Whether he is aware of it or not, Bakugou is similar to them. Tomura knows the glint in his eyes, knows what it’s like to be coiled tightly and pushed until all you want to do is give in to the urge to destroy. What made Tomura notice Bakugou wasn’t his foul-mouthed manner of speaking or attitude but the drive pushing him forward to take what he wants. He wants strength, yeah? Well, the heroes won’t let him use it, won’t let him go all out. They won’t let him do what he wants, not if it clashes with their understanding of what is right. Surely, Bakugou knows this after being shackled by the teachers meant to make him strong.
“Sorry about this,” Tomura continues his monologue, too caught up in his excitement to notice the way Bakugou singles him out with his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d come willingly, so the restraints were necessary. How about we talk–”
Bakugou’s quirk hurts, but Tomura doesn’t mind that. He’s used to pain. He knows to ignore it. No, he’s pissed for a different reason. The urge to decay rises in his gut and prickles on his skin. Still, he contains himself.
He calmly tells the others to back off and places Father back on his face. “You think they’ll let you win? How stupid is that?” Sharp eyes pierce Bakugou from behind Father’s hold. “They didn’t let you ‘win’ against that Todoroki kid, did they? They stopped you from getting a proper fight. They handed you a meaningless victory and forced the medal on you.” Tomura was watching. He saw things most people no doubt didn’t. He grins cockily. “You want to win like that all your life? By playing on easy mode and still never clearing the game?”
he is better than them, these lowlife villainous scum. they chose to create a life for themselves outside of the law, free of the confines of society but forced to live in shadows. his life has been lived out in the sunlight, shackled to his future but free to move about within his doghouse. some of his classmates, far tamer than him, have incredibly long leashes --- especially those who are cozy with teachers. a bunch of suck up, brown nosed bastards.
katsuki is a powerhouse by himself. he is damn near close to top of his class, beating out some of the brightest minds of his generation. he is smart, calculating, and he will not fall for shigaraki’s tricks easily.
the boy glowers as he speaks, teeth grinding. who is the wrinkled bastard to talk to him like this? he doesn’t have to take this. he lurches forward, slicked palms sparking to life. ❝ of course i’ll win --- d’you really think they can stop me? ❞
barring the time he spent bound and gagged on live television to the entire country, he has been allowed to do what he wants. he reached the end of his chain that day, snapping and snarling like a guard dog chasing a squirrel. he never watched the rebroadcast of the competition --- no doubt they had cutesy animations splayed across the screen to explain his behavior away as a joke, as if it were rigged. maybe it was from the start ---- everyone was in on the joke but him.
turmoil stirs his insides, the taste bitter. ❝ you can’t stop me either, bitch. ❞ / @decayman ♥
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