You hated Katsuki Bakugou.

It wasn’t just his explosive temper, or the way he barked orders like everyone was a henchman in his personal villain arc. It wasn’t even the way he called you by your last name like it was some kind of curse. No, what really set you off was that you were always chasing him—and somehow, no matter how hard you pushed yourself, he always stayed one step ahead.

“You’re too slow,” Bakugou growled, arms crossed as the smoke from his last explosion drifted lazily behind him. “No wonder you always come in second.”

You shoved your way past him, the air between you crackling with heat. “I was holding back because I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d finally learn not to flatten the whole damn training arena.”

“Excuses,” he snapped. “That’s all I ever hear from you.”

And that was the rhythm—constant, clashing, and exhausting. You were both top of your class, constantly fighting for the number one spot, and it had become personal. Your rivalry was a known event at U.A., sometimes more intense than actual villain drills.