Chapter 62: The Explosive Dance and the Final Challenge
The roar of the crowd was a distant, muffled sound, like waves crashing against a faraway shore. For Tenya Iida, the world returned not in a rush, but in a slow, hazy bleed of consciousness. The first thing he registered was the sterile white ceiling of the infirmary, the second was the gentle, beeping rhythm of a heart monitor. He sat up with a sharp gasp, his head pounding. A team of medical robots was standing by his bed, their sensors glowing softly.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice a hoarse croak. "Is the match… over?"
One of the medics made a series of calming electronic tones. "The match has concluded. You fought valiantly, Iida-san, but were rendered unconscious."
The words didn't fully register. It was all a blur. The incredible speed, the crimson aura, the feeling of being utterly overwhelmed. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and his eyes caught a glimpse of something on the small table beside him. A glint of metal. The spiderweb of a shattered lens.
His glasses.
He reached for them with a trembling hand. He picked up the broken frames, the pieces of the gift from his brother, Tensei. He traced the sharp, fractured edges with his thumb. And in that single, tactile moment, the memory of the battle came crashing back with perfect, painful clarity. He remembered the blur of red beneath him. He remembered the rising kick, a hammer of pure will. He remembered the world tilting as he was sent flying into the sky.
He closed his hand around the broken glasses, the sharp edges digging into his palm. A look not of anger, but of grim, humbling acceptance settled on his face. He had lost.
In the quiet, empty tunnel leading away from the arena, Rock Lee leaned his shoulder against the cool concrete wall. The thunderous applause for his victory was a hollow echo in his ears. He looked down at his right hand. It was trembling, a fine, uncontrollable vibration that made his fingers feel like they belonged to someone else. It was not the ache of a tired muscle, but the tremor of a frayed nerve, a deep, systemic backlash from the Third Gate.
He tried to clench his fingers into a fist, but the tremor only worsened. Recovery Girl's words echoed in his mind. One more time.
"Just one more fight left," he whispered to the empty corridor, his voice a low, desperate plea to his own body. "Please… just hold on."
He took a deep breath, pushed the tremor and the pain down into a deep corner of his mind, and walked back towards the light and noise of the stands. His classmates immediately swarmed him, their faces alight with awe and relief.
"Lee! You were incredible!" Kirishima roared, clapping him on the back.
"That final move was beyond anything I could have anticipated! A truly magnificent display of power and strategy!" Iida, having just returned himself, exclaimed with genuine admiration despite his own loss.
Lee offered a tired but grateful smile, carefully keeping his trembling hand tucked into the pocket of his jumpsuit. He sat down just as the next match was about to begin.
"ALRIGHT, EVERYONE, DRY YOUR EYES AND GET YOUR POPCORN READY!" Present Mic's voice boomed, re-energized. "IT'S TIME FOR OUR FINAL SEMI-FINAL MATCH! IT'S THE UNSTOPPABLE BEAST VERSUS THE DANCING QUEEN! KATSUKI BAKUGO VERSUS MINA ASHIDO!"
Bakugo walked onto the stage with a predator's focus, his crimson eyes scanning the arena with a cold, analytical fire. Mina danced out, a vibrant and confident smile on her face, but her eyes were sharp, aware of the immense challenge before her.
The bell rang, and the fight was a beautiful, chaotic dance. Mina was all fluidity and motion, skating on a self-made film of acid, a target that was almost impossible to pin down. She shot jets of her corrosive Quirk from her hands, not aiming to hit Bakugo, but to control the space, to limit his movement.
Bakugo, however, was not the same raging brute from the start of the festival. His battle with Kirishima and his observation of Lee had honed his instincts. He didn't chase her wildly. He began to use his AP Shots, small, focused, armor-piercing explosions, not on Mina, but on the concrete around her. He was a master tactician, systematically destroying her dance floor, turning her slick, smooth stage into a treacherous minefield of cracked, uneven stone.
Mina's confident smile faltered. Her greatest advantage—her mobility—was being neutralized. She took a gamble. "Acid Veil!" she cried, releasing a thick, opaque cloud of corrosive gas, hoping to blind him and get in close.
But Bakugo was ready. "A smokescreen?" he growled, a feral grin spreading across his face. "Bad idea."
He crouched low, his hands crackling. "Howitzer Impact: Cluster!"
He didn't fire a single blast. He unleashed a continuous, 360-degree storm of explosions, spinning like a top. The resulting vortex of pure, concussive force blew the entire acid cloud away in an instant, revealing Mina's shocked face in the center.
Before she could react, he was upon her. He closed the distance in a single, explosive burst and delivered a powerful, open-palmed blast to her stomach. It was a controlled but overwhelming blow, powerful enough to send her flying backwards, out of the ring, and end the match.
He was the winner.
Bakugo stood in the center of the ring, panting slightly, smoke curling from his gauntlets. But he wasn't looking at his defeated classmate. He wasn't looking at Midnight or the cheering crowd. He raised his head, and his intense, crimson gaze swept across the stands until it found him. Until it locked onto Rock Lee, who was sitting among his friends.
A savage, arrogant, and utterly confident grin spread across Bakugo's face. He raised a hand, pointing directly at Lee, and his voice, amplified by the stadium's speakers, was a low, taunting growl that silenced the entire arena.
"Everything before this was just a warm-up."
His eyes burned with a fire that promised domination.
"Come at me, you Quirkless bastard," he declared, his voice dripping with condescending fury. "I'll show you what real, undeniable talent means, away from useless Deku and that half-and-half bastard with his daddy issues."
The challenge was raw. It was personal. It was a declaration of war.
The giant screen updated, displaying the final, epic confrontation for the championship of the U.A. Sports Festival:
ROCK LEE vs. KATSUKI BAKUGO.
In the stands, Lee's expression was unreadable. He felt the trembling in his hand, hidden in his pocket. He heard the arrogant, brutal challenge. He looked at the boy on the stage, a king who had just claimed his throne and demanded his final opponent. And in his tired, aching body, a single, cold, and absolute resolve began to burn.
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