The cafeteria at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters buzzed with the usual morning chaos. Plates clattered. Chairs scraped. Someone somewhere argued about Pop-Tarts being superior to bagels. Steam wafted from trays, curling in the air like battlefield smoke.
And then the storm rolled in.
Bakugo stepped through the double doors, all sharp edges and short fuse. Combat boots hit tile like hammers. His shoulders were square, his eyes cold, and his silence louder than any tantrum.
The cafeteria didn't go quiet but it shifted. Conversations dipped. Heads turned. Whispers filled the vacuum he left behind as he walked in.
Three days since the fight. Since the claws. Since the explosion that nearly buckled a hallway. Three days since he insulted Laura Kinney so deeply, even Deadpool would wince at.
His bruises had healed, sure. Medbay tech was good for that.
But pride? That didn't get patched up so easy.
Bakugo grabbed a tray, didn't even look at the food line. He wasn't hungry.
He scanned the room, hawk-eyed.
And there she was.
Laura.
Corner table. Hood up. Head bowed over a red apple she hadn't touched. She sat like a statue. A coiled spring. Danger in a hoodie.
Bakugo's jaw tightened. His palms itched, not from sweat but from the memory of the things he'd said. Things he couldn't unsay. Didn't even want to try. But still…
He walked straight toward her.
No hesitation.
Every eye followed him. Every step. The school's angriest student was about to pick a fight or bury a hatchet. No one could tell which.
At the nearest table, Jubilee leaned forward, lips curled into a grin. "Okay, bets on who bleeds first?"
Nightcrawler appeared beside her with a faint puff of smoke. "Do you zink zey vill fight again?"
Bobby Drake sipped his juice. "I mean, I kinda hope not. I like eating indoors."
Magik didn't look up from her cereal. "Let him bleed. Might knock some humility into him."
Kitty Pryde whispered, "They're just… staring at each other."
Bakugo dropped his tray across from Laura with a clack. Sat down without asking.
No words.
Laura didn't look at him. Her eyes were locked on the apple like it was a bomb waiting to go off.
The air between them crackled with tension. The cafeteria fell into a hush, everyone pretending not to watch while absolutely watching.
Then, finally, Bakugo spoke.
His voice came out rough. Low.
"I'm sorry."
Laura blinked. Slowly. Her eyes lifted, cautious and sharp.
Bakugo stared at the table, not at her. Like if he looked directly at her, the apology would combust.
"I said some bullshit. I was angry. And I meant to hurt you." His jaw flexed. "Didn't mean what I said. Not really."
Laura studied him.
Silence. Long enough for Jubilee to elbow Bobby in the ribs.
"Dude. He apologized. Holy crap."
Bobby coughed on his drink. "I didn't even know he knew how."
Nightcrawler smiled faintly. "Zere is hope."
Bakugo finally looked up. His eyes burned, but the fire was steadier now. Controlled.
"But don't get it twisted," he said. "We're not done."
Laura tilted her head.
"One day," he said, "we'll settle this. You and me. No interruptions. No crowd. Just us. And when we do… I'm walking away on top."
He stood.
Laura didn't respond. But her claws didn't come out either. That was something.
Bakugo turned, eyes sweeping over the room full of stunned onlookers.
"What?!" he barked. "Mind your own fucking business!"
Every mutant suddenly found their trays fascinating. Conversation returned with panicked energy.
Bakugo muttered something about "Fucking extras" and stormed out.
At the back of the room, Storm leaned in the doorway beside Xavier and Logan.
Xavier's voice was soft. "Anger is often armor. But sometimes, it hides a need to be understood."
Storm nodded toward Laura. "And sometimes, it's mirrored."
Logan chewed on a toothpick. "They'll fight again someday."
A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth.
"But maybe not just to win."
Danger Room — Later
The doors hissed open with a familiar mechanical sigh.
Bakugo stepped in, tension still rolling off him like steam. He wore a training shirt already dark with sweat, bandages wrapped tight around his forearms. His boots echoed across the metal floor.
