November 27th, 2020
BAKUGO'S POV
"Bakugo," Coach barked. "A little less time in the box would be great." I've only been there three times this game, which is about average when we play against New York. Coach usually doesn't mind as much when we're winning, but we're not. The score stands at 5-2 with New York kicking our asses. They're on top of their game and completely in sync. We, on the other hand, are a fucking mess. Our goalie is not the brick wall he needs to be. He's letting everything past him, and he even scored on himself earlier.
Tonight is not our night.
I took a deep breath and hopped the wall, skating toward the puck. As soon as I got close, my body slammed against the wall. I bounced back quickly, but that didn't change the fact that I couldn't prevent another goal from being scored. When the lamp lit up and the crowd cheered, I dropped my head. 6-2. There's no coming back from this. Not in five minutes.
Sure, it's been done before, but you know in your bones when you're not going to win it. And unfortunately, I feel it.
The Manhattan team in New York is the one game people look forward to the most because of the apparent rivalry between Midoriya and me. Granted, I started it, but I wasn't expecting it to blow up like it had. That's why I hate losing against them. I won't hear the end of it for at least a week, even though we'll be in Washington in three days. They won't care about that game. They'll care about this one.
The first time we played against each other, we were the victors. When we played them for the second time last year, they had won. Neither of our teams had continued onto the playoffs, so we never played each other again. We only play each other twice a year, and although we each won against each other once, their winning today means that they have bragging rights until we see them again.
Next time we see them, we better fucking win.
Five minutes later, the game had ended with a 6-2 score. They all grouped on the ice, and we hung our heads low, wanting to leave the rink. Unfortunately, due to the rivalry that I started last year, the number of seats it fills, and the money it makes, we don't. We line up for the stupid handshakes that we don't do with any other team unless we ever make it to the damn playoffs.
When I got to him, I held my hand out. He gripped it tightly, not bothering to actually shake my hand. "Don't start something you can't win, Katsuki Bakugo." I'm sure there are at least a dozen cameras pointing at us, capturing the moment, but I don't focus on that. I focus on the proud smirk he's wearing and how firmly his hand grips mine.
"A fluke in the system doesn't mean that all is lost. Enjoy the bragging rights because next time, it will be the other way around."
He won't win next time. He can't.
He leaned closer. "That's what you said last time. I look forward to hearing you say it again."
He let go of my hand, and when he moved on, he didn't look back like I did. Not this time.
He's proud, and he doesn't care to hide it. He's probably on a high that won't come crashing down until they lose next.
I bit my tongue and moved down the line, sighing in relief when it was finally done, and we were able to go.
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When the car dropped me at my building, I grabbed my bag and bolted for the door, ignoring the press and journalists trying to snap photos of me. They're like this after every game that I play against New York. Midoriya probably got swarmed when he got home and while he was out celebrating, but he was definitely happier to talk to him than I am right now.
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Thin Ice Rivalry
FanfictionMidoriya The first time I ever met him, I knew he was going to be a problem. A double minor penalty should have been my first clue, but it wasn't. It was after the game, when we shook hands. His red eyes looked me up and down before he said, "Nice f...