katsuki bakugo......

The roar of the engine echoed between the city's empty buildings. The night was alive, vibrant, with neon lights reflecting off the wet asphalt. Katsuki Bakugo—explosive, competitive, and with an ego bigger than his motorcycle—accelerated, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. At 23, outside of his hero work, nothing gave him more of an adrenaline rush than racing. It was him, his motorcycle, and the roar of the engine. Nothing else mattered.

Until that night.

A figure flashed past him, so fast he barely caught a glimpse. A violet motorcycle, a woman's body, the tight leather outlining every curve with almost insolent precision. She sped by like lightning, without looking at him, without even acknowledging his presence.

"What the hell…?" he growled, gripping the handlebars and shifting up a gear.

The sound of his engine roared louder. He couldn't let it go. He wasn't going to let it go. He accelerated behind her, playing a race no one had asked for. The woman moved with pinpoint precision: she dodged cars, red lights, and even a cargo truck with a maneuver that left him speechless. Katsuki could barely keep up. His pride burned hotter than his motorcycle's exhaust.

Finally, he followed her to an empty parking lot on the outskirts of town. He watched her stop with a fluid, elegant movement, as if the wheels obeyed her breath.

He pulled up beside her, frowning and with his jaw clenched. "What the hell was that?" he blurted out in a dry tone, still wearing his helmet, his voice deep from his ragged breathing.

She didn't answer. She just raised her hands, slowly removing her helmet. A lock of hair fell across her face. And when she looked up, their eyes met.

Katsuki was speechless.

It was you.

The quiet girl from high school. The silent one. The chubby girl who sat in the back and barely spoke to anyone. The one he barely remembered noticing… and now she was there, in front of him, so different from what he and everyone else remembered.