After one-shotting every match up to this point, I finally stood at the edge of the stage for the final. Only one opponent remained between me and the championship—Shoto Todoroki.
The crowd was practically vibrating with anticipation. The stands were full of people shouting both our names, half of them cheering for me after the earlier destruction I caused, the other half rooting for Endeavor's prodigy. The energy was electric. It almost felt like the air itself was waiting to explode.
Excitement. Expectation. Every eye fixed on the stage, waiting for something spectacular.
I could feel it.
The weight of all those gazes—fans, pros, students—it pressed down like invisible heat. For Todoroki, that pressure was doubled.
Ever since the tournament started, he'd made it clear he planned to beat me. "I'll win," he'd said back then with that icy calm of his.
Well, now was the time to prove it.
Even the pros in the VIP stands were talking among themselves. I could see them from here—hawks of attention, eyes flickering between the ring and the monitors.
"I still can't believe these kids are first-years," said Kamui Woods, leaning forward.
Mt. Lady crossed her arms and smirked. "Destruction level like that, and they're not even licensed yet."
Aizawa, ever the calm observer, muttered from behind his scarf, "Power isn't the issue. Control and intent are. Let's see which one understands what being a hero really means."
After making sure Eri was safe and settled, Aizawa had temporarily taken a place in the section reserved for Pro Heroes, seated beside All Might and Principal Nezu.
And All Might… he just looked quietly thoughtful. I caught his faint smile before he turned to Nezu, whispering something I couldn't hear.
Meanwhile, back in Class 1-A's section, Bakugo sat with his arms crossed, his face in a constant state of irritation.
"Tch. That icy bastard better not lose easily," he grumbled. "If anyone's gonna beat Hayato, it should be me."
Momo gave a polite sigh, looking at the arena. "Shoto's powerful, but Hayato's powers are unpredictable. It'll depend on who keeps their head cooler."
"Cooler, huh?" Kaminari snorted. "You mean literally."
Jirou elbowed him lightly. "Not the time, sparky."
Midoriya, sitting quietly beside them, clenched his hands. "Todoroki's strong… but Hayato's different. He doesn't just fight with power—he fights with speed. Every move of his feels calculated."
Uraraka smiled faintly. "I just hope they don't destroy the stadium again."
If only she knew.
I'd crushed my way through the brackets—no suspense. Just clean, decisive wins. To the audience, it probably looked effortless. No point dragging out a fight when the result's already decided.
Still, with Todoroki, I expected something different. The guy was powerful, no question. Even I wanted to see what he was capable of if he used both sides of his quirk in reality.
Unfortunately… his family issues had other plans.
From where I sat in the stands, I noticed Endeavor—that walking inferno of pride—standing by one of the tunnels, watching Todoroki approach the stage. Even from here, I could feel the intensity radiating off the man.
And then he opened his mouth.
"Use your fire, Shoto"
Endeavor had said. His voice was booming, confident—too confident. "You can beat him easily if you use your abilities to the fullest. No one can stop you if you use my quirk alongside your cold."
I groaned internally. Oh great, a motivational speech from the least qualified parent in Japan.
Even from a distance, I could feel how that hit Todoroki. It was like watching a spark land in oil but never ignite. Todoroki's reply was sharp, cold, and curt, and he walked away without looking back.
Endeavor frowned, the flames around his shoulders flickering harder. "Don't be foolish. That boy—he's strong. Without—"
Todoroki cut him off. "I'm nothing like you."
And just like that, he walked away.
Endeavor, however, just stood there… waiting. And, as expected, waiting for me.
Sure enough, when I was walking down the corridor to the arena, I saw him—blocking the path like a red-haired wall of arrogance.
He didn't say a word at first. Just stared. The man radiated heat even when his flames weren't on. I could feel the faint shimmer of it in the air.
Then he spoke, voice deep and commanding. "You're very strong, Hayato. Make Shoto use his fire. Push him until he has no choice."
