Arashi returned to the observation room, clutching a cold bottle of water. Condensation dripped down the glass, leaving wet trails on his palm. He pressed the bottle to his forehead, hoping the chill would ease the throbbing pain in his temples, which had been building with every minute.
He clenched his teeth, intensifying it. Not now. Not here. The U.A. Sports Festival was being broadcast to millions of screens across Japan, and the slightest weakness could become a catastrophe.
Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu and Eijiro Kirishima continued to hammer at each other, their bodies—steel armor and hardened skin—clashing with a resounding echo, like two blacksmiths working on the same anvil. Sparks flew, the concrete beneath their feet cracked, but neither backed down. The fight had already lasted over thirty minutes, and even Present Mic, whose voice was usually an inexhaustible source of enthusiasm, sounded tired:
"Ladies and gentlemen, this isn't a fight anymore—it's a war of attrition! Tetsutetsu and Kirishima are showing what true manliness means! But how much longer can they hold out? Their fists are already glowing red from the friction heat!"
Arashi sank into a chair next to Midoriya, who was frantically scribbling in his worn notebook. Izuku's green eyes burned like a scientist discovering a new formula.
"Look, Tanaka-kun," he whispered, not tearing his eyes from the screen. "Their Quirks are similar but differ in details. Kirishima-kun's hardening gives flexibility; he absorbs impacts better, but Tetsutetsu's steel is tougher at its peak. If Kirishima lasts longer, he'll win through endurance. But if Tetsutetsu uses the heat from friction… Oh, wait!"
On the screen, Tetsutetsu, his body gleaming like heated metal, roared and delivered a series of quick punches to Kirishima's torso. The latter blocked, but his hardened skin began to crack—fine lines like on old stone.
"Come on, Kirishima! Show what it means to be unbreakable!" Sero shouted, already recovered from his fight with Arashi. His arm was bandaged, but he cheered for his friend enthusiastically.
The fight between Tetsutetsu and Kirishima approached its climax. After forty minutes of exhausting exchanges, where their bodies—steel armor and hardened skin—clashed with deafening rings, both fighters reached their limits.
Tetsutetsu, his body smoking from overheating, staggered, his steel surface covered in cracks. Kirishima, breathing heavily, gathered his last strength; his cracked skin, like dry earth, still held. They simultaneously delivered final blows: Tetsutetsu unleashed a powerful hook, and Kirishima countered with an uppercut, amplified by his Quirk's full power. The strikes collided with such force that the arena shook, and both fighters, exhausted, collapsed onto the concrete unconscious, leaving a cloud of dust behind.
The crowd fell into stunned silence. Present Mic, momentarily speechless, finally shouted:
"WHAT WAS THAT?! Ladies and gentlemen, both fighters gave it their all! They're down and out! This is… unbelievable!"
Midnight stepped onto the arena, her heels clicking on the cracked concrete. She carefully examined both participants, then raised her hand, her voice echoing over the stadium:
"Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu and Eijiro Kirishima have both lost consciousness! This match is declared a draw!"
The crowd erupted in applause mixed with surprised exclamations. Present Mic came alive:
"A draw! The longest and most epic fight in Festival history! Both showed true heroic spirit! That's manliness!"
But the respite was short. Cementoss quickly repaired the cracks in the ring, and Present Mic announced:
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the final match of the first round! Katsuki Bakugo from Class 1-A, our explosive king, versus Ochaco Uraraka, the gravity fairy from the same class! Explosions versus zero gravity—this will be epic! Who will rise higher? Ready? Begin!"
Arashi tensed, watching the opponents enter. Bakugo, in his black-and-orange costume with grenades on his arms, strode with a smirk, his eyes blazing with fury:
"This girl with zero gravity? I'll blow her to bits!"
Uraraka, in her pink costume with anti-gravity boots, looked determined but nervous—her cheeks flushed, her hands slightly trembling.
"I won't back down, Bakugo-kun! This is for my parents… I'll prove I can be a hero!"
