A quick finisher to this arc.
-SpiritOfErebus
Hans snapped out of his daze about thirty seconds later, almost about to be hoisted onto a medical robot by both another robot and Yaoyorozu.
Looking at the various bruises on his body slowly discolor his pale and blemished skin, Hans sighed.
"Did you really have to do that?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow and looking at Yaoyorozu. The robots, slightly disappointed that they couldn't continue to see humanoids in pain, sulked out of the room. "Besides, you're normally pretty calm and collected. It seems kind of out of character."
"Let's not say this on the field." Yaoyorozu said. "That was the match for third place. Kirishima and Bakugo are fighting next."
"Oh, right." Hans said, waving at Kirishima still waiting in the tunnel during the break before the finals match. Kirishima waved back. Bakugo, meanwhile, scowled at Hans.
"You're the only person that I've surrendered against, Bakugo!" Hans shouted. "How's that strength mindset treating you now that you're in the finals?"
"Fuck you!" Bakugo yelled.
The teachers looked distinctly uncomfortable, and averted their gaze to look at the fifteen minute timer counting down to the final fight.
"And what the hell was that crappy quirkless fight, huh?" Bakugo shouted. "You got your ass handed to you."
Hans sighed, before walking into the tunnel that led to the infirmary. Truly, some people never even tried to learn.
As the footsteps above them made the tunnels slightly noisy, the two walked in silence. Hans could hear the sound of concessions being sold, people being disappointed by their fight for third place with disapproving, angry yells, and toddlers excitedly emulating the scenes of violence that they had watched for the entire day.
After they were sufficiently deep into the concrete tunnels, Yaoyorozu spoke.
"What happened to, well, accepting to see the good in people?" Yaoyorozu said. "You're still really dishing it out to Bakugo."
"He's the second worst person that's relatively sane I've ever seen." Hans sighed, massaging his temples once he was in the fluorescent lights of the tunnels. "Besides, have you seen the things he gets up to? He probably bullied Midoriya for his entire life, routinely makes violent threats to us, and literally shouted that he would murder me during his match."
"You do have a point." Yaoyorozu said, nodding. She was about to begin her second nod when she suddenly paused. "Wait a minute… This is what I was talking about. You keep on spreading whatever cynical but logically sound beliefs around way too convincingly. It's almost like… you're manipulating us."
"Was that the reason you didn't let me talk?" Hans said. "I really felt… dragged along during that conversation."
"If we were having a civil conversation, do you really think you would have allowed me to say that much?" Yaoyorozu said, raising an eyebrow. "You'd keep rebutting everything that I say without listening to a word, and end up convincing me again.."
"That's absurd." Hans began. "I- Oh, damn, I'm doing it right now, aren't I?"
Yaoyorozu nodded.
"And when I realized that you were manipulating us without even realizing, I felt… sort of betrayed. I mean, I never really had that many friends growing up."
"Rich parents, right?" Hans said. "You probably had tutors and everything."
"Yeah…" Yaoyorozu muttered. "And in the little group of people that I've been managing to talk to in this school, we've all sort of been strung along by you. Obviously, unintentionally, on your part. And… I guess I got angry. Is that weird?"
"No." Hans said, reaching up and… not quite making it to her shoulder. His shoulder was in quite some pain. "You're just a three dimensional character. But more importantly, you're a teenager. You're allowed to be angry and stupid occasionally."
"And what I did was wrong. I shouldn't have beaten you up to try to get my point across. That is just stupid." Yaoyorozu muttered. "But then you wouldn't have listened, and, this has just become circular logic, and what am I even saying?"
"We all were wrong." Hans said, sighing and putting his hands in his pockets. The pair of pants that had been through multiple cyclones (Midoriya's finger blasts), two ice ages (Todoroki), and a near miss from a torpedo were still intact, if not just a bit frayed.
"If I was pretending that what I said was legitimate criticism, which, well, it is… just not healthy criticism… I could have either kept it to myself like a normal person or talked to them normally if I was a rational person. But sadly, I'm neither. We're… all… human."
Somehow, that word didn't feel as wrong to say as it used to.
"We're allowed to be petty, and make irrational decisions. That's what makes us a complete character, and not just a machine accepting inputs and outputting the optimal response like we're in some novel with a protagonist that is somehow always right. What we were doing was wrong, and we need to address that."
"So will you… actually change?"
