The atmosphere in the stadium was suffocating.
On one side, Bakugo Katsuki was literally smoking. On the other, Haruto Akagi was standing with his hands in his pockets, humming a song that sounded suspiciously like the Spider-Man theme.
"Finally," Bakugo hissed, a small explosion popping in his palm. "I'm gonna blast that smug look off your face."
Haruto stopped humming and looked up, blinking.
"Oh, sorry, were you talking? I was just wondering if Midnight's whip is Made in China or if it's a custom artisanal piece. It's got a real 'premium' snap to it, don't you think?"
The crowd roared as Bakugo's face twisted. A vein throbbed dangerously on his temple.
"I SAID I'M GONNA BLAST YOU, FREAK"
"Okay, let's see. 'Die,' 'Kill you,' 'Blast you' - Katsuki, your vocabulary is like a starter Pokemon's move set. Just four attacks and a whole lot of shouting. Don't you have a 'Tail Whip' or something? Lower my defense with a compliment?"
Bakugo's eye twitched. His palms smoked hotter.
Midnight raised her whip, her voice cutting through the tension.
"Enough banter, boys! The crowd did not come her for your bickering!" She cracked the whip and grinned.
"First-year Sports Festival Semi-Finals! Bakugo Katsuki versus Haruto Akagi... BEGIN!"
The word hadn't finished echoing before Bakugo moved.
BOOM.
He propelled himself immediately. His right palm swung toward Haruto's face, already igniting.
Haruto leaned back — way back. The blast sailed past his face, close enough to sting.
"Careful, with the face," Haruto chirped, regaining his balance as if he hadn't just bent his spine 90 degrees
"One ugly face per lifetime is the legal limit, and I've already served my time"
Bakugo didn't respond. He was already swinging again.
BOOM.
The blast caught Haruto square in the chest, launching him backward across the concrete. He hit the ground hard, bounced once, and rolled to a stop. His shirt tattered. His chest was red, blisters already forming.
The crowd winced.
From the stands, Kirishima leaned forward, gripping the railing. "Man, that was direct! He okay?"
Kaminari winced. "That looks though. Is he dead? He looks dead."
Haruto's hand twitched. Then his arm. Then he slowly, painfully pushed himself up, his whole body trembling with exaggerated effort.
"I... I can't give up..." he wheezed, voice cracking with fake determination. His head rose slowly, eyes glistening with fake tears.
"My friends... my rivals... everyone who believed in me... they're all watching. I can't let them down!"
He staggered to his feet, swaying dramatically. One hand clutched his burned chest. The other reached toward the sky.
"Even if my body breaks... even if I can barely stand... I'll keep fighting! Because that's what it means to be a hero!"
Kirishima had tears in his eyes. "SO MANLY!"
Kaminari was openly crying. "HE'S DOING IT FOR US! FOR HIS FRIENDS!"
Jiro smacked both of them with her earphone jacks. "He literally just met us a few weeks ago! And he's clearly faking!"
Present Mic's voice crackled over the speakers. "UNBELIEVABLE! AKAGI IS BACK ON HIS FEET! WHAT A DISPLAY OF SHEER WILLPOWER, FOLKS!"
Aizawa's tired voice followed. "He's not even hurt."
"Look at his chest. The burns are already fading."
Bakugo snarled, already closing the distance again.
"STOP MESSING AROUND!"
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM
Bakugo's palms were relentless. Each explosion hammered into Haruto's torso again and again.
BOOM. BOOM.
Two powerful final blasts. The first caught Haruto's shoulder, staggering him. The second drove into his chest.
He collapsed to one knee, head bowed. He was a mess of red burns layered over older ones. Smoke curled from his skin.
"I... I can't..." he whispered loud enough, his voice trembled with 'despair'.
"He's too strong... his power... it's overwhelming... "
The crowd murmured with concern. Some people were on their feet.
Haruto's head rose slowly. His eyes were wet, glistening under the stadium lights. His lips quivered.
"No..." he said, voice cracking with renewed 'determination'.
