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winxanity-ii · 4 months

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 20 Chapter 20 | burning declarations⌟

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The competitive fire ignited by Vlad King's announcement about the Sports Festival still blazed bright within Class 1-B the next day.

The clock ticked painfully slow as the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the classroom windows. The air buzzed with conversations laced with an extra dose of nervous excitement. The Sports Festival loomed large in everyone's minds—a chance to prove themselves on the national stage.

You, however, remained silent, observing this spectacle with a detached amusement. Seeing how excited they were for the competition was almost... endearing.

Almost.

Half an hour before the final bell, Vlad King grunted in dismissal, his usual stoic expression etched with weariness. "Alright, that's it for today. Enjoy your evenings, but remember, the festival is just around the corner. Train hard, hone your quirks, and don't let me down."

The moment the door shut behind him, a collective sigh of relief rippled through the room. Laughter and lighthearted chatter replaced the studious silence of moments ago.

You then rose from your chair, catching a few eyes. "I believe I have to use the restroom room. I'll be back shortly." Before anyone could respond, you exited the classroom.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Monoma slammed his fists against his desk with a resounding crack, commanding the attention of his classmates. The playful chatter died down, replaced by a curious murmur as all eyes turned towards him.

A triumphant grin stretched across Monoma's face. He reveled in the spotlight, his voice booming through the classroom. "Alright, everyone, gather around! Now that our precious President has finally graced us with her absence," he shot a pointed glance towards the empty doorway, "it's time we get down to business!"

"Those smug, self-proclaimed heroes-in-training from Class 1-A," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain, "might think they're hot stuff, basking in the limelight! But let me tell you something," he continued, his voice rising in fervor, "the upcoming Sports Festival is our chance to shove it right back in their faces!"

He paced dramatically in front of the class, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Oh, those 'poor souls' burdened with their enriched hero training and their oh-so-impressive quirks! Don't worry, Class 1-B is here to save the day! We'll show them what real talent looks like, what sheer determination can accomplish!"

Monoma slammed his fist against his desk once more, the sudden bang momentarily silencing the room. "But let's get real here," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Half of those stuck-up heroes-in-training in Class 1-A probably coasted their way in on their parents' coattails. Think about it! Todoroki, the son of the number-two hero Endeavor! Yaoyorozu, heiress to a giant tech company, too!"

A wave of murmurs rippled through the class. Kendo shot Monoma a warning look, but a flicker of truth in his words ignited a spark of resentment in some of the students. This wasn't just about proving their talent; it was about proving their worth on a level playing field.

Monoma, sensing the shift in momentum, pressed on. "And where were these so-called heroes when Akuma-san needed them most? Huh?" He jabbed a finger towards the empty doorway, his voice tinged with genuine anger. "Our precious class president, left all alone to face those villains at the USJ! Where was Class 1-A then? Too busy basking in the glory of their fancy teachers to lend a helping hand?"

A collective gasp filled the room. The memory of the USJ attack, still fresh in everyone's minds, was a raw nerve. Monoma's words, laced with a twisted sense of protectiveness, struck a chord.

"They need to be shown what it means to be a true hero, not some pampered product of nepotism!" His voice boomed through the classroom, his eyes flashing with a fiery determination. "We're going to Class 1-A. We're going to show them what happens when you mess with one of us!"

A stunned silence followed Monoma's declaration. Then, as if a dam had broken, the class erupted in a cacophony of shouts and angry yells. The embers of competitive spirit fanned by Monoma had now morphed into a bonfire of righteous fury (fueled by a healthy dose of manipulation, of course).

"Yeah! Akuma-san could have died!"

"Those cowards! We should have been the ones there to protect her!"

"Those lazy bums don't deserve what they got!"

"We'll show them what Class 1-B is made of!"

You, the unwitting catalyst for this sudden outburst, emerged from the restroom completely oblivious.

As you walked down the hallway, a commotion erupted from down the hall suddenly caught your attention. A knot of students clustered around a single doorway. You considered brushing it off, returning to your own classroom, but two things stopped you in your tracks.

The first was the sight of your classmates and many others, surrounding the doorway of Class 1-A. The second was the unmistakable sound of Shinso's voice, his usual montoness laced with an edge of unexpected aggression.

What were they all doing there?

A slow smile spread across your face, hidden beneath a mask of nonchalance. This unexpected turn of events was far more intriguing than you had anticipated.

With a casual gait that belied your growing interest, you approached the crowd, drawn in by the unfolding drama like a moth to a flame. You positioned yourself at the edge of the throng, a silent observer to the unfolding spectacle.

Shinso's tall, lanky figure and tired purple eyes dominated the scene, his voice cutting through the cacophony. "I came to see what the famous Class A was like," he drawled, his monotone delivery a stark contrast to the commotion he'd caused, "but you seem pretty arrogant. Are all the students in the hero course like this?"

Before anyone could respond, a familiar explosion erupted from the crowd. Bakugo, ever the embodiment of explosive anger, bristled with fury. "Huh?!" he roared, his voice tinged with disbelief.

A wave of unease washed over Class 1-A. Shinso's casual dismissal of them, punctuated by Bakugo's simmering anger, felt like a pot about to boil over.

Undeterred by the hostile reception, Shinso continued to push his point, his eyes never leaving the bewildered faces of Class 1-A. "Seeing something like this makes me disillusioned," he declared, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment. "There are quite a few people who enrolled in general studies or other courses because they didn't make it into the hero course. Did you know that?"

Another round of confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Bakugo, however, remained silent, a scowl etched onto his face.

Shinso didn't miss the apathy. "Didn't you get the memo?" he drawled. "The school has left those of us overlooked, a chance. Depending on the results of the Sports Festival, they'll consider transfers... to the hero course." His voice dropped to a low murmur, sending shivers down several spines. "And it seems they may also transfer people out."

