Moving through the corridor after the draw, the vast arena's walls were painted in dull gray. Despite the hum of air conditioners and vents, the air was thick with tension, heavy with the emotions that had surged so far during the Sports Festival. Just a couple of years ago, for many of them, this was an unattainable dream—watching young talents begin their journey on TV with friends and family, secretly envying them, yearning to stand in their place. Now, here they were, and the reality hit: there was nothing glamorous or colorful about it, only relentless pressure from the weight of the event's importance.
Arashi was no exception. For him, it might have been even more critical than for others. Fresh in his memory were the scornful looks from acquaintances, neighbors, former friends, and relatives who saw him as a troubled teen or even a future villain.
Finally, he and the other participants reached the locker room. Stepping inside without paying attention to the others, he approached his locker, where his costume awaited. His new costume consisted of black gloves made from ultra-durable synthetic fibers, a chest plate of multiple panels designed to protect against direct attacks and absorb some of the impact energy. Arm guards and knee pads completed the look, all in dark tones. Black military boots with added protection reflected the light, revealing his tense expression.
After donning the costume, he headed to the waiting room, where he would observe the other participants before his match. Entering the room, he was greeted by the buzz of his classmates' voices, chattering among themselves.
"There's our dark horse! Dude, you were insanely manly out there! You practically outran us all!" Kirishima exclaimed, dressed in his hero costume. In Arashi's opinion, it was too revealing—Kirishima's Quirk made his body incredibly durable, but Arashi believed in having both protection and power.
"Thanks. I guess. You did well too," Arashi replied, taking a seat in the front row for the best view.
The room gradually filled with participants for the next event and those who hadn't advanced but stayed to watch their classmates. The U.A. Stadium was a living, breathing chaos. Thousands of spectators filled the stands, creating a deafening roar that resonated in their bones like the beat of a primal drum.
Present Mic's voice, amplified by the speakers, thundered across the arena: "Alright, folks, the break's over! It's time for the final event! But first, let's welcome our guests from the USA! Since this is a Sports Festival, we've invited cheerleaders—wait, what's Class 1-A doing?!" On the field, alongside the American cheerleaders, several of Arashi's female classmates appeared.
Looks like someone got tricked, Arashi thought, smirking to himself.
Once the situation cleared up, Present Mic continued: "Alright, friends, let's get back to the one-on-one battles! Sixteen participants will face off head-to-head. Here, young heroes will clash to prove who's worthy of becoming a star in the hero world! Are you ready for epic battles?!"
After the obstacle course and the Battle of the Riders, Arashi had proven his Quirk wasn't just a frightening anomaly but a force that could rival the best. However, the one-on-one tournament was a different beast. He was confident he could defeat most opponents without summoning the Nazgûl, except perhaps Bakugo, Todoroki, and Midoriya. Still, he'd be in a tough spot by the third match—or even earlier, depending on how the first battles went. Even favorites could unexpectedly lose. The fact that a few students had withdrawn after the draw, claiming they couldn't remember their actions during the Battle of the Riders, suggested something was amiss.
The prime suspect for this issue was Hitoshi Shinso from the General Course. He was set to face Midoriya. If Midoriya could figure out Shinso's Quirk, Arashi would meet him in the second round.
His own opponent was Hanta Sero. Sero's Tape Quirk allowed him to skillfully bind and block targets with adhesive tapes. While an open arena was more a disadvantage than an advantage for him, he was still a formidable foe.
Present Mic announced: "Attention! The final event begins! First match: Izuku Midoriya from Class 1-A versus Hitoshi Shinso from the General Course! Who will win—our guy who took first in the race and the Battle of the Riders, or the surprise contender who made it to the top 16?"
The fight started tensely. Shinso stood motionless, his purple hair swaying slightly in the breeze, his gaze cold and calculating. He began with provocation, his voice quiet but venomous: "You're giving up, right? You've got that mega-strong Quirk, handed to you on a platter, and you think you're pathetic, unworthy. But you've got serious intentions, so my words shouldn't bother someone like you, right?" His tone dripped with sarcasm and mockery, causing some students to frown and murmur that Shinso was acting unsportsmanlike.
"What did you say?" Midoriya responded, stepping toward him—and froze in place.
Arashi furrowed his brows. Midoriya's immobilized? But how? Similar questions buzzed among his classmates, whispering to each other.
"Shinso stopped Midoriya—unbelievable!" Present Mic shouted into his microphone, echoing across the arena.
Midoriya began moving toward the edge of the ring. Arashi sank into his chair, frustrated, thinking Midoriya was about to be eliminated.
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind erupted on the arena from a snap of Midoriya's fingers. Seizing the moment, he charged at Shinso, overcoming his resistance in a brief scuffle and knocking him out of bounds.
The crowd gasped, and Present Mic roared: "Oh! Midoriya defeats Shinso! What an incredible showdown in the first match!"
