Kaori Kono is a wild, carefree hero in training that everyone loves, even Katsuki Bakugo. Her quirk is the control over the wind and she has the ability to heal. She’s still working on the wind, but her healing is perfection. Unfortunately this is because she came from a background of hurt but has since gained freedom from that. As her past is slowly discovered her class is shocked, no one more than Katsuki as he’s always thought she had it so easy with how she always seems so happy. All characters are over the age of 18.

Chapter 13: The Water Bottle Incident

The heavy shower door slammed shut behind Kaori with a finality that echoed harshly down the sterile, tiled hallway of the women's locker room wing. The lingering scent of industrial cleaner mixed with damp towels and distant sweat hit her, sharp and unwelcome. She kept her gaze fixed on the scuffed linoleum, the mortification from the shower still a fresh, burning brand. Just get to the dorm. Don’t think. Don’t breathe too loud. She took one step, then another, her damp hair clinging to her neck.

He was leaning against the painted cinderblock wall just outside the entrance, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Katsuki Bakugo. Still here. The black tank top stretched across his shoulders, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His spiky hair was darker, still damp, and his crimson eyes were fixed on her with unnerving intensity. No scowl. No smirk. Just… focused observation. Her breath hitched, the air suddenly thick and hard to draw in.

Kaori’s face ignited, the heat rushing from her neck to her hairline so fast it sparked a brief dizziness. She stopped dead, her hands instinctively clenching at her sides. She willed herself invisible. Failed.

Bakugo pushed off the wall with a single, fluid motion. He didn’t crowd her, but his presence filled the narrow hallway, amplified by the echoing acoustics. He held something out between them. Her bright blue water bottle, condensation beading on its surface.

"You left this." His voice was low, gruff. Not shouting, not even particularly sharp. Just… there. His gaze never left her face, tracing the trajectory of her blush.

Kaori stared at the bottle as if it were a live grenade. Her mind blanked. "Y-You didn’t have to wait!" The words tumbled out, high-pitched and squeaky, betraying her completely. She cursed internally. Smooth. Real smooth, Kono.

One corner of his mouth twitched. Then the other. Slowly, deliberately, a smirk spread across his face. It wasn't the feral grin of battle. It was different. Sharper. Amused. Knowing. "Yeah, well," he drawled, his voice laced with unmistakable mockery, "someone’s gotta make sure you hydrate after comparing me to astrophysics." He gave the bottle a little shake, the water inside sloshing softly.

She flinched. The neutron star. The protein shake. The packed earth. Every idiotic syllable echoed in her skull. Her cheeks burned hotter. She reached out, fingers fumbling, refusing to meet his eyes. "Th-thanks," she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the thundering of her own pulse in her ears. She grasped the cool plastic, but he didn't immediately let go.

For a fraction of a second, their fingers brushed. Hers icy with nerves, his radiating the usual furnace-like heat. A tiny, involuntary spark of static snapped between their skin. Kaori yanked her hand and the bottle back as if scalded, clutching it to her chest like a shield.

He watched the movement, the smirk deepening. "Wouldn't want you passing out." His tone was deceptively light, but his eyes held that unnerving perception. "Dehydration makes people say… weird shit." He lingered on the last two words.

Kaori forced a breath, trying to inject some semblance of her usual energy. A losing battle. "Oh, haha, yeah!" The laugh that escaped was brittle, cracking on the edges. "Silly me! Must be the… the fumes! Yeah, cleaning fumes! Or… or maybe residual ozone from your blasts? Messes with the synapses! Totally a thing!" She gestured vaguely with the bottle, splashing a little water onto the floor. "Happens all the time! Brain glitches!"

Bakugo’s eyebrow climbed higher. He leaned forward, just an inch, his voice dropping to a low murmur that somehow carried perfectly in the echoing space. "Brain glitches that make you blush like a damn traffic light when someone pins you?" He tilted his head, studying her. "Interesting malfunction."

Her carefully constructed facade of airheadedness crumbled. The blush was now a full-body inferno. She could feel it spreading down her neck, threatening to ignite her hair. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Only a faint, choked squeak. Her gaze darted past his shoulder, desperately seeking an escape route that didn’t involve vaporizing the wall with her fledgling wind control. Unconscious wisps of air stirred the damp strands of hair framing her burning face, a physical manifestation of her internal chaos.

He saw it. The frantic escape-planning in her eyes. The way her knuckles were white on the water bottle. The tiny breeze teasing her hair. A flicker of something else crossed his features – not mockery now, but a spark of genuine, bewildered curiosity, quickly masked by his habitual intensity. He didn’t push further verbally. Just held her pinned not with his body this time, but with that relentless, knowing gaze in the stark fluorescent lighting.

