As Kurmara entered the small convenience store, a lingering feeling of unease clung to her like a shadow. Ignoring the sensation, she approached the owner, a middle-aged man wiping the counter. "Evening, Nōryoku. What can I do for you?" he greeted with a friendly smile. She returned the smile, though the disquiet in her gut persisted. "Just checking in, making sure everything's alright around here. Any issues lately?" The owner sighed, leaning on the counter. "Well, a few shoplifters have been causing trouble. Nothing major, but it's been a nuisance." "Leave it to me. I'll make sure it gets handled, Mr. Kim," she reassured him, patting the counter lightly. "Appreciate it," he nodded. Exiting the store, Kurmara sighed and pulled out her phone, typing a message to Bakugou. Finished up at the convenience store. Heading to the park to meet you so we can head back to the agency together, Bakugou. Just as she hit send, her Eneoji Kanchi Quirk went off.
A sudden ominous feeling sent shivers down her spine, prompting her to move instinctively. She narrowly evaded an unexpected attack, a blur of motion barely missing her. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath, her senses heightened as she assessed the situation, ready for the unexpected threat that had just revealed itself. The assailant, a smirking thug with ill intentions, revealed himself with a taunting sneer. "Well, well, if it isn't the hero Dajung Nōryoku. Thought you could just stroll through our territory unnoticed?" Rolling her eyes, Kurmara responded with a snarky remark. "Please, I've seen more intimidating alley cats. What's your grand plan here, petty theft?" The thug chuckled darkly before lunging at her, initiating a fierce clash between hero and villain. The fight was no walk in the park for Kurmara. The assailant proved to be more skilled than anticipated, landing a few hits that left her bruised and battered. Despite the pain, she fought back, showcasing her own combat prowess.
The skirmish unfolded with a series of quick movements, dodges, and counters. Kurmara's energy-based abilities allowed her to sense the fluctuations in her opponent's movements, but the thug's unpredictability posed a challenge. The convenience store's surroundings became a makeshift battleground, their battle echoing through the quiet streets. Amidst the struggle, Kurmara found herself on the defensive at times, narrowly avoiding sharp strikes and grappling with the agile adversary. The thug, relentless and fueled by a misguided sense of superiority, aimed to overwhelm her. The hero, determined to protect the peace, fought back with every ounce of strength. As the fight continued, Kurmara's injuries accumulated, a testament to the relentless nature of the confrontation. Each blow, each exchange, took its toll. Yet, she pressed on, unwavering in her commitment to stand against those who threatened the safety of the city. In the heat of the confrontation, Kurmara's strikes carried a mix of raw strength and elemental prowess.
She whipped up gusts of wind, creating an unpredictable dance of currents that disoriented her opponent. Her fists, augmented by the force of her Quirk, were a formidable force, delivering powerful blows that crackled with the energy of wind and water. The thug, however, proved to be an agile adversary. Evading some of Kurmara's attacks, he maneuvered with surprising speed. His movements were unpredictable, making it challenging for Kurmara to predict his next strike. As the battle unfolded, the air crackled with tension. Amid the exchange of blows, the thug seized an opportune moment to close in on Kurmara's blind spot. His Quirk manifested as projectiles of compressed energy, hurtling towards her. One struck her side, a searing pain accompanying the impact. Despite the injury, Kurmara maintained her footing, her resilience emanating in the face of adversity. With a fierce determination, Kurmara retaliated. She summoned water from the surrounding environment, creating a swirling vortex that surrounded her.
The elemental display served both as a defensive barrier and an offensive weapon. The thug, momentarily caught off guard, struggled against the force of the water. As the battle raged on, the thug, undeterred, smirked at Kurmara. "You heroes think you're invincible. Let's see you try and withstand this!" He unleashed a barrage of energy projectiles, each aimed with deadly precision. Kurmara deftly dodged and blocked the onslaught, the air crackling with the exchange. In a daring move, the thug closed the distance, attempting to exploit Kurmara's weakened state. "You're just a washed-up hero. No match for someone like me," he taunted. Rolling her eyes, Kurmara retorted, "Please, spare me the villain monologue. I've dealt with your type countless times." She countered his attacks, a mix of wind-infused strikes and calculated evasions. The convenience store's surroundings bore witness to their intense clash, the resilience of a hero against the arrogance of a villain.
