Left, Right, Left, Right

Chapter Threeeee

Bakugo stood up when Kirishima finally  made his way down to the football field.

"It's 3:11."

Kirishima grinned sheepishly. "Sorry! I got distracted. See, Kaminari was doing this thing-"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. "Whatever, spare me the bullshit. Go stand on the 50 yard line."

"Wait, I don't start the show there, do I?" The redhead looked thoroughly confused. Bakugo rolled his eyes. 

"No fucking way am I letting you do actual show work by yourself. I'm gonna teach you how to march like you have a spine." 

Kirishima ran to the 50 yard line, and stood in what Bakugo could only hope was his idea of straight. The blonde groaned.

"Okay, fine. Now, hold your trumpet in your right hand."

Kirishima's face turned the color of his hair. "Um, I left my trumpet inside."

The blonde whipped around. "What?"

The sophomore shrugged. "I thought this was marching practice?"

Bakugo choked down his temper. "Kirishima, in marching band, we march.  With instruments. Go get the damn trumpet."

Kirishima raced back inside, and Bakugo threw himself onto the bottom bleacher. He'd been a marching instructor for all of two minutes, and his temples were already throbbing.

The redhead emerged from the band room, this time wielding his trumpet. He ran back to the 50 again. "Okay, sir. What should I do?"

Bakugo rolled his eyes, trying not to smirk at Kirishima calling him 'sir'. "Stand in first position."

The trumpet player's eyes glazed over. "Uh, what?"

He facepalmed. "Put your heels together, then put your toes at a ninety degree angle."

The redhead followed the instructions with increased difficulty. When he finally got it right, he was pitched over, staring at his feet.

"Kirishima, is that how you stand during practice?"

"Oh, sorry!" The boy straightened, but he stepped out, feet apart. "Is this right?"

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Good lord..."

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

Bakugo tutored Kirishima every day after school. After two weeks, he managed to teach the trumpet player how to march forward, backward, and stand up straight (mostly anyways).

However, he feared that this wasn't near enough to prepare the rookie for his first competition.

The days passed quickly, and before anyone (besides Iida and his color coded calendar) realized, show day arrived.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Bakugo hid upstairs in the uniform storage room. He didn't want anyone to see him looking like this. The drummer knew from experience that they'd all laugh at him, so he made it his mission to avoid any and all people-

"Hey, Bakugo!" A certain rookie walked into the room, smiling ear to ear. "Dang, what's up with your hair?"

Bakugo snarled. "Shut the fuck up."

For all their performances, the band members were required to pull up their hair so it would fit under their hats. Bakugo, with his careless mop, naturally looked strange with his hair straightened and tied on top of his head.

The redhead was smart enough to stifle his laughter. Then, his face paled. "Wait, do I have to do that?"

"Are you in the band?"