Chapter 7: The Reckoning
The mall’s polished floors reflected the harsh overhead lights, a dizzying kaleidoscope of shoppers and storefronts. The air buzzed with chatter, piped-in pop music, and the cloying sweetness of cinnamon buns from a nearby kiosk. Kaori navigated the crowd, her usual bright smile feeling brittle, a thin veneer over the unease that had settled since the rooftop. She’d been trying to lose herself in the mundane – browsing hero merch, eyeing a new training jacket – anything to push back the raw vulnerability Bakugo had glimpsed.
Turning down a quieter corridor lined with shuttered storefronts, the ambient noise faded slightly. Relief washed over her. A moment of peace. Then, a familiar, grating laugh sliced through the relative quiet.
"Well, well. Look who’s slumming it."
Kaori froze. Three figures detached themselves from the deeper shadows near a service door. Her adoptive siblings: Hiroshi, lean and smirking; Aiko, her eyes sharp with malice; and Kenji, bulky and looming. Their expensive clothes looked jarringly out of place against the grimy service entrance.
"Thought we smelled desperation," Aiko sneered, stepping forward. "Or is that just cheap perfume?"
Kaori forced her spine straight, summoning the ghost of her usual cheer. "Hiroshi. Aiko. Kenji. Didn't expect to see you here." Her voice sounded too loud in the sudden silence of the corridor.
"Clearly," Hiroshi drawled, closing the distance. "Still playing hero, Kaori? Still pretending you belong?" He shoved her shoulder, hard. Her back slammed against the cold tile wall, knocking the breath from her lungs. "Pathetic."
Kenji chuckled, a low, unpleasant rumble. "Always was. Remember how she’d cry? Like a kicked puppy."
Aiko crowded in, pinning Kaori with her gaze. "Remember the needles, Kaori? Little reminders not to touch things that weren’t hers?" Her hand shot out, mimicking the sharp jab. Kaori flinched violently, a full-body recoil that scraped her shoulders against the tile. Her breath hitched.
"Or the rulers?" Kenji added, his voice dropping to a mock whisper. "Smack! Right across the palms. For talking back." He mimed the swing. Kaori squeezed her eyes shut, her hands instinctively curling into fists at her sides, palms tingling with phantom pain. A choked sound escaped her throat.
Hiroshi leaned in, his breath hot on her face. "Good times. Kept you in line. Made you useful. Unlike now. Playing hero? You’re still just the unwanted charity case."
Their mocking laughter echoed, sharp and cruel in the confined space, bouncing off the tiles. Kaori felt the familiar icy dread seep into her bones, threatening to freeze her solid. The vibrant mall outside felt galaxies away.
Then, a different sound cut through the laughter. A low, dangerous crackle. Like static building before a lightning strike.
"Oi."
The voice was flat. Deadly calm. It sliced through the siblings' jeering like a blade.
They spun around. Bakugo stood at the entrance to the corridor, silhouetted against the brighter mall lights. His posture was rigid, shoulders hunched, hands clenched at his sides. Tiny, furious sparks danced and popped across his knuckles, casting flickering orange light on his face. His crimson eyes burned, fixed on Hiroshi’s hand still planted near Kaori’s shoulder.
"You," Bakugo growled, the single word vibrating with barely contained fury. He took a step forward, deliberate, menacing. The air around him seemed to warp with heat. "Get your fucking hands off her."
Hiroshi recoiled slightly, surprise flashing across his face before settling into arrogant disdain. "Who the hell are you? Her new babysitter?"
Bakugo ignored him. His gaze locked onto Kaori, pinned against the wall, her face pale, eyes wide with a terror he recognized instantly – the same flinch, the same freeze from the training ground, magnified a hundredfold. Seeing it here, provoked by these smug bastards… it ignited something primal.
He took another step. The crackling intensified. "You’ve got five seconds," Bakugo snarled, his voice dropping to a guttural rasp that promised violence. "To leave. Before I make you regret ever knowing her."
Kenji puffed out his chest, stepping forward. "You threatening us, punk? You don't know who you're messing—"
"Four," Bakugo cut him off, sparks flaring brighter. His focus didn't waver from Hiroshi. The sheer, focused intensity radiating from him was terrifying. Aiko grabbed Kenji’s arm, her eyes wide with sudden alarm.