The whistle blew—and Uraraka immediately charged at Bakugo, trying to touch him but was repelled by an explosion.
"Think you can touch me? I'll crush you like a fly!"
Shockwaves knocked Uraraka off course, and she began to fall. Quickly touching a chunk of concrete, she made it weightless and hurled it at Bakugo like an improvised bomb.
"That's all you've got?"
Suddenly, she appeared at his side, using the smoke screen, lunging at him again, but Bakugo reacted quickly and threw her back.
He surged forward, his explosions lighting the arena in orange glow. A direct punch, boosted by an explosion's impulse, nearly hit Uraraka.
She continued attacking Bakugo from different angles, but she always met resistance.
Discontented murmurs began rising from the stands due to Bakugo's harsh behavior. Aizawa quelled the dissatisfaction, explaining that Bakugo's actions weren't excessive cruelty but necessary for victory. At the same time, Arashi noticed debris rising into the air, with quite a bit already floating. As soon as he realized Uraraka's plan, the debris came crashing down.
They fell straight toward Bakugo. But he unleashed a massive explosion into them.
Uraraka, who had charged at Bakugo, was thrown back several meters by the blast wave's force. She breathed heavily; her Quirk drained her, causing nausea, but her eyes burned with determination.
"I won't give up! For everyone who believes in me!"
She tried to move further, but her body collapsed after a few steps from overusing her Quirk.
Midnight approached to check Uraraka's condition.
She announced: "Ochaco Uraraka cannot continue the fight! The winner—Katsuki Bakugo!"
The crowd applauded, but with a note of disappointment—Uraraka had won sympathies with her persistence. Bakugo snorted:
"Weak… But at least she didn't give up right away."
Arashi mentally noted: Bakugo is strong in close combat; his explosions give mobility and power. If their paths cross, keep distance.
The first round ended. Present Mic announced a break:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the first round is over! Winners: Midoriya, Tanaka, Shiozaki, Iida, Todoroki, Tokoyami, Kirishima, and Bakugo! In fifteen minutes—the second round, quarterfinals! Get ready for surprises!"
Chaos ensued in the observation room: classmates congratulated winners, discussed tactics. Midoriya turned to Arashi:
"Tanaka-kun, our fight is next… I'll give it everything! Let's show the best match!"
Arashi nodded, feeling a lump in his throat:
"Yeah… Let's."
Arashi walked through the stadium corridors, his steps echoing off the empty concrete walls. He understood that the fight with Midoriya would be not just a test of strength but a trial of his control over the Nazgûl. If he lost control, the consequences would be catastrophic. He recalled Aizawa's words before the festival: "Your Quirk isn't just power but responsibility. One wrong step, and you become a threat, not a hero." Arashi clenched his fists. He wouldn't let that happen, especially not now. But the thought that Midoriya could knock him out of the arena if he wasn't careful gnawed at him. He needed to conserve energy—overusing the Nazgûl could lead to their breakthrough.
Bright sunlight blinded him as he stepped onto the arena. The crowd roared, their voices merging into a deafening hum. Present Mic was in top form:
"Ooh, this fight promises to be incredibly dramatic! Terror on wings of night, Arashi Tanaka, versus Izuku Midoriya, whose power can whip up a dust storm with one finger snap! Everyone ready for the battle of the century? YEAH?!"
Arashi took his position; his black hero costume with silver accents was tattered but still intimidating. Opposite stood Midoriya, his green costume dust-covered, but his eyes burned with resolve.
"Tanaka-kun, let's fight fair!" Izuku shouted, clenching his fists.
Arashi nodded, his face serious: "Fair."
Midnight's whistle sliced the air, and the fight began. Arashi decided to conserve strength, knowing Midoriya's power could easily knock him out of bounds. He summoned the Morgul blade; the dark blade materialized in his hand, emitting a faint green glow. Stepping back, he attacked with a lightning-fast strike from maximum distance, aiming to keep Midoriya at bay. His body aligned perfectly—shoulders, arm, sword—and the blade sliced the air, aimed sideways horizontally, arcing downward.
