The school year had settled into a predictable rhythm by the time spring arrived. Classes, lunch, training, repeat. I'd learned to navigate the halls of Aldera like a ghost—present enough to avoid suspicion, invisible enough to stay out of Bakugo's crosshairs.
But ghosts don't stay hidden forever.
It happened on a Thursday afternoon, during the brief window between lunch and the final bell. The hallway was crowded with students shuffling between classes, and I was making my way to the staircase when I heard it—a sharp crack, followed by a pained yelp.
I turned the corner and stopped dead.
Bakugo stood in the middle of the hallway, his hand still smoking, a cruel smirk on his face. At his feet, sprawled on the ground with his notebooks scattered around him, was Midoriya. His cheek was red, already starting to swell, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"I told you to watch where you're going, Deku," Bakugo growled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Or did you think I was joking?"
Midoriya scrambled to gather his notebooks, his hands shaking. "I-I'm sorry, Kacchan. I didn't mean to—"
"Didn't mean to what? Exist? Because that's the only thing you're good at." Bakugo laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that echoed off the lockers. A few students nearby chuckled nervously, but most just kept their heads down and hurried past. No one wanted to get involved.
I felt something snap inside me. The drumbeat in my chest, which had been a steady hum all day, suddenly surged—a crescendo of anger and injustice that I couldn't ignore.
Enough. This has gone on long enough.
"Bakugo." My voice cut through the hallway like a blade.
He turned, his red eyes narrowing. "Tch. What do you want, stretchy?"
I walked forward, my footsteps deliberate, my hands clenched at my sides. "Leave him alone."
Bakugo's smirk widened. "Or what? You gonna stretch at me? That's cute." He stepped closer, invading my space. "I've been watching you, Yamada. Always sitting with Deku at lunch. Always defending him like some kind of hero." He spat the word like it was poison. "Newsflash: you're not a hero. You're just another useless quirk wannabe with a party trick."
I didn't flinch, almost looking at him dead serious. "I said leave him alone."
Midoriya looked up at me, his eyes wide with panic. "Suon, it's okay. Don't—"
"Shut up, Deku." Bakugo shoved me—hard. I stumbled back a step, but I didn't fall. "You think you're better than me? You think your weak little stretching quirk can compete with mine?" He held up his palm, small sparks crackling from his skin. "I could blast you into next week."
I met his gaze, my own eyes burning. "Then do it. Right here. In front of everyone."
The hallway went silent. Even the background chatter died down as students realized something was about to happen.
Bakugo's smirk faltered, replaced by something darker—genuine anger. "You're really asking for it, aren't you?"
"No." I took a step closer, my voice low and steady. "I'm telling you. If you have a problem with me, we settle it. After school. The old training ground behind the gymnasium. No teachers, no interruptions. Just you and me. I'll show you what true strength is."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. Bakugo stared at me, his jaw tight. For a moment, I thought he'd refuse—that he'd laugh it off and walk away.
But then he grinned. A predator's grin, full of teeth and malice.
"Fine. You're on." He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But don't cry when I break you into pieces and burn you."
He shoved past me, his shoulder slamming into mine as he walked away. His cronies followed, shooting me dirty looks.
The crowd dispersed, the excitement over. Midoriya scrambled to his feet, clutching his notebooks to his chest.
"Suon, why would you do that?" he asked, his voice trembling. "He's going to—he's so strong—you don't have to—"
I placed a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. "Yes, I do. I've been watching him hurt you for months, Midoriya. I can't stand by anymore."
His eyes glistened again, but this time, I think it was from something other than fear. "But what if you get hurt?"
I smiled—a small, confident smile that I didn't entirely feel. "Don't worry. I've been training for this situation my whole life."
---
The rest of the school day passed in a haze. I barely registered the lessons, my mind churning with strategy and preparation. By the time the final bell rang, I'd already mapped out the fight.
The training ground behind the gymnasium was an open dirt lot, surrounded by chain-link fencing. It was technically off-limits, but everyone knew it was where students went to settle scores. I'd passed by it countless times, never imagining I'd end up here.
I arrived first, dropping my bag by the fence and rolling my shoulders. The afternoon sun was warm, casting long shadows across the dirt. I closed my eyes and reached for the drumbeat, feeling it pulse in my chest like a second heart.
You've got this. You've trained for this. You're ready.
The gate creaked open, and Bakugo strode in, his cronies hanging back by the fence. He cracked his knuckles, a lazy smirk on his face.
"Hope you said your goodbyes, Suon. Because after this, you're going to need a hospital." He looked at me with his eyes in a rage filled ego, his arrogance almost filling the air itself.
I settled into a stance, my feet shoulder-width apart. "Let's see if you can back up that talk."
He charged.
The first few seconds were a blur of motion. Bakugo's quirk exploded from his palms, propelling him forward at terrifying speed. I barely had time to dodge, throwing myself to the side as a blast scorched the dirt where I'd been standing.
"Too slow!" he yelled, pivoting and launching another explosion.