As the battle reached a critical juncture, the thug, fueled by arrogance, closed in on Kurmara once more, seeking to deliver a decisive blow. His intent was clear—to exploit any weakness and claim victory over the hero who dared to oppose him. Undeterred by the relentless assault, Kurmara summoned the last reserves of her strength. She unleashed a powerful kick in sheer determination, propelling the thug away from her with incredible force. The clash of heroism and villainy unfolded in a dazzling display of strength and resilience. The thug, caught off guard by the unexpected counterattack, crashed into a nearby building. The impact reverberated through the surroundings, and a stunned silence hung in the air for a brief moment. As dust settled, the villain struggled to rise, disoriented and battered. Meanwhile, Kurmara stood amidst the aftermath, breathing heavily. Her body bore the scars of the intense battle—wounds that spoke of her unwavering commitment to protect.
Blood seeped from her injuries, staining her hero costume, but she remained standing, determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead. In the aftermath of their intense confrontation, Kurmara, her body battered and weary, embarked on the journey back to the agency. Each step bore the physical and emotional toll of the recent battle, and unbeknownst to her, her water-based Quirk instinctively formed a makeshift bandage around her most grievous wound. Her progress along the sidewalk was marked by a determined pace, a silent testimony to the indomitable spirit that defined her heroism. The weight of the fight lingered in her thoughts as she moved through the city streets, the fading sunlight casting long shadows. Engulfed in contemplation, Kurmara, oblivious to the unintentional activation of her phone, unwittingly transmitte
a voice message to Bakugou. The recording captured the raw sounds of battle – the clash of forces, strained breaths, and the unmistakable struggle between hero and villain. It offered an unintended glimpse into the challenges she faced alone. As she pressed forward on her solitary journey, the city's lights began to illuminate her path. The agency loomed in the distance, a beacon calling for her return. With each step, Kurmara carried the weight of duty and the scars etched into her by the unrelenting pursuit of justice. As the night deepened, Kurmara stumbled over an uneven crack in the pavement, her weakened steps betraying the toll exacted by the confrontation. A hiss of pain escaped her lips as she fought to regain her footing, the city's shadows closing in like silent witnesses to her struggle. Attempting to rise, she felt an unsettling shift beneath her, and a moment later, a sharp hiss filled the air as the water bandage, stained with the amalgamation of her blood, fractured.
It pooled around her like a morose reflection of the ordeal she faced. Her breaths grew shallow, the chill of the concrete beneath her seeping through the thin fabric of her hero costume. Blurred vision and searing pain played a cruel duet, threatening to pull her into the abyss of unconsciousness. Yet, the indomitable spirit that defined heroes persisted, each labored inhale a testament to resilience. In the cool embrace of the concrete, Kurmara cursed under her breath, grappling with the repercussions of the night's events.
Her thoughts, a chaotic swirl, questioned the sacrifices entwined with heroism. The blood, a stark contrast against the city's unforgiving canvas, mingled with the remnants of the shattered water bandage. Should've been more careful... shouldn't have engaged alone... Struggling to maintain consciousness, she heard a distant call, "Kurmara!" The sound cut through the haze, and she strained to focus. Turning her head, she spotted Bakugou rushing towards her, concern etched on his usually stern face. "Dammit, what happened?" Bakugou demanded, his urgency contrasting with his usual demeanor. Kurmara's voice was weak, her breaths labored. "Ran into some trouble... didn't go as planned." Her attempt at a smile was feeble. Bakugou's expression tightened. "You idiot. We'll get you back to the agency. Hold on." He gently helped her up, supporting her as they started the journey back, the weight of the night pressing on them. They walked through the quiet streets for about twenty minutes, Kurmara slipping in and out of consciousness in Bakugou's arms.
He could feel her growing lighter with every step, a worrisome weightlessness. Gently, Kurmara slipped out of his arms, her weakened legs barely supporting her. Bakugou, quick to react, caught her before she could fall completely. "Hold on, dammit. We're almost there. Don't you dare die on me now," he muttered, determination etched on his face. Her breathing went from ragged to softer, a concerning transformation. She weakly tapped his face, a feeble attempt to grab his attention. Bakugou looked down at her, his gaze meeting her fading eyes. "Just... take me... home," Kurmara whispered, each word a struggle. Her breathing slowed, and the gravity of the situation settled heavily on Bakugou's shoulders. He carefully picked her up in his arms, her weight now almost nonexistent. "Hang in there, dammit," Bakugou urged, determination fueling his steps as they approached the agency. However, instead of heading directly to the agency, he took a sudden turn down a dimly lit street.