Midnight raised her hand: "Hitoshi Shinso is out of bounds! The winner—Izuku Midoriya!" The crowd erupted in applause, and Shinso, breathing heavily, looked at Midoriya with a mix of respect and disappointment. "You're… stronger than I thought," he muttered, leaving the arena. Midoriya, clutching his injured arm from the recoil, smiled faintly, his eyes shining with triumph. Watching this, Arashi felt a spark of inspiration. If Midoriya could overcome mind control, he, Arashi, could handle the darkness in his own mind. He rose from his seat, heading for the arena.
***
Moving through the arena's corridors again, Arashi tried to focus and push aside unnecessary thoughts. "You fear these pathetic mortals, tangible one? Free us, let us emerge, and we'll show them their place," the Nazgûl whispered in his head. Straining his focus, he locked them down tighter.
Approaching the tunnel's exit, he noticed Shinso entering, looking dejected. Perhaps it was the tension or a sudden impulse, but Arashi spoke to him: "You did great. Your Quirk is unique and strong. I'm sure you'll get another chance to show yourself and become a hero." Arashi didn't know why he said it—maybe he wanted to hear those words himself.
Processing Arashi's words, Shinso turned toward him, his face a mix of emotions. "As if someone with a Quirk like yours could understand me," he spat bitterly after a moment of hesitation.
Arashi hadn't expected such rejection. "W-Well, maybe I can, actually. Uh, anyway, good luck. I've gotta go." Not wanting to escalate, he quickly headed to the arena.
His turn had come.
Arashi stepped onto the arena to the crowd's roar. Across from him stood Hanta Sero, his black-and-white hero costume, accented with tape-like details, lightweight and functional for mobility. His dark hair stuck out messily, and his wide smile exuded confidence, though his eyes betrayed wariness. Sero knew about Arashi's Quirk—its terrifying aura and the cold that paralyzed opponents during the Battle of the Riders.
"Hey, Tanaka! Your darkness is cool, but my tapes will catch you like a fly in a web!" Sero called out.
Arashi didn't respond, his gaze focused, body tense like a coiled spring. He felt the Nazgûl's pressure, their whispers pounding against his mental wall: "His tapes are nothing… We'll tear them apart… Call us…"
Present Mic bellowed: "Second match of the first round! Arashi Tanaka from Class 1-A versus Hanta Sero, also from Class 1-A! Dark steed versus tape master! Who'll win in this clash of speed and shadows?! Get ready, heroes! Fight… NOW!"
Arashi clenched his jaw, trembling with tension. "Morgoth," he commanded mentally. The air darkened, shadows swirling at his feet like black smoke. Morgoth materialized beside him, a massive black horse with crimson eyes, its mane flowing like smoke, hooves leaving frost. The crowd gasped, cameras capturing every detail.
Present Mic shouted: "There it is, Arashi Tanaka's dark steed! Look at that cold, that aura! The arena's turning into a nightmare!"
Arashi mounted Morgoth, his movements swift and precise. He felt cold spread through his body, the pressure in his head intensifying. His plan was simple: use Morgoth's speed to maneuver, dodging Sero's tapes, and the Morgul blade to attack, suppressing Sero's will with fear. Sero was agile, his Tape Quirk letting him cling to surfaces, set traps, and attack from a distance. But his tapes were physical, vulnerable to cutting, and Sero relied on tactics and agility, not brute strength. Arashi had to exploit this without unleashing the Nazgûl.
Sero started the fight, firing a volley of tapes from both elbows. They sliced through the air like whips, aiming for Arashi. "Gotcha!" Sero shouted, his smile widening as the tapes twisted, trying to wrap Morgoth and Arashi like a cocoon.
Arashi steered Morgoth aside, the horse gliding like a shadow, dodging the first wave. The ground beneath its hooves frosted over, grass wilting from the cold. Sero, undeterred, leaped, using tapes to swing onto the arena's barrier like a spider. "You're fast, Tanaka, but I'm faster!" he called, releasing another volley, forming a net above the arena.
Arashi summoned the Morgul blade. Cold seared his hand as the long, black blade materialized, its crimson glint absorbing light. He urged Morgoth into a swift charge, shadows thickening, unleashing a wave of cold and fear. The blade sliced through the tape net like a knife through paper, pieces falling to the arena, coated in frost. Sero, hanging from the barrier, gasped: "Damn, he's cutting my tapes!" He fired more, creating another trap, but Arashi drove Morgoth straight at him.
The crowd roared, Present Mic commentating: "Unbelievable! Arashi Tanaka slices through Sero's tapes like darkness cutting light! This guy's a total phantom on the field!"
Sero didn't give up. Using tapes to maneuver, he swung, dodging Morgoth. "Think your horse scares me? I'm used to weird stuff in Class 1-A!" he shouted, his voice bold but his eyes anxious. He fired tapes again, creating a distracting curtain, and lunged to wrap Arashi directly. Arashi felt the Nazgûl's whispers grow louder: "He's brazen… We'll make him scream… Release us…" His mental wall trembled.