Hiroshi tried to sneer, but it faltered. "She’s nothing! Just some broken—"
"Three." Bakugo’s palms ignited fully, twin suns blazing in his hands. The heat washed down the corridor. Kaori gasped, shrinking back. The siblings finally registered the genuine, unhinged danger.
"Fine! Freak!" Hiroshi spat, shoving away from Kaori. "She’s not worth it. Come on." They scrambled backwards, casting fearful glances at Bakugo’s ignited palms. Their mocking bravado evaporated, replaced by panicked haste. They vanished around the corner into the bustling mall, their hurried footsteps fading quickly.
The crackling explosions died instantly. The oppressive heat dissipated, replaced by the mall’s cool, conditioned air. Bakugo lowered his hands, smoke curling faintly from his palms. He didn't move towards Kaori immediately. He just stood there, breathing hard, staring at the spot where Hiroshi had been. The fury in his eyes hadn't dimmed; it had merely banked, smoldering dangerously.
Kaori slid down the wall, her legs giving out. She landed hard on the cold floor, drawing her knees up tight against her chest. She was trembling violently, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She pressed her forehead against her knees, trying to disappear.
Bakugo finally turned. He walked towards her, his steps heavy on the tile. He stopped a few feet away, looking down at her crumpled form. The silence stretched, thick with the echoes of cruelty and the lingering scent of ozone.
"Needles?" Bakugo’s voice was rough, scraped raw. He wasn't asking about the mall. He was asking about the past Hiroshi had thrown in her face. The past that explained the flinch, the freeze.
Kaori didn’t lift her head. Her voice, when it came, was muffled, thin as paper. "For… touching things. Things they said weren’t mine." A shudder ran through her. "Rulers… for talking. For… existing wrong."
Bakugo’s jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped. He remembered her palms, small and capable, healing scrapes, soothing burns. The idea of them bruised, welted… He took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing down the fresh surge of rage. "Those bastards…"
Kaori finally lifted her head. Her green eyes were huge, haunted, shimmering with unshed tears. Her cheeks were wet. She offered a tiny, broken shrug that was infinitely worse than any sob. "It was… child’s play," she whispered, the words catching. "Compared to… what came before. With… them." She didn't need to say 'parents'. The raw terror in her eyes said it all.
The admission hung in the air, heavier than the mall’s artificial atmosphere. Child’s play. The casual cruelty of needles and rulers was just the milder torment. Bakugo stared at her, the vibrant, infuriatingly cheerful girl who healed everyone, who trusted him, crumpled on the floor revealing a depth of darkness he couldn't fathom. His usual arsenal of insults, dismissals, explosions… felt utterly useless. Profane.
He didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to say. The sheer wrongness of it, the violation etched into her flinches and whispered confessions, choked him. He took a half-step towards her, then stopped, fists clenching uselessly at his sides. The corridor felt suddenly claustrophobic, the distant mall sounds a mocking backdrop to the devastation before him.
A familiar voice echoed from the mall entrance. "Bakugo? Kaori? You guys okay? Thought I heard—" Kirishima appeared, his sharp-toothed grin fading instantly as he took in the scene: Kaori huddled on the floor, tear-streaked and trembling, Bakugo looming over her, his expression a terrifying mix of fury and helplessness, the air still crackling with residual tension. Kirishima’s eyes widened. "Whoa. What happened?"
Bakugo didn't turn. He kept his gaze locked on Kaori, the smoldering embers in his crimson eyes reflecting the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by Kaori’s ragged breathing and the distant, oblivious hum of the mall. The question hung unanswered, heavy with the weight of needles, rulers, and things far, far worse.
Kirishima’s sharp intake of breath cut the heavy silence. "Shit," he muttered, his usual easygoing demeanor vanished, replaced by shock. His red eyes darted between Kaori’s crumpled form and Bakugo’s rigid, smoke-tinged silhouette. "What the hell did they do?"
Bakugo didn’t answer Kirishima. He kept his burning gaze fixed on Kaori, the image of her adoptive siblings' cruel smirks and her flinch replaying in his mind like a broken film reel. Needles. Rulers. Worse. His palms sparked once, a visceral reaction before he clenched them tight, knuckles white. The fury was a live wire under his skin, but seeing her trembling on the dirty mall floor, eyes drowned in remembered terror, doused it in something colder, more unfamiliar.
Kaori pressed her forehead harder against her knees, a choked sob escaping. Her shoulders hitched violently. "S'okay," she whispered, the lie paper-thin and brittle against the tile. "They're gone now."