"I won't give up. Not now. Not ever. Even if I have to crawl... even if I have to drag myself across this arena with my teeth... I'll keep fighting!"
He pushed himself up. One foot. Then the other. He stood tall, chest heaving, burns visibly fading from red to pink to fresh skin.
"I'll show you, Katsuki! I'll show everyone! This is my promise... my vow... my ninja way!"
Kirishima was openly sobbing now. "HE SAID THE THING! HE SAID THE THING!"
Kaminari was right there with him. "WE BELIEVE IN YOU HARUTO!"
Jiro had given up and was just watching with exhausted resignation.
"He's trolling. He's literally trolling and you are falling for it."
Present Mic was losing his mind. "HE'S UP! HE'S UP AGAIN! AKAGI HARUTO IS REFUSING TO STAY DOWN! WHAT IS THIS KID MADE OF?!"
Bakugo's eye twitched violently. His palms crackled, but the explosions were noticeably smaller now. He was burning through his sweat reserves, and the constant barrage was taking its toll.
"You're not even hurt, are you?" he growled.
Haruto clutched his chest, looking wounded—emotionally.
"Katsuki. How could you say that? Can't you see my pain? My suffering? My character development? I'm having a moment here!"
"YOUR WHAT?!"
"My heroic resolve! My unbreakable spirit! The power of friendship flows through me!"
"WE'RE NOT FRIENDS!"
"We could be!" Haruto spread his arms wide, grinning.
"All you have to do is believe in me, Katsuki. Believe in the me that believes in you!"
Bakugo had heard enough. His palms ignited again.
"DIE!"
BOOOOOOM.
A massive double-palm blast sent Haruto flying across the arena.
He hit the ground hard. Rolled. Bounced. Rolled again.
And came to a stop conveniently at the edge of the arena—his head inches from the boundary line
The stadium went quiet.
Midnight raised her whip, hesitating. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Haruto's still form.
Then his hand rose. Weakly. Trembling. Reaching toward the sky like a dying man.
"Jin..." Haruto's voice came out thin, cracking with 'despair'. "Jin... you there...?"
His fingers clawed at the empty air.
"Delete... delete my browser history... all of it... And especially delete that folder... the one called 'My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic - Season 4 Analysis (HD)'... "
He let out a long breath.
"It's not... what it looks like... It was for science...I was just studying ... the anatomy of talking horses"
His hand fell limp. His head rolled to the side.
Present Mic's voice sounded from the speakers, uncertain for once. "Uh... folks... is it over? Do we have a winner?"
Aizawa's tired voice followed. "He's faking."
Bakugo stood in the center of the arena, chest heaving, arms trembling. Sweat dripped down his face.
His palms sparked weakly—more smoke than fire now. But his eyes were sharp, locked on Haruto's 'corpse'.
"Get up," Bakugo growled.
Haruto didn't move.
"I said GET UP!" Bakugo's voice cracked with rage. "I know you're faking, you bastard! You think I'm stupid?! GET UP AND FIGHT ME FOR REAL!"
Silence.
Then—
Haruto's head turned slightly. One eye opened.
"It was certainly Oscar-worthy, don't you think?"
The eye gleamed with mischief.
Bakugo's face contorted. "I'LL KILL YOU!"
He lunged forward, right palm swinging.
But Haruto wasn't there anymore.
Bakugo's eyes widened. He spun around.
Haruto stood a few feet away, with a relaxed posture, like the entire fight hadn't happened.
"Okay," Haruto said, his voice different now.
The theatrical edge was gone
"You want me to take this seriously? Fine. Let's take this seriously."
Bakugo snarled and attacked.
BOOM.
Right palm. Haruto didn't lean back this time. He pivoted, and the blast sailed past his shoulder.
BOOM.
Left hook. Haruto slipped inside it, close enough to feel the heat, and redirected Bakugo's arm with a light parry.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Three rapid blasts. Haruto weaved through them like water. Just small, precise movements. Head tilt. Hip shift. Side steps. Every explosion missed by inches.
The crowd gasped.
