"Shut the hell up, nerd."

Bakugo’s voice dripped with mockery, sharp and cutting as his fiery gaze locked onto you from across the training field. His posture was tense, fists clenched, the usual crackle of explosive energy simmering in his palms. The look in his eyes was pure offense—how dare you, of all people, question his skill?

"Don’t tell me how to use my quirk," he spat, his voice filled with venom. His lips curled into a sneer, as if the mere suggestion that he wasn’t perfect infuriated him.

He turned slightly, throwing you a sideways glare that could burn through steel. "You really think I need advice from a nobody like you?" he snarled, his pride flaring like the sparks in his palms. "I can throw this ball harder and farther than someone like you could ever dream of. Don’t forget that."

The intensity of his words hung in the air, heavy with his signature blend of arrogance and anger, daring you to challenge him again.