Chapter 55: A World Holding its Breath
The stadium was a paradox, a place of a hundred thousand roaring souls plunged into a state of profound, watchful silence. On the sun-drenched stage, the two boys were frozen in a tense tableau. Rock Lee stood in a perfect, ready stance, his body a coiled spring of potential energy, his dark eyes fixed on his opponent with an expression of deep, analytical wonder.
Opposite him, Izuku Midoriya was a statue wreathed in a storm. The violent, crackling web of green lightning that now encased his body danced and sparked, kicking up a small whirlwind of dust around his feet. His teeth were gritted so tightly that his jaw ached, and every muscle in his body was screaming in protest against the new, agonizing strain of ten percent. He was a portrait of pure, unadulterated willpower, holding back a hurricane of borrowed power by the slimmest of margins.
High in the stands, Sora Aokawa leaned forward, her usual calm composure replaced by a look of rapt, clinical intensity. Beside her, Mr. Tanaka chuckled, a sound of easy confidence.
"Well, this fight seems straightforward enough," he commented, taking a sip of his drink. "The other boy is clearly struggling just to stand. Our Lee looks perfectly fine. I imagine he is the clear winner here."
Sora did not take her eyes off Midoriya. "No," she said, her voice a low, thoughtful murmur. "Look closer. Look at his eyes." Her gaze was fixed on the green, glowing irises of the boy on the stage. "There is something strange about that boy's Quirk… it is not just power. It is a living, untamed thing. And for the first time… it looks like he is finally learning how to hold the reins."
In the commentary booth, Present Mic was practically sweating. "The fight has stalled once again, folks! Lee isn't making a move, and young Midoriya… well, he looks like he's in the middle of an intense internal debate! Is this the end of the line for him? What's your take, Eraser Head?"
Aizawa, a silent, bandaged figure beside him, simply stared at the field. "You can't make a call yet," he said, his voice a tired rasp. "As long as Midoriya is still standing, the fight is not over."
In a secluded viewing room, hidden behind tinted glass, Toshinori Yagi clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He watched the boy on the screen, his boy, and his heart ached with a mixture of immense pride and terrifying fear. Young Midoriya, you must not overdo it, he thought, his own body feeling a phantom echo of the strain. I am overjoyed that you have found a new way, a path to control. But trying to draw out a higher percentage so recklessly… you will lead yourself to ruin. Please, be careful.
The students of Class 1-A were a mess of nervous energy. "Midoriya's new form looks incredible, so flashy!" Mina said, her voice a hushed whisper.
"But…" Kaminari trailed off, his brow furrowed. "Doesn't it look like he's… in a lot of pain?"
"He's right," Ojiro agreed, his arms crossed. "His whole body is trembling. It looks unstable."
Uraraka clasped her hands together, her knuckles white. "Midoriya-kun," she whispered to the distant stage. "Please be okay."
In another, more isolated part of the stands, Shoto Todoroki stood, his hands gripping the cool metal of the safety railing. The heat of the previous match had long since faded, leaving behind the cold, hard clarity of his defeat. He watched the two figures on the stage, his mind a quiet storm of reflection.
A heavy, oppressive presence approached from behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. The faint, crackling sound of fire, the sheer weight of the man's ambition, was unmistakable.
"How does it feel," Endeavor's voice rumbled, "to be eliminated from the tournament by a circus act?"
Todoroki did not turn. His gaze remained fixed on the arena. "Did you come all this way just to mock me?" he asked, his voice flat and cold. "Then you can rejoice. I lost by relying on only half of my power. It is the result you always feared."
"What kind of son thinks his father would mock him for a loss?" Endeavor replied, a hint of genuine, frustrated anger in his tone as he came to stand beside his son at the railing.
Todoroki finally turned his head slightly, his heterochromatic eyes filled with a cold, weary fire. "That would be the case," he said, "assuming the relationship between them was a normal one." He turned back to the stage.
Endeavor was silent for a moment, his own burning gaze fixed on the two combatants. "What is your assessment of him?" he asked, his voice now that of a strategist, not a father. "The boy with the wide eyebrows."
Todoroki considered the question, his expression unreadable. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice quiet. "It is… embarrassing. He surpassed me without a Quirk. I don't fully understand the situation myself yet."
"He is not Quirkless," Endeavor stated, his tone absolute. "If he were, that blue power he emitted would not have been possible. The human body has limits. What he did surpassed them. It was a Quirk."
"So you mean he was lying?"
"Not entirely," Endeavor mused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "A boy would not make such a bold, easily disprovable claim in front of the entire world unless he, himself, believed it to be true. But… for that much power to come from a body that is registered as Quirkless…" He trailed off, a look of deep, unsettling concern on his face. "It means something else. Something dangerous. Something… unprecedented has happened regarding that boy. His fame, his very life, cannot remain as it was. I cannot begin to predict what will happen to him in the future."
The words hung in the air, a dark premonition. Todoroki's grip on the metal railing tightened slightly. "Will he be okay?" he asked, the question so quiet it was almost lost in the stadium's hum.
Endeavor glanced at his son, a flicker of surprise in his fiery eyes at the note of genuine concern. He looked back at the stage. "U.A. will protect him. The hero society will protect him. Whatever the price." He paused, his voice a low growl. "And I am among them."
They stood in silence for another moment. Then, Endeavor turned to leave. "Shoto," he said, his back to his son. "After this festival is over, come to my agency. It is time we properly honed your fire. Your power will ascend to a level you cannot yet imagine."
He walked away without waiting for a reply, leaving his son alone with the offer, and with his thoughts. Todoroki's calm, conflicted gaze returned to the arena floor, a new weight behind his eyes.
On the stage, the standoff finally broke.
Izuku Midoriya, who had been a statue of pure, agonizing strain, finally mastered the storm. The violent trembling of his body subsided into a controlled, humming vibration. The pained grimace on his face softened into a mask of pure, unyielding determination. He looked at his own hands, at the beautiful, terrifying green sparks that now danced around them, and a single, powerful thought echoed in his mind.
It's okay… I can move.
With a slow, deliberate, and incredibly powerful motion, he clenched the fingers of his right hand into a fist. He drew it back to his side, the green lightning around it coalescing, becoming brighter, denser.
From across the stage, Rock Lee saw the movement. He saw the shift in Midoriya's eyes. He saw the gathering of a power that was finally, terrifyingly, under its wielder's command.
He's coming.