Chapter 35: The Weight of the Torch.
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The stadium was a living storm of sound. Cheers thundered through the air like explosions, rattling every seat and shaking the very ground. This was it. The final match. The moment everyone had been waiting for — the climax of the U.A. Sports Festival.
Every eye was fixed on the center of the arena. Every breath held.
In the announcer's booth, Present Mic's voice boomed through the speakers, energy pulsing with each word.
[ LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS, HERO FANS OF ALL AGES!! YOU'VE SEEN ICE! YOU'VE SEEN FIRE! YOU'VE SEEN A PHOENIX RISE FROM THE ASHES! AND NOW… IT'S TIME FOR THE FINAL MATCH OF THE U.A. FIRST-YEAR SPORTS FESTIVAL!! ]
The crowd roared in response.
[ On one side—give it up for CLASS 1-A'S WALKING NUCLEAR BLAST, THE MAN WHO BLOWS AWAY HIS COMPETITION—KATSUKI BAKUGO!!! ]
Bakugo stomped into the arena, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a snarl. His gym uniform clung to him, sleeves rolled up, palms already sparking with sweat-fueled nitroglycerin. The crowd shouted his name, but he didn't react. His focus was absolute.
[ AND ON THE OTHER SIDE—we've got CLASS 1-A'S CLASS PRESIDENT AND THE PLAYER REP, THE LIVING INFERNO, THE FLAME WARRIOR, THE TEEN WHO SET THE SKY ABLAZE—HARUE DAI!!! ]
The crowd exploded again, even louder this time. Harue stepped forward, head held high, flames dancing around his shoulders like a king's cloak. He didn't just walk into the ring. He owned it.
"And for those just tuning in," Present Mic continued, "Bakugo's Quirk, Explosion, lets him ignite his sweat and blow things to pieces—literally! While Harue's Quirk, Torch, lets him fully ignite his entire body in flame—fly, fire blasts, and some say even a new Phoenix form! This ain't just a fight, folks—this is a war!!"
The starting buzzer buzzed.
And the war began.
Bakugo didn't waste a second — his gauntlets were gone, but his speed and precision were still unmatched. He blasted forward, zigzagging to avoid an obvious head-on approach. A direct hit would be suicide.
But Harue didn't move.
He stood there, flames curling around his arms, eyes tracking Bakugo like a predator watching prey.
Then he moved.
In a flash, Harue soared upward, fire jets flaring from his back. "You gonna make me chase you?" he called mockingly. "Cute."
Bakugo snarled and launched a massive explosion upward, smoke blooming in the air. But Harue was already gone, weaving through the smoke and heat like a ghost. A whip of flame snapped down and struck the ground where Bakugo had landed — the explosion-wielder barely leaped out of the way, panting.
But he wasn't landing hits.
"Too slow," Harue taunted from above. "Too predictable. You're still just trying to brute-force your way through this."
Bakugo cursed and vaulted into the air, his explosion-propelled leap cracking the tiles. He twisted midair, blasting at Harue with everything he had.
Harue raised one arm — the fire around it flared into a shield of flame — and the explosion dispersed harmlessly against it.
And then came the counterattack.
Harue dropped like a meteor, his entire body engulfed in flame, spinning downward like a flaming spear. Bakugo barely rolled aside — but not without consequence. The fire scorched his arm, burning through the fabric of his uniform.
He gritted his teeth, sweating hard now.
"You're not bad Bakugo," Harue said casually, pacing forward through fire and smoke. "You've got Power. Talent. Fury. But none of that matters Mr, 3rd place when you're fighting someone in a different league."
"I'M NOT DONE YET!" Bakugo roared, and with a wild charge, he shot forward, pushing himself past pain, past logic.
Two hits landed.
One to the gut, another to the jaw.
They did shake Harue, if only slightly.
But he didn't stagger. He just smirked, licking blood from his lip.
"Congratulations," he said coldly. "You touched me."
(AN: Before anyone flames me, Harue allowed Bakugo to hit him, he can't show all his cards now can he? )
And then he unleashed hell.
Flames burst from Harue's body, a wave of heat so intense the ground beneath his feet cracked and glowed red. Bakugo was hurled back like a ragdoll, arms raised to shield himself, rolling across the ground in a singed heap.
The arena went dead silent.
"WHY?!" Bakugo's scream cut through the silence.
Harue paused.
"Why are you so strong?!"
