Chapter 29

The stadium was louder than it had been during the Cavalry Battle, if that was even possible. Sixteen names were shown on the screen board; this time, just one bracket, no more team tactics to help someone advance. Just you and whoever you were matched against; only the strongest of the two could advance.

"It feels different this time, doesn't it?" Yaoyorozu said, sitting a few seats down from me once we were back in the competitors' box. 

"I guess so."

Present Mic's voice cracked through the speakers before she could say anything else, kicking off the first match with about as much subtlety as a bull in a porcelain shop. 

Midoriya vs. Ojiro went about as everyone expected in the end, though not without cost; Ojiro fought hard, tail sweeping low and forcing Midoriya actually to work for it. Midoriya had to use One For All a second time to close the gap, fingers cracking audibly on impact even from up in the stands, but he won. He also walked off while clutching his hand against his chest, wincing every time he flexed it.

Todoroki dispatched Sero next, ice freezing almost the entire arena before Sero could even react; this is the kind of win that told you everything about the gap between the two of them.

Next was Shinso against Kaminari; I was more curious about the result this time. Kaminari tried to keep his mouth shut, refusing to answer, but Shinso didn't need much, one provoking question at just the wrong or right moment depending on your point of view and Kaminari's mouth answered before his brain caught up. Shinso walked him right out of the ring a second later.

"He's gotten good at that," I said.

"You'd know that, don't you? The guy was tricking people left and right during the cavalry battle." Ojiro muttered from behind us; I didn't bother arguing.

Iida against Hatsume was impressive in its own way; she took the time to finish explaining her gears and walked out once she was done. 

Ashido and Aoyama's match came down to who could stay upright longer on ground turned half-acidic, half-navel-laser-scorched. When Yaoyorozu's turn came, this time she didn't even bother with a straight fight; she had Tokoyami tangled in a net before Dark Shadow could get a hit in, flash grenades disorienting him, before doing the rest of the work by electrocuting him with a stun gun.

‘ Seems like she's taking my advice seriously, and she is leaning more towards modern weapons, even if that slows down her creation.’

By the time my name got called, half the crowd had already settled into a rhythm for the day. Watch, cheer, wait for the next one.

"Arata Seiji versus Eijiro Kirishima," Midnight announced, and the crowd picked back up right on cue.

Kirishima was already grinning when I stepped into the ring, fists tapping together, red hair looking somehow spikier than usual under the stadium lights.

"Let's have a good one," he said, holding out a fist like this was a friendly spar and not an elimination match.

"Sure," I said, and walked past him toward my starting mark without bumping him.

"Guess not," he said, more amused than offended, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders instead.

Midnight raised her whip, eyes darting between us. "Are both fighters ready?"

Kirishima dropped into a low stance, already hardening the skin along his forearms, his grin turning into something more serious.

I waited for him to move first.

"START!"

Kirishima didn't waste a second. He rushed towards me as fast as he could, aiming a hook that would've cracked ribs on anyone not paying attention.

I stepped back half a pace. Let it pass an inch from my body. ‘ He's stronger, but his moves are too wide.’ I thought while avoiding his attack.

"That's all you're going to do, dodge?" he said, already recovering and throwing a follow-up.

I didn't answer, didn't need to. I just kept giving ground each time, small steps, nothing dramatic, letting him think he was leading the fight.

He was, technically. Just not where he thought.

"You're gonna have to fight back at some point, you know," Kirishima asked, grinning at my passiveness, but it was clear he was starting to strain a little to be able to follow me. Three more swings, three more near misses, and he still hadn't landed anything.

"Eventually."

"That's not an answer."

I watched something flicker across his face, not annoyance exactly, more like a guy realizing the conversation wasn't going the way he'd planned any more than the fight was.

He pushed harder after that, closing distance faster, cutting off the angles I'd been using to slip past him. Smart. If I'd actually been backing away at random, it would've worked eventually. He cornered me against the ring's edge, to force a real exchange.

What he didn't know was that I was the one leading him there.

The ring boundary was maybe two steps behind me now, close enough that the crowd noise shifted, someone yelling for him to finish me. It seemed like Kirishima heard it too. I watched the decision land on his face half a second before he acted on it. One more big swing, full commitment, meant to either connect or push me out of bounds if I tried to avoid it.

