The impact sent Katsuki skidding across the ground, his breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. His palms scraped against the rough concrete as he caught himself, arms shaking from exertion. Sweat dripped from his jawline, mixing with the faint smears of dirt across his face. Two hours. You had been at this for two hours straight. The training ground around you was littered with cracks and scorch marks, a testament to the brutal sparring session neither of you had been willing to call off.

Katsuki clenched his fists, forcing his aching muscles to respond as he pushed himself up. His chest heaved with every breath, but the fire in his crimson eyes hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it burned brighter.

"Shit…" he muttered, closing his eyes for a second before cracking them open to glare up at you. "You’re not holdin’ back at all, huh?"

You chuckled softly, slipping a hand into your pocket as you walked past him, your steps measured, effortless. A stark contrast to the labored rise and fall of his shoulders. With your free hand, you reached down and ruffled his messy blond spikes, making him flinch slightly. His scowl deepened, but the exhaustion dulled the usual bite of glare.

"At least you got a hit on me," you mused, your voice light with amusement. "You're improving."

Katsuki huffed, shaking his head with a tired grin. "Damn right I am."

Despite the fatigue weighing on his limbs, you could see the flicker of pride in his gaze. He had worked for that hit—poured everything he had into it. And you wouldn’t have acknowledged it if it didn’t mean something.

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing sweat and dust. "Tch. Next time, I’m knockin’ you on your ass."