Kacchaco Short Stories

I love you I'm sorry

A/N idk yall

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Katsuki Bakugou had always been intense. His passion for becoming the number one hero burned brighter than anything else in his life. To him, life was a series of battles, each one a step closer to proving his worth and achieving his ultimate goal. But amidst all the noise and chaos of his ambitions, there was a quiet, persistent thought that had begun to nag at him—a thought that he could never fully push away, no matter how hard he tried.

That thought was Ochaco Uraraka.

It started small, just a glimmer of curiosity that flared up during their time at U.A. High. She was different from him in so many ways—soft where he was hard, optimistic where he was cynical. But she was also strong, with a resolve that rivaled his own. Her determination to become a hero for the sake of her family was something that Bakugou found himself respecting, even if he would never admit it out loud.

The first time he noticed her in a way that went beyond rivalry or camaraderie was during their second year. It was a late night at the dorms, and Bakugou, as usual, had been training. The gym was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and the sound of his own labored breathing. He was pushing himself to the limit, his muscles screaming for rest, but he wouldn't stop—not until he felt he had given everything he had.

Then she walked in.

Ochaco had been looking for some quiet space to practice her moves, away from the others. She hadn't expected anyone else to be there so late, let alone Bakugou. But when she saw him, she hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. However, Bakugou noticed her immediately, his sharp eyes catching her figure lingering by the door.

"What are you staring at?" he barked, not pausing in his exercises.

Ochaco flinched, her face turning red with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just—"

"Spit it out, Uraraka."

She straightened her back, forcing herself to meet his intense gaze. "I was just looking for a place to train."

Bakugou huffed, clearly annoyed by the interruption but not entirely opposed to it. He finally stopped his routine and grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from his brow. "This place isn't big enough for the both of us."

Her first instinct was to back down, to apologize and leave him to his training. But something in his tone, something challenging, made her stand her ground. "I'm not asking for much space. Just enough to practice a few moves."

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and for a moment, he saw past the cheerful facade she always wore. There was a determination in her eyes that mirrored his own, a fire that he couldn't help but admire, even if it was just a flicker compared to his own roaring blaze.

"Fine," he said gruffly, tossing the towel aside. "But don't get in my way."

That night, they trained in silence, each focused on their own goals. But as they moved, Bakugou couldn't help but steal glances at her. There was a grace to her movements, a fluidity that contrasted sharply with his own explosive style. She was like water, adapting and flowing around any obstacle, while he was fire, consuming everything in his path.

It was that night that something shifted between them. It wasn't love—not yet—but it was the beginning of something. An understanding, perhaps. A recognition that, despite their differences, there was a connection between them that neither could ignore.

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Over the following months, that connection grew. It was subtle at first—shared looks across the classroom, a nod of acknowledgment during training, a rare word of encouragement when one of them achieved something significant. But those small moments began to add up, forming a bond that neither had expected.