Bakugou Angst Stories

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚In the following time he took his life - 0.3

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'One hundred and forty three, one hundred and forty four, one hundred and forty five,' each number is a deep, vehement squat. She's taking a deep breath through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, her legs heave her body up to dip back down to another squat, and she counts her one hundred and forty sixth one. Her brown hair flips up with each movement.

Ochako Uraraka, a sweet lovely girl who worked very hard to get into U.A. She's proud of her achievements, and occasionally gets remarks and compliments for her efforts in the school festival. Before the incident: Bakugou's suicide, the school day after the festival she was stopped by admiring people who said they looked up to her genuinely, called her strong, and were obsessed with the phrase if only you won or things pertaining to it like you should have won.

The rather enflamed souls were more outright with their disliking to the blond she had went against. Uraraka never really understood those comments and dismissed them with a smile of feigned confusion, like she hadn't quite heard what they said. It's not that she's masochistic- Bakugou's fighting was fair and indiscriminate, his flaming blasts were for everyone, regardless of gender or person. It didn't matter to him, and to that, Uraraka respected him for.

His moralities were respectable, much to her annoyance, but Uraraka understood Midoriya's obsessive nature of him then and there. The second she hit her ground on the floor and passed out, knees weak and struggling, the way her determination drained out with her dimming energy, her heart didn't sink at the failure. It was fair. And Uraraka felt worthy of the fight, she held her own for a long time against one of her most formidable classmates.

That's another achievement she's proud of, and Uraraka had resolved to growing strong enough to actually beat Bakugou.

But now that's just a silly fantasy, a dream, something that seemed like a viable path, but it was a dead end. A dead end with nothing else, it paved a far more dark, morose road that Uraraka didn't have any other choice but to go down in. Midoriya yelled at her in this one, Kaminari, the Kaminari who had flirted with her and always eyed her with this charming glint, chided her in one motion without a look of regret.

The world turned upside down in one clear swoop, and Bakugou had something to do with it. Not surprising to her, but the method was jarring. It's not that Uraraka hated Bakugou, it's just that he could be a list of different things, a list of different traits, more nicer, sweeter, more like Midoriya. She hadn't meant to weigh her expectations on him, she expected a stronger Bakugou since he always acted so courageous and tough. 

But now he's gone, and Uraraka doesn't know what to feel but this inevitable dread and inescapable sorrow. Midoriya's been crying endlessly, and seeing him so worn out like an outstretched soggy rag is painful. He's not even read the note assigned to him yet, Midoriya isn't ready to reach closure or find clarity. His Kacchan's gone. 

Why did Bakugou have to leave? Knowing he and Midoriya were close to inseparable. Uraraka can only watch on the fringes of Midoriya's pain, knowing she'd never understand the erupting blow his childhood friend's death would inflict on him.

And just like that, she's at three hundred squats.

Uraraka wonders if she and Bakugou could have been friends, they were somewhat friendly to each other already. Mostly because he would usually be here in the training room at this time, training. She'd work on lower half and he'd work on upper half. Sometimes they'd trade tips and they'd offer to assist one another. In some ways they could joke, but sometimes. Some days weren't good.