Chapter 27: The Final Clash: A Hero's Heart, A Father's Failure.
The air in the stadium had changed. The festive, celebratory mood had been replaced by a heavy, almost sacred anticipation. The preliminary matches were over. This was the final battle. The championship match of the U.A. Sports Festival.
Bakugo stood on one side of the ring, his arms crossed, his usual explosive anger now cooled into a simmering, dangerous intensity. He wasn't here just to win; he was here for a true victory, an undeniable affirmation of his own strength. He needed to defeat his rival at his absolute, undeniable best.
On the other side stood Todoroki, his expression a cold, conflicted mask. The words of Midoriya still echoed in his ears, a persistent crack in the icy wall he had built around himself. He could feel his father's burning gaze from the stands, a physical weight of expectation and ambition. This was not just a fight against Bakugo; it was a war against his own blood.
"LET THE FINAL BATTLE… BEGIN!"
The clash was immediate. Bakugo propelled himself forward, a blur of orange and black, unleashing a Stun Grenade to blind his opponent. But Todoroki was ready, instantly erecting a massive, gnarled wall of ice to block the blast, the light scattering off its crystalline surface.
What followed was a breathtaking duel of mobility versus overwhelming power. Bakugo was a hornet, constantly in motion, using his explosions to change trajectory mid-air, dodging jagged ice pillars that erupted from the ground, looking for an opening. Todoroki was a fortress, commanding the battlefield with colossal waves of ice, forcing Bakugo to stay on the defensive.
"This is incredible!" Present Mic screamed. "It's a high-level battle that could rival the pros!"
But Bakugo was growing frustrated. Every attack was met with more ice. Every feint was countered by another glacial wall. Todoroki was fighting with only half of his power, a fact that was, to Bakugo, the ultimate insult.
He finally broke through Todoroki's guard, getting in close and grabbing him by the shirt. "FIGHT ME!" Bakugo roared, his face inches from his rival's, spit flying from his lips. "STOP MESSING AROUND! DON'T YOU DARE LOOK DOWN ON ME! USE YOUR DAMN FIRE! GIVE ME A REAL WIN, YOU HALF-AND-HALF BASTARD!"
He shoved him back, his entire body trembling with a rage born not of hatred, but of a desperate need for validation. He wanted to beat Shoto Todoroki, not the broken half-son of Endeavor.
Todoroki stumbled back, his inner conflict raging. He saw Midoriya watching from the stands. He heard his father's hateful voice in his memory. He looked at Bakugo, who was demanding his all, offering the kind of respect, in his own violent way, that his father never had. A flicker of orange danced across his left arm.
Saitama, having finished his perfectly-seasoned chips, had been given his final task of the day. A final, precautionary sweep of the upper concourse before the closing ceremony. It was a pointless, make-work job, but it was a job nonetheless. He was slowly pushing a wide broom, collecting the last stray bits of litter, the epic battle unfolding on the monitors that lined the walls.
He watched the two kids fight, his expression unchanging. "The blond kid is yelling at the ice kid to use his fire," he observed internally. "But the ice kid seems sad about it. It's complicated. Why doesn't he just punch him really hard instead? That usually settles arguments." His simple, punch-based philosophy was a world away from the deep psychological trauma playing out in the ring.
On the field, Bakugo decided to end it. He began to spin in the air, creating a fiery vortex, channeling all his power into one final, undeniable attack. "HOWITZER… IMPACT!"
He became a human missile, a tornado of explosive energy, hurtling towards Todoroki.
At that last, crucial second, Todoroki made his choice. He saw his father's triumphant face, and the flame on his arm sputtered and died. His conflict, his trauma, had won. He only managed to erect a final, hastily-made ice wall.
The explosion was cataclysmic. The ring was engulfed in a blinding flash of light and a deafening roar. The force of the blast was so immense that it shattered Todoroki's ice and sent him flying, unconscious, into the stadium wall.
When the smoke cleared, Todoroki was down. Bakugo stood victorious, but he was shaking with pure, incandescent rage. This was not a victory. It was a hollow, insulting sham. He began screaming at the unconscious form of his opponent, his victory cry a sound of utter fury and disappointment, until Midnight's soporific Quirk finally enveloped him in a pink mist and he collapsed to the ground.
The stadium was silent, the crowd a mix of awe and profound confusion. Endeavor stormed away from his seat, his face a mask of thunderous rage.
In the upper concourse, Saitama swept the last of the dust into his pan. He looked at the monitor, where the staff was now cautiously approaching the two unconscious boys.
"Okay," he thought, leaning on his broom. "I guess it's over now." He turned and started walking towards the janitorial closet. "I wonder if they'll have fireworks at the closing ceremony."
~~~~
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