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Better Than You

  Bakugo hated waiting.

  He hated it so much he promised himself he’d beat Robinn so hard she’d never be late again. But here they were...five minutes past the start, and she still wasn’t out.

  It put him in a foul mood.

  When she finally stepped out and Present Mic started up his usual shouting, Bakugo was already storming toward the stage, scowl locked in place, hands buried in his pockets. Concrete stairs cracked faintly beneath his boots as he stomped up them.

  "Welcome to the final battle of the U.A. High School Sports Festival!" Mic’s voice roared overhead. "Let’s see which first-year comes out on top!"

  She was smiling. Of course she was. That same fake, polite, too-nice-to-be-real smile she always wore like a mask. It made his jaw twitch.

  He scoffed. He wasn’t supposed to be fighting her. He’d expected Icy-Hot.

  "Yes, it all comes down to this, folks! From the Hero Course... Robinn Reibach! Versus her classmate, Katsuki Bakugo!"

  "Why are you late, you dumbass?" he growled under his breath.

  She smiled wider.

  And then... shockingly answered.

  "Oh sorry," she said lightly, "I was having some trouble finding the right exit. But hey... let's have a nice, fair fight. No need to give it our all."

  Her voice was smooth, too smooth. That fake-friendly tone she always used grated on him like nails on glass.

  "Right... Kacchan?" she added with a half-giggle.

  The second she dropped that too-cheerful, too-polite line Bakugo’s whole body stiffened. His fists trembled at his sides. He didn’t even get a chance to shout back before...

  "Ready?!... START!"

  He moved first, lunging at her with a punishing right hook meant to take her head off.

  Instead, he hit nothing, he twisted in the air and then slammed into the ground with a grunt.

  The same shoulder throw. Deku’s. The exact same one from the training match. He hadn’t even seen it coming. She shouldn’t have known about that.

  But there wasn’t time to think.

  He pushed off the ground in a blast of smoke and fire, hands erupting. His right hand swiped through air again, no Robinn. Just her shoes on the floor.

  He gritted his teeth and jumped back, scanning the field. She could only track where he had been, not where he was now. Not until she reappeared.

  He lifted his hands , fingers splayed, ready to drop her the second she did.

  She reappeared in the exact same spot.

  But not as herself.

  As water.

  Robinn’s form shimmered in ripples, translucent and upright, her arms crossing lazily. "So you do always start with a big right hook, huh?"

  "Shut the HELL UP!"

  He detonated a blast so loud it should have left her deaf, smoke mushrooming around them.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  When it cleared, she was still standing.

  Still crossing her watery arms.

  Still looking at him like he was a child, mocking him.

  Another explosion. This one cratered the floor. Fractures spiderwebbed under her bare feet.

  She didn’t flinch.

  He punched her in the face. His fist sank in like plunging into deep water, then was pushed out... repelled gently, not even wet. Like she was toying with physics.

  She didn’t strike back. Didn’t even raise a hand.

  “You want me to fight?”

  Boom.

  "I don’t know, man. Not really in the mood for a fight."

  Every syllable out of her mouth made his pulse throb.

  "So what, you’re just gonna sit there and take it?! Quirks have limits, you know!"

  He stepped closer, arm raised, his palm inches from her stupid watery face. The explosion that followed made the crowd gasp. Even from the stands, they could feel the heat.

  Pain flared up his arm. A tendon gave a warning twitch.

  When the smoke finally cleared, her upper half was gone. Legs still puddled and upright.

  He squinted. Why dodge now?

  She reformed slowly, top half gurgling back into shape.

  Then she laughed.

  Nervous. A little higher-pitched than usual.

  "You almost got me with that one, y’know? You really ought to be more careful... Kacchan."

  "DIEEE!"

  The blast tore out of him before he finished shouting. His shoulder throbbed. Too much strain. He staggered back, biting down on a scream.

  "You really gonna keep hurting yourself like that?" she asked, arms rippling at her sides. "Reminds me of a certain green-haired boy we know."

  His whole body jolted.

  "SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!"

  He blasted again, his left hand this time, but too strong. He hadn’t checked his footing. The recoil flung him backward, skidding across the concrete. His right arm was dead weight now.

  He forced himself up. Smoke rolled over the arena in thick waves.

  "Getting a bit angry, aren’t you" she said, stepping through the haze like a ghost. "Why?... Not a big fan of water?"

  "Shut up…" he whispered, fists clenched and trembling.

  She just smiled.

  "I don’t think I will. Frankly, Bakugo? I think I’m better than you."

  He lunged at her, roaring, and... she caught his punch... her hand hardening into stone mid-grab.

  Pain jolted up his arm. She twisted his wrist, grinding the joint.

  "No, actually... I know I’m better than you."

  Bakugo didn’t scream. He grit his teeth and forced himself to focus.

  "I can finally actually hurt you," he said through his breath, igniting an explosion inside her grip.

  Her eyes widened. Her smile widened more.

  Her hand turned back to water.

  He fired.

  The smoke swallowed them both.

  Then her voice came from somewhere inside it.

  "You’re too predictable. What are you gonna do next... tell me to swan dive off the roof?"

  He froze.

  His breath shallow. His arms were tensing with barely contained rage.

  The smoke cleared just in time for him to see her fist shift back to stone and punch through it, straight into his gut.

  He doubled over coughing, spit catching in his throat.

  Then came the knee to his jaw.

  His head snapped back. Vision blurred.

  He tumbled across the concrete, gasping. The sky above him spun.

  He clawed his way upright just in time to see her approaching again, fully liquid.

  "Who the hell even are you?!" he shouted, voice cracking more than he wanted.

  She stopped in front of him.

  "I'm just a girl that does her research. Sorry, Bakugo. But I need to win this."

  “You STUPID IDIOT!”

  Another blast. Another failure. No damage. The water didn't even ripple.

  "You already know that isn’t gonna work," she said looming over him. "So stop hurting yourself and give up."

  "I guess so. But... where's the fun in not watching? I still have a few doubts about his fighting style."

  She turned her attention back to the screen, her eyes narrowed slightly. The incandescent lights flickered faintly in her irises.

  "See how this fight is one-sided? Some Quirks just counter others. A bad matchup, if you will."

  "So... you're saying your Quirk is good against Bakugo's?" Kirishima asked, leaning forward.

  "Kinda. But he's too smart to be beaten with just my Quirk." She crossed her arms. "He's a hothead. And I’m going to use that to my advantage."

  He gave her a cautious look. "Like making him mad so he messes up? Not very hero-like."

  "I don't need to be hero-like right now." Her tone was flat. "I just need to win this."

  She stood up from the chair and turned to him, her shadow stretching behind her under the harsh light.

  Kirishima sighed. "You really want to win this that bad? I mean... you’ve been studying your opponents all day. Have you even had any fun?"

  She didn’t answer at first. Just looked at him. Blankly.

  "This is the U.A. Sports Festival. I'm not here to have fun."

  She let the silence stretch for half a beat longer than necessary before continuing.

  "And I have my own very important reasons to win."

  Kirishima raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, I guess that's valid. And what would those important reasons be?"

  She smiled. Warmly.

  "It's a secret."

  Then she stepped closer. The smile didn’t drop, but the air changed.

  "And so is this conversation. Don’t go blabbing to Bakugo and ruin my efforts."

  It wasn’t a warning.

  Even if he wanted to give Bakugo a heads-up, Kirishima knew he wouldn’t listen. Bakugo didn’t take handouts. Not even from friends.

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