Chapter Text
The air in Gym Gamma was thick with the smell of ozone and pulverized concrete. A three-on-three exercise was winding down, and as usual, Katsuki Bakugo was at the center of the storm.
"DIE!" he roared, rocketing forward on a continuous, thunderous explosion. His target, a hastily constructed barricade, vaporized into splinters.
From the sidelines, Ochako Uraraka winced, lowering her binoculars.
"He's so… loud."
"Indeed!" Tenya Iida chopped a hand through the air beside her. "But his efficiency cannot be denied! He has successfully created a diversion for Ashido to secure the objective!"
"It's a little much for a diversion, ribbit," Tsuyu Asui commented, a finger to her chin.
They watched as Bakugo landed, smoke curling from his sweating palms. His team had won, decisively. But as he stomped toward the "captured" flag, his red eyes scanned the gym, finding Midoriya on the opposing team. A fresh scowl twisted his features. The victory wasn't enough; it never was when Deku was involved.
All Might's voice boomed over the intercom, slightly strained.
"Excellent work, young Bakugo! But perhaps a tad less… structural demolition next time! The city pays for that, you know!"
Bakugo just scoffed, kicking a piece of rubble.
The class was gathering near the exit, chattering about the match, when the main doors to the gym exploded inward.
A figure shrouded in a tattered, shimmering cloak stood in the wreckage. His skin glowed with an unstable, golden light, and his eyes were wild, panicked.
"Stay back!" he shrieked, holding up hands that crackled with dangerous energy. "I didn't mean to… it just… I need to get away!"
Aizawa's capture weapon flew out before anyone could blink.
"Stand down! You are trespassing on UA property!"
But the villain—a desperate man, not a mastermind—stumbled forward, tripping over the debris he'd just created. With a cry of surprise, he flung his hands out to break his fall. A massive wave of golden, concussive energy erupted from him, uncontrolled and wide.
It wasn't aimed. It was a accident. A panicked discharge.
Bakugo, ever impulsive, didn't dodge. He lunged forward, palms sparking to meet the threat head-on.
"THE HELL YOU—"
"Bakugo, don't!" Uraraka cried out from behind him. Without thinking, driven by pure instinct to help, she darted forward to try and pull him out of the way.
The golden wave hit them both at the same moment.
There was no pain. No force. Just a blinding, overwhelming light that swallowed their vision and a sound like a thousand bells ringing all at once. The world dissolved into a silent, brilliant gold.
Then, blackness.
Ochako's head was pounding. It felt like she'd tried to float the entire gym and passed out from the strain. Her body ached, a deep, muscular soreness she wasn't used to. She groaned, forcing her eyes open.
The world was blurry. She was lying on her back on the cool gym floor. She could hear the frantic voices of her classmates and the sizzle of Aizawa's quirk nearby. She tried to sit up, pushing herself up with her arms.
Her arms felt… wrong. Too heavy. Too corded with muscle. And her hands… she held them up, blinking to clear her vision. They were large. Palms rough and calloused. And they smelled faintly of nitroglycerin.
A high, sharp voice next to her screeched:
"What the—?"
Ochako turned her head. And saw herself. She saw her own face, her own brown hair, her own UA uniform. But the expression on that face was one of pure, unadulterated horror. An expression she never made.
Those wide, brown eyes were staring directly at her. And the voice that came out of her mouth was not her own. It was a voice she heard every day, yelling about victory and death.
It was Bakugo's voice.
"WHAT DID YOU EXTRA DO?!" the voice screamed.
Ochako's blood ran cold. She looked down at the body she was in. The black, spiky costume. The grenade-shaped bracers. She brought a hand—his hand—to her face.
This wasn't happening.
"Wh-why do I sound like…" she started to say, and then froze. The voice that came out of her mouth was low, rough, and unmistakably male. It was his voice.
Panic is too small a word for what happened next.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" Bakugo-in-Ochako's-body shrieked, scrambling backward on the floor and staring at his—her—new hands in terror. "WHAT THE HELL DID THAT VILLAIN DO TO ME?!"
"Kacchan?!" Izuku Midoriya gasped, having rushed over. He looked frantically between the two of them, his analytical mind short-circuiting.
Ochako-in-Bakugo's-body could only stare, mute with shock. She saw her own body hyperventilating, tears of frustration welling in its eyes, and a deep, sympathetic panic began to claw its way up his throat.
"Bakugo?" Kirishima asked, approaching slowly with a look of utter confusion. "Dude, what's going on? Why are you so calm?"
He nodded to the silent, wide-eyed Bakugo-body.
"This is unbecoming of UA students!" Iida chopped a hand toward Bakugo-in-Ochako's-body. "Uraraka-san, please cease this impersonation of Bakugo's speech patterns at once! It is not humorous!"
"I'M NOT THE ROUND-FACED CHEEK GIRL, YOU IDIOTS!" Bakugo-in-Ochako's-body screamed, his voice cracking with a mixture of fury and sheer, unadulterated panic.
From where he had the original villain subdued, Aizawa-sensei looked over his shoulder. His hair was floating, his eyes glowing red, but the quirk was already used. The damage was done. He took in the scene: one Uraraka having a meltdown with Bakugo's personality, and one Bakugo sitting in stunned, horrified silence.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh so deep it seemed to carry the weight of the entire world.
"Problem Children," he muttered, the word dripping with exhausted finality. "I have a new set of Problem Children."