Midoriya let out a strangled gasp, his eyes wide with realization. The implication was clear: Class 1-A wasn't safe from being shuffled around based on their performance.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Shinso, sensing the shift in atmosphere, turned his gaze towards Bakugo, a challenge glinting in his purple eyes. "Scouting out the competition, huh?" he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Well, let me be the first to inform you—at least I have the courtesy to announce my intentions and say that even if you're in the hero course, if you get too carried away, I'll sweep your feet out from under you..."

A beat of silence followed, then Shinso arrived his eyes, letting out a theatrical sigh. "...I came here with a declaration of war," he announced, his voice echoing in the stunned silence.

You found yourself slipping away from the commotion just as Tetsutetsu burst onto the scene, oblivious to the tension he was interrupting. Reaching your classroom door, you gently pushed it open and slipped back inside. The familiar sight of your desk and scattered textbooks offered a small distraction amidst the brewing storm.

As you began packing your backpack, a wry smile played on your lips. You hadn't expected U.A. High to be this competitive, even after getting accepted.

The naive image of aspiring heroes working together, forged in the fires of training and camaraderie, had been shattered.

Here, it seemed, it was every hero for themself.

☆

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as you and Bakugo walked down the street, your house a few feet away. Just as you neared your doorstep, Bakugo finally broke the silence.

"Hey," he began, his voice barely a mutter. "You... you heard about the Sports Festival, right?"

"Obviously."

"Okay, so, what's your plan? Are you gonna go for No.1?"

There was a beat of silence as the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink.

You hummed in thought, tapping your chin with your index finger. "Honestly, I haven't really decided yet," you admitted, your voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Bakugo finally tore his gaze away from the sidewalk, his fiery red eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment, lips falling into a scowl at your flippant response. He seemed about to launch into one of his usual explosive rants, but then, just as quickly, he clamped his mouth shut. Hesitation flickered across his features, an unusual expression for the ever-confident blonde.

Finally, with a gruffness that couldn't quite mask a hint of awkwardness, he blurted, "I want you to win first place." He looked everywhere but at you, a faint blush creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks a barely-there pink.

This unexpected request sent a jolt through you. Once again, here your puppy was with a request.

This wasn't the Bakugo you knew—the self-proclaimed winner who wouldn't dream of asking someone else to claim victory. A slow smile tugged at the corners of your lips, hidden by your usual mask of indifference.

"Pardon?" you repeated, feigning nonchalance. You tilted your head slightly, studying the flustered expression on his face.

Bakugo's scowl deepened, his eyebrows furrowing in a way that seemed more comical than intimidating at this point. The dark blush that had started on his cheeks now dusted the tips of his ears, a testament to his uncharacteristic bashfulness.

Finally, after a moment of what seemed like an internal struggle, Bakugo met your gaze with a fiery intensity. "Look," he began, his voice rough with barely contained emotion, "you don't need to be wasting away with those second-rates in Class 1-B. You belong with the best," he finished, his scowl deepening for a moment before softening back into a hesitant frown. "You belong in Class 1-A...with me."

You sighed, taking a few steps up to him. You weren't as tall as him, so you had to strategically position yourself on your tiptoes to reach his height. With a playful nudge, you cupped his chin, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek. The touch sent a barely noticeable tremor through him, causing him to lean into your touch, his fiery gaze momentarily flickering away.

"I know you mean well, puppy," you said softly, your thumb gently rubbing a circle on his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye-contact, "but the truth is, I already have a plan in motion and I'm afraid joining 1-A isn't part of it..."

A flicker of disappointment crossed the blonde's features. He looked off to the side, a dejected scowl returning to his face. Just as his fiery spirit seemed to dim, you squeezed his chin gently, your touch lingering for a teasing moment. "...But..." you started, extending the word for dramatic effect, "...there are other ways to get pushed to Class 1-A, other than winning the Sports Festival, wouldn't you agree?"

A flicker of hope, faint but undeniable, ignited in Bakugo's eyes. You leaned in even closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Besides," you continued, "how boring would it be if I joined your class the easy way? Instead, how about a little wager?"

"A wager?" he echoed, his voice rough with interest.

"Yes a wager," you declared. "If you can snag first place at this year's Sports Festival, I promise you that I'll be in Class 2-A by next year. Deal?"

A flicker of surprise danced across Bakugo's fiery eyes. He stared at you for a long moment, his usual bravado replaced by a hesitant curiosity. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, a challenge wrapped in a promise.

He couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through him at the thought of not only winning the Sports Festival but potentially having you by his side in future hero courses; it was a potent mix that ignited his competitive spirit.

"You better be serious," he finally growled, a subtle tremor in his voice betraying his simmering determination.

A peal of laughter escaped your lips. "Oh, I am," you replied, your voice laced with amusement. "As long as you remember, I don't settle for second best. If you want your dream to become a reality, then winning first place isn't just an option—it's a necessity."

Your words struck a chord within him. His eyes dialated, breath catching in his throat as a flicker of surprise gave away to a steely determination. "...First..." he muttered, the single word laced with a newfound intensity.

You held his gaze, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Yes, first," you confirmed, your voice a low murmur that sent a delicious warmth spreading through him. "So, if you want me, puppy...you better train harder than you ever have before."

A/N: ehh, not much once again, but i did sprinkle a lil bakugo!puppy love to make up for it, hehehe. quick update: due to being broke (😔) I had to go back to my part-time job 💔, so updates will be either quick or slow depending on if they piss me off at this damn country club cuz I do be inspired when upset 😂. also, quick question: how would y'all feel about an morally-grey isekai'd!reader x yandere!various!demon slayer fic??? 👀👀

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