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Maybe This Time
Plot: Bakugo and Y/N are childhood friends in Musutafu, sharing dreams of becoming heroes together. When Y/N's family relocates overseas due to a job opportunity, they promise to keep in touch.
A/N: this story is kinda inspired by the Filipino song called Maybe This Time by Sarah Geronimo, also while reading I recommend listening to the song.
In the bustling streets of Musutafu, Bakugo and Y/N were inseparable childhood friends. They spent countless afternoons chasing each other around the neighborhood, sharing secrets under the old oak tree in the park, and dreaming about their future as heroes. Bakugo, with his fiery determination, and Y/N, with her unwavering kindness, formed a bond that seemed unbreakable.
But life had other plans. Y/N's father received a promotion that required the family to move overseas. Tears flowed freely as Bakugo and Y/N stood on the familiar street corner, their hands tightly clasped together.
"I don't want to leave," Y/N whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
Bakugo clenched his fists, struggling to hold back his own tears. "I'll miss you, idiot."
They promised to stay in touch, to write letters and call each other whenever they could. As Y/N's departure date approached, the days seemed to blur into a whirlwind of packing boxes and tearful goodbyes. On the eve of her departure, Bakugo stood alone on the rooftop of their favorite hangout spot, staring at the city lights below.
"I won't forget you," he vowed silently to himself.
Years passed. Bakugo threw himself into his hero training, his fiery determination only burning brighter with each passing day. He became known as one of the top heroes in Musutafu, his explosive quirk matching his explosive personality.
Meanwhile, Y/N adapted to her new life overseas, but thoughts of Bakugo never left her mind. She kept her promise, sending letters whenever possible, sharing stories of her adventures and asking about his hero exploits. Each letter felt like a lifeline, a connection to the boy she had left behind.
One fateful day, a letter arrived for Bakugo, the familiar handwriting bringing a rush of memories. Y/N wrote about returning to Musutafu for a short visit, her father's work bringing them back to Japan temporarily. Excitement and nervousness gripped Bakugo's heart as he read her words.
The day of Y/N's return finally arrived. Bakugo waited anxiously at the train station, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. And then, amidst the bustling crowd, he saw her — Y/N, her smile just as radiant as he remembered. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed forward and enveloped her in a tight embrace.
"I knew you'd come back," Bakugo muttered gruffly, his voice betraying the emotions he had kept buried for so long.
Y/N laughed softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I promised, didn't I? I couldn't stay away forever."
They walked together through the streets of Musutafu, catching up on lost time and sharing stories of their separate lives. The park where they used to play was their first destination.
"Remember how we used to climb that old oak tree?" Y/N asked, pointing to the tree that had witnessed their childhood adventures.
"Yeah, and you were always scared to jump down," Bakugo teased, a rare smile gracing his lips.
"I was cautious!" Y/N protested, laughing. "Unlike someone who jumped without thinking!"
Their laughter echoed through the park, blending with the rustling leaves and distant chatter of other visitors. As they sat under the oak tree, the conversation turned more serious.
"Do you remember the first time we talked about becoming heroes?" Y/N asked softly, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers.
Bakugo nodded, his gaze distant yet thoughtful. "Of course. We were just kids then, but even back then, you believed in me."
"I still do," Y/N said earnestly, her eyes locking with Bakugo's intense stare. "You're going to be an amazing hero, Katsuki."
Bakugo looked away for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. "And you, Y/N? Are you happy where you are?"
Y/N hesitated, a small sigh escaping her lips. "I miss home. I miss everyone. But I'm making the most of it. My dad's job keeps us moving, but Japan will always be my home."
They sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, Bakugo spoke, his voice softer than usual. "Promise me something, Y/N."
"Anything," she replied without hesitation.
"Don't forget about me," Bakugo said, his eyes intense and searching.
Y/N reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I could never forget about you, Katsuki. You're a part of me, no matter where I go."
And as they walked through the park once more, hand in hand, Bakugo realized that some bonds are truly unbreakable, no matter the distance or time apart. Maybe this time, their childhood promise would lead to a future filled with shared dreams and endless possibilities.