I didn't even stop walking. "You're awfully confident for someone who couldn't make his own son listen," I said lightly.
He frowned, clearly not used to being dismissed. As I passed, he reached out, trying to stop me with a hand on my shoulder. I tilted my head just enough to make him miss and continued forward.
"Do your best if you want to win," he called after me, tone sharp and frustrated. "You'll lose the moment he uses his full quirk!"
I lifted a hand lazily without looking back. "Then I guess I'll just have to make sure he never gets that chance."
As I stepped into the sunlight, I let out a sigh. Man, that guy's exhausting.
Still, his interference might've just made things harder. Normally, Todoroki's refusal to use his flames would be easy to work around. But after that exchange? He'd probably dig in harder just to spite his old man.
Guess it was up to me to fix it—again.
The sunlight hit the arena just as I stepped out. The roar that followed almost shook the platform. Present Mic's voice blared through the speakers, nearly splitting my eardrums.
"AND NOW! THE FINAL MATCH OF THE U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! GIVE IT UP FOR—HAYATO VS SHOTO TODOROKIIII!!!"
I swear, I could feel my soul vibrate with that announcement. Todoroki was already there, standing on his side of the ring. Calm, focused, his expression unreadable as ever.
The left side of his face caught the sunlight, faintly gleaming from the scar that stretched near his eye. He looked composed, but I could sense the tension in him.
He wasn't nervous. He was conflicted.
From what I remembered in the canon, Midoriya managed to break through to Todoroki in the original timeline using a mix of emotional pep talk and reckless self-sacrifice. Basically, "talk no jutsu" with a dash of broken bones.
Yeah, that wasn't my style.
Words might reach someone like Todoroki—but pain, instinct, and survival? Those go deeper.
So instead of preaching about acceptance and destiny, I decided to go with something simpler:
Make him use his fire side subconsciously.
When a person's in real danger, instinct takes over. And instinct doesn't care about family trauma.
As I walked to my spot, my classmates' cheers echoed faintly above the noise of the crowd. I could pick out familiar voices—Momo, Midoriya, even Bakugo shouting something vaguely insulting about "don't lose to that ice cube."
I grinned. Some encouragement, that.
I cracked my neck, rolling my shoulders.
"Last chance," I said. "You sure you don't want to use both sides?"
His eyes narrowed. "I told you before—I'll win my way."
"Suit yourself."
Midnight raised her whip. "Final round—begin!"
The temperature dropped instantly.
Todoroki's ice exploded forward like a tidal wave, sharp and glittering. The sheer volume of it would've flattened anyone else. I simply slid to the side without any change in my expression. The massive sheet of ice shot past, freezing half the arena floor in seconds.
"Still starting with that move, huh?" I muttered. "Guess we're doing this your way."
I moved.
A single step—and I was gone from sight.
I kicked off the ground, a small burst of air pressure propelling me forward. The air cracked under my feet. I dodged another wave of ice, spinning low to avoid the shards that burst upward like jagged teeth. The shockwaves from my movement shattered the thinner ice sections as I closed the distance.
The ice shattered behind me as I blurred across the field, appearing in front of him. He reacted instantly, swinging his arm, sending a wall of ice up between us.
I punched through it.
The shockwave cracked the air, scattering shards of frozen mist everywhere. Todoroki slid back, using another ice ramp to dodge my follow-up kick. Smart—using terrain to buy time.
Todoroki immediately countered, slamming his hand to the ground—spikes of ice erupted in a wide arc, forcing me to leap back. He wasn't just attacking blindly this time. He was adjusting to my rhythm that I'm showing outwardly.
The crowd gasped at every movement. Dust and ice particles danced in the air, glinting like stars under the stadium lights.
"He's faster than before!" someone shouted.
A pro hero in the stands whistled. "That kid's control is insane. He's shaping battlefield conditions in seconds!"
