Left, Right, Left, Right

Chapter Two

AN: When you wrote the next chapter two days after the first, but were toooooo lazy to type it out until now -_- Also, this (gestures above) is the purest thing. Watch it :3 I'm over here struggling with allergies too, so *jumps into the struggle bus*

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

That afternoon's practice was, as perfectly predicted, a disaster. Bakugo left the field afterwards angrier than usual. Everyone was so damn distracted that nothing got done in two hours. He blamed it on Kirishima.

Bakugo knew he shouldn't have trusted Iida's judgement. Forget about marching, the kid couldn't even stand straight while holding his instrument. Even worse, when Kirishima tried to play while lurching around, he sounded like Tsuyu playing a kazoo. 

What really ticked the drummer off, though, was the constant support from everyone else in the band. Denki, the trumpet section leader often said that Kirishima was "doing great" and that he'd catch onto the technique "soon". Bakugo knew better than anyone that playing those games was no way to win.

When Denki and Iida returned to the band room, he cornered them.

"Well, we've seen his 'great potential'. Can we throw the little shit off the team yet?"

Tenya glared angrily at him. "Bakugo, he's had less that two hours of experience. Did you expect him to become a master in such little time?"

A an angry fire lit in Bakugo's eyes. "The way you talked the asshole up, I assumed he was already an expert."

Denki looked even more upset than Iida. "Dammit, Bakugo! Just because you want nothing to do with the only rookie we've ever had that looks up to you doesn't mean we have to hate him too!"

Bakugo prepared a stream of curse words, but he stopped when he saw a familiar red-headed rookie catch his eye for a second. The boy looked down before slumping out of the band room.

Way different than the enthusiastic kid that had come in that afternoon.

"I'll see you dumb fucks at practice on Thursday", Bakugo mumbled as he threw his sticks into his bag and stormed out.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Bakugo kept watching Kirishima at practice, waiting for a fantastic player to appear in the awkward trumpeter's place.

It didn't happen.

A second practice passed. Then a third. Then a fourth.

The best the red-head managed to do was stepping off in the right direction, but seeing even that was rare. Kirishima, however, seemed completely oblivious to his failure as a marcher, as well as the fact that their first competition was in less than a month.

This year's season was fucked.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Oh my God, tonight's my first football game!"

"Me too! Ah, I'm so nervous!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes as Kirishima chattered excitedly to Midoriya. He wasn't too fond of the whiny freshman, but he supposed anxiety was better than overenthusiasm.

Midoriya paced rapidly from one end of the band room to the other, mumbling like it would save his life.

"I've never performed before. What if I screw up? Everyone will notice!"

Kirishima didn't seem near as bothered by the idea of crowds. "No way. It'll be awesome!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. "You'll do fine."