Bakugo Katsuki - Arranged Marriage (TodoBaku)

(Setting: A traditional, quiet traditional Japanese-style apartment arranged by the Todoroki and Bakugo families. It is post-war. Bakugo sits cross-legged on the tatami mats, arms crossed, teeth gritted as he stares at the sliding door.)The damn war was over, but the aftermath was a different kind of hell. Arranged marriage. With a Todoroki, no less. But not the half-and-half bastard—no, they managed to dig up a hidden, former villain sibling.The door slides open with a slow, agonizing creak. There you stand: Mizuki. You look hauntingly like Rei Todoroki, except those piercing, intense eyes belong entirely to Endeavor. You step into the room, your posture slightly crooked, wide unblinking eyes tracking his every micro-movement like a cat watching a mouse. "So. You're the loud one," you speak, your voice flat, eerie, and completely devoid of warmth. You walk closer, dropping down on all fours for a brief second before sitting back on your knees, tilting your head at him. You reach out, attempting a 'gentle' greeting, and smack his shoulder. The impact lands with a heavy, bruising thud that would have knocked the wind out of a normal person.Bakugo winces, his veins popping on his forehead as explosions spark in his palms. "Watch the hands, crazy eyes! What the hell was that?!" he roars, though he doesn't strike back, remembering the files on your trauma and your complete lack of physical calibration. He glares at you, taking in your shorter frame and creepy aura. "Sit the fuck down. If we're forced into this shit, you better learn how to not break my damn bones."

(Setting: A sterile, stark meeting room deep inside the newly rebuilt Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC) headquarters. The air smells faintly of ozone and industrial cleaner. Katsuki Bakugo sits on one side of a heavy metal table, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a lethal scowl plastered on his face. On the other side stand two high-ranking HPSC officials clad in pristine suits, holding a thick, laminated dossier.) "Let's review the terms one last time, Dynamight," the lead HPSC official states, his voice smooth, clinical, and completely detached. "This arrangement is a direct mandate under the Post-War Villain Rehabilitation Act. Mizuki Todoroki is a highly volatile asset. Given her history, her delayed Quirk manifestation, and her deep-rooted ties to League remnants—specifically her close association with Himiko Toga—she requires 24-hour, high-alert hero supervision. The Todoroki family has consented. Your agency has consented. This marriage is legally binding as of today." Bakugo’s jaw tightens so hard a loud click echoes in the quiet room. "I know the damn protocol," he grints out, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. Tiny, erratic sparks pop violently against the surface of the metal table, singing the finish. "You think I'm gonna back down from a damn assignment? I said I’d do it. Just give me the damn keys so I can get this over with." "Very well. Bring her in," the official orders into a wall intercom. The heavy, reinforced security doors slide open with a mechanical hiss. Escorted by two heavily armed guards who look terrified out of their wits, you step into the room. The contrast is immediately jarring. To Bakugo, it feels like looking at a ghost. You possess the exact, delicate facial structure and snowy white hair of Rei Todoroki, breathing an air of tragic elegance. But the moment you look up, that illusion shatters. Staring back at him are Enji Todoroki’s fierce, piercing turquoise eyes—wide, completely unblinking, and entirely devoid of human warmth. There is a deep, unsettling vacancy in your expression, a creepy stillness that makes the hairs on the back of Bakugo's neck stand on end. You don't walk like a normal person. Your posture is slightly askew, your movements low and predatory. As the guards unclip your specialized Quirk-suppressant cuffs, you immediately drop low, your hands grazing the floor in a distinctly cat-like gesture, your head tilting ninety degrees as your intense gaze locks onto Bakugo. You track the rise and fall of his chest, analyzing him like an apex predator evaluating a strange new territory. "Subject Mizuki is now in your custody, Dynamight," the official says, quickly stepping back toward the glass observation window. "Remember, her comprehension of physical boundaries and force calibration is severely warped due to childhood trauma and subsequent villain conditioning. Proceed with caution." You glide forward, your movements silent against the linoleum. You stop right in front of Bakugo, towering slightly over your shorter frame, but you don't look down—you look up, your eerie, wide eyes boring into his red ones. "The loud hero," you speak, your voice a flat, hollow monotone that sends a chill through the room. "Toga told me about you. She said you scream a lot." Before he can even process the mention of the psycho blood-drinker, you reach out a hand. In your mind, you are attempting a gentle, compliant greeting to your new husband. But you have no concept of soft. Your hand descends like a lead pipe, slapping heavily against his shoulder. WHACK. The sheer force of the "gentle" pat echoes like a gunshot in the sterile room. The impact is heavy enough to crack the floor tile beneath Bakugo's boot and leaves an instant, dark purple bruise beneath his shirt. Bakugo winces, a sharp hiss escaping his teeth as explosions violently detonate from both of his palms, blackening the metal table. He snaps, jumping out of his chair, his veins bulging on his forehead as he glares down at your creepy, unblinking face. "Watch the hands, crazy eyes! What the hell was that?!" he roars, the smoke clearing from his hands as he violently shoves his palms into his pockets to keep from blasting the room to pieces. He glares at the HPSC officials, then back to your blank, cat-like expression. "A bruise from a damn handshake?! Sit the fuck down! If the Commission is forcing me into this shit, the first thing you're learning is how to not break my damn bones!"