In the school infirmary, wrapped in white silence and the pungent scent of antiseptics, the atmosphere was saturated with a hidden tension. On the medical bed lay Neito Monoma, unconscious, his body trembling intermittently and violently as if still being subjected to invisible electric shocks. His right arm—the limb that had dared to try and copy Madara's power—was wrapped in thick bandages. Beneath the gauze, the skin had turned a terrifying shade of blue and black, as if the blood vessels had burst from the inside under immense pressure.
Recovery Girl stood over him, the lines on her aged face reflecting a bewilderment and anxiety she hadn't felt in years of medical practice. Beside her stood All Might in his true, skeletal form, his sunken blue eyes staring at the poor boy with sorrow. He asked her in a low voice about the diagnosis, and the old woman sighed, shaking her head slowly.
"It is strange and troubling, Toshinori. This is not normal Quirk exhaustion as we usually see it. typically, when Monoma copies a capacity beyond his tolerance, he suffers from muscle fatigue or a temporary fever. But this..." She pointed with a trembling hand to the CT scans displayed on the glowing screen. "His entire neural network has been subjected to a massive shock. It is as if a current of raw, incredibly dense energy—heavier and more complex than any Quirk I have ever seen—was forced through delicate wires that could not withstand it. His body rejected the power violently, as if his very cells were screaming that this 'thing' does not belong to normal humans. The boy is lucky he lost consciousness before his neural pathways burned out completely, causing permanent damage."
All Might fell silent, his memory drifting back to the way Madara fought in the arena. That heavy aura, those eyes that seemed to look through time, and that weight of presence that made the air around him tremble. He thought anxiously: (He is a little monster... A power that refuses to be possessed by another? I only hope this boy is on our side when the time comes.)
Back in the stands, under the bright sunlight, the first round of individual matches continued relentlessly. The current match was one of the most controversial and noisy: Katsuki Bakugo versus Ochaco Uraraka. The difference in power and appearance was painfully obvious. Bakugo, with his innate combat talent, speed, and devastating explosions, against Uraraka, the gentle girl whose ability required direct contact and close proximity to the opponent.
From the moment the whistle blew, Bakugo showed not an ounce of mercy. He did not hold back, he did not hesitate, and he did not treat her as a "weak girl." He blasted every attempt she made to attack with precision and brutality, pushing her back time and again, turning her assaults into dust. The audience began to grow restless at the cruelty of the scene. Then, the restlessness turned into angry boos.
A Pro Hero shouted from the stands: "Stop it, you monster! She's a girl! Don't you have a heart? Knock her out of bounds and end it! Don't torture her like this!"
Amidst the seats of Class 1-A, Iida and Midoriya watched with intense anxiety, their eyes fixed on their friend as she took hit after hit. Meanwhile, Madara sat in the back, arms draped relaxed over the back of the seat, his obsidian eyes watching the scene with cold analysis, indifferent to the crowd's emotions. When the cries labeling Bakugo a sadistic bully grew louder, he grew fed up with this collective stupidity.
"What disgusting hypocrisy," Madara said in a cold, sharp voice that cut through the noise of his worried classmates like a sword. Tsuyu and the others turned to him in surprise. Madara nodded toward the ring, where Bakugo was panting, preparing for the next attack with total focus, his eyes never leaving his opponent.
"You and the crowd see her as a 'weak girl' who must be protected or gone easy on because she looks fragile. That is the true insult to a warrior standing in the ring," Madara said in a harsh tone that brooked no argument. "But look at him. He is not smiling. He is not mocking. He is completely cautious. He is the only one in this stadium who respects her as a real opponent, as an enemy with fangs that might bite him if he slackens for a single second. He is fighting seriously because he acknowledges her danger."
His classmates looked at the ring again with a new perspective. Madara was right. Bakugo wasn't bullying; he was fighting for his life and his victory with absolute seriousness.
Suddenly, Uraraka's desperate and clever plan became clear. The debris that had flown into the air and scattered due to Bakugo's explosions hadn't been random. She had been floating it the entire time, gathering an arsenal above their heads.
"Release!" Uraraka screamed, her voice hoarse.
A hail of rocky meteors rained down on Bakugo from the sky like deadly rain.
"Good plan..." Madara muttered, a ghost of an impressed smile appearing on his face. "Weak body, limited abilities, but her spirit burns with the desire to win. She possesses the Will of Fire."
Bakugo raised his hand, and with a single, massive, precision-aimed explosion, he wiped out the meteor shower entirely. The match ended with Bakugo's victory after Uraraka collapsed from physical exhaustion, but she left with everyone's respect—especially the respect of the "Demon" sitting in the stands who saw a true warrior in her.
The next match passed in a flash. Eijiro Kirishima versus Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu. It was a purely simple, "manly" brawl. Both possessed hardening Quirks, and both refused to back down. They traded direct, bloody punches without dodging until they both fell unconscious together, forced to settle the match with an arm-wrestling contest that Kirishima won thanks to his extra training and solid willpower.
Madara nodded slowly when Kirishima was announced the winner. He said nothing, but the look of satisfaction in his eyes was enough. He had chosen his pawns carefully in the previous battle, and he hated to see his choices lose or appear weak. "My shield is still solid," he whispered to himself.
Now... the decisive moment everyone had been waiting for approached. The beginning of the Second Round, and the opening match that promised to be an early final.
Match One: Izuku Midoriya VS Shoto Todoroki.
Midoriya rose from his seat in the waiting room, tension making him tremble like an autumn leaf in the wind. "I'm going," he said in a shaky voice to his classmates, trying to hide his fear.