He needed to move. He needed to burn. That apology had left something in his gut he didn't know what to do with.
Regret?
Nah. Just tension.
Maybe.
A figure waited for him in the center of the room, arms folded. Stocky. Broad. Rugged. The cigar smoke gave it away before the claws did.
Logan.
"I was wondering when you'd stop sulking and show up," Logan said.
Bakugo snorted. "Didn't realize they were handing out lectures with the breakfast menu."
Logan turned to face him. "This ain't a lecture. It's a beatdown."
Bakugo smirked. "Says who?"
"Says Xavier. And me." Logan popped his claws with a metallic snikt. "You wanna be a soldier? A leader? Then it's time you trained like one."
Bakugo cracked his neck. "You think I need you to get stronger?"
Logan dropped the cigar and crushed it under his boot. "No. I think you need me to stop getting yourself killed."
Bakugo didn't wait.
He launched himself forward, palms igniting mid-stride.
Logan ducked the first blast, rolled under a second, and closed the gap fast. He was slower, sure but precise. Efficient. He didn't waste a step.
Bakugo fired a microburst to launch himself backward, using the recoil to flip over Logan's head and drop behind him. He swung a wild hook—
Logan caught it.
Twisted it.
SLAM.
Bakugo hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up snarling.
"Again!" he barked.
Logan didn't smile. He just moved.
They traded blows like boxers and beasts. Bakugo's style was explosive, erratic. Every strike came with fire and fury. Logan's was tight, brutal. Jabs like daggers. Counters like traps.
Bakugo feinted left, dropped low, and fired a small blast to Logan's side. It landed barely.
"Good," Logan grunted. "Using angles now."
Bakugo didn't answer. He leapt, spun, and dropped an overhead blast that sent both of them skidding.
Logan's coat smoked. His arms were bleeding. But he didn't stop.
He drove into Bakugo with a shoulder tackle, slammed him against the wall.
"You fight like a fuse that's always lit!" he growled. "That ain't gonna work when the real monsters show up!"
Bakugo shoved him off with an explosion and screamed back, "Maybe I am the monster!"
The words echoed in the chamber.
Logan paused. Eyes narrowing.
Bakugo's chest heaved. His palms glowed.
"I'm not like the rest of these nerds," he said, voice trembling with fire. "I wasn't born to play nice. I was made to win. Even if it kills me."
Logan stepped forward. Slowly.
"You think that makes you strong? Going down with the building?"
Bakugo didn't answer. He lowered his arms.
Logan sheathed his claws and looked him in the eye.
"Strength ain't just power, kid. It's knowing when not to use it."
Silence settled like dust.
Then Logan pointed to the floor. "Get up. We're not done."
Bakugo nodded once.
They went again.
This time, it wasn't wild. It wasn't about rage. It was about movement. Rhythm. Bakugo started to think. He used his blasts to shift his body, not just burn his opponent. He dodged instead of tanking every hit. He let Logan come to him and then redirected.
An explosion here. A fakeout there. A low sweep. A follow-up jab. Sweat rolled down his face. His hands trembled from restraint.
He didn't go for the kill shot. He didn't need to.
And when they finally stopped, Logan was breathing hard. Bakugo, too.
But neither looked broken.
"You're learning," Logan muttered.
Bakugo wiped blood from his lip. "Still lost."
"For now," Logan said. "But next time? You might not."
Bakugo chuckled. "Next time, I'm blowing your damn eyebrows off."
Logan smirked. "Bring it, kid."
They stood there, shoulder to shoulder. Two soldiers.
Not friends. Not yet.
But maybe something close.
Elsewhere — Later That Night
Laura sat on the roof, knees pulled to her chest, watching the stars flicker in the sky.
She could still hear his voice in her head.
"I'm sorry."
Not something she'd expected from Bakugo.
Not something she expected from anyone.
Below her, the school lights flickered off one by one. Inside, lives continued. Kids laughed. Classes changed. Danger Room schedules cycled.
She looked at her hand. Watched the claws slide out slowly.
Then retract.
She smiled. Just a little.
Then turned back to the stars.