Midoriya, stunned by the attack's sharpness, barely dodged. His eyes widened, but he quickly recovered. Izuku snapped his fingers, creating a shockwave aimed straight at Arashi. Dust billowed, obscuring the view for spectators. Present Mic shouted:
"What an incredible strike! Looks like Tanaka's in trouble, huh? After that, he might be out of the tournament!"
Seconds later, the dust settled, revealing the scene: Arashi on one knee, his Morgul blade half-embedded in the concrete. A trail stretched across the arena where he'd plunged the blade into the ground to avoid flying out. He stopped at the very edge. His costume was torn at the shoulder and chest; he breathed heavily, but his hands gripped the hilt tightly.
"Looks like I underestimated you, Midoriya," Arashi rasped, lifting his gaze. His face was deathly pale, eyes beginning to glow with an ominous green light. "I'll have to try harder."
The crowd held its breath; Present Mic roared:
"Looks like the fun continues! Arashi didn't leave the arena after Midoriya's hit! And what's this? He's starting a new attack!"
Arashi focused, summoning an ice spike that formed in the air, and hurled it at Midoriya. He surged forward, closing the distance to a few meters. Instead of a new blade attack, he extended his left hand, directing a wave of concentrated fear and cold at Izuku. As the wave hit Midoriya, something strange happened. To all observers, both participants froze, their bodies like statues. But for Arashi and Midoriya, the fight shifted to a mental realm, invisible to most.
The world around Arashi changed. The arena vanished, replaced by a pale, blurred space where colors merged like washed-out watercolors. Shadows and light trembled, creating a sense of dissolving reality. Arashi felt his mind squeezed by the Nazgûl's pressure; their presence became almost tangible. He looked around and froze: nine Nazgûl stood nearby, but their appearance had changed. Instead of dark robes, they wore ghostly armor, light with a greenish tint, emitting a cold glow. Their faces, usually hidden, were now visible—gaunt, with empty eyes like the dead. Crowns on their heads radiated an ominous light. They stood behind Arashi, their presence pressing like heavy fog filled with whispers: We are here. We are your power. Surrender to us.
Arashi turned and saw Midoriya, who looked even more stunned. Beside Izuku stood ghostly figures—eight silhouettes, each emanating a unique aura. Their power pulsed in the mental space like a heartbeat. Midoriya, eyes wide, tried to comprehend what was happening.
"What… where are we?" he exhaled, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.
Before Arashi could respond, the Witch-king's voice, leader of the Nazgûl, cut through the space like a knife—low, resonant:
"It seems you, tangible one, aren't the only one with 'friends' in your mind. They're interesting. Their power is impressive. If we take their power, we'll become invincible."
Before he finished, the Nazgûl charged. Their blades, woven from darkness and cold, flashed in the ghostly light. The One For All spirits met them, and the mental space exploded into battle. Shadows clashed with light; strikes thundered like lightning, multicolored flashes illuminating the space. The Nazgûl moved with terrifying speed, their blades slicing the air, leaving trails of frost. The spirits countered with powerful blows, their fists shining like stars, creating shockwaves that shook the ethereal world.
Arashi tried to command the Nazgûl to stop, but his body paralyzed. Pain pierced his mind like hot needles stabbing his skull. He collapsed onto the ghostly floor, feeling the nine Nazgûl tearing him apart from within. Their whispers grew louder: Surrender to us. You're weak. We are your power. Arashi gritted his teeth, resisting. He couldn't let them take control, especially now, with Midoriya in danger.
The battle in the mental space intensified. The Nazgûl, led by the Witch-king, pressed the spirits. Their blades clanged against glowing fists.
Midoriya, paralyzed by fear, stood amid the chaos. His eyes were full of horror, but he tried to resist.
"Tanaka-kun… what is this place?" he shouted, his voice trembling. "These… beings… are they yours?"
Arashi, still on his knees, rasped:
"They're… the Nazgûl. My Quirk. I'm… trying to control them."
