Land of Interdimensional Demons

Bakugou’s redemption feels flat because the story refuses to address the actual root of his behavior: he' s a quirkest in MHA's quirkest society, and his worldview is shaped by a hierarchy that places flashy, powerful quirks at the top and quirkless or heteromorph people at the bottom. The narrative frames his cruelty toward Izuku as insecurity, but insecurity alone doesn’t explain the specific way he targets Izuku. Bakugou doesn’t just bully him—he dehumanizes him, calls him “Deku” (a slur meaning useless), and treats him as inherently lesser because he was quirkless. That is not generic schoolyard bullying, its discrimination rooted in a belief that people without strong quirks are inferior. Yet the story never names this for what it is, and that omission weakens any attempt at meaningful growth.

This becomes even clearer when you look at how Bakugou treats heteromorph classmates. He casually uses quirkist nicknames (“Pony,” “Raccoon Eyes,” “Tape Arms”) and the narrative plays it off as comedic banter rather than a pattern of discriminatory behavior. In a world where quirk-based prejudice is a real, systemic issue, these moments should matter. They should be part of his arc. But they aren’t. The story never forces him to confront the fact that he participates in the same oppressive attitudes that create villains like Spinner or marginalize people like Shoji. Instead, his behavior is treated as harmless personality quirks rather than evidence of internalized bigotry.

Because the narrative refuses to acknowledge Bakugou’s prejudice, and instead sanitizes it down to just being a generic asshole, his redemption becomes narrowly focused on one person—Izuku—rather than the broader worldview that shaped his actions. His apology is framed as a personal reconciliation, not a reckoning with the ideology that made him believe Izuku was beneath him in the first place. He learns to respect Izuku, but not quirkless people as a group. He never interrogates why he thought quirkless people were worthless, why he told Izuku to kill himself, or why he believed power determined human value. A true redemption arc would require him to confront the societal biases he internalized and perpetuated. Instead, the story shrinks the conflict down to a childhood rivalry.

This narrow focus makes his growth feel soft, incomplete, and unearned. Bakugou’s arc should have been about dismantling quirk supremacy within himself—recognizing that worth is not determined by power, flashiness, or combat potential. It should have involved him apologizing not just to Izuku, but to the classmates he demeaned, the people he dismissed, and the system he upheld. Instead, the narrative treats his cruelty as a personal flaw rather than a symptom of a discriminatory society. By refusing to engage with the political and social implications of his behavior, the story lets him off the hook.

The result is a redemption that feels artificially sanitized. Bakugou is never held accountable by his peers, who treat his aggression as normal or even admirable. Teachers ignore his discriminatory language, which is extremely egregious in Aizawa's case because he too was discriminated against because of his quirk (you'd think he'd feel more sympathy for Izuku 🙄). The narrative frames him as a prodigy with a temper, not someone whose beliefs actively harm marginalized groups. This lack of external pressure means his growth happens in a vacuum, he changes because the plot needs him to, not because he is forced to confront the consequences of his worldview. Without that confrontation, his redemption feels shallow.

A final issue that I think undermines Bakugou’s redemption is the uncomfortable implication that he only begins to treat Izuku as a person once Izuku gains power. If Izuku had remained quirkless, nothing in Bakugou’s behavior, or the narrative’s framing, suggests he would have ever reconsidered his beliefs. Bakugou’s respect is conditional, granted only when Izuku becomes strong enough to threaten his worldview and challenge his superiority. That means Bakugou’s “growth” is about acknowledging someone who has climbed into a tier of power he already respects. This reinforces the very ideology that made him abusive in the first place, the belief that strength determines value. Instead of dismantling that mindset, the story rewards it by giving Izuku a powerful quirk and allowing Bakugou to “grow” without ever having to confront how he would treat someone who stayed powerless. His redemption, therefore, feels contingent and hollow, because it is built on Izuku changing, not Bakugou changing.

Also, if you really think about it, quirklessness can be seen as an allegory for ableism in the way that Izuku is unable to live as most people due because of an ability he lacks. From what little we can gage from Izuku's backstory, quirkless people face systemic discrimination, limited career options, social stigma, and are treated as inherently lesser or incapable. In that context, Bakugou’s treatment of Izuku isn’t just bullying or insecurity; it's textbook ableism. This is not a good look 😬.

In conclusion, Bakugou’s redemption falls flat because it refuses to address the truth: he was a bigot, shaped by a society that values strength and marginalizes the powerless. His arc should have been about unlearning that ideology, not simply apologizing to the one person he hurt the most. By reducing his growth to a single relationship, the story avoids the harder, more meaningful work of challenging quirk supremacy. And because Hori is so damn afraid of his pet looking bad, he accidently created a bigoted character and doesn't see anything wrong with that.