As he walked down the dark corridor leading to the arena, trying to gather himself and formulate a plan to counter the infinite ice he had seen swallow the stadium earlier, he felt a presence behind him. A cold, heavy pressure in the air.
"You are trembling, Midoriya."
Midoriya jumped and turned to see Madara leaning against the wall coldly, watching him with those black eyes that seemed to see the soul and expose secrets.
"M-Madara-san!" Midoriya stammered.
"Todoroki is strong," Madara said, approaching slowly, his steps silent as death. "In terms of raw talent and destructive capacity, he surpasses you by lightyears. His ice half alone is enough to defeat most Pro Heroes, let alone a student like you with your broken finger."
Midoriya bit his lip, realizing the bitter truth. "I know... but I'll do my best to..."
"Effort will not be enough," Madara interrupted sharply, his voice carrying a warning and a critique. "Todoroki is bound by chains in his mind. He fights with half a soul, rejecting the other half to spite his father. He is fighting with one hand behind his back. As long as he is like that, he is brittle, and you will be defeated by someone who does not respect you enough to use his full power."
Midoriya looked at Madara, surprised by this strange "advice" that sounded almost like incitement. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want to see your mettle, and his," Madara whispered, leaning down slightly so his face was level with Midoriya's, his eyes glinting with the shine of a challenge. "If you want to win, do not try to match him... break him. Force him to use his fire against his will. Fire is not extinguished by kind words, Midoriya; it is fueled. Corner him, pressure him, and make him realize that ice alone is not enough to stay at the peak. If you cannot ignite his soul, you will die frozen in the shadows."
Madara left these heavy words hanging in the air like a spell, and turned to return to the stands, leaving Midoriya in a confusion mixed with newfound resolve.
"Second Round, First Match!" Present Mic shouted, his voice echoing in the packed stadium, announcing the start of the conflict. "The boy who inherited a mysterious power, Izuku Midoriya! Versus the boy born to be the strongest, Shoto Todoroki!"
The two entered the arena. The contrast was stark and painful. Midoriya looked small, nervous, his eyes radiating desperate determination. Todoroki looked cold, calm as an ice statue, the right side of his body covered in a thin layer of frost, ready to unleash the storm.
In the stands, Madara sat in the front row this time, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked in front of his face, watching with intense focus. The Sharingan was not activated, but his senses were on high alert to detect every movement, every breath, and every change in temperature.
"START!"
Todoroki didn't waste a single second on analysis or hesitation. He slammed his right foot onto the ground with force.
CRAAACK!
A massive wave of spiked ice launched at the speed of sound. It wasn't just an attack; it was a moving glacier threatening to swallow Midoriya and push him out of the ring instantly, perhaps even killing him with the cold. It was the same overwhelming move he had used to end his previous match in a second. The audience gasped in horror at the scale of the attack.
But Midoriya didn't retreat. He remembered Madara's words, and he remembered his desire to win. He gathered the power of "One For All" in his middle finger.
"Delaware Smash!"
He flicked his finger with unimaginable force toward the approaching ice.
BOOOOOOOOM!
A massive blast of air pressure launched like a devastating hurricane. The ice mountain shattered and scattered like glittering shards of glass, the shockwave pushing Todoroki's attack away and breaking his defense, shoving him backward. But the price was steep. Midoriya's finger was broken, turning purple and swollen grotesquely.
"Oh!" the crowd shouted in astonishment. "He broke the ice... and broke his finger!"
Todoroki didn't stop. With a cold gaze, he launched a second, larger wave. Midoriya sacrificed another finger. BOOM! A third wave. A third finger. The scene was painful and brutal. Midoriya was destroying his body piece by piece just to remain standing, while Todoroki continued the assault with an emotionless face, like a machine programmed only for ice. The air in the stadium began to physically cool, breath steaming from the spectators' mouths like white smoke.
"He's crazy," Kirishima whispered in horror, covering his face. "Midoriya is destroying himself! Why doesn't he give up?"
But Madara, sitting calmly amidst the storm of anxiety, saw something else. He saw that Todoroki, despite his apparent strength, was beginning to slow down. Frost was beginning to cover his right side excessively and dangerously. His movements were becoming heavier and slower. He was refusing to use his left side (fire) to regulate his body temperature, and it was slowly killing him from the inside.
"You are shivering, Todoroki," Madara muttered to himself, his eyes shining with the glint of intense anticipation. "Your body screams for heat, but your foolish pride refuses. And Midoriya, despite his pain, notices it."
In the ring, Midoriya shouted, his voice trembling from pain and the biting cold, his body covered in bruises and fractures:
"You're trembling, Todoroki! Quirks have physical limits... and your body can't handle this cold alone! You're freezing!"
Todoroki stopped for a moment, his eyes widening slightly in shock.
"Everyone here is giving everything they have!" Midoriya screamed, clenching his broken fist, tears flying from his eyes and freezing in the air. "To achieve their dreams... to reach the top! And you want to win with half your power?! You haven't even scratched me yet! You don't respect me!"
The entire stadium fell silent. Midoriya's words pierced the heart and reached every corner.
"So..." Midoriya took a fighting stance, his broken body glowing with a flickering green aura. "Face me with everything you've got! I am here!"
Madara smiled in his seat, a small, feral grin painting the corner of his mouth.
(Here we go,) Madara thought, satisfaction filling his dark heart. (The words have lit the fuse. Now, do not disappoint me, Shoto. Show me hell.)
The real battle, the battle of souls before bodies, had just begun, and the spark that would ignite the holy fire had been struck.