[It'd be easy enough to dodge, of course, but Shinjiro doesn't move, and just takes it--letting himself move with the momentum of the impact. Bakugo's fist strikes his jaw and he tastes the tang of copper in his mouth where his teeth cut against the inside of his cheek, but it's a familiar pain -- nostalgic, even, for simpler times. Back when he and Aki and Miki used to play together, when the kind of things Aki would get mad about would be Shinji stealing to get his best friend's kid sister a nice new doll to play with.
And it's distinctly different from the last time blood was in his mouth, overflowing from the ruptures inside as the bullets seared like fire in his back and stomach. That night was supposed to be the end of things, and he'd been at peace with that ... but then he'd woken up in the Quad with fuzzy memories of a hand and static all around it and learned that almost all of the others had died instead.
Shinjiro doesn't know exactly what Bakugo's been through, but he understands in his own way. It's a struggle just keeping himself upright and moving, instead of just giving up and letting the pressure crush him. He doesn't know why it was him, rather than someone determined and passionate like Aki, someone composed and organized like Mitsuru -- hell, even just enthusiastic like Iori. He doesn't know why the Director reached out a hand to a dying man and let everyone else die instead.
But this moment here? It feels good, weirdly enough, and it's the first time since opening his eyes that he's gotten anywhere near smiling. Bakugo might have hit him, but he’s stopped yelling, and Shinjiro thinks he may have gotten through to him. He half-snorts, wiping his mouth with his hand.]
Not bad. You mighta even given Aki a run for his money. [Heh. He can already hear Aki in his head disagreeing with that assessment, getting competitive.] What's your name?
cw: blood, allusions to fatal injury
And it's distinctly different from the last time blood was in his mouth, overflowing from the ruptures inside as the bullets seared like fire in his back and stomach. That night was supposed to be the end of things, and he'd been at peace with that ... but then he'd woken up in the Quad with fuzzy memories of a hand and static all around it and learned that almost all of the others had died instead.
Shinjiro doesn't know exactly what Bakugo's been through, but he understands in his own way. It's a struggle just keeping himself upright and moving, instead of just giving up and letting the pressure crush him. He doesn't know why it was him, rather than someone determined and passionate like Aki, someone composed and organized like Mitsuru -- hell, even just enthusiastic like Iori. He doesn't know why the Director reached out a hand to a dying man and let everyone else die instead.
But this moment here? It feels good, weirdly enough, and it's the first time since opening his eyes that he's gotten anywhere near smiling. Bakugo might have hit him, but he’s stopped yelling, and Shinjiro thinks he may have gotten through to him. He half-snorts, wiping his mouth with his hand.]
Not bad. You mighta even given Aki a run for his money. [Heh. He can already hear Aki in his head disagreeing with that assessment, getting competitive.] What's your name?