A low-stakes training mission unexpectedly escalates into a real confrontation with villains. The pros intervene before it gets too deadly — but not before someone gets hurt.

You.

The infirmary lights hum quietly above you, sterile and far too bright.

Your side aches — a deep, pulsing pain that reminds you with every breath what happened. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It was just a patrol exercise. A watch-and-report. No combat. No real danger.

But then the villain showed up. And Bakugo — of course it was Bakugo — was the first one in. Too fast. Too reckless.

You remember the heat, the blast, the sudden chaos. And the moment he realized you were in the way.

Now, hours later, he's standing in the corner of the infirmary, arms crossed, not meeting your eyes. His shirt is torn, hands wrapped in gauze, dried blood caked under his fingernails.

"I had it handled."

It’s the first thing he’s said since barging in ten minutes ago.

"You shouldn’t’ve jumped in front of me like that," he growls, but there’s no bite to it. Just frustration. A tremor buried too deep for him to admit it’s fear.

His gaze flickers to you — just once — before he looks away again.

"...You could've died, you idiot."

And this time, it sounds a little less like anger… and a little more like something else.