In the instant their eyes met, Bakugo’s reflexes flared to life.
Bakugo already had reaction speed at the very edge of human limits, honed through endless training with Kirishima, and he moved without hesitation.
This allowed Uraraka, who had charged in hoping to land a hit, to be blasted back by a powerful explosion that sent her rolling away.
"He reacted just by seeing it?"
"For goodness’ sake, with reflexes like those feints are meaningless. Uraraka’s Quirk only activates on contact—this isn’t really a fair matchup..."
While a few students watching the brief exchange offered their commentary from above, Uraraka charged at Bakugo once more.
"Too slow!"
Despite her courageous advance, she never managed to get close, and Bakugo’s overwhelming explosions kept battering her away.
The girls who were close to Uraraka sighed in apparent dismay.
"Ochaco..."
"I can’t watch this!"
And so the pattern repeated.
Uraraka attempted to close the gap while Bakugo consistently thwarted her with blasts.
In the end, it was Uraraka who absorbed the brunt of the punishment.
With each passing moment, she grew more exhausted and bruised.
One frustrated spectator finally stood and yelled, "Hey! You call yourselves Hero hopefuls? If the skill gap is that huge, why not just throw her out of bounds already! Stop messing around while bullying a girl!"
"Huh? Do you wear your eyes as decoration or something?"
Kirishima couldn’t help but mutter in disbelief at the absurdity of the remark.
Bakugo could clearly have taken Uraraka down much faster if he had wished.
After all, his close-combat prowess—sharpened under Kirishima’s tutelage since childhood—completely overshadowed Uraraka’s skills.
If he had simply closed the distance and detonated point-blank, she wouldn’t have stood a chance.
But Uraraka’s Quirk, nearly the pinnacle of close-quarters power, allowed her to levitate objects on contact, making it impossible for Bakugo to predict her every move.
When faced with even a one-percent chance of danger, choosing a strategy that guaranteed victory was only natural.
Kirishima would have been deeply disappointed if Bakugo had resorted to a full-on close-quarters assault merely to finish the match quickly—though that wasn’t really in Bakugo’s winning-mad, greedy nature.
"Some of the crowd are booing! Honestly, I was thinking the same thing…"
"You call this playtime? Since when did you become a Pro? How many years have you been at this? If you’re serious about fighting, there’s no point in watching—so get out of here. Bakugo is giving serious consideration to an opponent who’s made it this far; he isn’t holding back or off-guard because he’s determined to win."
Aizawa still didn’t understand Bakugo’s full fighting potential like Kirishima did, but his vast experience told him that this careful strategy against Uraraka was the most rational choice.
He elbowed a friend to quiet him and even snapped at the booing crowd.
Meanwhile, Bakugo ignored the commotion in the stands. His gaze was fixed solely on Uraraka.
'Not yet. This girl...she’s still hanging in there.'
Despite being battered, dust covering her face, and sweat streaming down her skin, Uraraka wiped away the grime and glared at Bakugo with fierce determination.
Even as her voice trembled with exhaustion, an unwavering will to win shone through when she said, "I think... that's all I can do. Thanks, Bakugo. For not letting your guard down."
"Hah?"
Bakugo expressed his confusion, but Monoma—watching from the stands—smirked as he summarized the scene.
"Bakugo’s range is one thing, but a Pro in the stands who didn’t even notice the subterfuge is just embarrassing. With her low, relentless charges, she forced his blasts downward and conserved her own energy. By constantly rushing and creating diversions, she managed to narrow his field of vision."
As Monoma spoke and turned his head, his gaze settled on the countless fragments of stone that the explosions had scattered into the air—a chaotic cluster of everything from tiny pebbles to sizeable rocks, floating ominously overhead.
With a cry, Uraraka pressed her fingers together and shouted, "I’m winning!"
"Meteor Shower!"
"What a reckless strategy!"
Even as Present Mic marveled and Midoriya looked on in deep concern, the suspended mass of stones, once freed from gravity, cascaded downward.
As Uraraka charged straight for Bakugo, she thought, 'With this torrent of rocks falling, whether he intercepts or dodges, an opening is bound to appear! The moment it does, I’ll close in with my ultimate move! I’ll win—I’ll win, and then I’ll be just like Deku!'
At that moment, Bakugo raised his hand to the sky.
A massive explosion erupted from his palm, directed upward.
The falling mass of stones disintegrated, and a colossal shockwave rippled across the arena.
Uraraka couldn’t hold her ground and was hurled backward.
"I knew hanging around with Deku would get you into trouble," Bakugo jeered.
"One blow...!"