His car, parked in the darker part of the street, awaited them. Gently, he opened the passenger door, carefully sitting Kurmara down in the seat. The dim glow of the streetlights cast an eerie shadow over her pale face. Bakugou swiftly closed the door, rushing to the driver's side with a focused intensity. As he settled into the driver's seat, Bakugou glanced over at Kurmara. Her breathing remained shallow, her figure fragile against the dimly lit backdrop. He started the car, the engine roaring to life. The vehicle sped through the night, heading towards the agency, his grip firm on the steering wheel. "Stay with me, alright? We're getting you back," he muttered, the quiet determination in his voice a stark contrast to the urgency of the situation. The journey continued, the city passing by in a blur, as Bakugou navigated the streets with a singular focus on reaching their destination in time. The car screeched to a halt outside Kurmara's house. Bakugou moved with a precision honed by urgency, swiftly getting her out of the car and striding toward the front door.
Without bothering to knock, he pushed the door open. Kamie, Kurmara's roommate, was taken aback by Bakugou's sudden entrance, but before she could question him, he headed straight for Kurmara's room. He laid her gently on the bed, Kamie following and letting out a sigh. "Again? What happened to her?" she asked, concern etched on her face. Bakugou wasted no time. He lifted Kurmara's shirt to examine the severity of her injury. Kamie, realizing the urgency, hurriedly spoke, "Grab the medkit." As Kamie disappeared to retrieve the necessary supplies, Bakugou's gaze focused on Kurmara's wound. His stern expression softened imperceptibly as he took in the extent of her injury. The raw concern and care he felt for her surfaced momentarily, hidden behind the facade of his usual brusque demeanor. Kamie returned with the medkit, and Bakugou wasted no time in accepting it from her. Swift and focused, he began the task of tending to Kurmara's wound.
The room was filled with an air of tension, accentuated by Kurmara's occasional subdued sounds of discomfort. Bakugou's expression remained stoic, but a careful observer might have detected a subtle softening in his eyes as he worked. His hands moved with a precision born of experience, wiping away blood and applying disinfectant with an almost mechanical efficiency. The gravity of Kurmara's injury hung in the air, and despite his stern exterior, Bakugou's dedication to ensuring her well-being was evident in the meticulous care he took with each step. Kamie watched the scene unfold, a mix of concern and understanding in her eyes. "What the hell happened out there?" she asked, her voice a mixture of worry and frustration. Bakugou didn't look up from his task. "Thug attacked her during patrol. Caught her off guard." Kamie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Again? She needs to be more careful." His gaze flickered briefly toward Kurmara, who lay on the bed, pale and weakened.
"She's tougher than she looks. Just grab me the bandages." As Kamie fetched the bandages, Bakugou continued his work, his movements deliberate and controlled. The silence in the room was only broken by the occasional sounds of Kurmara's discomfort and the soft rustling of the medical supplies. After Bakugou meticulously tended to Kurmara's wound, Kamie approached with a device, utilizing her Quirk to assess Kurmara's condition. The room held its breath as minutes stretched, each passing second fraught with tension. Finally, Kamie stepped back, releasing a sigh that hung in the air. "She's gone," Kamie announced, her tone a mixture of resignation and sympathy. Something complex flickered across Bakugou's face – a blend of frustration, concern, and an undercurrent of something deeper. In response, he abruptly stood up, striding out of the room, Kamie trailing behind like an uncertain shadow. "Hey, I get this happens all the time, but..." Kamie's attempt to engage Bakugou in a conversation was swiftly cut short by his sharp retort.
"This is the fifth fucking time this has happened. Fifth time," Bakugou's frustration resonated in the small space, the weight of past occurrences clearly taking a toll. Kamie winced but persisted, attempting to rationalize the situation. "At least it's not permanent! She'll be fine and walking again like nothing happened. Like she always does..." The air was thick with unresolved tension as Bakugou's irritation flared. "I'm sick of it. She never listens and just does what she fucking wants," he muttered, his words a mixture of anger and a deeper, unspoken concern. Kamie sighed, recognizing the struggle. "What are you gonna do? You two seem to be paired together whenever you're working, and it's not like you can avoid her." "I'll figure something out. Someone else can deal with her scaring the shit out of them," Bakugou declared, his determination cutting through the atmosphere. "Wait... when she 'dies,' you get scared?" Kamie questioned, genuine disbelief coloring her expression.
A subtle pink tinted Bakugou's cheeks as he retorted, "No! I never said that, and if you go around spreading lies, I'll see to it that you never speak again, ya hear me?" With that, Bakugou huffed and stormed out of the house, the door slamming shut behind him. Kamie sighed, torn between the recurrent challenges her friend faced and the evident complexities of hero life. Her gaze lingered on the closed door through which Bakugou had just stormed out. "He didn't say I couldn't tell Kurmara," she mused to herself, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Determinedly, she returned to Kurmara's room, silently waiting for her friend to wake up once more, contemplating the intricate web of emotions that intertwined with their hero duties.