BNHA: God of Explosions

Inside a limousine, Chitose watched the city lights pass by the window, a faint smile appearing on her lips. 'Very interesting.'

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

Feeling her phone vibrate in her bag, she calmly took it out and brought it to her ear, answering the call. "Hello?"

The deep and imposing voice on the other end made her smile widen slightly.

"How was the interview? Is he promising enough to become a great hero?"

Recognizing the voice of her leader, Chitose adjusted her tone. "He definitely has the potential to become a great hero, but... he's very different from what we expected."

"Different how?"

"Bakugo isn't as explosive and violent as the information suggested. In fact, he has very good oratory skills for someone his age. He also demonstrated impressive composure while answering all my questions."

"Hmm... do you think he's hiding his true personality?"

She paused, thinking deeply before replying. "Not exactly. It's more like he's measuring every move and word, carefully choosing how he wants to be perceived. He's trying to project a specific image—something idealized. Bakugo is... more calculating than he appears at first glance."

"So he's trying to construct an ideal image."

"Yes..."

"Interesting... do you think he's worth it?"

"Yes."

"Have you already taken the first step?"

"Yes."

"Good work. Anything else to add?"

"Yes, somehow he nullified my quirk."

"...Oh?"

***

Back in his room after brushing off his parents with some random excuse, Bakugo was practically bursting with frustration as he paced back and forth.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he muttered under his breath. 'I have no idea who that woman is! Which can only mean one of two things: either we had no knowledge of her in the original timeline, or... I just forgot!'

That last possibility irritated him deeply. 'Damn it, that would mean my memory isn't as good as I thought it was.'

Turning around, Bakugo marched to his desk with quick steps. Pulling open the drawer, he reached inside, feeling around the bottom in haste. His fingers finally found what they were looking for: a small latch, almost imperceptible.

With a firm movement, he pulled it, and a soft click echoed in the silence of the room. The false bottom of the drawer shifted, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a dark-covered journal.

Bakugo picked it up carefully and sat down in his chair. 'My contact with them happened way earlier than I'd planned.' Opening the journal to the middle, he began flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

On the page, a series of seemingly disconnected words filled every line. To anyone else, it would look like a mess of meaningless scribbles, but to Bakugo, that chaos had purpose.

This was one of his many projects since returning. He'd created his own code, something indecipherable to anyone else. It was the perfect way to protect what he knew about the future and his plans.

"This whole thing's going in the trash," Bakugo muttered as he forcefully ran his pencil over several lines in the journal, crossing out the details of his planning for the first meeting with the M.L.A.

Leaning back in his chair, he let the pencil fall onto the desk with a dry thud. Staring at the now-scribbled pages, Bakugo tried to organize his thoughts. His initial plan had been meticulously prepared, but the premature contact with them had thrown everything into disarray.

'No point in dwelling on it,' Bakugo murmured, rubbing his temples. '...damn it'

***

[April]

"You don't think you're leaving too early?" Masaru asked, watching his son put on his sneakers. "There are still three hours before class starts."

"Let the boy be, dear," Mitsuki interjected with a faint smile on her lips. "He's just afraid of being late."

"Afraid? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bakugo retorted as he tied his shoelaces. Standing up, he adjusted the red tie of his uniform. "I just want to make sure I get a decent spot, that's all."

"Oh, sure. A good spot." Mitsuki rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Well, then smile for me. Let's take a photo before you go." She said, pointing the camera at her son.

Bakugo opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. After a moment of hesitation, he shook his head slightly and smiled for the camera.

CLICK!

"Perfect!" Mitsuki exclaimed, satisfied. "This one's going straight into the album."

"Great..." Bakugo muttered, already grabbing his bag from the hook and slinging it over his shoulder. Before leaving, he glanced at his parents. "I'm heading out!"

"Good luck, son," Masaru said, waving a

hand.

"Knock 'em dead!" Mitsuki said, raising her fist.

"Ha! Will do!"

As the door closed, Masaru lowered his head, placing a hand over his eyes to hide the tears that were starting to fall. "It feels like... sniff... it feels like just yesterday I was holding him in my arms."