The Witch-king turned to Midoriya, his empty eyes flashing green.
"His control is weak," he thundered. "And your power… it will be ours."
He stepped toward Midoriya, extending a hand wreathed in black smoke. The spirits tried to stop him, but the Nazgûl held them back. The Witch-king parried attacks from spirits trying to intervene, blocking them with his blade.
Midoriya retreated, his body trembling, but he raised his fists, activating his Quirk in the mental space. His hands glowed with green sparks, but the fear from the Witch-king's presence paralyzed his movements.
Arashi, fighting the pain, watched. He felt the Nazgûl pulling his mind into the abyss, their voices louder: You can't stop us. We are your essence. Surrender, and we'll destroy him. But Arashi knew: if he gave in, Midoriya would suffer. He couldn't allow that.
The battle reached a critical point. Eight Nazgûl surrounded the spirits, pushing them to the mental space's edge. Their blades gleamed, leaving trails of frost and darkness. The spirits resisted, their strikes creating bright flashes. The Witch-king, seizing the moment, advanced on Midoriya. His ominous voice pierced the space:
"This power will be ours!"
He reached for Midoriya's throat, his fingers wreathed in gray smoke inches away. Izuku froze, paralyzed by fear and despair, his eyes widening. The spirits tried to intervene, but the Nazgûl kept them at bay.
Arashi, on the ghostly floor, felt his mind cracking under pressure. The pain was unbearable, but the image of Midoriya on the brink gave him strength. They're under my control. They obey my commands. These thoughts became an anchor. He gritted his teeth, summoned the Morgul blade, which materialized in his hand, and in an instant, he teleported to the Witch-king. His blade pierced the specter's back, and Arashi shouted:
"YOU SERVE ME!"
The mental space trembled. The Nazgûl froze, their blades lowering. The spirits seized the moment, delivering a series of blows that hurled the Nazgûl back. The Witch-king turned to Arashi, his empty eyes flashing with rage.
"You dare defy us?" he hissed. "We are your power!"
"You are my Quirk," Arashi replied, his voice trembling but resolute. "And I command you."
He drove the blade deeper, and the Witch-king let out a horrifying wail that echoed through the mental space. The other Nazgûl retreated, their forms dissolving, returning to the depths of Arashi's mind. The spirits, regaining strength, surrounded Midoriya.
Midoriya, freed from paralysis, looked at Arashi.
"Tanaka-kun… what was that?"
Arashi was silent, his body shaking from exhaustion. Finally, he forced out:
"I… don't know…"
The mental world began to collapse, light and shadows merging, and reality returned.
In the real world, several minutes had passed. Present Mic, bewildered, shouted:
"Uh, they've been standing like that for four minutes! Eraser Head, do you understand what's going on?"
Aizawa's voice, cold and serious, came over the speakers:
"Midnight, check their condition."
Murmurs of confused spectators rose in the stands. Some from Class 1-A shouted for their classmates to snap out of it.
Midnight stepped onto the arena, her heels clicking on the concrete. At that moment, both participants stirred. Arashi began to fall, and Midnight caught him. His face was deathly pale, black veins snaking across his skin like poison seeping through. His eyes, still faintly glowing green, dimmed, and he breathed heavily.
Midoriya dropped to his knees, his chest heaving. His face showed a mix of relief and shock. He stared at Arashi, trying to process what happened.
Midnight raised her hand:
"The winner—Izuku Midoriya! Arashi Tanaka cannot continue the fight!"
The crowd erupted in applause, but laced with concern. Present Mic added:
"An incredible twist! We don't know what happened, but Midoriya snatches the victory! And Tanaka… just collapsed."
Arashi, supported by Midnight, lay on the arena floor, still not coming to.
"We need medics urgently," Midnight said into her headset.
When the medics arrived and began loading Tanaka onto a stretcher, Midoriya fully came to.
"Tanaka-kun…" he whispered. "Wait… He… saved me… He… stopped them." But his words went unheard.
The medics had already taken Arashi away.