Chapter 52: Intersecting Paths
In a quiet, sunlit hallway just outside the infirmary, Toshinori Yagi leaned his skeletal frame against the wall, the distant roar of the stadium a muffled, unimportant hum. He held his phone to his ear, his voice low and weary.
"So," Principal Nezu's cheerful voice chirped from the other end of the line, "I've been receiving some rather… exciting reports. It seems the first-years are having a truly wild festival this year."
"You could say that," Toshinori sighed. "But things are calm now. The situation is under control."
"And the boy? Gaara?" Nezu asked, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more serious. "Are you still certain, All Might, that you wish to insist on giving him this chance? After today, persuading the Commission will be… difficult."
Toshinori looked through a nearby window, his gaze falling upon the distant, cheering crowd. "He is just a child, Principal," he said, his voice now firm, filled with an unshakeable conviction. "A child who, for a moment, lost control of a power he does not yet understand. Is it not the fundamental purpose of U.A. to help these children learn to master their abilities? If we abandon him now, at his first stumble, then what kind of heroes are we?"
There was a short, thoughtful silence on the other end of the line. Then, Nezu spoke again. "True strength is revealed not in victory, but in how one stands after being broken. Very well, All Might. Since it is a request from the Symbol of Peace himself, there is no room for refusal. Proceed."
Back in the infirmary, the tense quiet was shattered by the booming, energetic voice of Present Mic, blasting from the PA system in the hallway.
"THE ARENA REPAIRS ARE COMPLETE! LET'S GET RIGHT BACK TO THE ACTION, FOLKS! THE NEXT QUARTER-FINAL MATCH IS A CLASS-VERSUS-CLASS GRUDGE MATCH! WILL CLASS 1-A RECLAIM ITS HONOR, OR WILL 1-B CONTINUE ITS SHOCKING UPSET STREAK?! GET READY FOR FUMIKAGE TOKOYAMI VERSUS NEITO MONOMA!"
The moment the name "Monoma" was spoken, Gaara's posture, which had been withdrawn and still, went rigid. His eyes, which had been unfocused, snapped into a sharp, narrow gaze. He rose from his bed in a single, fluid motion, a predator that had just heard the name of its rival.
The other students noticed his sudden, intense reaction. Their worried gazes shifted from Tokoyami, to Gaara, and then back to Tokoyami. It was as if he was not just going to fight Monoma, but also the ghost of Gaara's power that Monoma now wielded.
Tokoyami closed his eyes, a grim, dark confidence settling over him. "Why are you all looking at me in such a way?" he said, his voice a low rumble. "I am going to go, and I am going to win against Class B. There is no doubt."
"You got this, Tokoyami!" Kirishima yelled, his voice full of encouragement.
As the students began to file out to return to the stands, their well-wishes following Tokoyami, Gaara stood by his bed, his fist clenched tightly over his own chest, a look of conflicted, silent turmoil on his face.
Momo Yaoyorozu, who was passing by, paused. She hesitated for a moment, then gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Gaara flinched almost imperceptibly at the unexpected contact.
"Don't worry," she whispered, a small, kind smile on her face. "The one Tokoyami is fighting is not you. You should not be showing him such a face; you should be encouraging him."
Gaara looked at her, his teal eyes unreadable. He looked at her gentle, reassuring expression, and after a long moment, gave a single, small nod.
As Yaoyorozu walked away, she thought to herself, He's not hostile… he's just… quiet. Hurt. Perhaps he is not the monster Bakugo-san insists he is. Perhaps… he is simply easier to understand than we ever imagined.
The infirmary was empty now, save for two figures. Todoroki sat silently on his bed. Bakugo stood by the door, having not left with the others. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
"Look at your pathetic state," Bakugo finally snarled, breaking the quiet. Todoroki did not look at him. "How did you let that monster defeat you?"
Todoroki's gaze remained fixed on the far wall.
"Why didn't you use your fire, too?" Bakugo pressed, his voice rising with anger. "Look at me and answer me, you half-and-half!"
"It is none of your business," Todoroki replied, his voice a flat, icy monotone.
Bakugo bit his lip, a gesture of pure, frustrated rage. "Deku, you, and the rest… you're all worthless. None of you could beat him." Smoke, black and acrid, began to seep from his palms. "I'll take this responsibility on my own shoulders. To heck with all of you."
He turned and yanked the door open. "Sleep well, Ice Princess," he spat, and slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.
Alone, Todoroki let out a shaky breath. He thought of his father's humiliating intervention in the ring. He looked down at his own left hand, the source of the fire he so despised. If I had used it… he thought, a bitter, unwanted question rising in his mind. Would the result have been different?
Bakugo stormed down the hallway, a whirlwind of pure, undirected rage. At the same time, Neito Monoma was strolling calmly from the other direction, heading towards the arena, a smug, confident smirk on his face. Their paths were on a collision course.
They met in the middle of the corridor.
"Well, well, aren't you from Class A?" Monoma said, his smile widening with theatrical condescension. "You had better hurry to the spectator stands if you want to see me wipe the floor with your little friend."
Bakugo stopped. He turned slowly, a dangerously calm and quiet smile spreading across his own face. "I'm in a very good mood today," he said, his voice a low purr. "A good enough mood to make you unable to participate in this match at all."
Monoma took a half-step back, his own smile faltering for a fraction of a second before he recovered his composure. "Unfortunately for you," he said, his voice dripping with mockery, "I don't plan on fighting outside the ring. Especially since I have the 'sand advantage' now." He tapped his temple. "Your explosion Quirk is quite worthless against it, isn't it?"
He laughed, a sharp, barking sound, and walked past Bakugo, leaving him frozen in the middle of the hallway.
For a long moment, Bakugo did not move. He stood there, his head bowed, his body trembling with a rage that was so profound it had become silent. Then, with a guttural roar, he spun and slammed his fist into the concrete wall. The impact was deafening, a spiderweb of cracks erupting from the point of impact.
He stared at his bruised knuckles, his breathing heavy, his mind now a laser-focused point of pure, venomous intent.
I'll show all of you, he thought, his voice a low, dangerous whisper in his own mind. That sand boy… his end will be at my hands.
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