"Sniff... yeah," Mitsuki replied, her own eyes misty. She hugged her husband tightly, sharing the same mix of pride and nostalgia. "Our boy grew up so fast..."

***

After a train ride followed by a walk to U.A., Bakugo finally arrived at Class 1-A's door. He stopped in front of it, taking a deep breath as his thoughts organized themselves. 'It's today... everything needs to have worked out.'

Opening the door, he was greeted by the silence of an empty classroom. His eyes scanned the room, registering every detail. 'Looks like I'm the first to arrive.'

With slow steps, he walked between the rows of desks, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him. It was strange to be back in that place where so many things had happened.

He approached the desk that had once been his, stopping beside it for a few seconds. 'No... not this time.' Turning his head, Bakugo averted his gaze from that desk, which carried the weight of someone who had failed.

He resumed walking until he stopped at the central desk of the room. 'This one will do.' Sitting down, Bakugo rested his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers, his eyes fixed on the blackboard in front of him. 'Now, all I can do is wait...'

***

'I think I arrived way too early,' thought Momo Yaoyorozu as she walked through the empty halls of U.A.

Today marked the beginning of a crucial chapter in her life, as it was the day she would take her first steps toward becoming a hero.

Getting there hadn't been easy. Her family, one of the most influential and wealthy in Japan, had other plans for her.

From a young age, Momo had been seen as the natural successor to her family's gigantic corporation, and the expectations placed on her were immense. Her parents, in particular, didn't look favorably on her decision to pursue the path of a hero.

But Momo always knew she wanted more than meetings, contracts, and profits. She wanted to make a difference, to protect people, and to help those who couldn't protect themselves.

Even so, the internal conflict and her parents' disapproval weighed heavily on her heart. 'Will they ever understand?' No matter how much she tried to show determination and positivity, her parents' voices still echoed in her mind, questioning her choices.

Turning the corner, her eyes lit up as she spotted the door to Class 1-A. Her heart raced in a mix of anxiety and excitement. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself as she stopped in front of the door.

Gripping the handle firmly, Momo opened the door slowly and entered. To her surprise, the room wasn't completely empty. At the center, a boy with spiky blond hair sat with his eyes closed, arms resting on the desk, supporting his head.

In the back, another student with white and red hair was gazing out the window, his expression rigid and introspective.

'...Better not disturb that one's nap.' Momo walked to the back of the classroom, deciding to introduce herself to the boy near the window. "Good morning," she said with a polite smile.

The boy slowly turned his face toward her and gave her a small nod.

"I'm Yaoyorozu Momo," she continued, maintaining her smile. "I think we'll be classmates. I hope we'll become good friends from now on."

"No."

Momo's smile froze on her face. "Huh… no?"

"I'm not here to make friends," Todoroki replied, his tone calm and direct, before returning his gaze to the window, as if she no longer existed.

'How… rude,' Momo thought, feeling her initial enthusiasm deflate slightly. Despite that, she quickly composed herself. A cold reception wouldn't ruin her excitement about being there.

Turning around, she hesitated for a moment, pondering her options for where to sit. Stealing a glance at the other boy, Momo noticed that he had opened his eyes and was focused on the classroom door, as if expecting someone to enter.

'Maybe he'll be more approachable… or at least less rude,' she thought with a discreet sigh.

Resolute, Momo walked toward him, stopping beside the desk with her polite smile back in place. "Hi. I'm Yaoyorozu Momo," she said, trying to appear confident after being so brutally rejected.

Bakugo fixed his gaze on her for a few seconds, as if evaluating her. He seemed completely oblivious to the discomfort his intense stare could cause.

"Bakugo. Bakugo Katsuki," he finally replied, his tone firm and brusque.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bakugo-san," Momo said, gradually losing her smile as she realized he wasn't exactly the friendly type either. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

He shrugged, indifferent. "Do whatever you want."

Momo chose a desk nearby, settling in carefully. "Haah…" Letting out a small sigh, she stared at the blackboard, disappointed with this not-so-promising start.

