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“Bakugou, Bakugou, Bakugou.”
Neito barely manages to stifle his snicker in time when Bakugou whips around, gaze wildly raking the shadowy path for any sign of him, but he’d swiped Kuroiro’s Quirk on the way out of the dorm. It’s clear that Bakugou wants to use his Quirk—but after that stunt he pulled with dear Midoriya?
There’s only a few pathetic sparks dancing on his palms, nowhere near enough to force Neito out of the shadows, and he allows himself a silent chuckle before he slips into Bakugou’s shadow.
“You called us cannon fodder,” Neito whispers directly into Bakugou’s ear. “Stepping stones, even. It must rankle at you to know that so many other extras received their hero license when you didn’t.”
“Hah? You think I’m worse than some snivelling coward threatening me from the shadows?” Bakugou snarls. Neito would’ve believed him if he hadn’t seen Bakugou’s hands curl into fists. “Stop hiding and say that shit to my face, you goddamn extra!”
“What, and acknowledge you as my equal?”
Bakugou growls at that, palms momentarily flaring with larger explosions, but Neito only lets a peal of laughter slip from the shadows. “Hilarious, isn’t it?” he giggles from the tree he’s shifted to. “First place in UA’s prestigious entrance exam, unable to obtain even a provisional license.
“So how does it feel to be one of us, Bakugou?” Neito asks. “How does it feel to be a failure?”
“I’m not a failure, fuck you!”
Methinks the lady doth protest too much, Neito thinks as brighter sparks flare from Bakugou’s palms, and lets his mouth twist into a thin, humourless smile.
Even now, with so many failures to his name—second in the Sports Festival, captured in the training camp, disliked across their entire school—Bakugou’s battle stance screams of self-confidence. Even though he must know fighting on school grounds would result in possible expulsion, his Quirk is getting all too audible now.
“Stop pussyfooting around and face me, coward!” Bakugou howls—but there’s more than animal rage in his now-dilated pupils.
And in the face of that…
It’s easy to slip back into his room, emerging into the light in time for Kuroiro’s Quirk to dissipate from his system. Bakugou will doubtless realize his departure in due time—but what can he do to Neito?
He wouldn’t know my face from a hole in the ground, Neito thinks as he reclines back on his bed, let alone my name or voice.
“Oi, you,” someone says behind Neito. “You’re the coward from yesterday.”
“What the hell has Monoma gone and done now?” Awase grumbles opposite him, but Neito continues to nibble on his bread. It’s not as though Bakugou’s talking directly to him—he can’t be, not when he barely notices 1-B’s existence.
But there’s a hand clenching down on his shoulder and a rough voice snarling, “I said, you’re the coward from yesterday—aren’t you.”
Neito’s almost certain Bakugou tried to pose a question, but his inflection suggests a demand instead. What else would you expect from a self-entitled asshole, though? Neito asks himself as he nudges at Bakugou’s hand—but it doesn’t budge.
Which is a pity, because Neito hadn’t counted on a trigger-happy caveman disturbing his lunch, but it’s not as though the entire situation is unsalvageable.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Neito says to his spoon. “Don’t get me wrong, it looks like it’d be both easy and entertaining to goad you into calling me a coward, but—”
“You’re just as yappy as Deku, I swear to god,” Bakugou interjects—which, rude. “You gonna just sit there and yak all day, or are you gonna look at me?”
“Why should I? Your face will only ruin my appetite.”
“Ain’t that the honest truth,” Neito thinks he hears Awase mutter under his breath—
But the hand on his shoulder’s yanking him to his feet and Neito only has a moment to gasp before he’s being dragged out of his chair and towards the cafeteria’s exit.
“Bakugou!” a strident voice yells, but they’re moving too fast for Neito to pinpoint who it is. He sees faces blur by, flashes of curiosity or confusion as gazes meet his and slide away, but then there’s only empty corridors and Bakugou’s loud footsteps.
“I can walk, you know,” Neito protests, struggling to break out of Bakugou’s grip now that it’s clear nobody else is going to stop him, but Bakugou only clicks his tongue and walks faster.
And it’s not until they’re outside and halfway down a familiar path before Bakugou lets him go.
“Look at me,” Bakugou growls, Quirk flaring up with soft crackle-pops that flash from between his fingers—but Neito turns his back to him with a roll of his eyes.
“Are you deaf as well as feral? I still have half my lunch to consume, dear Bakugou,” Neito sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets and sauntering back down the path.
He only manages two steps before Bakugou almost strangles him with his tie.
“I’m not a failure,” Bakugou snarls from barely an inch away, spice-laden breath fanning across Neito’s face, “and I know what I fucking heard last night, extra—”
“Monoma, please.”
“—Monoma, liar, coward,” Bakugou scoffs. “Doesn’t fucking matter.
“Point is that I’m onto you and your bullshit, so you’d better watch yourself.” Neito makes a show of yawning as Bakugou holds a hand beside his face, palms crackling with hot-sharp explosions—but then he splutters as Bakugou roughly thrusts him away.
“Pull that shit again,” Bakugou snaps as he stomps back to the school, “and I’ll blow your face in.”
Neito laughs, watches Bakugou’s shoulders hunch further at the clear mockery in his voice—
But when he’s alone on the path, with nothing but a crumpled tie and a faint ache in his shoulder to remind him of their encounter, Neito lets his lips curve into a smirk before he whispers, “I’ll be counting on it, Katsuki.”