Sero's tapes nearly reached him, but Arashi swerved Morgoth and swung the blade, cutting the tapes aimed at him. The air grew heavy, the arena's temperature plummeting. But Arashi felt his energy draining. Maintaining Morgoth and the blade exhausted him faster than in training. His temples throbbed, sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold. He knew he had to end this quickly, or the Nazgûl would break through. "Final strike," he thought, urging Morgoth into a last charge. The horse surged, hooves pounding, sending vibrations through the ground.
Arashi raised the blade. I need to disable him, not harm him. Scare him, break his will. "Looks like Tanaka's going for the final attack! How's he planning to take Sero out? Reminder: lethal force is STRICTLY FORBIDDEN! Look at that blade—it's almost translucent! INCREDIBLE!" Present Mic shouted.
Unknowingly, Arashi aimed the spectral blade at Sero. A massive wave of fear and despair crashed over Sero with the blade. He froze, eyes wide with terror, his bravado vanishing instantly. The blade sliced the air, grazing and passing through his forearm. That was it for Arashi's opponent, who collapsed, unconscious.
Midnight raised her hand: "Hanta Sero is unable to continue! The winner—Arashi Tanaka!" The crowd applauded, but less enthusiastically. Though far from the fight, they still felt unease from Arashi's aura and his final strike.
Arashi dismounted, Morgoth dissolving, leaving frost on the arena. He breathed heavily, body trembling with exhaustion, head pounding. The blade vanished. Only now did he realize he'd used the same strike on Sero as he had on the USJ villains. Ignoring his fatigue, he rushed to Sero, checking his condition. Sero was cold, breathing heavily.
Moments later, Sero stirred. "Hey, you okay?" Arashi asked anxiously. Sero looked at him, pale but managing a weak smile. "Dude, your Quirk is pure nightmare… If I ever suggest fighting you again, talk me out of it, alright?"
Medics arrived, pushing Arashi aside to examine Sero. Arashi returned to the tunnel, his steps heavy. He felt exhaustion piling up, his mental wall thinning. More control, he thought, heading to the observation room.
***
At the U.A. Stadium's stands, where thousands of spectators buzzed with excitement, Rumiya Usagiyama sat among other pro heroes, lounging comfortably in her seat. She watched the fight with a sly, almost predatory smile, betraying her keen interest in the arena's events. Her eyes gleamed, catching every move of Arashi Tanaka, whose dark Quirk unleashed cold and fear across the field.
"Little monster," she murmured, arms crossed, leaning back as if sizing up a rare beast in a zoo. Her words were drowned by the crowd's roar, but her secretary, attuned to every detail, leaned closer.
"What did you say?" the secretary asked, adjusting her glasses, unable to hear over the stadium's noise. "Is he why you came to this festival? You usually avoid these events, preferring real work on the streets."
Rumiya snorted, turning her head to hide a smirk. "Him? Nah," she said casually, but her tone carried a hint of mischief. "He's just promising, that's all. Nothing personal, just professional interest. This kid with his Quirk is like a wild stallion—could be a champion or wreck everything."
The secretary nodded, pulling a notebook from her bag, ready to jot down instructions. "Should I note him for your internship?" she asked, opening a page and grabbing a pen. "If he's that promising, maybe take him under your wing early to polish him."
"Nope. Too green for me," Rumiya cut her off, eyes fixed on the arena where Arashi had just ended the fight, leaving his opponent stunned. "Not ready for the real crap I deal with daily. Let someone else babysit him for now. When he grows up and controls that Quirk, then we'll see. Don't want him breaking too soon."
***
Principal Nezu sat in his private box at the U.A. Stadium, his small frame dwarfed by the oversized chair. His beady eyes were glued to the giant screen broadcasting the second-round fight: Arashi Tanaka versus Hanta Sero. Nezu wasn't just watching—he was analyzing. His mind worked at full capacity, dissecting every movement, every emotion, every wave of cold spreading across the arena.
"Interesting," he thought, sipping his tea. "Here's our little paradox. Tanaka-kun is showing his full potential."
The fight unfolded dynamically: Sero's tapes flew, creating nets and traps, but Arashi sliced through them with the Morgul blade—a black weapon absorbing light and radiating despair. Nezu noted how the blade passed through Sero's forearm without physical damage.
Arashi's victory was declared, and the crowd applauded, though Nezu detected hesitation in their cheers—Arashi's fear aura reached even the distant spectators. Leaning back, Nezu thought, He's not just a diamond—he's a ticking time bomb. His performance confirms his potential: adaptability in the race, team synergy in the Battle of the Riders, and strategic depth here. But the risks… Oh, the risks grow exponentially. If he keeps pushing, fatigue will mount, and we might see the Nazgûl.
He set his cup on the tray and activated his communicator, typing a message to Aizawa: "Watch Tanaka closely. His progress is impressive, but be ready to intervene."
Nezu turned off the screen and looked at the arena, where Arashi trudged into the tunnel, shoulders slightly hunched from exhaustion.