But I was barely breaking a sweat. I flicked my wrist, sending a compressed pulse of kinetic energy that shattered the nearest ice spikes. "Nice craftsmanship," I called out, "but you might wanna make those a little tougher."
Todoroki didn't respond. His eyes were sharp, calculating. He raised his right hand again—and another ice wave surged. I countered with a short burst of energy from my palm, vaporizing the front edge of the ice before it reached me. Steam filled the air, the sudden temperature change making the crowd flinch.
The ice cratered, chunks flying outward. Todoroki raised another wall to block the debris—but when the dust cleared, I was already beside him.
"Too slow."
He turned, but I was gone again, appearing behind him this time, flicking my wrist to create a small pulse of pressure that sent him skidding forward.
He recovered fast—credit where it's due—and launched a volley of ice spikes from mid-slide, turning the battlefield into a frozen minefield.
The audience gasped as the temperature dropped sharply. Frost crept across the railings, condensing breath into white fog.
I dodged every spike effortlessly, weaving through them as if time itself had slowed down.
When I reached him again, I stopped just short. "This it? You've got more, don't you?"
Through the mist, I caught his silhouette—poised, silent, unreadable.
"You know," I said casually, stepping forward, "for someone who wants to win so badly, you're fighting with half your strength."
"I don't need fire to beat you," he replied, voice cold as the ice he wielded.
"Sure," I grinned, "keep telling yourself that."
He didn't answer. Instead, he slammed both hands down, creating a wave of ice so massive it engulfed half the arena. The crowd roared, the air howling with the sound of cracking glaciers.
When the dust settled, I was standing at the edge of the crater—completely unharmed.
"Nice view from up here," I said, brushing off frost. "But I hope that's not your final move."
I darted forward, my movements blurring. Todoroki tried to trap me again, freezing the ground under my feet, but I blasted it apart before the ice could catch me. Every move he made was technically perfect—fast, clean—but predictable.
"You're thinking too much," I said, appearing just a few feet in front of him. "In a fight like this, instinct matters more."
His eyes widened slightly, but he reacted fast—launching an ice spike directly at me. I deflected it with a swipe of my arm, the energy dispersing it into a fine mist.
Then, I closed in.
A quick jab of my foot hit the ground, sending a shockwave that cracked through his ice field. He jumped back instantly, throwing up a wall between us. I shattered it with a single punch. The force blasted ice shards everywhere, scattering across the ring like shrapnel.
The audience roared.
"Unbelievable! Hayato just shattered Todoroki's ice wall in one hit!"
Present Mic was screaming his lungs out. Aizawa simply sighed. "Typical Hayato."
All Might leaned forward, smiling faintly. "He's not just trying to win… he's trying to make Shoto break his limits."
I could feel the shift in Todoroki's breathing. He was getting frustrated. That calm exterior of his was starting to crack.
"Is this all you've got?" I asked lightly, dodging another spike. "Come on, Todoroki. You can do better."
He froze mid-motion, his eyes narrowing. "You think you understand me?"
"Nope," I said with a grin, "but I understand fear. And right now, you're scared of becoming your old man."
That hit. His composure wavered. A flicker of heat pulsed from his left side—but he suppressed it. The air shimmered faintly before going cold again.
I sighed. "Guess you're still holding back. Fine, let's change that."
I surged forward with more speed this time. The shockwave cracked the frozen ground like thunder. Todoroki barely had time to react as I struck him right on his face, sending a blast of air pressure that forced him to shield himself. The arena floor shattered beneath us, ice fragments flying.
When the smoke cleared, he was panting. His right hand trembled slightly, frost creeping up his arm from overuse. He was cornered.
"This is the difference between fighting to win," I said quietly, "and fighting not to become someone else."
I continued, voice calm but sharp. "You keep saying you're not like him, but you're still letting him control you. Every move you make—it's still about him."
"Shut up," he muttered, more to himself than to me.