His voice cracked. His teeth were clenched. His palms trembled as he tried to stand. "I trained. I fought! I won! Everyone told me I was the strongest! So why—why the hell are you so far ahead?!"
Harue's expression darkened. The smirk was gone.
"There's always a bigger fish, Bakugo."
The flames on his body surged again.
"You probably grew up thinking you were unbeatable. You were a big fish in a small pond. But while you were probably blasting middle schoolers, people in my city were already saying I was the next Endeavor."
"While I didn't quite like that comparison, seeing as I wasn't planning to just be the second best. That already shows the difference between us."
Harue's arm lit up, brighter than before — fire condensing around his fist.
"You wanna be number one?"
He raised his hand.
"Then climb higher."
He fired.
A stream of concentrated flame shot out, twisting like a dragon, striking Bakugo square in the side. The explosion of fire sent him flying — and this time, he didn't get up.
When the smoke cleared, Bakugo was unconscious, one side of his body scorched, his uniform singed black and half-torn.
Present Mic's voice boomed.
"BAKUGO IS DOWN!! HARUE DAI WINS THE FIRST YEARS U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL!!"
The crowd erupted.
But Harue didn't raise his hands.
He just stood there, the flames dying down, his face unreadable as the medbots rushed in.
The fight was over.
And Harue had made it very clear — this wasn't a competition to him.
It was a statement.
...…
——-All Might's Reaction———
In the shadow of the VIP stands, tucked behind the screen and away from the spotlight, All Might sat silently in his emaciated form, one hand clutching the metal railing before him. The flames had just died down. The smoke was still curling upward. And Harue Dai stood tall at the center of the scorched arena, victorious.
All Might didn't speak. His sunken eyes stayed locked on the battlefield as medbots rushed in to carry Bakugo away, his scorched uniform clinging to his battered frame.
That fight… That wasn't the level of first-year students. No — it had been something else entirely.
"…Incredible…" he murmured under his breath.
He had seen countless battles in his long career. He had witnessed titanic clashes that shook cities and saved nations. But what he just saw in that arena between Harue and Bakugo, and before that between Harue and Todoroki, wasn't just raw power.
It was a glimpse of the future.
"They're… already approaching the level of Top pros," he said softly, as if afraid to believe it.
The final flash of Harue's phoenix form still burned behind his eyes — the sheer force, the presence, the control. Todoroki's flames, ignited at last, had surged with purpose. Even Bakugo, in his desperation, had pushed past limits to challenge someone far above him.
This generation… was blazing forward like a wildfire.
All Might felt pride swell in his chest — genuine, full-hearted pride. For a brief moment, he forgot the pain in his ribs, the weight of the world on his failing body. These kids were strong. Stronger than he had dared to hope.
But then…
His eyes drifted down the stands. Toward Midoriya.
Izuku sat still in the student bleachers, fists clenched on his knees, his eyes wide and distant as he stared at the arena.
And the pride in All Might's chest turned into a stone.
The boy looked… small.
Not just physically — emotionally. As if the fight had carved a crack inside him, one that All Might could feel through the air. Even with One For All, even with months of training, even with all his heart and spirit — Izuku was still so far behind.
And that was All Might's fault.
"…I haven't taught him enough," he whispered to himself. "He's fighting so hard, and I'm still holding back. Like I can afford to."
He lowered his head, guilt wrapping around him like a heavy cloak. "He's falling behind… and I'm the one who was supposed to guide him forward."
The weight of his failure pressed harder than his broken body ever could.
As the audience roared and screens replayed the final moment of Harue's finishing blow, All Might slowly stood up, gripping the railing to steady his frail form. The Sports Festival would be wrapping up soon. The awards ceremony was next.
He had to smile again. Put on the image. Applaud the winner. Congratulate the future heroes.
But inside…
He couldn't stop thinking about how much more he had to do for Midoriya. How badly he needed help.
His steps were slow as he walked down the hallway behind the stands, away from the bright lights and into the dim corridors below.
And then, as he turned a corner, a flicker of a memory surfaced — quick, like a match struck in the dark.
A small figure.
A short, gruff old man in a coat two sizes too big, arms crossed, teeth clenched behind a whistle.
Gran Torino.
All Might paused in his tracks.
"…Maybe it's time," he said softly.
His eyes narrowed with renewed resolve.
"Maybe I should call him."
End of the Chapter.
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(AN: I Cooked with this one.)