Stupid school with stupid assignments with stupid rules about having stupid partners. If he could properly articulate the abundant levels of stupidity the entire suggestion contained, the Academy would have been blown apart by his own hands already. Yet, he could do no such thing, not if he wished to graduate and become a Pro Hero. There was nothing in particular that stated that he could not without graduating ( maybe ), but he was hardly keen on being lectured on how blowing up an entire school because of an assignment was counterproductive of a Hero by any forms.

"Fine! It's one stupid dumb assignment, I can fucking deal with this shit!" And he would be damned if he got a failing grade for this stupid assignment. He had absolutely no intentions of falling behind the class, there is ONE and only [ O N E ] person on top of the class, and it was going to be him. Bakugo Katsuki was going to ace the damn assignment, and hell if he was going to let that roundface screw this up for him. He will make sure of it, or there will be hell to pay. For her.

If there was one thing she wished to alter about her current school life, it would almost be the fact that she was paired up with the resident hothead for the assignment. It was less about the fact that it was Bakugo, or well, it is about the fact that she was paired up with Bakugo, but simply more of the undeniable reality that despite his grades ( that were surprisingly good if one took him at face value ), the assignment was just a terrible fit. After all, considering the destruction and violence ( not to mention the abusive conversations ), how would they raise a plant together?

Of all things, Class 1-A just had to get the strangest assignment – to raise a flower to 'adulthood' by caring for it for the period of one week. Short, by any other measurements, but far too long when it comes to being coupl–matched wiith Bakugo for the project. Especially since the seed did not rely purely on soil, fertilizer, water and sunlight to thrive and grow. It required companionship. For a plant that was supposed to take their cues and energy from the surrounding carers, aka Bakugo Katsuki and Uraraka Ochako, she had absolutely no idea how the fauna would turn out. Perhaps for that very reason, they were paired up. One excelled in defeating villains, one had a preference for rescue missions. They were two ends of a stick, but there was no reason why they could not come together, come to a balance….right?

It was not like it was their child or anything. It was just a plant. They simply had to….ensure that Bakugo did not blow it up. Easy as pie.

Not really.

But Ochako had little choices to make, little options to take, and thus she could only watch with a wary eye as the grumpy blond snatched up their seed and shoved it quite very roughly into the pot that was carefully labelled, mostly by them. Seed of Bakugo Katsuki and Uraraka Ochako. It was strange simply seeing their names together, in their differing scrawl.

Quietly, she tugged the pot closer to her side, so that she may nourish it with the given fertilizer. Her actions, innocent and necessary, were greeted with a small blast that barely singed her uniform, and Ochako furrowed her brows with indignation, thankful for her reflexes.

"What was that for, Bakugo!? That's my assignment too!" How would they accomplish this if he would strike at a required action?! Chocolate met crimson, and Ochako realized that he had no intentions of harming her, despite the aggression he displayed. Taking a deep breath, she pushed back any further words in retaliation, raising her hand and gesturing. "I'm just going to fertilize it. It'll grow better that way."

He grunted, and then all but shoved the pot at her.

This was going to be the longest project ever.

Day One.

They were doing well, considering. Thanks to his vigilant glares and general anti-social behaviour, most of Class 1-A kept their distance from their pot, unwilling to face his wrath if harm was to come upon it. The only one who would daringly approach the male and his unwilling charge was unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, flung aside with a blast and a few choice words. Ochako would have reprimanded him, to remind him that the seed would absorb his aggression and dark energy, but bit her cheek to keep herself in check. He was doing so to ensure that no one messed around with their plant ( not that anyone would ), she supposed he played the role of a protective fath–guardian. In addition, no one was truly hurt, and the 'assailant' seemed to have taken it in his stride, caring little about the assault that was foreseen anyway. Thus she chided with a click of her tongue, watching, faint smile upon lips as she toyed absentmindedly with her tresses – would he be the same with his children? It was hard to imagine, yet so easy all the same. If he played the role of a protective father, then she was to play the role of a nurturing mother.

! They were guardians.

Betrayed by her own wandering thoughts, Ochako decided that watching Katsuki with their seed was extremely counterproductive, returning her gaze to her desk where papers laid, awaiting her attention. Seemingly focused, pen in hand, yet she did nothing but stare hard at words that glided over her head. She knew exactly the formula to apply, there was nothing too difficult about the question…but the formula did not rise to mind. Frustrated, she buried face within palms, ever so careful not to send herself floating, and begun an internal session of berating her lack of focus.

It is only a project. It is only Bakugo Katsuki. They will finish the project. They will do well because Katsuki always did well when it came to academic stuff. If anything she was the one who might pull him down. No, not on this project. This project is her turn to shine. She can do it! All she has to do is to show it some tender loving care as though it is her child, to be raised in a warm embrace, loved by both pa–

"Roundface! The fuck are you zoning out for?! Take your damn seed!"