I rolled to my feet, my heart pounding. He was fast. Faster than I'd anticipated. But I'd trained against speed. I'd trained against everything.
I lunged forward, my arm stretching as I threw a punch aimed at his midsection. Bakugo's eyes widened—he hadn't expected me to close the distance so quickly—but he was still fast enough to cross his arms and block.
The impact sent him skidding back a few feet. He looked down at his arms, then back at me, his smirk turning into something almost like respect.
"Yeah, you're a good meal. But let's see how long you can keep that up." His ego continued to spiral even further.
He came at me again, faster this time. Explosion after explosion, forcing me to dodge, weave, and stretch in ways I'd never tried in combat. The dirt beneath my feet churned, and the air grew thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning sweat.
I landed a few blows—a stretched kick to his ribs, a punch to his shoulder—but he kept coming, relentless and furious. His explosions grew bigger, more erratic, his movements more unpredictable.
He's not just angry. He's scared. Scared that someone might actually be able to match him.
The thought gave me a surge of adrenaline. I transformed fully, feeling the familiar rush of power flood my veins. My hair turned white, my eyes gleamed, and the cloud-like frills materialized around my neck. I felt lighter, faster, stronger. My laughter filled the air as I started floating a bit in a trance state, it almost felt like the time Luffy awakened his form in Wano, just felt truly surreal.
Bakugo's eyes widened. "What the hell—"
I didn't give him time to react. I launched forward, my fist stretching and connecting with his jaw with the full power of the form. He flew back, crashing into the chain-link fence with a metallic groan.
But he got up. Of course he did. And his eyes were blazing with fury. He looked hurt with his jaw now bruised but his eyes said otherwise. I always noted that it wasn't his quirk which made him strong, it's his willpower.
"You think that's enough to beat me?" he roared, his palms crackling with energy. "I'm going to be the number one hero! I don't lose to anyone!"
He charged again, and the world became a blur of explosions and motion. I fought back, stretching and punching, but the strain was starting to show. My stamina was draining faster than usual. The drumbeat was faltering.
I'm not going to make it. He's too strong. I'm going to—
And then something shifted in my body.
It was subtle at first—a strange, almost surreal distortion in the air around me. The world seemed to bend, like I was looking through rippling water. Bakugo's next explosion detonated, but instead of hitting me, it seemed to curve around my body, deflecting harmlessly into the ground.
He blinked, his eyes wide. "What—how did you—"
I didn't understand it either. But I felt it—a new rhythm, a new layer of power awakening deep within me. The Nika form was evolving further beyond. I had always noted that my form was way too basic to be comparable to Luffy or even Joyboy in terms of skills, I was only able to match them in endurance. It felt… lacking. My quirk allowed me to stretch and maintain a tree like flow of instinct but that was all, I expected more. Now I knew what Nika meant by "working for it". I truly still had a long way to go to becoming the master of this form.
I reached out, and the ground beneath Bakugo's feet seemed to soften, like mud. He stumbled, his balance thrown off. I stretched my arm, and instead of just elongating, it seemed to ripple, wrapping around him like a snake.
"What the hell is this?!" he shouted, struggling against the hold.
I didn't know. I couldn't explain it. But I knew one thing: I had to finish this.
I focused all my energy, all my will, and pulled. Bakugo went flying across the training ground, crashing into a pile of old tires. He lay there for a moment, dazed and disoriented.
I stood over him, panting, my body trembling with exhaustion. The Nika form flickered, and I reverted to normal, collapsing to my knees.
The silence was deafening.
Bakugo slowly pushed himself up, his face a mask of disbelief. He looked at me, then at his hands, then back at me.
"What… was that?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have the energy. But I heard Midoriya's voice from the sidelines—the boy had been watching the whole time, his notebook clutched to his chest.
"That was… incredible," he whispered. "Suon, you were like… like a cartoon character. The ground bent around you. Your punches looked different. It was almost like—"
"Like toon logic," I said, my voice hoarse. "I don't know how. But it's part of my quirk. I think it's… evolving."
Bakugo stood up, brushing dust off his uniform. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read—something between anger and grudging respect.
"This isn't over," he said, his voice low. "I'm going to get stronger. And when I do, I'm going to beat you."
Then he turned and walked away, his cronies silent behind him.
I sat there in the dirt, my heart pounding, my body aching. Midoriya rushed over, helping me to my feet.
"Are you okay? That was amazing! I've never seen anything like it! You need to write this down! I need to write this down!"
I laughed—a weak, exhausted laugh. "Give me a minute, Midoriya. I'm still trying to figure out what happened myself."
But deep down, I knew. Nika's power wasn't just stretching. It was freedom. The freedom to break the rules of reality itself.
And I'd only just scratched the surface.
---
After the fight, I walked on towards my home, staring at the sky in deep thought. The drumbeat in my chest was quiet now, but I could still feel it—a constant reminder of the power I'd unlocked and what was waiting for me.
I thought about Bakugo, about the fight, about the strange new abilities that had emerged. I thought about Midoriya, watching from the sidelines, his eyes full of hope.
It was far from over.