"...No." Hans said, admitting it a bit shamefully. "Despite what you had said making some sense, it's not actually effective enough to constantly affect my thought process. I'll still be a cynical asshole that's too irritating for his own good, but I'll actually apologize to Todoroki and Midoriya. And I'll try… to be more considerate."
"Not Bakugo?" Yaoyorozu said.
"No." Hans said. "He's the second worst person that I've ever met that was of a functionally sound mind."
"...What kind of people do you mean? And who is the literal worst person?" Yaoyorozu said, rubbing her eyes. Hans noticed that there was a little, moist trail tracking down her cheek, and said nothing.
Sometimes, it was better to say nothing.
"You don't want to know." Hans said. "They're a real prat. Irritating… Irrational… The whole package."
"But… yeah. I'm sorry." Yaoyorozu sighed.
"What really is sorry is the situation that puts teenagers in a high pressure environment without training, after a traumatizing experience such as the USJ, and the desire for UA to either profit off of the festival or further their prestige by showcasing their hero course students against a backdrop of cannon fodder."
The two kept walking.
"You see? Social commentary. Something where nobody has to be hurt."
Yaoyorozu chuckled.
"Yeah, this whole festival is foolhardy. That I can agree on. But for now, all we have to worry about are internships, right?"
Hans almost tripped.
"What do you mean internships?"
"It was on the forms that your parents signed, you know? Your quirk data and a tape made by the UA faculty showcasing your quirk would be made available to heroes expressing interest in a week-long internship." Yaoyorozu said.
Hans fell silent.
"Your parents read the forms, right? Right?"
Hans said nothing.
…
"...And it's time, folks!" Present Mic shouted into the PA system. "Do you all have your drinks? Your popcorn? Your limited edition All Might popsicles? Just kidding. Those weren't limited editions. But now, it's time for the final match of the festival! Give it up for the two! Last! Contestants!"
The crowd roared. The arena flamethrowers went wild, spewing huge blasts of flame into the air. Midnight waved jauntily at the crowd, her last moments in the spotlight for the event passing in an avalanche of activity across the tan stretch of tight fabric.
Then, the smoke cleared and the dramatic effects diminished on the screens to concentrate on two faces. One? A determined red haired boy flexing not to flaunt his muscles, but to show his sturdiness and dependability. The other? A blonde boy showing a dangerous scowl. Appealing in an edgy sort of way.
"Finally." Bakugo rasped. "Some honest fucking fighting."
"You're not sounding as sure as you usually are, Bakugo." Kirishima said, settling into a stance. "Did Hans get to you or something?"
For a moment, Bakugo did nothing. Then, he forced himself to stomp forwards aggressively.
"Did you get fucking tricked by his illusions too? By what he showed you?"
"Well, that's the difference between you and me, Bakugo." Kirishima said, gritting his teeth.
"Ready?" Midnight shouted, raising her whip high into the air.
"I listen to advice."
"Start!"
Kirishima immediately ran for the center, his body unhardened for the sake of maneuverability. Bakugo started the match with a slap towards the ground, testing Kirishima's fortitude with a fairly large explosion.
Concrete was sent flying. Dust clouds appeared from the destroyed surfaces. But amidst the shaking, Kirishima stood firm, his arms hardened and crossed in front of his face.
"You just don't fucking get him, do you?" Bakugo roared, rocketing forward. "That little shit is just fucking with us us! Manipulating all of us with his fancy talks and trying to put doubt into our heads!"
"His words are cynical." Kirishima said, sidestepping the charge while keeping good footing. As Bakugo changed courses with an explosion with one hand, Kirishima braced for the shockwave and tossed out a handful of rocks.
A wide-eyed Bakugo was forced to dodge out of the way of the projectiles heading towards his face. Instead of hitting his nose, however, the rocks scratched his arms as he flew by.
"But you can't deny that they're able to show you the worst of yourself. The parts of you that you don't want to admit."
"So he did get to you then." Bakugo said, grinning and brushing his arm. It stung. But only just stung. He was still good to go.
"But addressing your own problems and faults is also healthy." Kirishima declared. "I'm able to confront my cowardice better now that he's addressed it. I'm stronger now that I know my faults."
"You really are an idiot." Bakugo said, rubbing his hands. More sweat poured from his glands and coated his palms in preparation for the next strike.
"I'm a self-aware idiot." Kirishima said, releasing the shards of rock that still remained in his iron grip. "But you? You're a morally bankrupt delinquent that finds fulfillment by being better than other people. Do you really deserve to call yourself a hero?"