"…..What?"

Snapping her head up in confusion, she was greeted by the foul-mouthed student and pot in her face, differing colours indicating that it was a different pot altogether. "…my….seed?" Positively lost, Ochako barely managed to grasp the pot within open hands, glancing around for assistance from her classmates; anyone who could update her on what she apparently missed out during her mental tirade. It did not take long for the brunette to look down upon her pot, and cradle it protectively to her chest.

The assignment had been altered.

Perhaps it had been argued fervently that it was far too difficult for two heroes of differing gender to care for the plant, even though the assignment was created solely to judge how well the students could care for another being ( even though less sentient ). Perhaps it had been argued that one party could possibly force the other to do all of the work ( though she did not believe that true of her class – each pulled their own weight wholeheartedly, heroes did not slack off on such ). Whatever the reason was, her responsibilities had changed. She cast a final look at the scratched off name on thei–his pot, and with a sigh, turned away.

She ought to be delighted, joyous even, that she had full control over her own grades now. But Ochako was never quite that person. Instead she worried, mildly, over the pot that was no longer hers, fingers dancing over the newly scrawled name on her lap.

"I guess Bakugo didn't want to start a new pot." He had decided; wrote her name onto the new pots that were distributed. Terminated their partnership, even though she supposed it was not by any choice of theirs. They were on their own now. Perhaps…..he would allow some assistance, she felt connected to thei–his pot, even if her care was brief. "Ne, Bakugo, if you need any help, you can always ask~ I mean, that pot was mine too~"

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD I NEED HELP FROM YOU?!"

Scratch that.

Day Seven.

The past week had been a blurry had spent the time in an uninhibited fury of assignments and training and Ochako could swear that she had sores upon her sores, and there was little way she would be able to feel any more pain in her weary body. If it was a plan to test their limits, the Academy had been spot on. But none of them had forgotten about the one assignment from a week ago. It had been exhausting, difficult even, for the seed took much to grow. All the attention they could spare beyond classes and training, all the energy that was not drained from their bodies. Ochako understood that Pro Heroes had times like these, when missions seemed endless, and they had little time for their own. Leisure, rest, those were but dreams far from reality.Reality was the tension in her muscles as she sat down with a relieved groan of appreciation for the simple creation of a chair.

If this was not Hell Week, she had no idea what trauma did they have planned for the Hell Week of the year.

"Exchange your plants with your previous partner. They will be the ones to grade your flower when it blooms tonight. Any flower that does not bloom will automatically get a fail grade, don't even try to cover up for your friends. This is not about teamwork. As heroes, you have to be honest, and you cannot cover up your friends' incompetency. Exchange the score sheets tomorrow during first period. You are not to dispose of the flower until we've given you the go ahead. Don't think you can get away with anything, Kaminari."

Unison protests sounded through the room, but there was no arguing against a teacher. Ochako, too weary to join in on the protest, simply dragged vision upon her ex-partner. Never once had she considered Bakugo as a teacher, yet judging from the score sheets being passed around, they had little to actually presume. Details were aplenty and exact; the texture of the petals, the condition of the leaves, the appearance of the flower, little was left to their pure judgement. She knew she would achieve a passing, she showered the bud with tender loving care, envisioning the plant as her own kin, deserving of all the love she could muster. She had cradled it like an infant, sung to it with the hopes of raising its spirit, and gone as far as resting the pot beside her while she slumber. It was in good condition whilst she tolled away. As a child should be. She knew, as her parents enveloped her with their love despite having little else to give. Ochako was gracious, thankful for all they had given her, and she had blossomed into a woman worthy of becoming a Hero. She treated the bud with the same love her parents showed her.

Tomorrow she would find out what Bakugo thought of her efforts. Once they had battled, and he acknowledged that she was no fragile girl, but a force to be reckoned. Tonight, he would see a new aspect of her. Tomorrow, she would discover how he felt about that.

Somehow, that was far more intimidating than Aikawa-sensei's grading.

She spent the rest of the day in a daze, withdrawing into her room once her meal was consumed for a well needed bath. She would take the pot to Bakugo later, perhaps ask if she could watch it bloom with him – for no other reason than to bask in the blossoming of her hard work. Stroking the bud silently as she dressed, she willed with her heart for her fauna to be good enough to pass his critical judgement. There was no way she would be able to get a perfect score ( not with Bakugo being the judge ), but at least a decent grade that reflected her heart accurately.

Ochako did not have long to muse. The impatient rapping upon door hinted too obviously that he was waiting to exchange flowers, and she hurried to the door with pot in hand. "I was going to bring this over to you, you didn't have to come here for it."

"I'm already here so just gimme the da–" He paused, gaze wandering down her half-dressed form before he adverted his glance with a grunt. "Button your damn shirt, roundface. Do you always fucking answer the door dressed like that?!"

