Mha oc

Sports festival-part seven.

The arena was buzzing as Shoto and Iida faced off. I'd taken a seat near the front, slouching with one arm draped over my knees, the other resting on the back of the chair. I wasn't really watching—at least, that's what I told myself. But my eyes flicked to Shoto every so often, analyzing how he moved.

Ice shot across the field, blocking Iida's path before he could gain enough momentum. Shoto's movements were sharp, precise, calculated. He didn't waste a single motion.

"Tryhard," I muttered under my breath.

Iida kept rushing, zigzagging to avoid Shoto's ice traps, but it was clear who had the upper hand. One well-placed sheet of ice tripped Iida up, and Shoto delivered the finishing blow—a wave of ice that locked Iida's legs in place.

The buzzer sounded. Shoto won. Of course.

I leaned back, smirking slightly. "Cool. Literally."

But my amusement didn't last long. The next announcement came loud and clear.

"Ryosuke Woods and Katsuki Bakugou, report to the arena!"

I blinked, my head tilting back as I let out a long, dramatic groan. "Great."

Standing, I stretched lazily, pretending not to notice Kirishima's thumbs-up or Mina's overly enthusiastic cheering. Bakugou stomped past me, already halfway to the ring, explosions popping in his palms as if he needed to stretch his hands like some athletes did their legs.

"Oi, Woods," he barked over his shoulder. "Get your ass in gear, or I'll win before you even show up!"

I smirked, my hands sliding into my pockets. "Patience, Boom Boom Boy. I'm savoring the walk."

When I stepped onto the field, the noise of the crowd hit me like a wave. I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Bakugou. His grin was feral, teeth bared like he'd already won.

"You ready to get your ass handed to you?" he growled, crackling energy building in his palms.

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't figured out how to use his inside voice," I replied, rolling my shoulders. "Let's get this over with. I've got a nap waiting for me."

The buzzer sounded, and Bakugou lunged.

I dodged to the side, throwing up my barrier just as his explosion hit where I'd been standing. The shockwave reverberated through the field, but I stayed steady, adjusting the barrier to deflect the brunt of it.

"Nice try," I called out, smirking.

"Shut up and fight me, you lazy bastard!" he yelled, launching another explosion.

I let him come to me, keeping the barrier between us as I moved just enough to avoid direct hits. My quirk was defensive, sure, but I knew better than to rely on it entirely.

"You know, for someone who's supposed to be smart, you sure do a lot of yelling," I quipped, sidestepping another blast.

Bakugou snarled, throwing himself at me with unrelenting force. His movements were fast, chaotic, but they had a rhythm—a rhythm I could track.

But then I saw the shift. His next explosion was smaller, a feint. Before I could adjust, he was above me, coming down hard with a larger blast that cracked the edges of my barrier.

"Shit," I muttered, throwing myself backward.

The crowd gasped as Bakugou pressed the attack, giving me no room to breathe. My quips dried up. He was pushing me harder now, and I had to focus. Every step, every move, had to be calculated.

I ducked low, sliding under one of his blasts, and swept his legs. He recovered quickly, but it gave me just enough time to expand the barrier, forcing him to back off.

We were both breathing heavily now, sweat dripping down our faces. His grin hadn't faded, though.

"You're tougher than you look," he admitted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, well," I panted, "you're... louder than you look."

He laughed—a short, sharp bark—and came at me again. This time, I couldn't deflect fast enough. His explosion hit the edge of the barrier, shattering it.

Before I could recover, he tackled me to the ground.

The impact knocked the air out of me, and I found myself staring up at him as he pinned me down, one knee pressing into my chest. His hand hovered near my neck, crackling with energy, the heat making my skin prickle.

We were both gasping for breath, his face inches from mine.

The crowd was dead silent.

"You done yet?" he growled, his voice low and rough.

"Depends," I managed, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "You done being an asshole yet?"

His lip twitched, and for a second, I thought he might actually laugh.

The buzzer sounded.

"Winner: Katsuki Bakugou!"

The tension broke as he pulled back, releasing me and standing up. I stayed on the ground for a moment, staring up at the sky and letting out a long exhale.

Bakugou offered me a hand, his usual scowl softened—just barely.

"You're not half bad," he muttered as I took his hand and let him pull me up.

"Neither are you," I replied, brushing myself off.

As we walked off the field, the faintest flicker of something unspoken lingered between us. Respect, maybe. Or something else. Either way, it felt like a truce. For now