'Will the other students be as distant as these two? Maybe I'm expecting too much…' Momo reflected, lightly biting her lower lip, wondering if her hope of forming bonds and making friends at U.A. was nothing more than a naïve idea.

"You arrived early, too."

Bakugo's voice broke the silence, pulling her out of her thoughts. Momo turned her head toward him, surprised that he had initiated a conversation. "Huh… y-yeah, I preferred to arrive early to get organized."

"So I'm not the only one, then," he remarked, casting a quick glance at her. "I like to always be prepared."

Momo nodded, trying to find some common ground with him. "I think preparation is essential too," she said. Maybe, behind that rigid attitude, Bakugo had more in common with her than it seemed. "I've always worked hard on my studies and training. I think it makes all the difference."

"Oh, yeah? What's your quirk?"

She straightened in her seat, clasping her hands on her lap. "My quirk is Creation. I can create practically any object, as long as I know its composition and have enough energy to produce it."

Bakugo seemed to consider her words for a moment. "Hmm. That sounds useful if you know how to use it right."

"It is, indeed," she replied, keeping her tone calm but feeling a slight pang of nervousness. "That's why I study a lot. I want to ensure my quirk is an advantage in any situation."

He gave a small grunt of approval. "Better than those who just rely on their quirk without knowing how to use their brain."

Momo smiled softly, feeling that, despite Bakugo's rude and direct manner, he seemed to respect her dedication and effort. Determined to keep the conversation flowing, she asked, "And your quirk? I imagine it must be powerful."

"Explosion," he replied bluntly. "The sweat glands in my hands produce sweat similar to nitroglycerin."

Momo's eyes widened. "That's incredible, Bakugo-san," she commented sincerely. "It must require a lot of control."

"Yeah… a lot."

***

[1 hour later]

"Class 1-A, Class 1-A... what a huge place!" Midoriya ran through U.A.'s hallways, his eyes frantically scanning the doors. His desperation grew with every step, as the clock seemed to move faster than he did. 'Crap, I can't be late on the first day!'

Finally, he spotted the classroom. "Found it!" Stopping in front of the door, he bent over, trying to catch his breath. Then his eyes widened as he noticed the oversized entrance. 'What a huge door! Is it for accessibility?'

Taking a deep breath, Midoriya adjusted his backpack on his shoulders, his hands trembling slightly. 'Only the elite were chosen from so many students in the exam…' For a moment, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

'This is it, the moment I've been dreaming of... I hope Kacchan is here... then I can show him that I can keep up with him! That I can become a hero too!'

With a renewed wave of determination, he opened the door.

Midoriya took a hesitant step inside, trying not to draw attention in the nearly silent room. His eyes scanned the space until they landed on a spiky blond-haired figure.

'Kacchan?!'

Bakugo was sitting in the center, as if the spot was already his. His arms were crossed, and his confident expression was typical, but what shocked Midoriya was something else: Bakugo was talking to the classmates around him. Naturally. Without yelling, without blowing anything up, without threatening anyone.

Midoriya blinked a few times, almost expecting the vision to disappear. 'Am I… hallucinating?'

"Um, excuse me?"

The voice behind him snapped Midoriya back to reality. He turned quickly and found himself face-to-face with a short-haired girl, with a natural rosy blush on each cheek.

"Ah! S-sorry!" Midoriya exclaimed, realizing he was blocking the entrance. He quickly stepped to the side, nervously adjusting his backpack.

"Thank you." The girl replied with a small smile as she entered the room. Midoriya watched her as her eyes scanned the space until they stopped—and practically started to sparkle.

"Bakugo-kun!"

He nearly spat blood as he watched the girl practically skip over to Bakugo, who greeted her with a small nod. 'I'm dreaming. This has to be a dream!'

"How long are you going to stand there?"

"Huh?" Slowly, Midoriya turned toward the new voice, finding a man lying on the floor in a sleeping bag at the classroom door. 'A homeless guy!'

***

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fictional.