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The roar of the engines filled the air, a symphony of raw power and precision. It had been a few years since Bakugou Katsuki stepped away from hero work, finding a new way to channel his relentless drive and explosive energy into something equally intense: professional motorcycle racing.The sport suited him—fast, dangerous, and demanding. Racing wasn't just about speed; it was about control. The slightest miscalculation, the briefest lapse in focus, and you could find yourself skidding off the track at 300 kilometers per hour. But Bakugou thrived in that pressure. To him, the track was a battlefield, every opponent a target to be overtaken, every corner a test of skill.Motorbike racing required more than raw speed. There was a delicate balance between aggression and precision—knowing when to brake hard into a corner, when to accelerate out of the apex, and when to push his machine to the limit on the straightaways. Every race demanded total focus. One wrong move, one hesitation, and he could lose seconds—or worse, crash.Bakugou's approach to racing was as explosive as his quirk. He didn't just want to win—he wanted to dominate. His name had quickly risen in the ranks of the motorbike grand prix, known for his ruthless driving style and no-nonsense attitude in the pit. The fans loved him for it, even as his fellow racers kept a wary distance. But that didn't matter to him. He wasn't in this to make friends.For Bakugou, racing was war. And he had every intention of being the king of the track.Of course, he wasn't the only person with that drive, that determination. He was surrounded by like-minded individuals, in and off his team, that had a competitive disposition. They didn't matter to him, they were all just extras for him to pass on the track.However, one of the riders kept getting in his way.--Shoto Todoroki was the pride of Team Endeavor—also, somewhat ironically, the team manager's son. If that even followed the rules. He was beloved by fans for his cold, calculated racing style. His Yamaha R1, split in his signature red and white, seemed almost otherworldly in its precision. Todoroki drove it like it was fueled by something more intense than gasoline—like it had the sun powering it from within.And as for those fans? Mostly teenage girls drooling over him like he was the next best thing to Tonkotsu ramen. Katsuki wouldn't lie—he had his own fair share of swooning admirers. But unlike that Icyhot bastard, he didn’t play into their fantasies. He didn’t have time for that. The only thing he cared about was the golden cup at the end of the race. Everything else was just noise.Bakugou stood in his garage, focused, rubbing down his helmet with a rag he’d found nearby. That helmet, just like his bike, was his pride and joy. Sleek, polished, spotless. He'd never crashed it—not once—and he intended to keep it that way. His Aprilia RSV4, black with streaks of orange and green, stood like a beast in the shadows. It was a heavy machine, tough as nails, and he loved every bit of its raw, unyielding power.“Hey, Kacchan,” a voice echoed from behind him in the mostly empty garage.It was Deku, descending the steps with a towel slung over his shoulders, his riding suit half undone and tied around his waist. High school was far behind them now, and Deku had filled out in all the ways Bakugou begrudgingly acknowledged. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, shorter hair—but still the same messy tuft at the front that sometimes dipped over his eyes.“Did you hear? Both Kirishima and Tetsutetsu from Team Fatgum made it through the qualifiers?” Deku said, wiping sweat from his brow. “First time in a few seasons that Fatgum’s had more than one rider get past Q2.”Bakugou grunted in response, snapping his tinted visor back onto his helmet with a sharp click. “I’m shocked that dumpster fire of a team gets any qualifiers at all. Half of 'em can't even ride straight.”His tone was gruff, but Deku had long since grown accustomed to Bakugou’s sharp edges. “Tetsutetsu placed fifth in Q2 last season.”