"Then prove it," I said softly. "Show me your power, not your father's shadow."
He hesitated. His breathing grew heavier. Frost was spreading unevenly across the ground now—too much strain on one side.
Perfect.
I darted forward suddenly, faster than his eyes could track, and aimed a clean hit toward his ribs—nothing lethal, just enough pressure to make his instincts scream.
At that instant, his left side ignited.
A burst of flame erupted across his shoulder, instinctive and uncontrolled. The heat washed over the arena, melting the frost in seconds.
The crowd gasped.
I smirked. "There it is."
Todoroki looked shocked—half horrified, half furious—but the damage was done. His fire was awake.
"He's using it!" someone yelled. "He's finally using his fire!"
Endeavor shot up from his seat, face lit with a mixture of pride and disbelief. Even All Might smiled, nodding slightly.
I smirked. "There we go."
Flames burst to life along Todoroki's left side, the temperature skyrocketing instantly. The entire arena became a battlefield of contrasts—half frozen, half burning. Steam hissed between us as the two extremes collided.
Todoroki charged, now moving faster, his attacks more fluid and unpredictable. Ice spikes shot from one side, flames blasted from the other. It was chaotic, dangerous, and beautiful.
"Now this," I said, dodging a flame arc, "is the real you."
He didn't reply, too focused on the battle. Fire and ice clashed in perfect sync, and for the first time, I felt the weight of his full power. The flames roared across the ring, melting my earlier shockwaves into steam. The arena was an inferno of energy.
I countered with precise bursts—enough to disperse his attacks without overextending. My speed kept me just ahead of his strikes, each movement deliberate. When his ice reached my feet, I shattered it. When his flames came close, I redirected them upward.
The crowd was speechless.
"Unbelievable," one of the pro heroes whispered. "He's still dominating even with the addition of fire."
But I could feel it—Todoroki was nearing his limit. His breathing grew heavier, movements slower. His left side was overheating while frost still covered his right arm. The imbalance was tearing at him.
He gathered everything for one last move—a massive simultaneous blast of fire and ice. The air warped, the ground cracked, and the temperature flickered between freezing and scorching in seconds.
"Here it comes," I muttered, steadying myself.
He roared, unleashing everything. The wave came crashing down—a beautiful, terrifying explosion of power.
My fist met his blazing palm, the impact detonating in a burst of light and steam that shook the entire stadium.
The audience went silent, the sound swallowed by the explosion's echo.
The shockwave cleared the clouds above the stadium.
When the smoke settled, Todoroki was on his knees, panting, half his costume burned, frost lining his arm. I stood in front of him, barely winded.
The stadium fell silent.
"You used both sides," I said softly, walking closer. "That's all I wanted to see."
He looked up at me, frustration mixing with reluctant respect in his eyes. "I still couldn't beat you."
I smiled faintly. "Doesn't matter. You finally fought as you—not as your father's son."
Then I extended my hand. He stared for a moment before taking it. The crowd erupted again, cheers echoing through the entire arena.
"AND THE WINNER—HAYATO!!!" Present Mic screamed so loud I thought he'd explode.
As the applause thundered, I glanced up at the stands. Endeavor was silent, arms crossed, but his expression wasn't anger this time—it was confusion, maybe even reflection. All Might, on the other hand, was smiling openly.
In the crowd, Class 1-A was celebrating wildly for my victory. Bakugo looked annoyed but impressed; Momo and Midoriya were smiling proudly. Even Aizawa's lips twitched, which was probably his version of applause.
I looked down at Todoroki, who was still catching his breath, and muttered, "Not bad, Half-and-Half. Not bad at all."
He gave a faint smirk. "You talk too much."
"Guilty as charged," I said, grinning as the crowd chanted our names.
The cheers got louder. Fireworks exploded above the arena.
And as I stood there, the spotlight shining down, I couldn't help but smile.
Guess that's one way to end a sports festival.