𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐍𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 ᵇⁿʰᵃ

08 ┃ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

━ ⭒─⭑━

The pre-dawn sky bled a pale orange over the ragged silhouettes of trees in the abandoned park.  A cool mist clung to the ground, swirling around your feet as you finished a series of stretches.

Opposite you stood Bakugo, his explosive blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.  His ragged breaths echoed in the stillness, punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of his heart.

The previous hour had been relentless.  You'd pushed him through a gauntlet of sprints through the woods, dodging fallen logs and leaping over rocky outcrops.

Now, you were sparring, your movements a blur as you danced around his explosive attacks.

A well-placed side-step brought you behind him, and you delivered a sharp kick to his back, sending him staggering forward.  He stumbled, catching himself on a groan-worthy grunt.  You stood tall, arms crossed, a critical look on your face.

"Faster than last week," you conceded, your voice devoid of praise.  "But it's not enough."  You crouched low, reaching up to brush a few damp strands of hair from his forehead.

Bakugo, leaned into your touch reflexively, exhaustion momentarily eclipsing his usual defiance. He grunted in response, a single, guttural sound that spoke volumes of his determination.

The start of a long summer of grueling training had begun—another step on the path you'd meticulously crafted for him.  He was your pawn, yes, but a powerful one nonetheless.

You smirked, the feeling hidden beneath your neutral expression.  This relentless drive, this insatiable hunger for power—you had nurtured it, fueled it.  He may have thought he was training to become a hero, but you were shaping him into something far more... valuable.

And when the game truly began, you'd be the one pulling the strings.

You rose, pulling back your hand.  "Push harder," you murmured, your voice soft but laced with an underlying challenge.  "The entrance exam won't wait for you to catch your breath."

A spark ignited in Bakugo's red eyes, mirroring the glint of ambition in your own.  He straightened, his stance unwavering despite his fatigue.  "I don't need your pity," he snarled, his voice hoarse but firm.

You chuckled, a low, chilling sound.  "Pity? This," you gestured around at the desolate landscape bathed in the faint light of dawn, "is opportunity. Seize it.  Show them all what you're truly capable of."

The fiery spirit you'd helped cultivate flickered back to life in his eyes.  Though his body screamed for rest, his pride wouldn't allow him to yield.  "I said. I don't need your pity," he snarled, his voice hoarse but firm.  A vein pulsed in his temple, a testament to his simmering frustration and unwavering resolve.

You weren't surprised by his defiance.  In fact, it fueled your hidden agenda.  A sly smile played on your lips, hidden beneath your neutral expression.  "Suit yourself," you said, your voice flat.  "But remember, U.A. won't accept weakness."

With that, you allowed him a few precious seconds of reprieve, letting him savor the fleeting comfort of lying sprawled on the cool grass.  Just as he started to sink into a semblance of rest, you clapped your hands once, the sharp sound echoing through the silent woods.  "Alright, that's enough rest," you declared, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Before he could protest, you sprang forward with surprising agility and landed crouched on his back.  The sudden weight jolted him, and a surprised grunt escaped his lips.  He twisted his head to glare at you, but you simply grinned, your eyes gleaming with an almost predatory glint.