Chapter Text
Play this song: Mai; Videoclub
"Voilà c'est ça que je veux - That's what I want.
Des jours avec du soleil et de la pluie - Days with sun and rain.
Pourrions nous revenir sur cette histoire - Could we get back to this story?
Oui, c'est bon j'avoue j'aurais dû te croire. - Yes, it's okay, I admit I should have believed you."
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The dull scrape of skates on the ice, voices bursting under the gymnasium lights. Shouts, laughter, the clash of passes.
And at the center of this sublime chaos reigned Bakugo Katsuki.
Captain of the Crimson Howlers. A magnet for attention. On the ice, he needed no words to command respect. Kirishima, the team's goalie, often said he didn't need a helmet, that his rage alone served as armor. But it wasn't his rage that drew eyes. It was something else.
A magnetic, explosive presence, like the rumble of thunder, followed by lightning. Impossible to ignore.
On the bench a few meters away, another gaze followed him, less commanding, but burning with just as intense a light.
Izuku Midoriya.
Dedicated assistant. Timekeeper, water bearer, towel distributor. He took his role seriously; observed everything, encouraged every team member, remembered it all; every technique, every flaw. Oh yes, he remembered everything. Except how to skate. Indeed, he couldn't skate, and his vibrant desire to be on the ice consumed every fiber of his being.
He wanted to learn. He wanted to play.
That evening, after practice, he stayed. Leaning against the hallway wall outside the locker rooms, fingers nervously on the zipper of his jacket.
He waited.
And Bakugo, always the last to leave, finally passed through the door. Wet hair, body still wrapped in moisture, a towel lazily draped over his shoulders. He stopped, caught by a gaze that seemed to pierce him.
— "What?" he asked, irritated.
Izuku took a deep breath, cheeks red but eyes determined. And without hesitation, he dared:
— "Train me!"
A heavy silence followed those words.
— "What?!"
For a moment Izuku hesitated, then continued:
— "I... I want to learn! Just a little. I watch you all the time. I learn fast!"
On the tips of his toes, he had dangerously moved closer without realizing it. He was close. Too close. Now, their faces were only a few centimeters apart, and the air seemed to vibrate, charged with an invisible current.
— "No." Bakugo said, sharply, almost too quickly, as if forbidding himself to listen another second.
— "I swear I'll do everything you say! Please, Kacchan..."
Bakugo's red pupils wavered. He swallowed. And this captain, usually so sure of himself... hesitated.
— "You... you're really clingy, you know that?"
— "I'm serious!" Izuku replied, not moving an inch. "I want it to be you. No one else. You're the best player! I've analyzed and noted all your habits and—"
— "You're creepy..." Bakugo cut him off. As if to prevent the situation from slipping entirely out of his control.
— "Oh... Sorry..." Izuku whispered, sinking back onto his heels, the flame in his eyes dimming, as if all his intensity had just evaporated.
The captain, witness to this moment of disappointment, briefly looked away. The silence that settled was heavy, almost cruel. Too cruel. A flicker of hesitation and confusion passed across his face.
His ears, his neck? Red.
Bakugo clicked his tongue before speaking again.
— "Tch... Fine," he finally said, voice barely audible. "But keep this to yourself, assistant." He added, still hesitant.
Izuku's smile lit up the hallway. Wide. Pure. Almost childlike but so bright.
— "I promise!"
It was the first day of October. The sun was slowly setting behind the gym windows, casting a clear and soothing light on the two boys. The world seemed to pause for a moment, suspended on that smile, before night gently fell over the city.