Chapter 45: Flames on the Sand
The final match of the first round was a masterclass in strategic thinking. On one side stood Itsuka Kendo of Class 1-B, her powerful Big Fist Quirk capable of shattering concrete. On the other, Momo Yaoyorozu of Class 1-A, her expression a mask of calm, focused intellect.
The battle was a beautiful, frustrating dance. Kendo pressed the attack, her massive hands swinging in wide, powerful arcs that forced Yaoyorozu into a constant, defensive retreat. To the untrained eye, it looked as though Class 1-A's recommended student was being completely overwhelmed. But Gaara, watching from the stands with his newly analytical gaze, saw the truth. Every dodge, every small shield Yaoyorozu created, every desperate leap was a deliberate, calculated move. She was not just surviving; she was buying time, her mind working furiously, her body creating something far more complex than simple defenses.
The end was as swift as it was brilliant. Luring Kendo into one final, powerful clap attack, Yaoyorozu dove aside at the last second. In her place, she had created a powerful electromagnet anchored to the floor and a set of high-tensile alloy restraints. The moment Kendo's giant hands came together, the restraints snapped shut around her wrists, and the magnet activated, locking her in place. She was immobilized. A victory of pure, unadulterated intellect.
In the stands, Neito Monoma's confident smirk finally faded. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. He and Ibara were the only two left from their class. The pride of 1-B now rested squarely on their shoulders.
"And with that, the first round is officially over!" Midnight announced to a cheering crowd. "We will now take a short break before revealing the bracket for the quarter-finals!"
A short while later, the sixteen victorious students were once again gathered on the field. The mood was electric. The giant screen lit up, and the matchups for the next round began to appear one by one. And then, the first, and most anticipated, match was revealed.
SHOTO TODOROKI vs. GAARA
A sharp, collective intake of breath swept through the stadium, followed by an explosive, deafening roar. This was it. The main event. The clash of the silent, overwhelming powerhouses. The elemental duel of Ice versus Sand.
In the Class 1-A stands, Uraraka put a hand to her mouth. Kirishima leaned forward, his eyes wide. "No way… those two are fighting now?!"
Yaoyorozu, ever the analyst, was already processing the variables. "Strategically, it is a difficult match to predict. Todoroki-san's attacks have an immense and immediate scale, but Gaara-san's defense has, so far, appeared to be absolute. The victory will likely be determined by stamina, and by who makes the first critical mistake."
The students turned instinctively to look for their two classmates, to gauge their reactions. But the seats where Todoroki and Gaara had been sitting were empty. They had already gone.
Shoto Todoroki walked down a long, starkly lit corridor beneath the stands. His every footstep echoed in the quiet, a sharp, rhythmic clap of sound. The distant roar of the crowd was a constant, dull pressure against his ears. In his mind, however, another voice was far louder, a voice of fire and suffocating ambition.
"You will lose to the sand boy if you continue this childish rebellion."
He clenched his left fist, the side his father had forced upon him, and a faint, almost invisible wisp of heat coiled from his knuckles before he suppressed it. He sees that boy as nothing more than another tool for his own ambition, Todoroki thought, his expression hardening into a mask of cold fury. Another stepping stone for me, his masterpiece. I refuse it. I will win this, and I will do it my way. I will reject every part of him.
Gaara sat in a quiet, spartan preparation room, the only furniture a simple metal bench. He was calm. The shock from Monoma's mimicry had settled into a new, hard-won understanding of his own power. Now, he faced a new opponent. A boy of immense, obvious strength. But beyond that, Gaara knew nothing. He had no data, no knowledge of his opponent's history, his motivations, or the true nature of his Quirk. He was going in blind.
The door to the room slid open with a heavy, pneumatic hiss.
The figure that filled the doorway blotted out the light from the hallway. He was a mountain of muscle and living flame, his very presence causing the temperature in the small room to rise uncomfortably. His blue eyes, burning with a terrifying intensity, fixed on Gaara as if he were an insect. Gaara recognized him instantly. The Number Two Hero, Endeavor.
Gaara remained seated, his face a placid mask, his gaze steady.
"So you are the sand boy," Endeavor's voice rumbled, a sound of contemptuous authority. He stepped into the room, the door sliding shut behind him. "My son, Shoto, will be your next opponent." He said the words with a possessive, absolute pride.
His tone then shifted, becoming as cold and sharp as a shard of ice. "I have read the reports from the USJ. I know what you are. Your place is not in this academy; it is in a cage in Tartarus. And I will personally see to it that you are put there once this festival is over."
He took another step, looming over the still-seated Gaara. "But first, my Shoto will demonstrate to the world the difference between a true, divinely crafted prodigy and a small, hypocritical villain like you. You will be no match for his power. You are nothing more than a stepping stone in his inevitable rise to the top."
Endeavor turned to leave, his speech delivered, his judgment passed. He paused at the door, his hand on the panel.
"Soon, your malicious intentions will be revealed to the world," he said, not even bothering to look back. "You may have deceived All Might and the Principal with your quiet little act, but you will never deceive my eyes. Enjoy your fleeting moments of freedom… until then."
The door slid shut, leaving Gaara alone in the now-stifling, silent room. He did not move. His expression had not changed. But inside, his analytical mind was processing the new, critical information. His son. This suffocating pressure… this burning hatred… it is not for me. He is using me as a whetstone to sharpen his own tool. He now understood. The immense, cold weight he had seen in Todoroki's eyes was not just ambition. It was the crushing burden of a legacy he was desperately trying to escape.
The fight was no longer just a test for himself. It was something far, far more complex.
A loud buzzer sounded throughout the stadium, and Present Mic's voice exploded from the PA system.
"ALRIGHT, EVERYONE, THE BREAK IS OVER! THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! THE FIRST EXPLOSIVE MATCH OF THE QUARTER-FINALS IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!"
The giant screen in the arena flashed, displaying their portraits in a dramatic face-off.
SHOTO TODOROKI
VERSUS
GAARA
The crowd roared, their voices shaking the very foundations of the stadium. The battle was about to begin.
~~~~
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