“Yeah,” Bakugou snorted, “and then crashed and burned in 21st during the Prix—only because that bird-headed freak’s helmet flew off and totalled his bike.”Deku opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. Bakugou's dismissal was as much a part of their conversation as anything else."I have to go, the race is starting. Are you even ready?" Katsuki snapped, glaring at Deku who was happily standing there with his suit half-undone and no helmet or bike in sight."Oh yeah, shit!" Deku yelped, darting up the steps to get his own bike ready. "See you out there Kacchan!"As Deku gave his usual joyous goodbye, Katsuki pulled his helmet on, tying the straps as he thought.Without fail, Katsuki, Shoto and Izuku would place in the top 3. He didn't know why the losers at home kept watching - the results were pretty much the same every season.-The engines revved at the starting line, vibrating the air with an electric tension that set Bakugou’s blood on fire. His fingers gripped the handlebars of his Aprilia RSV4, the growl of its engine echoing in his chest. To his left, Todoroki sat on his pristine Yamaha, calm and collected as always, with that same infuriatingly stoic expression beneath his visor. And to his right, Deku was focused, head down, his hands steady on the controls. The countdown lights flashed overhead—red, red, red...Green.Bakugou launched forward, his tires screaming against the asphalt as his bike surged ahead. He could feel the raw power beneath him, the Aprilia responding perfectly to his every move. He leaned into the first turn, carving through the air with surgical precision. Todoroki was fast, but Bakugou was faster.The second turn was tighter, more technical, but Bakugou handled it with ease. Todoroki was on his tail, the red and white blur of his Yamaha closing in, but Katsuki wasn’t going to let him get past. Not today. Not in this race. He twisted the throttle harder, pushing his bike to its absolute limits. The speedometer climbed, the wind whipping past his helmet in a deafening roar.As they approached the first straightaway, Bakugou caught a glimpse of Deku in his mirrors, sticking close, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His black and green Kawasaki was impossible to miss, covered in sponsors by random soda brands. But Bakugou wasn’t giving him the chance. He leaned into the throttle, rocketing down the straightaway with everything he had. The gap widened, if only by a few meters, but it was enough. The lead was his.Todoroki tried to close the distance in the next corner, his racing lines tight and precise, but Bakugou swung his bike with controlled aggression, cutting off any room for the Yamaha to slip by. There was a delicate balance here—one mistake, one miscalculation, and he'd lose ground. But Bakugou thrived in this chaos. It was where he belonged.The track ahead twisted into a series of sharp bends, perfect for testing every ounce of a rider’s skill. Bakugou was in his element. His Aprilia handled the turns like a beast unleashed, hugging the curves with a relentless grip as he powered through the apex of each bend. Behind him, he could feel Todoroki and Deku both breathing down his neck, but neither could match his sheer ferocity on the track.He smirked under his visor."This race is mine."The crowd was screaming, their hollers just a distant noise to Katsuki against the roar of his bike.Bakugou leaned hard into the corner, his body low and tight against the bike as he took the inside line. It was a sharp turn, the kind that could punish you for even a moment of hesitation, but Katsuki didn’t hesitate. He cut it short, the Aprilia gripping the asphalt like it was made for moments like this. He grinned under his visor, knowing Todoroki was right behind him, probably too cautious to take the turn as aggressively.A quick glance in his mirror showed Todoroki taking the corner wide, almost too wide. Katsuki nearly laughed."Idiot. That’s way too much space."In his mind, Todoroki had blown it, leaving far too much room between him and the ideal racing line. Bakugou tightened his grip, ready to leave him behind. He was about to gun it out of the turn when something unexpected happened.Todoroki wasn’t slow—he was planning.Using the wide line, Todoroki had set himself up perfectly to slingshot out of the corner with more speed than Katsuki anticipated. While Bakugou was forced to ease off the throttle ever so slightly to steady his tight turn, Todoroki's wide approach allowed him to maintain more momentum, smoothing out his exit as if the curve barely existed.And then, like a catapult being released, Todoroki shot past him.Bakugou’s eyes widened as the red-and-white blur of the Yamaha R1 surged ahead, cutting through the air