Chapter 6: Trust in the Wind
The UA rooftop at midnight felt like the edge of the world. Concrete stretched out, cold and vast under a sky stripped bare of stars by city glow. Only a sliver of moon offered weak illumination. The wind wasn't gentle here; it snatched at Kaori's white hair as she sat perched on the low parapet, legs dangling over the dizzying drop. Below, Tokyo pulsed – a glittering, indifferent sprawl of light and sound, the distant hum of traffic a constant bass note beneath the wind's higher whine.
Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, approached from the stairwell door. Kaori didn’t turn. She knew the rhythm. Knew the faint scent of ozone and burnt sugar that clung to him even after showers. Bakugo stopped a few feet away, leaning his back against the metal railing that bordered the safer section of the roof. His arms crossed over his chest, a silhouette carved from shadow and tension against the cityscape.
Silence stretched, filled only by the wind’s restless tugging. Kaori tilted her head back, letting the cool air wash over her face. The throbbing ache in her shoulder and ankle from their earlier spar was a dull, grounding pulse. She hadn’t healed them yet. The fatigue felt… honest.
"You’re different when it’s just us."
His voice cut through the wind’s noise, rough as gravel scraped over concrete. No accusation. Just a blunt observation, tossed into the night air like a challenge.
Kaori finally turned her head. The weak moonlight caught the planes of his face – the sharp jawline, the intense set of his crimson eyes watching her, unblinking. Her own green eyes gleamed back, reflecting the city’s distant shimmer. A small, genuine smile touched her lips, softer than her usual sunshine beam.
"Because I trust you, Bakugo." The words came out clear, carried on the wind swirling around them. Simple. Direct. Like stating the sky was dark. "More than anyone else." She giggled then, a light, breathy sound that seemed to startle the night. "Isn't that obvious?"
The wind snatched the laugh away, but the words hung, heavy and undeniable, in the space between them. Bakugo didn’t flinch, didn’t scoff immediately. His gaze remained locked on hers, intense, searching. The casualness of her admission, the sheer weight of it delivered with a giggle, was its own kind of detonation. Trust. More than anyone. Words he rarely heard, words he certainly never inspired.
He shifted his weight against the railing, the metal creaking faintly. "Tch. Obvious?" His voice was low, grinding the word. "You barely know me, Wind Girl. Trust is stupid." The old dismissal, but it lacked its usual heat. It sounded… rote. Habitual armor clanking into place.
Kaori swung her legs gently, her boots scraping the rough concrete edge. "Do I?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes serious. "You saw it, didn't you? The flinch. The freeze." She didn't elaborate on it. He knew. The classroom bomb. The sparring ring hesitation. The ghosts he’d named. "You didn't look away. You didn't pretend it wasn't happening. You shoved it right back in my face." She chuckled again, a dry sound this time. "Literally."
Bakugo’s jaw tightened. He looked away, out over the city lights, his profile stark against the glow. "Wasn't doing it for you," he muttered. "Weak opponents piss me off. Waste of my time."
"Sure," Kaori agreed easily, her smile returning, warmer now. "Totally selfless." She watched him, the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his fingers dug slightly into his own biceps. "But you stopped. When you had me pinned. You didn't…" She trailed off, the unspoken 'hurt me further' hanging in the wind.
He didn't answer. The silence stretched again, thicker now. Charged. The wind whipped around them, colder, insistent, wrapping Kaori’s hair around her face like pale streamers. It felt alive, responsive to the tension crackling on the rooftop. A promise? A warning? She wasn't sure.
Slowly, Bakugo pushed off the railing. He didn't move towards her, just stood straighter, his gaze sliding back to her face. His expression was unreadable in the dimness, but the intensity hadn't dimmed. "Trust is a liability," he stated, the words clipped. "Especially for heroes. Makes you hesitate. Gets people killed." He was echoing lessons drilled into them, but it sounded hollow, recited.
Kaori tilted her head. "Does it?" She lifted her hand, palm up. A tiny, controlled vortex spun above it, catching the faint light, a miniature storm contained. "Or does it mean you know someone has your back? Really know it? So you don't have to hesitate?" She let the vortex dissipate. "You fight like you trust no one. Like you can't trust anyone. Isn't that exhausting?"
Bakugo stiffened. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Her words, spoken with that unnerving calm insight, hit a nerve he usually kept shielded behind layers of fury. "Shut up," he growled, but it lacked conviction. It sounded defensive. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Maybe not," Kaori conceded softly. She swung her legs back onto the roof and stood up, facing him fully. The wind billowed her training jacket. She took a single step closer, stopping just outside his usual blast radius. Close enough to see the faint smudge of ash still on his cheekbone from their fight. Close enough to see the flicker of something raw and uncomfortable in his crimson eyes. Vulnerability? Recognition? "But I know what it feels like to finally stop pretending. Even just for a moment. Like on the training ground." She held his gaze. "That wasn't weak, Bakugo. That was… real."
He stared back, his breathing slightly audible now over the wind. The city lights reflected in his eyes like tiny, trapped fires. The air hummed with unsaid things – the weight of her trust, the echo of his own isolation, the sheer, terrifying honesty of the moment. He looked away first, a sharp jerk of his head towards the stairwell door.
"Real is messy," he snapped, turning to leave. But he paused, his back to her, shoulders rigid. "And don't sit on the damn ledge like an idiot. One gust and you're street pizza." The gruffness was back, the familiar armor slamming down. But the warning, crude as it was, held an edge of something else. Concern? Responsibility? He didn't wait for a reply. He stalked towards the door, the heavy metal clanging shut behind him with finality.
Kaori stood alone on the vast, windy rooftop. The spot where Bakugo had leaned against the railing felt abruptly empty. She touched her own sternum, remembering the heat of his palm, the terrifying proximity of his power held perfectly still. Trust. Liability. Real. The words swirled in her head, carried by the relentless wind. She looked down at the dizzying cityscape, then deliberately stepped back from the edge. A small, private smile touched her lips, fiercer than before. Messy. Real. Hers. The wind tugged at her hair, whispering secrets only it understood, as the city lights blinked indifferently below.