➤ ` BELLION. ( deathburns )
𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙸𝚃 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙸 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙳𝙸𝙴 , 𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝙱𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙼𝚈 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 . a knight’s oath before the great warriors who came before him . a promise to the ones he hoped would not have to come after him . for he wanted , more than anything , for the war to end . would it be that i should die , it will be for the people who stand behind me . that is why a hero fights & for all the … predicaments , as meliodas had put them , bellion had once , too , been a hero . eager & bright eyed before golden hues turned a dull crimson . the one who fought the hardest , who overcame the odds . the gifted one of his group , favored enough to be granted the title of captain barely into adulthood .
after all , he was the son of a commandment . he was named for war . the ten commandments & the sons of the demon king held power , but power was not the only thing that could carve a path to victory . thus , the demon clan forged soldiers from youth , hoping to find an answer in that — & didn’t they make bellion into what he became ? ( if it is what he embodies , then he will be perfect . beloved , favored little war - god , who could only ever fail if he did so by choice — & so hadn’t his fall been by choice ? )
meliodas speaks of death with an all too familiar lilt — the mark of an emptiness that bellion felt deep in his soul . for beyond war , he too was fire & death ; oh , horror & magnificent the indura made from his flesh could be ! a king of his own , wandering & lonely !
( bellion comes to the aid of another soldier injured by a celestial blade — death surrounds him , & sorrow ! he remembers watching not in awe but in a melancholy haze as baruja cursed the celestials & the goddesses for condemning mere children to fight & to die . he remembers how baruja had sacrificed six hearts & it was not bellion who became a monster , but it was still bellion who would serve as the instrument of war ; a walking funeral pyre . in the light of the chaos mother’s judgment , they all fall into the endless void . )
meliodas had come to end bellion’s life , & instead of fear , there is quiet acceptance of the fact that while he had been made into this weapon of war , he was not like the sons of the demon king . perhaps he had some noble goal in his hearts , but in the end , he was strong because he endured . the nature of his kind to do so . he was strong because he was brave & strategic & how many times had he led troops to victory ? that was not the first sky temple that had been taken by the demon clan . & back then , it was bright - eyed & ambitious bellion who stood & rallied troops & said that they would bring victory for their clan . that they would one day no longer live in fear . & the soldiers who saw him speak had known that while perhaps he was inconsequential to the leader of the ten commandments , he made up for that tenfold with heart ! he was valued by those he led & those he protected . once , he was a hero .
looks like i’m the one wondering about what to do with you now . bellion is too jaded now to still look at meliodas as an idol , or even as a goal . he is too tired & rooted now in the harsh reality of things to even look at meliodas with hate . because he could only imagine the burden that meliodas had once carried . bellion knows that he is not the only person who thinks that meliodas had turned a blind eye to the suffering of his people ( but , they still were in the end , weren’t they ? that was something they could not change ) . but , he can only imagine that in three thousand years , meliodas has faced the sobering reality as well . maybe in a different way , but how else could he explain the prince’s existence after all this time ? the goddess he’d seen at the temple he understood , for her kind had always lived far beyond his own , but this was still the same meliodas . he can only imagine how lonely that was . & shockingly , he feels pity .
because bellion had something that meliodas did not . the black knights had not seen him as something to fear , but someone to respect . fear was not a bond , fear was a subjugation . a good leader did not gain allies by snuffing out their courage , but by nurturing it . & for as fickle as the mentality was ( conditions of victory , of course , the unfailing soldier ) , never once did bellion doubt that the people who followed him did so out of loyalty , not of fear . could meliodas say the same of the past ? ❛ yeah , i figured as much . coming to kill me — ❜ but , he thinks of the people in the village . he will not die on them . ❛ there are promises i intend to keep . i told those people that i’d be there . if i die , i will die defending them — as i had thought those three thousand years ago . that would it be that i was to die , it would be fighting for the people . our people . ❜ ( he will not die here , if nothing else , that is what his soul screams . he will not die because of a fight with the demon king’s son . he knows meliodas can see that conviction in his eyes — not so dull , but regaining flecks of gold — ) ❛ i will not fail them . i will fight to my last breath to defend them . even if the threat to their safety is you , then i will die fighting for the people . ❜
Wow, the surprises didn't intend to stop coming. Interesting stuff, Meliodas was coming to realize, cautious as he remained about the entire affair. ❛ Sounding a little serious there, aren't you ? Then again, ❜ The memory's faint but still present, buried under centuries of experiences, ❛ you always did seem the earnest type. Almost too much so. ❜ A reference to another time the Black Knight stood before him, the confidence and hope radiating off the soldier spurring that long gone Meliodas to question his motivations. A key variance marked this meeting from the last, both living isolated from the clan they had unquestioningly served.