He telegraphed it so clearly it was almost too easy. 

I let him get all the way into the swing before I moved, not away this time, but into it, stepping past his extended arm and catching his wrist on the way through. His own momentum did the rest. I just redirected it, and let him carry himself the last few feet on his own effort.

He hit the boundary line already off-balance, one foot skidding across the white paint before the rest of him followed it out. ‘ And that's how you beat someone without needing to throw a single punch. All those years of training weren't in vain after all.’

The buzzer went off almost lazily, like even it hadn't expected the match to end this abruptly.

Kirishima sat up in the dirt outside the ring, staring at the spot where he'd crossed like it might explain itself if he looked hard enough.

"Winner — Arata Seiji!" Midnight called, and the crowd's reaction came a beat late, like they were still catching up to what they'd just watched.

I hadn't thrown a single punch.

Kirishima pushed himself up slowly, brushing dirt off his arms, expression somewhere between impressed and genuinely confused. 

"I didn't even feel you touch me."

"You touched yourself, technically."

"That's not — " He stopped, shook his head, and huffed out something close to a laugh despite himself. 

"Yeah, okay. Good match."

He held his fist out again, and I didn't hesitate this time.

I bumped it. Once.

"Sure," I said, before walking off the ring without waiting to see his reaction. ‘ The guy's mentality is as solid as his quirk; he didn't even complain about losing like this.”

Yaoyorozu was waiting near the competitor's box, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite place my finger on.

"You didn't use your quirk at all," she said.

"Didn't need to."

"That's the point I'm making." She fell into step beside me as we headed back toward the stands. 

"Kirishima’s strong. Genuinely strong. And you beat him without so much as raising your hand."

"He beat himself technically. I just picked the moment and the direction."

"That's not better, Arata. That's worse. What if he loses motivation?" She said it lightly, but there was something underneath it that wasn't entirely a joke.

I just shrugged my shoulders.

Up in the stands, Midoriya had abandoned the ice pack he was given long enough to lean forward, murmuring something to Iida beside him. I couldn't hear the words from down here, but I didn't need to. I'd seen that look on his face before, the one where he is bothering himself about things he shouldn't worry about.

Kirishima, for his part, didn't look angry about the loss. If anything, he looked more unsettled by it than actual anger would've made him. He kept glancing back at the boundary line like it might still explain something to him if he stared long enough.

Across the arena, on the opposite side of the competitors' box, Bakugo hadn't said a word since his match against Uraraka ended. He was watching me the way you'd watch a puzzle you already hated the shape of.

Midnight's voice cut through the low buzz of the crowd as the last of the first-round matches wrapped, Ashido grinding out a win over Aoyama, Yaoyorozu's flash-grenade trick putting Tokoyami down before Dark Shadow could do any real damage, Bakugo finishing his own match against Uraraka in about the time it took her to get within range of him, Midoriya winning by breaking his finger, Lida… Todoroki's absolute domination over Sero and finally me.

The bracket updated on the big screen a few minutes later, names sliding into new positions.

Quarterfinals.

Arata Seiji vs. Mina Ashido.

Katsuki Bakugo vs. Hitoshi Shinso.

Shoto Todoroki vs. Midoriya Izuku

Tenya Lida vs. Yaoyorozu Momo

I read it once, filed it away, and turned back.

"Hey."

Bakugo's voice cut across the gap between us before I made it three steps. I stopped, glanced back.

He was grinning, but it wasn't the easy kind. More teeth than humor in it.

"Next one's not gonna be that easy," he said, loud enough that half the row around him turned to look. "Whatever you did to Shitty Hair, save it. Won't work twice."

"I wasn't planning on using it twice." 

‘ Now that he mentioned it, it would be a crime not doing the same to him.’

That got him, just for a second, a flicker of confusion before the grin locked back into place, sharper than before.

"Whatever. Enjoy round two while it lasts."

I didn't answer him; I just held his stare a beat longer than necessary, already running the numbers on when exactly our paths were going to cross on this bracket.

Behind me, Yaoyorozu let out a breath through her nose, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

"You two have a rivalry now?"

"Apparently."

"What about him and Midoriya?"

"No idea, and why are you asking me this as if I were some sort of home wrecker?"

She just laughed as we kept walking.