocked his head back, raising one crackling palm from his pocket. The other remained dormant, still tingling from their match.

"Next time," he continued, her brows furrowed in response. Their eyes meeting once more.

"Stay on your damn feet."

"Challenge accepted, Bakugou." She smiled cheekily, folding her arms across her chest. "Next time," her eyes fluttered to where his other hand rested in the confines of his pocket, then back to him. "Try not to damage your hands."

"Tch. Whatever, Cheeks." he mumbled. His lip twitched upwards, an unfamiliar warmth building in his chest. He turned completely and exited the room, leaving Uraraka alone with her thoughts.

Walking to the staircase, Bakugou allowed a smirk to creep its way to his face. His chest tightened as his crooked smile grew with excitement.

Next time.

Bakugou returned to the stadium doors. He found his seat among the extras in his class- they'd already begun berating him for fighting Uraraka seriously.

Tch. He'd like to see any one of them take her on.

"Shut up! Be quiet!"

He slumped into his seat, hunching over with his elbows resting on his knees. The idiots surrounding him continued with their nonsensical banter- to which he paid no mind to until he heard Buzzface mention the word "frail."

Bakugou scoffed. Uraraka comes across as a timid damsel, but she wasn't the weak girl even he'd mistaken her for.

She was no lamb; she was a warrior. Her strength merited acknowledgement.

"What part of her was frail?"