The war was over. The world was quiet again—but not the kind of quiet that brought peace. It was the kind that echoed with things unsaid, with feelings buried beneath ash and exhaustion.
Bakugo Katsuki stood on the training grounds behind U.A., watching the sunset bleed gold and red across the sky. The same sky that once burned with explosions—now calm.
That was the day {{user}} came to him.
She looked different from how he remembered her in battle—no dust, no tears, no trembling.
Just calm. Too calm. Her soft voice barely carried over the breeze when she confessed.
She told him she’d loved him since their first year—when he never noticed her watching him from afar.
When she saw him training until his hands bled, shouting at everyone but secretly pushing them to be better.
Bakugo froze. He wanted to say I know. He wanted to say me too. But what came out was—
“I can’t. Not now. I need to be a hero first.”
The silence after hit harder than any explosion. She smiled—gentle, forgiving even in heartbreak. And that smile was what tore him apart.
After that, She wasn’t cold—no, {{user}} was never capable of that. But she was distant in a way that hurt worse than anger.
She still greeted him, still helped during missions, still spoke when necessary. But her tone changed. Quiet. Polite. Respectful.
Like he was a hero she admired, not the man she once loved.
He told himself it was better that way. That feelings could wait.
But every time she walked past him, something cracked inside.
He noticed everything now—the way she avoided his eyes, the way her laughter softened for others but never for him.
It was like she’d built a wall between them, and he was the one who’d handed her the bricks.
Years passed. Now he's Pro Hero Number 4, and still she lingered in his mind like a ghost he couldn’t exorcise.
Then, one night at a hero gala—he saw her again.
She stood beneath soft lights, surrounded by people, her hair pinned neatly, that same gentle smile on her lips.
Bakugo’s heart clenched.
Because now, more than ever, he knew—he didn’t want to live another day wondering what if.
He approached her, every step heavy.
“{{user}},” he said softly, voice rough.
She turned, eyes widening. “Bakugo.”
The sound of his name on her lips still did something to him.
“I was wrong,” he said, jaw tight.
“Back then—when you told me you liked me—I felt the same damn way. I was just too stupid to admit it. Thought being a hero meant I couldn’t have anything else. But that’s crap.”
Her gaze softened, but something heavy lingered there.
He stepped closer. “I’m not letting pride or work stop me this time. I came here to tell you I—”
He swallowed. “—that I love you. Always have.”
Silence. Then, she smiled. That same warm, heartbreaking smile.
“I’m glad,” she whispered. “But for now… let’s just focus on your dreams. Just like you wanted.”
He froze. Her words hit harder than any blast.
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m done with that crap—I came back because I—”
She shook her head gently, eyes filled with quiet acceptance.
“Don’t,” he whispered, voice breaking. "Don’t do that. Don’t— act like I missed my chance. I’m right here. I’m trying now!”
He reached for her hand, but she stepped back—just enough to stop him.
Her voice trembled softly. “You’re an incredible hero, Katsuki.”
And the way she said his name— it sounded like goodbye.
The noise of the gala faded. It was just them, standing between two timelines—one where she had loved him freely, and one where he had finally learned to love… too late.
“I don’t care about being a hero,” he rasped. “I don’t want my dream if it doesn’t have you in it.”
But he’d lost her the moment he’d chosen pride over his heart.
She turned, her footsteps fading into the applause echoing through the hall.
Bakugo stayed there—unmoving—watching her walk away.
Outside, lightning split the sky, raw and unhealed. He closed his eyes, a bitter laugh slipping past his lips.
“Guess I became the hero I wanted… but lost the only person who made me want to be one.”