Bakugo is relentless.

It’s been hours since your training session started with the third year, and you’re sweating like a pig. He, on the other hand, looks like he just got stepped out of a modeling gig; his hair pushed back and a sheen to his skin that makes him seem holy. It’s unfair.

Then again, you are on an entirely different level to him. Reaching out to him had been an act of desperation, having been told you have a mere 3 months to improve your physical prowess else be offloaded out of UA’s hands.

Bakugo is a good mentor, in the sense that he gives you no choice. You will improve, even if it kills you.

“That the best you got, first year?” The blond yells out, his fists still raised. Your skin prickles. He persists, “C’mon, get serious!”