Amethyst. (Katsuki Bakugo x Reader)

PART 20 - Anchor

I stepped into the agency, catching sight of Bakugo as he stormed outside with some of Jeanist's sidekicks. His eyes locked on mine, and the glare he shot me was intense—angry, even. I felt a strange twist in my chest. What was his problem now?

Shaking off the thought, I made my way toward Best Jeanist's office. He was already waiting for me when I entered, his posture straight and impeccable, as always.

"I hear you assisted in apprehending a thief today. Your teamwork with Mirko was commendable," he said, his voice calm, yet sharp with precision. "I must admit, I didn't expect you to collaborate so effectively with others."

I frowned internally. Why does everyone keep saying that? Probably because of the Todoroki name—people expect us to be loners, like my father. But I'm not him. I couldn't help but smirk, feeling a bit proud.

Best Jeanist's keen eyes caught the expression immediately. He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on it. Instead, his tone became slightly more curious. "You seem to be in high spirits, Miss Todoroki. Let's see if you can channel that focus properly. Show me the full extent of what your quirk is capable of."

________

I followed him into a vast training room. It was immaculate—sleek metal walls and polished glass overhead. The open space had a sterile, minimalist design. It felt too clean, too controlled, and that made me uneasy. There were no obstacles, no clear targets—just a vast emptiness waiting to be filled.

Best Jeanist noticed my hesitation, his gaze sharp but patient. "No one but me will observe you," he said, his tone steady and professional. "You don't need to concern yourself with damaging anything here. And you certainly won't harm me."

I glanced at him, momentarily caught off guard by how easily he seemed to read me. There was something about him, the way he stayed composed, always a step ahead.

"This training area," he continued, his voice maintaining that calm cadence, "was built for those with far more volatile and less controlled quirks than yours. It will endure whatever you unleash—ice, fire... even your dragon."

I hesitated. Dragon. The word alone made my stomach churn. When I was still a child, I lost control. I had spent years keeping that part of me hidden. After the festival, feeling that monster again... I wasn't ready to face it. I was afraid—afraid of what I could become if I unleashed it the way Jeanist wanted me to.

Best Jeanist gave me no time to dwell on my fear. Without warning, denim threads shot toward me, swift and precise, like coiling snakes. Instinctively, I threw up a wall of ice, feeling the familiar chill wrap around me as the ice shot forward, meeting his quirk with a sharp crack.

"You've honed your ice well," he noted, his voice still calm as he withdrew his threads, as if he was merely observing a minor experiment. "But that's not what I'm interested in."

His attacks came again, faster and more calculated. Every move he made was deliberate, forcing me to react, to stay on my toes. I dodged and countered, sending more ice to block his advances, but it was clear what he wanted. He wanted the fire. He wanted me to lose control.

But I wouldn't let it happen.

The threads constricted around my arms, pulling tighter as I struggled to maintain focus. My muscles were starting to burn from the exertion, my mind fraying at the edges. But I refused to let go. I wouldn't let it out. I wouldn't lose control again.

Best Jeanist's voice cut through the tension like a finely sharpened blade. "You're holding back, Miss Todoroki," he said, his tone not scolding but sharp enough to demand attention. "That hesitation, that fear, will cost you. You've faced worse than this. Why stop yourself now?"