Chapter 63: Talent vs. Will
The sky above the U.A. stadium was a brilliant, cloudless blue, an ocean of calm that was a stark, beautiful lie compared to the electric tension that filled the colossal arena below. A hundred thousand souls were crammed into the stands, their earlier cheers and chatter having subsided into a low, reverent hum of pure anticipation. The final battle was at hand. The stage, cracked and scarred from the previous wars, was waiting.
"ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?!" Present Mic's voice, now a familiar and beloved sound, roared through the speakers, shaking the very air. "IT'S THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! THE FINAL BATTLE TO DECIDE THE CHAMPION OF THE FIRST-YEAR U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL!"
In the center of the stage, Midnight stood, a lone, commanding figure. "Will the finalists please take their positions!" she declared.
Katsuki Bakugo was already there, waiting. He stood with a rigid, almost severe posture, his hands in his pockets, his crimson eyes fixed on the dark entrance tunnel opposite him.
And then, he emerged.
Rock Lee walked out of the darkness and into the brilliant afternoon sun. The moment his simple green jumpsuit became visible, the stadium, which had been humming, erupted. It was a physical, thunderous wall of sound, a roar of adoration and excitement.
"THE CROWD RESPONDS TO ROCK LEE'S ENTRANCE!" Yamada screamed, his own voice filled with glee. "IT SEEMS THE QUIRKLESS WONDER HAS COMPLETELY CAPTURED THE HEARTS OF THE PUBLIC!"
In the commentary booth, Aizawa let out a tired sigh. "The mystery behind his 'Quirkless' declaration is the source of this immense interest," he said, his voice a low, analytical rasp. "Curiosity, shock, the fear of the unknown… it's a potent combination. I'd wager the press will be camped outside his home for a month after this. We will have a duty to protect him."
In the Class 1-A stands, Izuku Midoriya finally arrived, a simple white bandage wrapped neatly around his head, the only visible sign of his earlier battle.
"Deku-kun! Are you okay?" Uraraka asked, her voice full of relief.
Midoriya gave her a wide, reassuring smile. "Better than ever!" he said cheerfully. "Didn't break a single bone this time! Haha!" Uraraka laughed, her own relief palpable. He then looked around at his friends. "Where's Iida-kun?"
"He was here a moment ago, kero," Tsuyu replied, a thoughtful finger to her chin.
"What a dummy!" Mineta whined. "He's going to miss the most exciting fight of the whole festival!" A flicker of suspicion and worry crossed Midoriya's face, but it was gone in an instant as he sat down, his attention, like everyone else's, now completely fixed on the stage.
Lee finally reached his position. He stood opposite Bakugo, the sheer, unadulterated animosity radiating from his opponent a palpable thing.
"You finally came, Broad-Eyebrows," Bakugo growled, his voice a low, dangerous thing. He slowly pulled his hands from his pockets. "I'm going to wipe the floor with you. I'm going to prove to this whole damn world that true, special talent is the origin of all power." His lips twisted into a cruel, condescending smirk. "You're just an artificial product… like a Nomu."
A flicker of genuine, cold anger flashed in Lee's calm eyes. "Like a Nomu?" he replied, his voice losing its usual warmth. "You know nothing about this power, or the years of grueling training I endured to achieve it."
Bakugo just laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. A small, sharp explosion popped in his palm, a violent punctuation mark. "I don't care," he snarled. "I'm just going to fill your mouth with my explosions. That's all."
Lee took a deep, centering breath, his anger receding, replaced by a cold focus as he settled into his fighting stance. He could feel it. The deep, grinding ache in his joints. The fine, persistent tremor in his fingertips that he was fighting to control. My taijutsu will not be at its best, he thought, a grim reality settling in his heart. And on top of that… I cannot afford to open even a single Gate.
"LET THE FINAL BATTLE," Midnight's voice boomed, "BEGIN!"
Lee vanished. In a single, explosive dash, he closed the distance.
Bakugo was not surprised. He stood his ground, a feral grin on his face, and thrust his hands out to either side. "You'll never appear from nowhere!" he roared, and unleashed two simultaneous, wide-area explosions to his left and right, a brilliant and intelligent tactic to cover both flanks.
But Lee wasn't on his flanks. He was above him. He descended from the air, his leg a green blur, and brought his heel down like a hammer onto the crown of Bakugo's head. The impact was solid, driving Bakugo to the ground with a grunt of pain.
But Bakugo's battle sense was inhuman. The moment his hands touched the ground, he aimed his palms upward and fired. BOOM! A massive, concussive blast erupted towards the sky.
Lee was already gone, having used the upward momentum from his own kick to land softly and silently. He ran low, using the heat and smoke from Bakugo's own explosion as a perfect screen, and emerged at his opponent's side. He threw a single, direct punch that connected with Bakugo's cheek, the force of the blow sending the explosive prodigy hurtling towards the edge of the arena.
But the attack came at a price. A sharp, shooting pain, like a hot needle, lanced up Lee's arm from his knuckles to his shoulder. His eyes trembled from the shock of the pain, and he instinctively clutched his own elbow for a fleeting, agonizing moment.
Bakugo's boots scraped against the concrete, digging two long trenches as he skidded to a halt just before the boundary line. He pushed off, his crimson eyes burning with rage, but his mind was a cold, calculating machine. Is it my imagination, he thought, a predatory glint in his eyes, or is he… slower than before?
Lee was looking down at his own aching arm, a look of frustration on his face. He heard a strange, high-pitched whining sound and his head snapped up.
He saw the brilliant, terrible orange glow reflected in his wide, dark eyes. His black hair fluttered in the suddenly displaced air. And then…
BOOM!
A massive, direct, and perfectly aimed explosion engulfed him completely. The force of the blast was immense, a physical, concussive wave that sent him flying backwards through a cloud of black, acrid smoke. He tumbled end over end before crashing hard onto the stage, skidding to a halt mere inches from the final boundary line.
The crowd screamed. Present Mic's voice was a frantic, disbelieving shriek.
Lee pushed himself onto his hands and knees, the world a swimming, painful haze. His entire body felt like a single, massive bruise. He looked at his hands, planted on the ground to support his weight. They were trembling violently, like the hands of an old man, like someone who had just been forced to do a thousand push-ups. He grit his teeth, the taste of blood and smoke in his mouth.
Unlike every single one of his previous battles, the start of this final fight had been anything but favorable. And in his heart, a cold dread began to creep in as he looked at his own mutinous, trembling limbs.
Move, he commanded his hand. Just… clench into a fist.
But the fingers only twitched, a fine, uncontrollable tremor running up his arm. His body, the perfect weapon he had spent his entire life forging, was refusing to obey.
~~~~
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