Bakugo gritted his teeth. At the edge of his consciousness, pains on his limbs and the sensation of burns crawled over his skin once more.
It was all fucking fake, right? There was no way that shit existed. The midget was just trying to get on his nerves. To manipulate him and take his mind off being number one.
"Well…" Bakugo said, regaining some of his old, dangerous grin. "If you lose to me, what does that make you?"
Bakugo leapt up into the air, sending one explosion to the left. His sweat dripped from his palms, igniting in midair like a shower of sparks. Black, oily smoke began to first rise, and then as the drops of sweat slowly began to grow more frequent, Bakugo was sent in a spin. The forces surrounding him in a vague circle began to drag the smoke with it, shrouding Bakugo in an ominous cloud.
"Howitzer… Impact!" he yelled, rocketing forwards as he spun like a pulsar. The orange glow on his palms streaked past the smoke like starlight cutting through a clear, night sky, going straight for Kirishima.
Kirishima reared back a fist, and punched the ground. Using the impact and a jump to gain altitude, he soared above Bakugo's rotating explosion.
"What the-" Bakugo yelled, before grinning.
"This'll just blow you out of the arena, then!"
Kirishima twisted his body in midair once more, still judging where the center of the explosion was.
Then, the impact hit.
The arena glowed orange for an instant, before the shrapnel shot out from where Bakugo hit the concrete, the shattered chunks flying out and embedding themselves into the surrounding grass, already yellowing from the extreme temperature changes, frequent chemical spills, and the constant explosions.
"I see you!" Bakugo cackled, looking up and seeing Kirishima's hardened, flailing body. It was still within the bounds of the arena, but as Bakugo blasted himself upwards, regardless of his shaking arms, he knew that he had the match in the bag.
Of course, that was until Kirishima suddenly straightened his body and began to plummet like a rock, heading directly for Bakugo. Grabbing onto Kirishima's face, Bakugo tried to spin once more and catapult himself out of the ring, but that plan changed when Kirishima's arm abruptly softened, grabbed Bakugo's body, and then hardened once more around his neck.
If he threw Kirishima out, he himself would be following.
"As if… I'd be… caught!" Bakugo roared, constantly blasting Kirishima with one hand while extending another hand upwards. A blast erupted in the air like a barrel of explosives, sending the duo straight to the ground, with Kirishima on the bottom.
Of course, as Kirishima hardened his leg and swung it, the impact was turned sideways.
The impact made another dust cloud on the already shattered concrete, but with another explosion, the two contestants were separated.
Bakugo crouched, panting, on one side of the arena. One concrete shard stabbed into his bicep.
On the other side, Kirishima nursed an ugly crack on his torso, caused by the almost non-stop explosions that the hand gripping his body had performed.
Wordlessly, the two charged each other.
…
Bakugo raised an arm to prepare to blast Kirishima in the face, only for Kirishima to abruptly stop his punch as his whole upper body hardened.
The blast did nothing.
Kirishima punched forwards, and Bakugo was forced to take a step back, his hand still outstretched in an attack.
Then, Kirishima's other arm approached for a grapple. Bakugo's hand set off an explosion, utilizing Bakugo's backwards momentum to set the arm back into safety. Gritting his teeth, Bakugo set off an explosion with his injured arm, the impact sending a searing pain up his bicep.
He ignored this pain.
Of course, Kirishima had reacted to the attack once more, hardening his body and freezing his motions in order to use his maximum durability.
Obviously, Kirishima's hardening weakened when he moved. Therefore, Kirishima had trained to only harden when an attack was immediately inbound. This required experience. This required combat training. Something that Kirishima hadn't been doing during their quirk training sessions at all.
Bakugo remembered the martial arts that the illusions of the midget had been using. Maybe those illusions weren't as simple as he thought.
But now wasn't the time to think about the midget, no matter how much that bastard irritated him. Because he, Bakugo Katsuki, was currently being forced back. He wasn't sure how close the white line was, but it was really fucking close.
Meanwhile, Kirishima kept pushing forwards with grim determination, his durability and endurance winning over Bakugo's wounded arm and reduced offensive capability.
"But when your strength fails and you get completely overwhelmed… where does that leave you?" The midget said.
Fuck. That.
"When I get overwhelmed…" Bakugo muttered, gritting his teeth. "I'll just fucking push through!"