Stunned by the nullification of her decisive strike, Uraraka muttered in disbelief.
Present Mic’s commentary only deepened her agony: "Bakugo! That decisive bombardment—he shattered Uraraka’s trump card head-on!"
Through gritted teeth, she thought, 'My most powerful attack didn’t connect at all—even so...!'
Struggling to rise, Bakugo bared his fangs and bellowed, "Good! Now it’s really getting interesting, Uraraka!"
'If it were Deku, he’d never give up...!'
Uraraka tried to charge forward and meet Bakugo head-on, but her battered body simply wouldn’t cooperate.
"Uraraka is down!"
'Not yet! I can still fight!'
As she strained to crawl even a little further, a childhood memory flashed before her eyes—the memory of her own voice promising to help her parents, of her parents telling her they’d be happier if she pursued her dreams.
Looking ahead through her blurring vision, she murmured, "To become a Hero... Dad."
At last, Uraraka’s consciousness faded and her body went limp.
Midnight halted Bakugo and checked on Uraraka before announcing, "Uraraka is unable to continue. Bakugo advances to the second round!"
Without a word, Bakugo returned to the tunnel.
Present Mic’s voice came out listlessly, "First round, match eight. Uraraka... yeah. Bakugo advances past the first round."
"If you’re going to do it, do it right."
"Alright, everyone, let’s switch gears! The first round is over—brief break, then straight into the next match!"
"That personal bias is off the charts..."
During the break, Kirishima headed off to buy a drink. He inserted a coin into the vending machine and pressed the green tea button, but nothing happened.
"Huh? What’s this? Is it broken? Tch."
"Did it swallow your money again? It was acting up earlier too. Mind if I take a look?"
"Huh?"
When Kirishima turned around, he saw a girl with bright orange hair slam her hand against the machine.
With a clunk, a bottle of green tea tumbled out.
She retrieved the bottle from the bottom and handed it to him. "Here. This was the one you were trying to get, right?"
"Oh, yeah. Thanks?"
"Don’t mention it. You’re Kirishima, right? I’m Kendo Itsuka."
"Hmm. Nice to meet you. You look familiar—you sat next to us during the entrance exam, didn’t you?"
"You remembered? I didn’t think you would!"
Despite her rough approach, she smiled warmly and asked, "This might be a bit forward since we’re just meeting, but may I ask you something?"
"Normally if it’s too personal I’d say no, but you did get me my green tea, so what’s on your mind?"
"What did you say to Tetsutetsu during your match earlier?"
Kirishima tilted his head in confusion.
"Why do you want to know? It’s between me and him—it’s kind of private."
"Actually, I went to check on him. He seemed surprisingly relieved and even asked me to teach him some martial arts. Usually, no matter how much I suggested training, he’d just ignore it."
"Ah. That guy learns fast. I told him that if he only focused on getting tougher, he’d never beat me—and then I proved it."
Kendo’s expression grew complicated. She’d thought they were close, so it stung a bit that Tetsutetsu listened to Kirishima, even if he was technically an adversary.
'Should I have just hit him and told him off like that?'
"I also told Tetsutetsu that if you ever want to train with us, just let me know. I do extra training with my class after school. Since we’re first-years, our official training is pretty lacking in both quantity and quality."
"Wow, you’re already doing that? And the teacher approved it?"
"Yeah. They signed off on it right away. Oh, by the way, I don’t have your number yet. Can I borrow your phone for a sec?"
"Huh? Oh, sure. Here."
At Kirishima’s casual request, she handed over her phone almost without thinking.
Kirishima quickly dialed his number and returned the phone.
"This is my number—call me if you’re interested later. I should get back to the matches; I might miss one if I’m not careful. You’re watching too, right?"
"Of course. Let’s go."
After that, the two returned to the stands, chatting about martial arts, the school curriculum, and friends.
By the time they got back, the next match was underway as the fighters exchanged blows.
Seeing Midoriya clutch his battered fingers and left arm while unleashing powerful gusts, Kirishima clicked his tongue.
"Tch. What is he doing, literally tearing his body apart? Post-battle treatments aren’t a magic fix..."
Recovery Girl’s Quirk worked by sacrificing stamina to activate the body’s healing ability.
Severe injuries couldn’t be fully healed in one go, and complete recovery wasn’t guaranteed.
It was utterly irrational to risk life-threatening injuries just for the sake of a tournament.
Unless some Quirk that could completely rewind the damage was discovered, fighters had to battle while carefully managing injuries.
Even the best treatments left scars, silently reducing bodily functions over time—as though a dormant landmine lurked beneath the surface.