Present Mic's voice shot up an octave. "WHAT IS THIS?! AKAGI HAS COMPLETELY CHANGED HIS STYLE! HE'S NOT GETTING HIT ANYMORE! HE'S BARELY MOVING AND BAKUGO CAN'T TOUCH HIM!"
Bakugo's frustration mounted. His blasts came faster, wilder. He was burning through his last reserves, throwing everything he had.
And hitting nothing.
Haruto moved like a ghost. Every time Bakugo swung, He was already somewhere else. A small step to the left. A slight lean backward. A casual parry that redirected the explosion harmlessly into the air.
"Your form is sloppy when you're tired," Haruto said calmly, slipping another blast.
"You drop your left shoulder before a big swing. And your footwork gets lazy when you're frustrated."
He ducked under a wild haymaker.
"Also, your sweat production is bottoming out. Your explosions are at maybe thirty percent power. And you're so angry you can't think straight."
Bakugo's chest heaved. His arms trembled. Sweat dripped from his chin, but his palms were barely sparking now. He was running on fumes—and he knew it.
His eyes darted around the arena. Looking for something. Anything.
Then they settled on the ground.
Haruto caught the shift. The slight change in Bakugo's stance. The way his weight dropped.
Bakugo slammed both palms downward.
BOOM.
The explosion was aimed at the concrete beneath their feet. Chunks of debris exploded upward in a cloud of dust and shattered stone.
A thick gray haze swallowed them both.
The crowd squinted, trying to see through the smoke.
Present Mic's voice crackled. "WHAT'S THIS?! BAKUGO JUST BLASTED THE ARENA FLOOR! WE CAN'T SEE ANYTHING! IS THIS A SMOKESCREEN?!"
Aizawa leaned forward. "He's creating chaos to distract his opponent. Not bad."
In the stands, Midoriya's eyes widened. "He's trying to blind him. Disorient him. Kacchan's actually using strategy!"
Through the dust, Bakugo moved.
He blasted sideways—propelling himself in a wide arc around Haruto's last known position. His feet touched down silently. Another small blast. Another reposition. He was circling, waiting for an opening.
Haruto stood still in the center of the dust cloud. His breathing was steady.
"Clever," he murmured. "Use the environment. Create chaos. Make me guess where you're coming from."
A faint crackle to his left.
"But you're still predictable."
Bakugo erupted from the smoke, right palm blazing—
Haruto wasn't there.
"Over here."
Bakugo whirled. Haruto stood ten feet away. The dust was settling around him like he was the center of a storm.
"You look exhausted, Baku-bro. Are you done?" Haruto said.
Bakugo's whole body shook—with the effort of holding himself together. Every muscle screamed. Every nerve burned. His Quirk was nearly dry.
But his eyes still blazed.
"No," he growled. "I'm not done. I'm never done."
He planted his feet. Bent his knees. And launched himself straight up.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Three rapid explosions propelled him higher and higher, climbing above the arena, above the dust cloud. A silhouette against the sky, spinning, building momentum.
The crowd gasped.
Present Mic's voice hit a new octave. "HE'S GOING UP! BAKUGO IS ASCENDING! WHAT IS HE DOING"
Bakugo reached the apex of his climb. His arms spread, body coiled like a spring. His palms ignited with everything he had left. Enough for one final, devastating blow.
He began to fall.
The spin accelerated. Fire and smoke wrapped around him like a vortex. He became a missile aimed directly at Haruto's position.
The air itself seemed to ignite around him.
His voice tore through the stadium.
"HOWITZER... IMPACT!"
The crowd held its breath.
Haruto looked up.
Calm. Focused.
The Howitzer Impact was devastating, but it was also linear. Predictable. A straight-line attack with no room for adjustment once committed.
And Bakugo was fully committed.
Haruto stepped into the eye of the storm. He lowered his center of gravity, his right hand pulling back, his palm open.
Haruto's palm blurred. He intercepted the spin, driving his hand directly into the exposed gap of Bakugo's lower ribs.
The spinning fire died instantly.
The impact drove the air from his lungs. His arms went limp.
He hung there for a single heartbeat, suspended by the remnants of his momentum, Haruto's palm still pressed against his ribs.
