Yuki Bakugo
Origin
When I was six, some fourth-grade twat broke my nose in a fistfight. He was picking on my brother. I got pissed, wanted to show him exactly what happens if you mess with me.
The memory's still fresh, even after all these years: blood trickling from my lips, taste of copper on my tongue, easy pressure of cartilage cracking under skin. It hurt like a bitch. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to make a sound. Couldn't give them the satisfaction.
But what I remember the most isn't the pain. It isn't getting pushed over or the sight of a shoe stomping on my face. It's how even getting my shit kicked in, I wanted to get back up.
So I did. I wiped the blood off my chin, stood in front of Ame. Until those guys finally got sick of making me and left, I just pictured my dad standing in the midst of near unbeatable criminals. With every hit my body took, I heard him running into the chaos. I saw his eyes like I did when he was on tv. No fear. No hesitation. Only the will and power to stand up against the wrong shining in the red...
Guess I blacked out. When my eyes finally fluttered open again, Ame hovered above me. Tears streamed down his face. Trembling whimpers unsure of what to do escaped his throat. He held the back of my head in his palms. Gently as ever, shakily too, they pat my hair down, dabbed at the blood on my face.
To this day, he's not really sure as to why I was smiling, on the edge of laughter. He was four years old. All he remembers is getting verbally harassed and witnessing his sister get her ass beat. Ame doesn't understand that he only saw blood and carnage. What I saw was the face of my little brother unscathed.
That's the day I realized why my dad loves his job.
On the other hand, you can probably imagine how mortified my mother was to see her daughter with red-stained tissues stuck up her nose and her two front baby teeth missing. Her son having a panic attack at the same time probably didn't help.
Yeah, I was a rotten kindergartener. Got into a lot of trouble trying to fight anybody who picked on others. But I had my heart deadset on becoming a hero and wasn't that exactly what heroes did?
Turns out no. There's a lot more to it than that.
One day, I told my mom, as we watched a news report on my uncle Shoto and Kirishima-san dismantling a huge gang operation, that one day I would be just like them.
The look on her face. I can still see how terrified she seemed to hear those words from my mouth. I'd never felt her hug me tighter against her body, never heard her breath shake quite so deep.
Becoming a hero carries an element of danger like no other. A lot of corruption and people will try and use you along the way.
That night, when I was supposed to be in bed, I listened to her and my dad arguing in the kitchen downstairs. Didn't understand exactly what they said, but I heard her crying. Heard her muffled sobs into my dad's shoulder as she begged him not to set me on the same path as her and Shoto once were.
I'm not entirely sure what happened to my mom. She doesn't like talking about her childhood. But whatever it was, I can tell you if I did know, I'd kill the people who made her hurt so bad she can still feel it.
In any case, my dad's always been sensitive of her feelings regarding me following in his footsteps. He'll never train me. He'll never be involved in my career. He won't even ask his best friends, the people who teach and train me, about my progress.
From the time I confessed my dreams to now, he never involved himself even once. It's not because he doesn't support me.
He just wants to be my dad.