with precision. For a moment, Katsuki's pride stung—he hadn't seen that coming. Todoroki wasn’t just playing it safe; he was setting up the perfect move."You bastard," Bakugou muttered under his breath, his heart racing faster than his bike.Todoroki’s Yamaha stayed ahead, cutting through the track with an almost eerie smoothness. Every corner, every straightaway, he handled like a machine—cold, calculated, and relentlessly efficient. Bakugou gritted his teeth, eyes locked on Todoroki’s back. He pushed his Aprilia harder, the engine growling beneath him, but the gap wasn’t closing."Dammit!" Bakugou hissed, leaning hard into another turn, trying to claw back every fraction of a second. He could feel the strain in his arms, the force of the bike fighting against him as he wrestled it through the bends. But no matter how hard he pushed, Todoroki was just there—a few seconds ahead, always just out of reach.Todoroki’s strategy had paid off. His smooth, wide exit from the last corner had given him the perfect advantage, and now, even with Bakugou’s ferocious pace, the gap between them wasn’t shrinking. Katsuki could feel the frustration burning in his chest. He hated losing, especially to him.As they hit the final straight, Bakugou knew there was no time left for mistakes. He twisted the throttle as far as it would go, the Aprilia screaming as it launched forward, closing the gap, but too slowly. The finish line loomed ahead, and Todoroki was already there, crossing with perfect precision.Bakugou roared past the finish line a few seconds later, his helmet tilted down in frustration as he slammed on the brakes. The gap wasn’t large, but it was enough. Todoroki had taken the win."Shit!" Bakugou growled under his breath, his heart pounding as the race ended, and the sight of Todoroki slowing down ahead of him felt like salt in the wound.The race was over, the roaring engines now a distant hum as the crowd cheered for the victor. Bakugou, however, was seething. His Aprilia rolled to a stop just past the finish line, where Todoroki had already parked his Yamaha, calmly dismounting with the same icy precision that had won him the race.Bakugou yanked off his helmet, his face flushed with frustration, hair wild and eyes blazing. He stomped over to Todoroki, practically radiating fury.“That was a low blow, you damn half-and-half bastard!” Bakugou spat, voice laced with venom. “Taking that corner so wide? Who does that?! You didn’t beat me, you just lucked out with some cheap-ass move.”Todoroki, already removing his own helmet, barely glanced at him. His two-toned hair was damp with sweat, his long hair tied up into a manbun - admittedly the sweat had made most of it unfurl - but his expression was as calm as ever, like he hadn't just crossed the line a few seconds ahead of an explosion waiting to happen.“Luck?” Todoroki said, his voice smooth and unbothered, slipping his helmet under his arm. His lips curled into the smallest of smirks. “I wouldn’t call strategy luck, Bakugou.”Katsuki’s fists clenched, his nostrils flaring. “Strategy? You call that strategy? You ran wide, like a rookie.”Todoroki’s expression didn’t waver. He met Bakugou’s fiery gaze with cool confidence. “If you really think it was just some rookie mistake, then why didn’t you catch me?”That hit a nerve. Bakugou’s jaw tightened, a growl deep in his throat, but before he could fire back, Todoroki stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough for only Bakugou to hear.“Face it, Bakugou. You rely too much on brute force. Sometimes, finesse wins the race.” Todoroki’s smirk grew a little wider, still maddeningly composed. “You were too busy focusing on my line to notice I was planning my exit. I’m surprised you didn’t see it coming.”The words were a dagger to Bakugou’s pride, and the smug calmness in Todoroki’s tone only twisted it deeper. Katsuki’s hand twitched, but he knew better than to give Todoroki the satisfaction of snapping right there on the track.“Next race, you won’t be so lucky, Icyhot,” Bakugou spat, stepping back, his voice sharp and full of challenge.Todoroki only shrugged, completely unfazed. “We’ll see. Just make sure you can keep up.” He turned away, walking off toward his pit crew with the same smooth confidence that had carried him through the race."Drop dead!" Katsuki snapped to his retreating form."Might be the only way you win," Todoroki hollered, not even looking back.