Between the pot and her half-done shirt, she had little choice but to obey, handing the pot over before hands became free to proceed with what she should have accomplished long ago. Flustered and unwilling to look at him, she fixed her eyes upon the ground, raising only her hands to grasp his pot from him.

"Don't let anyone else see my damn flower." Was he afraid of failure? Too late did Ochako raise her head, he was gone with words left behind like an echo. Sullenly she returned to the privacy of her room, setting the pot carefully by her bed. Perusing the bud carefully, Ochako plopped down and begun the process of grading all but the flower itself, waiting for the bud to bloom. With a digit she etched her scratched out name, muttering under her breath. This would have been their flower, if not by a twist of fate. She noted the golden petals, vaguely amused by how it resembled the blond. It was of no surprise, seeing as the plant absorbed energies from its caretaker, and Bakugo had always done as he desired. What will be the result?

So she waited.

When petals unfurled, it was with a soft explosion, fireworks shooting from its heart as it alerted her to its glorious awakening. Breath caught within throat, she stuttered and found no words for the scene she laid eyes upon – a miniature Bakugo Katsuki from hip up framed perfectly by the golden petals, a miniature Bakugo who cast crimson gaze upon her astonished features, a miniature Katsuki who actually smiled at Ochako, before the curve turned into his usual scowl.

"Ochako."

But one word did the Katsuki-flower utter, and she fell into disarray. Cheeks darkened far beyond what she could have possibly fathomed, a bright vivid shade that would easily rival Kirishima's locks. Yet she could not advert her eyes, though hands rose to shield her vision in a feeble attempt to maintain decorum that she lacked. Fixed upon the intricately woven stem that precisely mimicked Bakugo Katsuki's muscular form, right down to the exact manner sinewy muscle shifted as he moved – only the Katsuki-flower swayed in pursuit of her uncovered face.

"Ochako? What are you doing, roundface?"

How long could she keep him?

It was exactly like having Katsuki by her side, she realized, though she fervently hoped that Katsuki-flower would spare her the harsh words that its origin filled lips with. Finally she allowed hands to press upon burning cheeks, admiring with a gentle caress of flower-cheek to follow. For the longest moment, it was simply Bakugo Katsuki, a rare smile upon miniature face, and Uraraka Ochako, embarrassed and flustered, heart pounding a hundred miles per second. But their peace would not last.

"Uraraka! Let us see Bakugo's flower! Come on!"

Startled, she almost slid from her bed, digits weaving into blanket in order to keep her from crashing inelegantly to the floor. Papers scattered but she remained safe. Unladylike shriek sounded nonetheless. It was either the yell from beyond her door, or the woman's voice, but something triggered the flower's agitated howl of rage, no different from the human.

"FUCK OFF OR I'LL FUCKING BLOW YOU INTO PIECES, MORONS!"

Well, that was the Bakugo they were familiar with. At any rate they lacked the knowledge that despite the recognizable voice resounding so clearly, the man was not physically present in her room. Their flowers had not displayed the same behaviour, the idea of a miniature Katsuki swaying right by her bed was completely unanticipated. Thus they scattered, fearful of the repercussions, hopeful that he would not recognize their combined voices.

"Go to sleep, roundface. You look like shit. Now. Goodnight."

She pressed lips to the mess of gold, giggling softly as tiny hands grasped her chin in return. Though he did not move to replicate her action, she appreciated the light touch and the soft boop onto nose that followed, head falling upon pillow as she embraced slumber with grateful arms. Had he been thinking of her through the entire week? Was that why the blossom addressed her so casually and offered no aggression to her affections? Ochako knew that the flower was not Bakugo Katsuki, but still, heart fluttered with the little Katsuki-flower gave. If the flower mimicked the one who fed his energy to the golden child…..then, what was she to believe of Bakugo Katsuki? Was she more than a mere classmate? Since when did he address her so intimately by her first name? Since when did he care if she slept, or even spoke so tenderly to her? Thoughts ran rampant, questions brewing endlessly – but they were questions she had no answers to, and possibly would never attain closure with. What was she to do? Would anything change if he found out what he had thrust in her arms before leaving hastily? What if her flower did the same thing his flower did…?

"Goodnight, Katsuki."

Most importantly,how was she to face the real one tomorrow?

"WHY THE HELL DID YOU ONLY GRADE ME 9/10, ROUND FACE?! WHAT THE FUCK?!WHAT PROBLEMS DO YOU HAVE WITH MY DAMN FLOWER!?"

A/N: This is my first Kacchako writing that I randomly started yesterday. It was supposed to be just a smol drabble but...well... There will be a continuation for this if there are enough interested people. I'm sure some people want to know what the heck Katsuki was doing~