Half an hour later, the stadium erupted once more as Uchiha Madara and Bakugo Katsuki walked into the center of the arena, their presence radiating intense energy despite the lingering summer heat. The sun had begun its slow descent westward, casting long shadows across the field, but the temperature in the air had not cooled in the slightest. If anything, the anticipation in the audience made it feel even hotter.
The moment the two stepped forward, silence swept through the stadium. All eyes focused on the two combatants.
Midnight strutted confidently into the center, placing her hands on her hips, the mic projecting her voice across the arena. "Okay! The first match of the semifinals is about to begin! Are you two ready?"
"Yeah." Bakugo nodded slightly, inhaling deeply as he clenched his fists. His voice carried a tension that betrayed his burning nerves. "Uchiha... I hope you don't disappoint me."
Madara's expression didn't waver. His gaze, calm and piercing, locked with Bakugo's. "Don't worry," he said with quiet finality. "I'll show you the true gap between us."
Bakugo's lip curled. "Then I'll return those words to you—exactly."
Midnight raised her right arm high, eyes darting between the two. Once she saw both were in position, she brought it down like a guillotine.
"Begin!"
"Who do you think will win this one?" Present Mic leaned toward Aizawa in the commentary booth, barely able to contain his curiosity. His sunglasses reflected the two young fighters below.
"Madara," Aizawa answered without hesitation, not even glancing at his colleague.
"That confident in him?" Present Mic raised a brow.
"Shouldn't you be too?" Aizawa returned flatly.
Present Mic's grin slowly faded, a hint of seriousness replacing it. "Yeah... I think we both know he's dangerous."
Aizawa gave a slight nod. "More than anyone realizes."
The second Midnight's voice echoed, Madara vanished.
Bakugo's eyes widened in the split second before he felt it—an immense force colliding with his chest. He was airborne before he could even react. The wind was knocked from his lungs as his body was flung back violently.
What the hell—?!
Midair, Bakugo barely had time to register what had happened before Madara appeared in front of him again. Another devastating kick connected, slamming into his ribs and sending him crashing to the field's edge.
The crowd gasped collectively. Some stood from their seats in disbelief.
Bakugo groaned, forcing himself upright, one hand clutching his stomach as he struggled to breathe. He glared at Madara, who stood a few meters away, perfectly composed.
"You…" Bakugo spat. "You could've knocked me out. Why didn't you?"
Madara offered only a faint smile, lifting a single finger. "Because this is still too easy. I haven't even begun using strength. Let's have some fun, Bakugo-kun."
The words were condescending, and yet the tone was... calm. That made it worse.
Sparks crackled from Bakugo's palms. His fury ignited, mixing with adrenaline.
"Don't underestimate me, pink-eye freak!" he growled. He crouched low, launching himself forward with an explosion propelling his feet.
But the moment he moved—
Madara vanished again.
Bakugo's pupils dilated. He spun mid-air, searching wildly.
Too late.
A gust of wind blew behind him.
Then a voice whispered: "You should keep your guard up."
Madara's hands formed a rapid string of unfamiliar seals, faster than the audience could follow.
[Si-wei-shen-hai-wu-yin]
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
A massive fireball roared from Madara's mouth, engulfing the arena in a wall of flame. The heat hit instantly—so intense that even those in the front rows could feel their skin searing.
"BOOM!!!"
The flames exploded outward, covering nearly the entire stage in a molten blaze. Cement cracked under the intensity. The audience screamed in awe, shielding their eyes.
Midnight, already wary from Madara's previous fire use, had taken cover behind the gate well before the technique erupted. Still, her heart pounded as the flames soared higher than expected.
"THAT'S INSANE!" Present Mic yelled from the booth. "Did you see that? That's no Quirk—what the hell is that?!"
Aizawa squinted, eyes narrowing. "It's... something else entirely."
Bakugo stared at the incoming inferno. His instincts screamed run, but every option was cut off.
Too wide.
Too hot.
Too fast.
He launched himself into the air using a chain of explosions, barely clearing the perimeter as the fireball surged underneath.
BOOM!
The entire field lit up. Even Cementoss, who had taken position to protect the outer stadium, stumbled back from the sheer pressure of the heatwave.
Smoke and fire curled into the sky. For a moment, nothing was visible.
Then—slowly—the embers died down.
Midnight stepped cautiously back onto the field, clutching her mic.
"B-Bakugo Katsuki... off the field," she announced, glancing at the cracked earth where he'd stood seconds ago. "The winner—Uchiha Madara!"
The crowd went wild again, though this time, there was an undertone of fear beneath the cheers.
Madara approached the edge of the field where Bakugo had landed, coughing and slumped against a broken slab of concrete.
He crouched down beside him.
"Bakugo-kun..." Madara's voice was low. His Sharingan spun in his eyes, glowing crimson. "Look closely. I haven't even used my Quirk."
Bakugo's eyes widened, trembling as he registered those words.
No Quirk?
Then how...?
"You're lying," Bakugo rasped. "That fire—what was that?"
Madara turned away without answering. His cloak fluttered behind him as he walked back toward the exit tunnel.
Bakugo slammed his fist into the ground, teeth gritted. "Che... damn pink-eye. One day, I'll catch up... no—I'll surpass you."
But deep down, a seed of doubt had been planted.
What kind of power did Madara really possess?
In the stands, Endeavor had risen halfway from his seat. His fiery beard flickered with agitation.
"That wasn't a Quirk," he muttered, voice low.
Beside him, Todoroki Shoto remained silent, eyes locked on Madara's retreating form.
Backstage, students whispered.
"Did you see that?"
"He breathed fire—like, real fire! No explosions, no support gear!"
"What is his Quirk? Does anyone even know?!"
Some speculated multiple Quirks. Others thought secret genetic enhancement. A few even wondered if he was a Nomu in disguise.
Only a few like Aizawa and All Might remained silent, not out of confusion—but out of worry.
Later, as the brackets updated and Midnight announced the final matchups, a buzz of excitement swept through the crowd once more.
"The final round is set!" Midnight called out, voice energetic but wary.
"Uchiha Madara... versus Shoto Todoroki!"
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