Then gravity remembered him.
Bakugo dropped, his eyes rolled back. Motionless.
The stadium went absolutely silent.
Midnight rushed forward. She dropped to one knee beside Bakugo, checking his pulse, his breathing, his pupils. Her expression shifted from concern to relief.
She looked up at Haruto. Then at the crowd. Her whip cracked.
"Bakugo Katsuki is unconscious and unable to continue!" Her voice rang across the stadium.
"The winner of the semi-finals... HARUTO AKAGI!"
The stadium erupted.
Present Mic was screaming, his voice cracking over the speakers.
"HE DID IT! HE ACTUALLY DID IT! AKAGI HARUTO TAKES DOWN BAKUGO KATSUKI WITH A SINGLE SRIKE!"
Aizawa's voice followed, quiet and analytical, but with an edge of genuine respect.
"He aimed for the solar plexus. At that velocity, a head strike could have caused serious injury. He chose not to. Impressive"
Haruto exhaled, as he watched the medical bots roll out to collect the unconscious blonde.
"Too much work," he muttered, already turning toward the tunnel. "Way too much work for a Monday"
He paused. Looked up at the stands. The crowd was still roaring, still processing what they'd just witnessed. Somewhere up there, Class 1-A was probably losing their collective minds.
'Might as well say hi before the final'
He changed direction, heading for the staircase that led up to the spectator stands.
***
Some of Class 1-A's students came into view. Kirishima was still animated, replaying the final sequence with his hands.
Kaminari was gesturing wildly, reenacting the palm strike with explosive sound effects.
Jiro looked like she wanted to be literally anywhere else.
And Midoriya whose both arms were wrapped in bandages.
Beside him, an empty seat. And next to that, a floating uniform.
Toru.
Haruto walked over, dropped into the empty seat between them, and stretched his legs out like he'd just finished a light jog.
"Sup."
The entire class turned to stare at him.
Kirishima spoke first. "Dude! You just—you were just—how are you here?! You should be resting! Hydrating! Getting a massage! Something!"
Haruto shrugged. "I don't really do any of those things."
Kaminari leaned in, eyes wide and slightly manic.
"That palm strike at the end! You just—bam—right into his ribs! And he was out! Just like that! How did you even see that opening? He was spinning like a tornado!"
Haruto tilted his head. "It's just physics."
"Physics?" Jiro repeated, deadpan.
"Right. Because every high schooler can calculate the angular momentum of a human explosion and counter it with a palm strike after throwing out some criticism."
"Hey, don't undersell the critique," Haruto said.
"Those were top-tier. I think I really hurt his feelings near the end. That's the real victory."
Midoriya, however, didn't laugh. He sat forward, his bandaged arms trembling slightly. His eyes were pinned to the fresh skin of Haruto's chest where, moments ago, there had been third-degree burns.
"Akagi-kun," Izuku started, his voice hushed and thick with a specific kind of dread. "That... Your Quirk... Is it really okey?"
A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled over the row. Kaminari looked away. Iida's hand went to his chin, his brows furrowed.
Haruto stared at the arena floor, where the cement was still being swept up by robots. He let the silence stretch, playing the part of the tragic hero to the very last drop.
"Time is a relative concept, Izuku," Haruto said.
He looked at Midoriya with a gaze of someone who has lived a thousand years.
"Some people live eighty years and never do anything worth a footnote. I'd rather have a highlight reel than a long, boring documentary."
Instead of heading for the tunnel, he slumped into his seat, sliding down. He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes already fluttering shut.
"Akagi-kun?" Midoriya blinked.
"Aren't you... going to prepare? The final match is—"
"The final match is at least thirty minutes away," Haruto mumbled
"Thirty minutes is exactly enough time for a power nap and a dream about a world where I don't have to fight people who explode."
He nudged his shoulder against the empty air where he knew Toru was sitting.
"Toru-chan, be a pal. Wake me up when the match is about to begin. And I mean when Midnight is literally about to crack the whip."
"You're unbelievable," Toru's voice whispered from the void, though Haruto could hear the grin in her tone.