Temper | Bakugo

18

"Come on." Bakugo roughly gripped my wrist as soon as I stepped onto the field to begin training.

"Okay..." I followed without question, shaking my conversation with Mina and Uraraka out of my head.

"Hey Miya! You got your knives and stuff?" Kirishima greeted me through the dusty rocks he was pounding his fists through. The sleeves of his PE uniform were torn off because of his jagged quirk.

"Yeah, I have the knives." I nodded, standing beside Bakugo.

"So? What first?" I asked Bakugo, popping my knuckles.

"Try to hit me. I'll dodge them." He tilted his head, I heard his bones pop impressively. I could never try that without accidentally breaking my neck.

"Alright. I have 10, ready?" I positioned myself far enough away from him to throw the knives at a comfortable distance.

"Go." He smirked, smoke beginning to seep from his glowing hands. Without hesitation, I slipped the thin pieces of metal between my finger and flung them at him.

I moved with him, copying his moves to hit him at least once. He did fancy moves with his explosions, impressing me a number of times.

I threw a knife and he caught it, smirking at me when he did so. I shot him a look and continued firing the blades at him.

"Stop moving." I said to myself, concentrating on trying to hit his arms.

I reached down in my belt to grab another knife but they were all gone. I used them all up. I need to get more, 10 obviously isn't enough.

Bakugo landed from a jump, huffing tiredly. He walked up to me in his heavy boots, a frown on his face.

"I didn't hit you." I sighed, brushing past him to pick up all the knives on the ground. They were scattered, and I was able to find nine of them.

"Hey where's the tenth-" I turned around and bumped into Bakugo's chest. I smiled, shaking my head and taking steps back. I muttered a sorry and and looked up at him.

"Maybe if you'd just wait." He huffed, extending his arm. And there was the tenth knife stick in his forearm.

I winced, biting my tongue so I wouldn't laugh.

"Oh shit, sorry." I giggled, leading him to the bench where I had a small kit with bandages.

As I wrapped a cloth around his upper forearm to stop the blood, I looked up at him.

He looked down, disinterested at what I was doing. The knife was still lodged in his arm, and he seemed to have no reaction to it.

"Doesn't this hurt you?" I asked him, tightening the knot around his bicep.

"Of course it hurts, dumbass." He spat, making his hand into a fist as I lightly tapped on the knife.

"Oh, it's just that you don't really have a reaction to this. It's kind of painful having blade in your arm." I laughed, contemplating just ripping the knife out or pulling it out slowly.

"It's not the worst thing in the world. You think I can't handle it or what?" He scolded, putting his other hand on the table. I shook my head, smiling at him.

"Ready? I'm just pulling it out." I told him, firmly holding the base of the knife with one hand and placing my other hand beside his free one.

"Just do it, damn it." He shifted in his seat, bracing himself for the pain. I did the same, taking a deep breath.

"Do you know what you're doing?" He questioned softly, hesitancy in his voice.

"Of course. Don't worry about it." I nodded reassuringly, placing my free hand on top of his.