Fuck this disadvantage!.
Bakugo forced his hands forwards for one big explosion. As Kirishima hardened up his body once more, Bakugo himself was blown back.
That was fine. He needed the space for this to work. Because if he couldn't explode Kirishima out of the arena, he'd just have to push him out.
Fuck this injury!
Bakugo roared, ignoring the pain in one of his arms as he held out both arms behind him, his foot just on the white line.
Fuck that philosophical bullshit!
"Explosive… Rush!"
…
As Kirishima looked up after Bakugo's last great attack, he saw Bakugo's face abruptly get larger.
Bakugo was trying to push him out of the arena.
For a moment, Kirishima panicked. He could defend against the explosions. He could defend against the aerial attacks and the impact damage.
But he wasn't particularly heavy. He could still be pushed. For a moment, Kirishima envied the flashy, powerful, versatile, and powerful quirk that Bakugo had. The repetition was intentional as Kirishima realized just how much of a gap remained between them.
No.
Kirishima didn't make it this far just to surrender to a powerful, advantageous attack. He was an idiot and a coward deep down, sure, but he was a self aware idiot and coward.
Kirishima was already past that mental hurdle. There wouldn't be hesitation. Not now, when every thought counted for time.
Despite being injured, Bakugo was probably pushing past it in order to use sustained explosions and knock Kirishima out of the arena. And if Kirishima kept dodging, he would be overwhelmed by Bakugo's mobility eventually, considering the fact that his turning speed was limited by the wound on his torso.
Thus, he had to take the attack head on. The key part to any stance was good and stable footwork, but Kirishima couldn't exactly amass enough momentum to combat Bakugos' explosions. He would still be pushed out of the ring then.
His only hope was friction, but on the broken concrete, there was no way that there would be enough-
"Wait a minute…" Kirishima thought, "Footwork didn't have to be ground level, though, did it?"
Hardening his feet, Kirishima felt his shoes disappear into shreds as he kicked his back foot six inches into concrete. He plunged his front heel into the concrete and brought his hands forward as Bakugo's foot impacted his palm.
"Die!" Bakugo yelled, explosions cracking behind him. Like a rocket, Bakugo pushed forwards. And tracking deep lines in the concrete, Kirishima resisted.
'
Looking into Bakugo's eyes, he struggled against that savage glare. There was no opportunity to raise his feet now that he had taken Bakugo's solid blow.
More explosions crackled, and slowly, Bakugo pushed Kirishima towards the line.
This wouldn't be it. Was footwork not enough? Was his training not enough? Was he overreaching with his capabilities? Overextending?
Overextending.
That was it.
As Kirishima approached the white line, one of his hands suddenly stopped trying to resist Bakugo's rocket kick, grabbing onto his shin. Then, with a shout of his own, he brought the hand up and hardened his face.
Bakugo's combat boots slid across Kirishima's smoothly hardened face, and sailed past Kirishima's body. Bakugo's red eyes burned brightly with sudden realization and regret as he went over the line.
Bakugo's hands were still blasting explosions, and the explosive force, coupled with Kirishima's sudden movements, were enough to knock him over. Reaching out with a hardened hand, Kirishima clawed into the spiderwebbed concrete for a handhold, keeping himself in the arena as nothing but a statement.
As Kirishima lay flat on the uneven ground, his torso aching and his body sore from all the sudden transformations, he turned his gaze up to see confetti soar up into the air.
Amidst all the colors, amidst the blue and gold scraps and the red and black ribbons, Kirishima grinned.
He didn't flinch in the face of overwhelming power. He didn't hesitate this time.
…But hadn't he already done that? During the villain attacks at the USJ. During the court case attack. All he had done was proved in front of the public that he was, apparently, at the top of a bunch of high schoolers that had barely received organized instruction about how to fight.
Suddenly, the victory didn't feel as significant anymore.
AN
The sports festival is finally over now. Hopefully, the Bakugo vs Kirishima fight wasn't a disappointment.
For the conversation at the beginning, I hope it made more sense, explored some character motivations, and shed some more light on the situation.
It's time to take a break from this fic. I'm honestly mildly tired of it, and I don't want this to devolve into burnout. I still have tons of plans for what happens next, though. My next fic update, as mandated by a contest in my discord server, will be for a disappointing Pokemon OC fic.
Discord link: discord . gg / 9t9MK3jHmV
-SpiritOfErebus