"Okay?" Bakugo’s voice was dangerously low, gravel scraping concrete. It wasn't a question. It was disbelief wrapped in simmering rage. "Like hell it is." He took a single, decisive step forward, closing the distance Kirishima hadn't dared to breach. He crouched down abruptly, putting them nearly eye-to-eye on the cold floor. He didn't touch her, not yet. The proximity alone was startling.
Kaori flinched again, a tiny recoil she tried to stifle, shrinking further into herself. Bakugo saw it – the ingrained reflex, the body remembering punishment. It made something inside him twist painfully. "Look at me," he demanded, his tone rough but lacking its usual bite. It was almost… careful. An unfamiliar cadence.
Slowly, hesitantly, Kaori lifted her head. Tears tracked clean lines through the faint dust on her cheeks. Her green eyes, usually bright as spring leaves, were wide and shadowed, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. The vulnerability he’d only glimpsed on the rooftop was laid bare now, raw and terrifying. She looked impossibly young.
Bakugo held her gaze, his crimson eyes intense, searching. He didn't offer empty comfort. Didn't ask for details she couldn't give. He just looked. Saw the aftermath. Saw the trust she’d offered him earlier, now tangled with this fresh horror. His jaw worked. "You're not there," he stated, the words blunt but carrying a strange weight. "Not anymore. Got it?"
Kaori blinked, a fresh tear spilling over. She gave a tiny, jerky nod. "Got it."
Bakugo exhaled sharply, a puff of air that sounded suspiciously like relief. Then, with a surprising lack of hesitation, he reached out. Not a gentle hand, but a firm grip on her upper arm. "Get up," he grunted, already pulling. His touch was steady, grounding against her tremors. "Off the damn floor."
Kaori stumbled slightly as he hauled her upright, her legs unsteady. She swayed, and before she could fall, Bakugo’s other arm shot out. Not holding her hand. Not patting her back. He slung his arm heavily over her shoulders, pulling her firmly against his side in a rough, protective bracket. His palm rested awkwardly on the sleeve of her jacket, his grip tight, almost possessive.
Kirishima stared, jaw slack. The sight of Bakugo touching someone like that, offering physical support, was more shocking than any explosion. "Uh… Bakubro? You good?"
Bakugo ignored him completely. He kept his arm locked around Kaori’s shoulders, turning her bodily away from the shadowed corridor, away from the ghosts that had ambushed her there. He started walking, forcing her to move with him, back towards the bright chaos and noise of the main mall concourse. The scent of cinnamon buns and coffee replaced the stale corridor air.
"Where we going?" Kaori’s voice was small, muffled against his shoulder. She didn’t resist the pressure guiding her forward, leaning into the unexpected solidity.
"Back," Bakugo snapped, his gaze fixed straight ahead, scanning the crowds. His usual scowl was firmly in place, a familiar armor. "Shopping. That stupid, pointless shopping the others are wasting time on." He gave her a slight, impatient shake, his arm still firmly around her. "You wanted distraction, right? Fine. We're getting distracted. Loudly."
He steered her past Kirishima, who quickly fell into step beside them, radiating bewildered concern. "Right! Shopping! Awesome! Hey, I saw a place selling limited-edition Crimson Riot hoodies…"
"Shut up, Shitty Hair," Bakugo growled, but there was no real heat in it. He kept moving, propelling Kaori forward, his arm a solid, unyielding presence over her shoulders. The wind stirred her white hair, lifting strands around her face as they merged back into the river of shoppers. Music blared from a nearby store. Laughter echoed. The mundane world rushed back in.
Kaori took a shaky breath, the scent of coffee and Bakugo’s faint ozone cutting through the lingering panic. She leaned a fraction more into his side, her trembling slowly subsiding beneath the weight of his arm. He didn't look down at her. Just kept walking, a gruff, spiky-haired anchor in the swirling crowd, steering her deliberately towards the noise, the light, the sheer, ridiculous normalcy of a Saturday afternoon.
"Better not be boring," he muttered, almost to himself, but the roughness couldn't hide the underlying command: Focus here. Now. With me. His arm tightened infinitesimally. "Or I’m blowing something up."
