The arena floor trembled beneath Midoriya as green lightning crackled across his body. Air pressure coiled around him like a living storm while he crouched low, preparing his next move.
Across from him, Ren didn't even take his hands out of his pockets.
Expression blank.
Breathing steady.
Watching.
The stands had gone quiet, the entire audience leaning forward. Even Aizawa lifted his goggles slightly, eyes narrowing with interest.
Izuku inhaled sharply.
"Full Cowling… 45%!"
Green energy exploded around him, tearing through the air as he launched forward. The floor cracked under the force of his sprint.
Ren still didn't move.
He simply watched Izuku close the distance, every detail reflected in his calm gaze.
Every angle.
Every shift of weight.
Every mistake.
As Izuku's fist was inches from his jaw—
Ren tilted his head.
Just a centimeter.
The punch sliced through empty air.
Izuku's eyes widened.
Ren flicked two fingers.
Tap.
A tiny shockwave burst outward, sharp and precise. It didn't hurt—just shoved Midoriya back a step and left him startled.
Izuku: "What was—?!"
Ren: "Observation.
You lean too hard on explosive movement.
We'll work on that."
Izuku rushed again—faster this time, pushing 60% for a split second. His body blurred as he zig-zagged unpredictably.
But Ren's pupils sharpened.
Mastermind Mode: Analysis Thread active.
Lines—almost like threads of light—mapped themselves across Izuku's body in Ren's vision.
Predicted strikes.
Predicted dodges.
Predicted failures.
Izuku swung a feinted right hook—clean and fast. Ren stepped into the feint, not away from it.
The sudden move threw Izuku off completely.
Ren's palm touched Izuku's wrist—light, effortless—
and twisted.
Izuku dropped to one knee, breath knocked out by surprise alone.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Ren: "You're strong.
But strength without precision is just wasted force."
Izuku gritted his teeth, frustration mixing with determination.
Izuku: "Then I'll be precise too!"
He jumped back, blasting the ground with a refined Gran Torino–style kick. He twisted midair and came down with a clean overhead strike.
Ren slipped aside—
But Izuku predicted the dodge this time.
He twisted midair, chaining a second kick into his spin—
This one grazed Ren's cheek.
A thin line of blood appeared.
The stadium erupted.
Izuku landed, panting, triumphant.
Izuku: "Got you…!"
Ren touched the blood with his thumb.
And smiled.
Slow.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Ren: "Good.
Now let's raise the level."
He slid one foot back.
The air instantly shifted, pressing down on the arena like gravity had thickened.
Ren's aura sharpened from calm → focused → predatory.
The pressure made Midoriya freeze for half a heartbeat.
Ren: "Thread Bind."
A pulse of force radiated outward, cracking tiles beneath both fighters. Izuku felt something coil around his arms—nothing physical, but a pressure Ren controlled.
His movement slowed.
Barely.
But enough.
Izuku roared back:
"DETROIT— SMASH!!"
His shockwave ripped through the bind and sent Ren sliding back two meters, hair fluttering in the wind blast.
The crowd lost it.
Aizawa's eyes widened.
All Might stood up unconsciously.
Present Mic nearly screamed his lungs out.
Ren laughed softly.
Not mocking.
Genuinely excited.
Ren: "Good, Midoriya.
You're adapting faster than I expected."
He drew a single finger through the air.
Dozens of glowing calculation-lines appeared around Izuku like a net tightening.
---
Ren: "Let's see if you can outrun my calculations."
Izuku braced himself as the arena trembled.
The stadium went silent.
Ren lifted his chin.
And every calculation in his mind locked into place.
One step.
Just one.
But the air boomed like a cannon.
Izuku's eyes flew wide.
Izuku: "He—he moved that fast—?!"
Ren vanished.
A high-pitched whistle cut through the air—
as if a razor thread sliced reality.
Izuku turned just in time—
REN APPEARED BEHIND HIM.
One finger raised, glowing sharply.
Precise, not powerful.
A strike meant to disrupt 0.4 seconds of movement.
All Ren needed.
Ren (whisper): "Pressure Point: Collapse."
A tap to Izuku's spine.
Izuku's rhythm shattered instantly—
not paralyzed, but thrown completely off.
He stumbled—
Ren was already on him.
A thin metallic wire shot from Ren's glove, wrapping Izuku's arm—not to restrain, but to yank.
Izuku was pulled forward—straight into Ren's rising knee.
The impact wasn't brutal, but perfectly placed.
Air burst out of Izuku's lungs.
He staggered.
Ren didn't stop.
His eyes flashed with new calculations.
Footing.
Balance.
Weight shift.
Target locked.
Ren slid low—
SWISH.
Izuku's supporting leg was swept clean, flipping him upward.
Before he hit the ground, the wire hooked his jacket, pulling him upright midair.
Ren appeared in front of him—
Too close.
Too fast.
Ren: "Impact Redirect."
His palm pressed to Izuku's chest—
Then pushed.
Using Midoriya's own momentum, the push sent him flying backward, skidding across the arena with sparks trailing behind.
He slammed into the barrier.
Dust exploded everywhere.
The class went silent.
All Might froze.
Aizawa tensed.
Present Mic forgot to breathe.
Ren stood in the middle of the arena.
Hands in pockets.
Calm.
Ren: "Get up, Midoriya.
I know you're not done."
Izuku struggled to his feet, trembling but determined.
His eyes burned brighter.
Izuku: "I'm… not done yet!"
Power surged.
The ground trembled.
Both fighters dashed forward at the same instant.
Air pressure exploded outward in a circular shockwave.
Students shielded their eyes.
Teachers leaned forward.
One For All's raw power collided against Mastermind's perfect calculation.
Izuku roared:
"FULL COWL—25%!!"
Lightning wrapped his arms like chains snapping loose.
Ren's eyes gleamed, every muscle tightening with flawless precision.
Ren: "Predict.
Counter.
Overwhelm."
Their fists met—
BOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
The arena split beneath them, dust spiraling upward like a tornado.