The silence stretched, taut and humming. Kaori felt like a specimen under a microscope. She couldn’t stand it. "Well!" she blurted, the word too loud. "Gotta go! Hydration! Important! Before the neurons implode!" She took a jerky step sideways, trying to sidle past him, her shoulder nearly brushing the cold tile wall. "ThanksforthebottleBye!"

She didn't wait for a response. She ducked her head and bolted down the hallway, her damp sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. She didn’t dare look back, channeling every ounce of her willpower into not breaking into an outright sprint until she rounded the corner. The air around her crackled faintly, a localized breeze whipping the loose fabric of her t-shirt as she fled the sound of Bakugo’s low, incredulous chuckle that chased her down the echoing corridor. He watched her chaotic retreat, the smirk settling into a thoughtful, unreadable line on his face, the image of her flustered escape burning brighter than the fluorescent lights above.

Kaori’s damp sneakers slapped the linoleum like frantic heartbeats as she careened around the first corner, then the second. The echoing hallway faded, replaced by a narrower service corridor lined with supply closets and humming electrical panels. Safety. Sort of. She pressed her back hard against the cool, gritty cinderblock wall, gasping for air that felt thin and insufficient. The water bottle trembled in her sweaty grip.

"Seriously?" she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, the phantom heat of Bakugo’s stare still branding her skin. "I could die of embarrassment." She thumped her head lightly against the unyielding wall. "Neutron stars? Packed earth? Why does my mouth betray me like that?" Her voice was a mortified whimper lost in the industrial hum.

"Why's that?"

The low, familiar rasp sliced through the mechanical drone. Kaori’s eyes flew open. He was there. Leaning casually against the opposite wall just down the corridor, one ankle crossed over the other, arms still loosely folded. How? She hadn't heard a single footstep. Her breath strangled in her throat, emerging as a sharp, startled yelp. She instinctively flattened herself further against the wall like prey cornered.

Bakugo pushed off the wall, taking a single, unhurried step towards her. A genuine smile touched his lips, small but undeniably present, softening the usual harsh lines around his mouth. Amusement danced in his crimson eyes, bright and unsettling. "You move fast when you’re spooked, Windbag," he observed, his tone deceptively mild, almost conversational. He stopped a few paces away, not crowding her, but close enough that she caught the faint scent of soap and lingering ozone clinging to his damp hair. "Almost like the wind."

Kaori stared, her heart hammering against her ribs like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. The water bottle felt slick in her hands. "H-How did you…?" she stammered, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the sheer impossibility of him appearing here, in this forgotten corridor.

"Shortcut," he shrugged, his gaze never leaving hers. That small, genuine smile hadn’t faded. It was unnerving, seeing amusement that wasn't sharp-edged mockery. He nodded towards the bottle she was crushing against her chest. "You gonna drink that? Or just use it as a shield?" He took another deliberate step closer, closing the distance fractionally. "Still worried about gravitational collapse?" The reference to her neutron star comment was deliberate, his voice dropping into a low, probing murmur that vibrated in the confined space.

His proximity, the quiet intensity, that smile – it short-circuited her defenses. The usual bubbly deflection died on her tongue. Panic flared again, hot and bright. She fumbled with the bottle cap, her fingers clumsy. "I… uh… yes! Hydration! Critical!" The cap popped off with a hiss, spraying a tiny arc of water onto the floor between them. She took a hasty, gulping swig, the cool liquid doing nothing to douse the fire in her cheeks. She avoided his eyes, focusing intensely on the grout lines in the floor tiles. "See? Drinking. Very responsible." Her voice sounded strangled.

Bakugo watched her performative hydration, the amusement in his eyes deepening into something warmer, more intrigued. He didn’t call her out on the obvious evasion. Instead, he leaned a shoulder against the wall beside her, mirroring her posture but radiating a lazy confidence she utterly lacked. The fluorescent light above flickered, casting shifting shadows across his sharp features. The hum of the electrical panels seemed louder suddenly, filling the charged silence.

"You know," he began, his voice still low, almost thoughtful, "for someone who spends half her time patching up idiots who get too close to explosions…" He paused, letting the implication hang – her own proximity to his explosions, literal and metaphorical. "...you sure get jumpy when someone gets in your space." His gaze, when she finally dared flick hers up to meet it, was steady, perceptive. "What’s that about, Kono?" It wasn't a sneer. It wasn't a demand. It was a question, genuinely curious, cutting through the awkwardness and landing with unexpected weight. Kaori felt the wall behind her back, solid and real, the only thing stopping her from bolting again as his quiet question hung suspended between them, demanding a truth she wasn’t ready to give.