The scent of cinnamon buns grew stronger as Bakugo steered Kaori firmly through the throngs of shoppers, Kirishima trailing close behind, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd protectively. Bakugo’s arm remained a heavy, unyielding band across Kaori’s shoulders, anchoring her firmly against his side. He didn’t slow his pace, propelling them towards the central atrium where the chaotic symphony of the mall – laughter, chatter, tinny pop music, and the clatter of trays – reached its peak.
"Whoa, guys! There you are!" Mina Ashido’s bright pink hair bounced as she waved frantically from near a fountain spraying iridescent mist. Kaminari leaned against a railing nearby, fiddling with his phone, while Sero and Jirou browsed a kiosk overloaded with novelty phone cases. Mina’s grin faltered slightly as she took in Kaori’s pale face, the faint tracks on her cheeks, and Bakugo’s unusually grim expression contrasted by his possessive grip. "Everything cool?"
Kirishima stepped forward, his voice low but carrying easily over the noise. "Ran into some jerks. Bakugo handled it." He shot Bakugo a look filled with fierce approval. "Handled it spectacularly."
Bakugo just grunted, his gaze sweeping the area, still hyper-vigilant. His arm tightened almost imperceptibly around Kaori’s shoulders as Mina rushed forward. "Kaori! You okay?" Mina’s concern was genuine, her hands fluttering slightly as if wanting to hug her but hesitant because of Bakugo’s unmoving arm.
Kaori took a deep, deliberate breath, the familiar cacophony of her friends washing over her. She forced a smile onto her face, wider than before, reaching up to quickly wipe her cheeks with the back of her free hand. "Totally fine!" Her voice, though slightly raspy at first, quickly regained its usual buoyancy. "Just… bumped into some unpleasant people from way back. Katsuki scared them off like the amazing hero he is!" She beamed up at Bakugo, her green eyes sparkling with forced brightness and genuine gratitude.
Bakugo scowled fiercely down at her. "Don't call me that, Windbag. And stop grinning like an idiot." Yet he made no move to dislodge her. His arm stayed locked around her, a silent counterpoint to his harsh words.
Kaminari whistled low, pocketing his phone. "Damn, Bakugo. Playing bodyguard? Didn't know you had it in you." He smirked. "Looks kinda cozy."
"Shut your trap, Dunce Face," Bakugo snarled, sparks popping faintly in his free hand. "Or I'll blast you into next week." The threat was routine, almost comforting in its predictability.
Sero chuckled, nudging Jirou. "See? Told you he secretly cares. In his own explodey way."
Jirou just raised an eyebrow, her earphone jacks twitching slightly as she observed Bakugo’s rigid posture and Kaori’s deliberate cheerfulness pressed against him. "Whatever. Are we hitting the hero merch store or what? I need new studio headphones."
"Yes! Merch!" Mina bounced, instantly diverted. She linked her arm through Kirishima’s. "Lead the way, Red! Kaori, come see the new Alien Queen leggings!" She gestured enthusiastically.
Kaori laughed, a genuine sound this time, bubbling up despite the lingering tremor in her limbs. "Ooh, leggings! Lead on!" She tried to step forward, but Bakugo’s arm held her fast for a split second before he grudgingly moved with her, maintaining the contact. He matched her pace as the group surged towards the escalators, a solid, spiky-haired bulwark amidst the flow.
They ascended, Kaori chattering brightly with Mina about fabric patterns, her earlier distress seemingly evaporated like mist. Bakugo remained silent beside her, his expression thunderous, his gaze constantly scanning the crowds below and above. His arm never left her shoulders. Kirishima fell into step beside him, offering a supportive nod Bakugo pointedly ignored.
At the top, Kaminari pretended to stumble dramatically into Sero. "Whoops! Guess I'm just blown away by Bakugo's newfound cuddliness!" Sero laughed, dodging Kaminari’s flailing limbs.
Bakugo’s palm ignited with a sharp crack-pop, making nearby shoppers jump. "I WILL END YOU!" he roared, the heat washing over Kaori’s side. Yet, incredibly, his arm stayed firmly around her, pulling her slightly closer as if shielding her from his own outburst. Kaori just giggled, leaning into the warmth and the absurdity.
Kirishima grinned, sharp teeth flashing. "See? Told you he’s manly as hell." He winked at Kaori, who smiled back, a real warmth touching her eyes now. Bakugo growled, low and dangerous, but kept walking, steering Kaori firmly towards the neon glow of the hero merch store, his explosive promise hanging in the cinnamon-scented air. "Try me, Hair-for-Brains."