'Dammit, outta chakra.'
The realization was a punch to the gut.
As his chakra reinforcement vanished, the effects of his actions returned in full force. The pain, previously managed by his Quirk and adrenaline, hit instantly.
His movements instantly became uncoordinated, forcing him to stop and adjust. He muted the pain, and reduced his efficiency.
The intense speed he had relied on during the fight reduced with it.
The world lost its crystalline clarity. Colors dulled. Time returned to its normal, frustratingly slow pace.
'Move!'
He forced his quirk to compensate, manually controlling each muscle group, suppressing pain receptors, regulating his breathing.
It worked.
His stride stabilized. His posture corrected.
But he was slow now. Compared to before, desperately, dangerously slow.
'Doesn't matter. I'm so close—'
He pushed forward anyway, as bakugo was right there. All he had to do was ...
Bakugo's hand moved.
'Shit!'
Bakugo sensed the shifting footsteps.
His blurry eyes, still dizzy from the last attack, locked on Yuta's approaching form with undisguised rage.
'THIS BASTARD!
Energy condensed rapidly between his hands. His balance was compromised, and he couldn't stand trust his aim in this state. That left only one option.
His palm shot up as he overcharged both hands, pulling every drop of nitroglycerin and fury he had left, ready to unleash a chaotic, indiscriminate, Howitzer Impact-scale explosion.
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
'Shit!' Yuta saw the blinding light of the charge and felt a chill run down his spine.
Without his Sharingan, he couldn't see the exact trajectory nor predict the blast radius.
He just knew it was big.
Really big.
Yuta instinctively threw himself sideways, using the last of his momentum to dive out of the immediate kill zone.
KABOOOOOM!
The explosion erupted like a miniature sun.
The blast ripped through the air, obliterating the concrete and sending a plume of destructive energy toward the sky.
Thirty meters ahead, the arena floor vaporised into dust.
The blast wave caught Yuta mid-dodge.
He'd managed to get clear of the epicenter—barely—but the shockwave didn't care about distance.
It slammed into him like a freight train.
Heat seared his exposed skin. The pressure wave crushed the air from his lungs. His feet left the ground.
He crossed his arms in front of his face instinctively, but there was nothing to block.
He flew backward, tumbling through the air.
'The boundary—!'
Through the chaos, through the pain, through the disorientation, one thought cut through everything else.
His back hit the ground hard. Concrete tore at his already-shredded uniform.
He skidded, and skidded, and skidded.
The white boundary line rushed toward him.
'HELL NO—!'
His hand shot out, fingers clawing at the fractured ground. He crashed outside the destruction radius, skidding and rolling across the concrete and finally came to a stop near the edge of the arena.
'That idiot wants to kill me!'
Yuta panted heavily as he looked at his hands. Broken nails, torn skin, blood leaking onto the concrete.
"Tch." Yuta clicked his tongue in irritation. His chance was gone.
Eyes still fixed on the smoke, half expecting Bakugo to rocket out screaming "DIE!!", he stood to his feet, ignoring the suppressed aches all over.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT'S ANOTHER REVERSAL. YUTA AKUTAMI FALTERED AT THE LAST MOMENT GIVING BAKUGO THE CHANCE TO LAND HIS FIRST ATTACK OF THE DAY."
He leaned over.
"BUT WHAT'S THE SITUATION WITH BAKUGO? I CAN'T TELL. THE SMOKE'S TOO THICK."
"Damn! This is so intense."
In Class 1-A, everyone was on their feet.
"I agree. This is way better than his fight with Todoroki."
"MINETA!
"What?! I'm just saying—"
A sharp thwack cut him off.
"Ow!"
Mina's fist bounced off the back of his head.
"Read the room, grape-brain."
Jiro shot him a glare. "Seriously. Someone almost just got blown out of the arena."
Kirishima swallowed. "Yeah… jokes aside, where's Bakugo right now?"
The smoke began to thin.
Slowly, the ruined battlefield came back into view.
At the far end of the arena, across a crater of torn concrete and scorched earth, Bakugo stood.
Panting.
His shoulders rose and fell hard. His arms trembled visibly at his sides. Sparks crackled erratically from his palms, popping and hissing as sweat streamed down his face.
But his eyes glared with frenzied, barely-contained rage.
"Why..."
His voice was hoarse, raw.
"You're barely at half power, so why..."
Sparks crackled weakly from his palms.
"...Why won't you stay down?"
Across the destroyed arena, Yuta stood silently.
Yuta met his gaze.
Then, deliberately, he looked away.
