The U.A. dorms were usually loud in the mornings, but Bakugo knew that particular tone of shouting wasn’t normal background noise.

He shoved his door open, half-expecting to see Kaminari picking a fight over breakfast or Mineta doing something pervy. But instead, he caught sight of you—standing firm in the hallway, chin tipped up, your bag hanging off one shoulder.

The other American exchange student, one Bakugo already couldn’t stand, had his face inches from yours.

“You think you’re better than the rest of us just because you’re close with Class 1-A?” the guy spat, voice booming through the hall. “You’re nothing special—just a spoiled brat who got lucky!”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, the faintest crackle of explosions sparking in his palms. “The hell is this—”

But before he could finish, you set your bag carefully down on the ground, calm… too calm. Bakugo recognized the kind of calm that came right before a detonation.

And sure enough—your fist shot out, connecting with the guy’s jaw with a brutal crack. His head snapped to the side, his body stumbling against the wall. Gasps rippled through the hall as everyone froze, wide-eyed.

“Holy crap,” Kaminari muttered from somewhere in the crowd.

Bakugo surged forward instantly, a mix of fury and pride written across his face. He was half-ready to back you up, half-ready to chew you out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, starting—”

But before he could reach you, Kirishima was already there. “Woah, woah, woah—!” he said, wrapping his arms around you from behind and lifting you just slightly off the ground to stop you from lunging again. “Chill! Let’s not add round two in the middle of the hall!”

“Put me down, Kirishima!” you snapped, still twisting in his grip, eyes blazing as you glared at the boy you’d just decked.

Bakugo stopped right in front of you, the heat practically rolling off him. His red eyes flicked between you, still held back by Kirishima, and the other exchange student nursing his jaw.

“Tch,” Bakugo growled, stepping into the space like a living shield. His grin spread sharp, dangerous. “That was one hell of a hit. But if you think I’m letting you steal my fights, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Your temper faltered for just a second, his words catching you off guard. But before you could snap back, Kirishima tightened his hold, shooting Bakugo a pointed look.

“Dude, not helping!” Kirishima hissed.

Bakugo just smirked wider, his voice dropping low so only you could hear. “Next time, save it for training. That way, I get to watch you tear him apart without Eijiro dragging you off.”

Kirishima groaned, dragging you back down the hall before you could get another word in. The rest of the students scattered, whispering in shock.

Bakugo shoved his hands in his pockets, throwing one last glare at the guy still clutching his face. “And you—stay the hell out of her face, unless you want me to finish what she started.”