Kaori felt the wall behind her back, solid and real, the only thing stopping her from bolting again as his quiet question hung suspended between them, demanding a truth she wasn’t ready to give. The hum of the electrical panels vibrated through the cinderblock, syncing with the frantic thrum of her pulse. Bakugo’s proximity was a physical force, his unexpected stillness more unnerving than his usual aggression. That genuine flicker of curiosity in his crimson eyes pinned her tighter than any explosive blast ever had.

"Jumpy?" she echoed, the word rasping out. She forced a tremulous smile, desperate to rebuild the crumbling wall of cheerful deflection. "Who, me? Nah! Just… efficient reflexes! Gotta stay sharp, right? Hero stuff!" She gestured vaguely with the water bottle again, the plastic crackling in her grip. "Always scanning! Potential threats! You know how it is!"

Bakugo didn’t blink. "Threats," he repeated flatly, the amusement fading back into intense scrutiny. He pushed off the wall, taking half a step closer. The scent of ozone and clean sweat intensified. His gaze swept her face, lingering on the hectic flush still staining her neck and cheeks. "You healed Kirishima after he took a building facade to the ribs without blinking. Patched up Deku’s shattered arm last week while he bawled like a baby." He leaned in, his voice dropping, low and deliberate. "But this—me standing here, asking a damn question—that makes you look like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Why?"

The hum of the electrical panels vibrated through the cinderblock, syncing with the frantic thrum of Kaori's pulse. Bakugo’s proximity was a physical force, his unexpected stillness more unnerving than his usual aggression. That genuine flicker of curiosity in his crimson eyes pinned her tighter than any explosive blast ever had.

Kaori felt the cool wall bite into her shoulder blades. Her knuckles whitened on the bottle. "It's... it's different," she stammered, the words tasting like ash. Her usual bright energy felt brittle, false. "That's... my Quirk. Healing. It's automatic. Doesn't... feel like me getting close."

"Automatic," Bakugo echoed, his voice dangerously quiet. He tilted his head. "So when I pinned you earlier. When you started babbling about neutron density and my apparent resemblance to construction materials... that felt like you getting close?" His red eyes held hers, unblinking, stripping away the last shreds of her flimsy excuses. "That’s what scared you."

The accusation landed like a physical blow. Scared. The word echoed in the sudden silence, louder than the electrical hum. He wasn't mocking her cosmic comparisons anymore; he was dissecting the raw nerve beneath them. The flimsy shield of 'reflexes' and 'threats' shattered.

"Not scared!" The denial ripped out of her, too loud, too sharp. A ripple of air stirred the damp strands of hair plastered to her temples. Her cheeks flamed anew. "Just... unprepared! You surprised me! That's all!" She clung to the lie, desperation making her voice thin.

Bakugo’s expression didn't change. No smirk, no scowl. Just that unnerving, focused intensity. "Surprised you." He let the words hang, heavy and unconvinced. He took the final step, closing the gap completely. Now he was crowding her, his body heat radiating against her, the faint ozone tang sharp in her nostrils. He didn't touch her, but his presence was a cage. "Like this surprises you?"

Kaori sucked in a breath. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The air crackled faintly around her, a barely controlled swirl responding to her panic. She couldn't look away from his eyes. "Bakugo..."

"No." His voice was a low rasp, cutting through the static in her head. "Stop deflecting with protein shakes and sunspots. Why does this," he gestured minutely at the scant inches between them, "make you come undone?" He leaned in fractionally. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back up, a deliberate, unsettling movement. "Why does this make you blush like you stuck your head in an oven?"

The directness was brutal. Terrifying. Exciting. He always saw the cracks. He was prying them open. The truth, the ridiculous, terrifying truth about the confusing heat in her chest whenever he was near pushed against the back of her teeth.

Her green eyes, wide and vulnerable, locked onto his. The playful spark was gone, replaced by something raw and shimmering. The frantic wind died instantly, leaving the corridor unnaturally still. Her voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper, stripped bare. "Because... it feels dangerous."

Bakugo froze. The intense focus in his eyes flickered, replaced by pure, unadulterated surprise. His head tilted back just a fraction, the line of his jaw tightening. "Dangerous?" The word came out rough, almost disbelieving. Not mocking. Not angry. Genuinely startled.

Kaori swallowed hard. The admission hung in the air, fragile and exposed. "Not... not like villains," she clarified, her voice gaining a sliver of desperate strength. "Not like explosions." Her gaze flickered away for a split second, a spark passing through her eyes too fast to name. "Just... proximity." She met his stare again, the vulnerability naked now. "Like playing with fire in a windstorm.”