|•Bakubottom oneshot's•|

A tireless game | monobaku-part 1

Summeray : You can't avoid him, he’s in the air. Or: the times when Monoma can help Bakugou, and the time he can’t.

Ao3 author : All credits to | ferries |

Chapter 1 -

In the third year of his tutelage under UA, Monoma was overcome with a desire so absolute he could feel it in his bones, eclipsing even his perennial dream of becoming a pro hero. This sudden desire was underpinned, predictably, by the eternal necessity to best Class A in every measurable facet of life, including the extracurricular. Especially the extracurricular, as it were. The difference was that this time, he wasn’t alone in his single-minded pursuit, no — this time, his Class B buddies were right behind him. Some of them would have blamed it on biology, the innate architecture of their bodies that dictated how they moved and breathed and yearned. But for Monoma, there was perhaps some part of him that had always known it would end up like this, the crescendo that the past two years had been building up to — that one day, he would be the one to bring the indomitable Bakugou Katsuki to his knees.

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*

*

The bomb turned up at their doorstep the day before their new school year started.

“Knock knock,” Mirko called, even though the common room door was already wide open. She was clutching a tower of packing boxes stacked so high it could have formed its own settlement.

Late last year when she’d descended upon UA as a fresh-faced teaching assistant, it had been a novel sight: ruthless, illustrious Mirko, recontextualised in an academic setting. Her open disregard for the profession eventually melted away, reshaped itself into vague endearment; the rumour went that she’d assented to the role of a full-time teacher. And also, apparently, the personal chaperone of one Bakugou Katsuki, who stood sullenly to her side, balancing his own tower of boxes.

“Evening, sensei, ” Kendou greeted, tilting her head. “What’s going on?”

“No idea,” Mirko said chirpily. “I’m just the hired help. I do know one thing, however. Starting today, Bakugou is officially joining class 3-B of the Hero Course!”

Ignoring the predictable chorus of confusion that followed, Mirko bounded for the elevators; the fact that none of the boxes came close to tipping over stood as testament to her skill in defying the impossible. Bakugou trailed behind, dragging his feet in a way reminiscent of a petulant child intent on wasting his mother’s precious time.

Monoma couldn’t resist a cheap jab.

“Is something the matter, dearest Bakugou?” he said, sing-song. “Finally realised which class is the superior one?”

Though he’d shedded most of his in-group bias where hero course classes were concerned, sometimes he still felt the need to preen and posture, the same way sparks couldn’t help flying out of a furnace. Neither had the burning competitive spirit faded; with the way both classes were constantly improving and comparing those improvements in turn, how could it have?

Bakugou stomped past him without a word, having endured his own emotional levelling up. Nowadays he was far more liable to ignoring any annoyances around him rather than humouring them. It never stopped Monoma, but it sure drained a lot of fun out of the taunting.