Obviously, the wisest strategy was to avoid such risks entirely.
In that sense, Midoriya’s current state was perplexing.
If he wanted to push his body to its limits, who was Kirishima to stop him?
"Or so I thought... Hm."
Unaware of Kirishima’s inner thoughts, Midoriya called out to Todoroki—who had just shattered a block of ice and stepped back—"You’re trembling, Todoroki."
Though his voice dripped with pain and his teeth were clenched, Midoriya radiated a formidable determination.
Todoroki instinctively stepped back.
Midoriya’s fiery voice rang out, "A Quirk is just another aspect of your body. You have a limit to how much cold you can endure, right? Then isn’t it solvable by using heat on your left side?"
Grimacing in pain as he clenched his fist, Midoriya shouted, "Ugh! Everyone’s giving it everything they’ve got—fighting to get closer to their goals, to be the best! Winning with only half your strength? I haven’t even scratched you yet!"
When he finally managed to clench his fist, he thrust it toward Todoroki and roared, "Then show me everything you’ve got!"
Todoroki gritted his teeth at the sight.
For a moment, something from his childhood—a phrase his mother used to say—blew into his mind. He remembered her gentle reassurances, though the rest of the memory was hazy.
A wave of irritation washed over him.
"What are you plotting... all-out? Did that damn father of yours buy you off or something? This is infuriating!"
Determined to end Midoriya, whose arm was ruined, Todoroki launched himself for close combat.
A layer of frost began to coat his body, reducing his physical strength slightly, but that hardly mattered when facing an opponent who couldn’t even use both arms.
That was what he thought.
"Tch!"
"Straight on! A clean hit!"
The stands erupted in cheers as Todoroki was knocked back decisively by Midoriya’s onslaught.
This time, Midoriya’s arm emerged unscathed.
As the fighters resumed their exchange, Cementoss—watching from near the arena floor—asked Midnight, "Should we call a stop now? Midoriya’s acting recklessly, maybe thinking he can just get treated afterward. Sure, the adrenaline’s masking the pain now, but that injury... I doubt one Recovery will be enough. Even if he wins this round, his next match might be impossible."
Midnight said nothing in response.
Kirishima narrowed his eyes. It was encouraging to see Midoriya control his power, but if it came at the cost of a permanent injury, was it really a victory?
Kirishima knew Midoriya well enough to tell that something was off. The timid, team-oriented Midoriya—so unassuming under normal circumstances—had every reason to restrain himself in a tournament, unless there was a deeper motivation.
The recent events with Todoroki were undoubtedly a factor, but there was something else stirring.
Kirishima was momentarily at a loss for words as he watched Midoriya, his broken thumb held loosely in his mouth, mechanically launching another gust of wind.
"Is he out of his mind? I mean, I taught him to fight against real enemies, not like this!"
Overwhelmed by the sight of Midoriya expending his fingers like expendable ammunition, Todoroki muttered, "How far will he go...?"
"Because he wants to live up to expectations! He wants to be someone remarkable—someone who can do it with a smile!"
No trace of the once-innocent face remained; now, Midoriya looked every bit the battle-hardened warrior, fueling the flames of combat with his very life.
"So fight with everything you’ve got! Everyone, do! I can’t fathom what you’re feeling or the depth of your resolve, but don’t tell me you’re going to become the best by holding back. Don’t be ridiculous—this is how I see it right now."
As Todoroki staggered back under the immense pressure, memories of his childhood began to flood back. They were recollections he’d long tried to bury, yet they still pained and infuriated him.
He remembered the relentless training under Endeavor, his mother shielding him afterward, and his own protests about not wanting to be like his father.
"So... I’ll win! I’ll surpass all of you!"
Even as a blow sent him reeling, the memories kept surging forth, tormenting him with the ghosts of the past—of watching his siblings play outside with envy and of a mother who, upon discovering him during a phone call, had poured boiling water over him.
Unable to release his obsessive fixation, he muttered, "My father..."
"That power is yours!"
Midoriya’s shout cut through the haze, shattering the pointless fixation and echoing in Todoroki’s mind.
In that moment, a long-forgotten memory resurfaced—the comforting words his mother once spoke, breaking down the walls he’d built around himself and seeping into his heart once again.
'But you still want to be a Hero, don’t you? It’s okay. Become the person you want to be, free from the chains of bloodline.'
Flames erupted across the battlefield like a raging storm.
Through the heat, Todoroki could glimpse Midoriya. A smile—both relieved and dangerous, like a wild animal with its leash finally cut—played upon his lips.
And so began the dance of ice and fire.
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