His eyes dropped to his raised hands. The tremor in them was impossible to hide now—skin torn, knuckles raw, fingers shaking from strain.
"Well," Yuta said calmly, flexing them once, "that hurts."
Bakugo's eye twitched.
"What... what the hell is wrong with you?!" His voice cracked. "WHY AREN'T YOU TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY?!"
In the stands, Tsuyu's tongue slipped out slightly—a nervous tell.
"Damn. If this keeps going, Bakugo's going to lose it, ribbit."
"He already has," Jiro muttered. "He looks like he's about to murder someone."
Yuta raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
"Fine then. I have one last move to unveil."
Bakugo stiffened. 'More?'
Midoriya's pencil was frozen mid-note, eyes wide.
"No way. He has more?"
"It can't be right?"
"Is another reversal coming along?"
Then Yuta's bloodied hand—the one he'd been examining—slowly rose.
Higher.
Past his chest.
Past his face.
Into the air.
'What's he...?'
Midoriya's eyes widened.
'He can't be—'
"I forfeit."
Pin. Drop. Silence.
The entire stadium seemed to stop breathing.
"Did..." Kaminari's voice was barely a whisper. "Did he just...?"
"I think he did," Sero finished weakly.
Present Mic's voice was uncharacteristically subdued.
"Did... did Akutami just forfeit? After all that?"
"He did," Aizawa confirmed. "Smart move, given the circumstances."
In the arena, Bakugo's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
His entire body went rigid.
"...What?"
Yuta lowered his hand calmly.
"Wasn't I clear enough? I give up." His tone was matter-of-fact. "It was a good match. You win."
Midoriya swallowed hard.
"Uh oh."
The words replayed in Bakugo's head.
Good match.
Good match.
Good. Match.
His face twisted, expression growing uglier by the second.
Then,
"WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU DAMN BASTARD?!"
BOOM!
He fired an explosion into the ground, propelling himself forward despite his exhaustion.
"YOU THINK THIS IS A GOOD MATCH?!"
Another blast.
He closed the distance rapidly, rage overriding the pain in his arms.
"NO WAY! YOU DON'T GET TO DO THAT! YOU DON'T GET TO QUIT AFTER ALL THIS!"
Yuta watched him approach.
"Why not?"
"BECAUSE—!"
BANG!
A large slab of earth suddenly rose between them as Bakugo approached.
'Dammit!'
Bakugo fired backwards, cancelling his momentum.
In the distance, Cementoss spoke with his arms on the earth.
"Student Bakugo, please refrain from attacking. Your opponent has forfeited the match."
"NO WAY!"
Bakugo screamed. "THIS ISN'T OVER YET!"
"It is for me."
"THAT'S NOT HOW THIS WORKS!"
"Isn't it?" Yuta's voice remained calm.
"NO IT ISN'T!" Bakugo roared. "THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS FESTIVAL IS TO AIM FOR THE TOP. TO FIGHT YOUR OPPONENT WITH EVERYTHING YOU HAVE, NO HOLDING BACK."
He spoke through gritted teeth. "WHAT YOU JUST DID. FIGHTING ME WITHOUT GIVING YOUR BEST, THEN TAPPING OUT WHENEVER YOU LIKE, DO YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME?"
The crowd went silent.
"I see. Well, I'm sorry for that. However I think we see things from different perspectives." Yuta sighed.
"While I wouldn't mind winning, it's not really the point for me."
Bakugo froze.
"What the ... What are you talking about."
"You still don't get it do you?"
Yuta pointed to himself. "You're from the hero course, while I'm from general studies. Your primary goal was always to win with everything you have, while my primary goal was to solidify my performance in the sports festival to ensure I leave general studies."
Yuta looked at him.
"I already gave my all to achieve that goal when I beat the son of Endeavor. My power ran out in the semifinals, so I never put much hope on winning to begin with."
Bakugo's face darkened.
"So you're saying you didn't expect to win, but came anyway with a try and see attitude?"
"Pretty much." Yuta shrugged. "What can I say. It went better than I expected."
Bakugo clenched his fists.
Murmurs reignited across the stadium. The majority looked confused.
"IS HE SERIOUS?!" Present Mic sounded genuinely baffled. "AFTER MAKING IT TO THE FINALS, HE'S JUST... WALKING AWAY?!"
"Logical," Aizawa said. "Bakugo and Yuta's motivations primarily differed from the start. He already achieved his goal. Everything else is just ego."
"BUT WHAT ABOUT BAKUGO'S EGO?!"
"...That's about to be a problem."
__
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