Eyes slanted, irises rendered a sliver of green as shoulders shifted — our people. Now, there's something sardonic to the twist of his smile.
All were the unreliable narrators of their own story. The same truth was no different for the infamous ❛ Meliodas the Love ❜, a cold, ruthless paragon. Bred to fight, created to destroy, given power he never wanted. Everything he did, he did on the orders of his father, the Demon King, for the advancement of the Demon Clan as a whole. Along the way, he could even say he devoted his life to the people, sought to right the injustices against them with the scribe of his father as his guide. The reverence cast upon his shoulders, heralded as the hero / leader / savior of the demon race & the bane of the others.
And thus, conflict had encompassed the entirety of his life, every waking moment dedicated towards it. ( he'd been fighting longer than the other had taken his first breath, hadn't he ? a bit depressing / hopeless, how it never ends. ) His world little more than a collage of one meaningless battle after another, screams and pleas silenced as his enemies all fell beneath the shadow of his blade and disappeared. He never once flinched. The personal distaste held for his actions never mattered. What use was thinking, what good were feelings, when the only purpose you served was to be the sword pointed towards the enemy, a weapon to be drenched in ceaseless bloodshed ?
The battles. The death. It was all for the sake of the people. It was for father. Countless lives lost for that goal, yet in the end he had to raise his own hand against them.
It hadn't been hard to see. The hoping to see it through the end, that one day the fighting would stop, was nothing more than a fable fed to the starry eyed youths as they're shipped off to a battlefield. He was not his brother, who's diligent sword and heartfelt dedication existed for the purpose of the Demon Clan, but he eventually too gained that same desire given birth from that happiness of being with someone special / that intense need to protect them, and with it an understanding.
Perhaps things would have been different, had that goddess never come under threat of execution, had she defected to his side instead of he to hers, had she been born with darkness beating in her heart instead of light.
❛ i will not fail them. i will fight to my last breath to defend them. even if the threat to their safety is you, then i will die fighting for the people. ❜
He laughed. It echoed in his ribs, coming from all of him at once. Inappropriate it may be to answer such a serious declaration with a jovial tune but it couldn't be helped. Did some part of Bellion's words compel it ? Hell if he had any clue. It's strange thing indeed, not stirred from any sort of mirth, out of sync with whatever truly may lay inside, but laughed he did. Who would in this situation ? The cold leader of the Ten Commandments ( the one who dismisses the challenge / the presumption his life could end here, soft chuckle ringing true as a silent scoff through the tense air ) ? the wandering captain of seven sins ( a boisterous glee reminiscent of the unfazed cadence towards any danger / life itself that it'd come to be known for, commending the courageous grit to try their hand at the daunting task ) ? both ? who's to say what's the correct response, when the sound he makes landed in neither camp, and disparaged more than either.
❝ What do you take me for ? ❞ It's asked plainly, a stark contrast. There's a certain camaraderie to be found in such lifeless things, and for just as quickly as he’d lift his blade to an offered throat, he spoke casually, lazily, head canted so easily without much care. ❝ I get that you don't have a good view of me but I hope you realize I am here because you, ❞ A hand settled on his hip, the other leveling the point of Lostvayne directly toward the demon, his target marked, ❝ had been set on wiping out another group of people, you know. Demons aren't known for their fondness towards the other Clans. ❞ There's no need to insinuate further. After all, he'd never been one to extensively comb over details for the destruction that often followed their clan's wake. ❝ In any case, I don't have any plans to harm any of these villagers. ❞
Some, on his team, would surely say he'd grown too merciful towards obvious dangers. He'd scoff at the assumption if it hadn't been true, up to agreeing to sign his own death warrant. It's really not in him to seek fights, not so senselessly, at the very least. a weird sensation, sitting uncomfortable on his chest, to both agree and disagree with yourself. Lostvayne resumed motion, fingers aimlessly rotating it in hand, once, twice before the sword shifted, the blade’s spine resting neatly against his shoulder.
❝ Now then, this would be easier if I could just kill you and be done with it, or if I just dragged you back and kept a close eye on you. But...seeing as plenty of humans are in constant danger thanks to all the roaming demons, it doesn't hurt to might as well ask. You can say ‘em all you want but do you really intend to live up to those words ? It'd be pretty terrible if you put on such a display, only for you to start killing as soon as I turn my back on you. Defeats the whole purpose of my job. ❞