Unveiled Winds || Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Chapter 55 - Backlash

The punching bag swung violently on its chain, rattling with every strike.

Bakugou didn't hold back. His fists landed with brutal force, each hit a little harder than the last, sweat flicking off his brow, breath sharp and uneven.

"As I said, Dynamight, the Commission is requesting a joint statement regarding the agency fire," came the clipped voice through the earpiece along his jaw. "It's been three weeks, and neither you nor Tempest have addressed the public."

He hit the bag again. Hard.

"Speculation is spreading, hero negligence, internal sabotage, civilian endangerment. We need clarity. We need coordination."

"Yeah, you said that already," Bakugou snapped, not stopping the motion of his fists. Bam. "You want a statement or a script?"

A pause on the line.

"We're asking for cooperation, not confrontation."

He muttered something crude under his breath and gave the bag another explosive punch, enough to send it swinging nearly sideways.

"I'm busy."

"Noted. But I hope Tempest is aware that her silence could affect her reinstatement status."

That made him pause, just for half a second.

He stood still, chest heaving. His eyes narrowed, jaw locked tight.

The earpiece crackled faintly.

"She's not taking questions," he said finally, voice low. "And if anyone from your office corners her again, I'll make damn sure it's the last time."

Before they could respond, he ripped the earpiece off and flung it across the room.

It clattered somewhere near the lockers. He didn't care.

Bakugou turned back to the bag and drove another fist into it, raw, aimless fury now. He kept going, long after his arms started to tremble, long after the burn set into his shoulders and his lungs.

But the rhythm was breaking.

His timing slipped. His footing, off. The strikes lost their precision, turning messy, just violence without purpose. It wasn't training anymore. Wasn't control.

It was all the things he didn't say.

He slammed his fist into the bag again, too hard, and hissed as pain shot through his wrist. He dropped his hands, breathing hard, sweat clinging to his skin.

Three weeks.

Three since the fire.

Two since you showed up and threw every truth in his face.

One since he'd heard anything at all.

No word. No texts. No trace of you walking through the temporary office. Just silence, thick and constant. And now the Commission wanted answers. The media wanted blood.

And he didn't even know where the hell you were.

Bakugou pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, grinding his palm against his brow like it could knock the thoughts loose.

What the fuck was he doing?

The door opened.

He didn't look.

"Dude," Kirishima's voice cut in gently, "I had a feeling I'd find you down here."

Bakugou muttered under his breath and grabbed his towel off the bench nearby, wiping his face. "The hell do you want?"