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Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
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NEW SIVER MEMBERS:- King, An, Xiwan972, NeyDay, Rui Monteiro, J
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The biting chill of autumn deepened, stripping the trees around U.A. of their leaves as if yelling at the world, "WINTER IS COMING!!"
For the students of Class 1-A, the drop in temperature marked a shift in their daily lives. The frantic, life-or-death intensity of the Overhaul raid had given way to a steady, grinding rhythm of schoolwork, training, and Work Studies.
Life at Heights Alliance had developed a new normal.
The common room, once a place of awkward tension following the dorms' opening, had become a bustling hub of activity. On any given evening, you could find Iida lecturing Sero about posture, Ashido, and Hagakure, dancing to pop music, or Sato baking treats for the class.
But the gravitational center of the room had shifted permanently to the large L-shaped sofa in the back corner.
That was where the "family" sat.
Akaza sat in the corner of the couch, a book in one hand. In the crook of his other arm, nestled against his chest like a small, pale kitten, was Eri.
She had a coloring book balanced on her knees — a gift from Momo — and was filling in a picture of a cat with a red crayon. She wore a fuzzy, oversized sweater that swallowed her small frame, looking for all the world like a comfortable, safe pile of fabric.
Rumi was sprawled out next to them, her legs thrown over Akaza's lap, ignoring his book as she scrolled through her phone, occasionally showing him a meme or a fight video.
"Check this out, Aki," she said, shoving the screen under his nose. "That kickboxer from America? Total trash form. I could beat him."
Akaza glanced at the screen, then back to his book. "You'd break him in half, Rumi. It wouldn't be a fight."
"Damn straight," she grinned, settling back down.
The rest of the class had learned the rules of engagement. In the beginning, everyone had been terrified of the little girl with the horn, mostly because of the death glare Akaza gave anyone who breathed in her direction. But over the weeks, a new peace had formed.
As long as they didn't approach her suddenly, or try to force a conversation, Eri was okay. She watched them with curious eyes. She listened to Kaminari's bad jokes. She watched Uraraka float objects. She was no longer trembling in fear at their mere presence. She was simply… observing. Safely. From the fortress of Akaza's arms.
"Hey, Eri-chan," Kirishima said as he walked by, holding a plate of cookies Sato had just made. He just placed a small, cat-shaped cookie on the coffee table within her reach and kept walking. "Sato made extra. For the cat."
Eri blinked. She looked at the cookie. Then she looked up at Akaza.
Akaza gave a tiny nod.
Eri slowly reached out, took the cookie, and nibbled the ear. A small sparkle appeared in her eyes.
"It's... good," she whispered.
"Told ya," Rumi said, reaching over to steal a bite of the cookie before Eri could protest. "Sato knows his sugar."
Eri pouted, clutching the rest of the cookie to her chest, which made Rumi cackle and ruffle the girl's messy hair.
It was domestic. It was peaceful. And for Akaza, who spent his nights patrolling the darkest corners of the city and his days training, these quiet hours in the common room were the only thing keeping him grounded.
But peace in the dorms meant war in the gym.
****
The practical training had ramped up. With their provisional licenses secured, the class was pushing their quirks to the absolute limit, developing their Ultimate Moves.
Gym Gamma was a chaotic landscape of cement pillars, explosions, and shouting.
"DIE! DIE! DIIIIE!"
Katsuki Bakugo was in his own zone. He wasn't flying around today. He was standing perfectly still, his arms hanging loose at his sides, sweat pouring down his face despite the cool air of the gym. He was vibrating.
"Push it..." he growled to himself, his teeth gritted. "More... hotter..."
He wasn't releasing the explosions. He was containing them. He was forcing his sweat glands into overdrive, igniting the nitroglycerin right on the surface of his skin but refusing to let the blast expand outward. A shimmering heat haze began to distort the air around him. His skin started to glow with a terrifying, angry orange light.
"Meltdown Mode," he hissed.
The heat was intense. The concrete floor beneath his boots began to blacken and crack. He was turning himself into a living reactor.
It was risky; he could feel his own skin blistering under the strain, but the destructive potential was off the charts.
"Not yet," he panted, letting the heat dissipate in a cloud of steam. "Need to hold it longer."
Across the gym, a white blur was defying gravity.
Rumi Usagiyama was running. Not on the ground, but twenty feet in the air.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound was rhythmic, like a heavy heartbeat. She was kicking the air with such ferocity and precision that she was creating solid platforms of compressed wind. In the beginning, she had been clumsy, stumbling after two steps. Now? She was dancing.
She sprinted across the ceiling of the gym, upside down, her white hair defying gravity as she moved. She pushed off a pillar, executed a mid-air flip, and began to sprint upward, climbing an invisible staircase into the rafters.
"Too easy!" she yelled, her voice echoing. "I can go higher!"
She pushed off nothingness, launching herself across the entire length of the gym in a single, bounding arc, landing gracefully next to Akaza.
"See that?" she beamed, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Smooth as butter. I could run a marathon up there."
Akaza nodded, impressed. "Your control has improved. You're not wasting energy on the impact anymore. You're using the rebound."
"Learned from the best," she winked. "How's your thing going?"
Akaza looked down at his hands. "It's... coming along."
He wasn't practicing flashy moves. He stood in front of a massive, high-density concrete block Cementoss had created for him.
"Internal Kinetic Reinforcement," he murmured.
He closed his eyes. He didn't flex his muscles; he tuned them. He channeled his shockwave quirk inward, not letting a single ripple escape his skin. He focused on the frequency of his own bones, his muscle fibers, his blood. He made them vibrate.
A low, humming sound, like a high-tension wire, emanated from his body. The air around him began to shimmer, a faint distortion field clinging to his skin like a second layer of armor.
"Hit me," he said to Rumi.
"You sure?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not holding back."
"Do it."
Rumi didn't hesitate. She spun, her leg glowing with a red aura, and delivered a roundhouse kick that would have decapitated a normal person.
WHAM.
Her shin connected with Akaza's neck.
But there was no give. No movement. Akaza didn't even slide an inch.
Instead, a strange, dull thud resonated through the gym. Rumi hissed, pulling her leg back.
"Ow!" she shook her foot. "It felt like kicking a vibrating steel wall. The hell did you do?"
Akaza exhaled, and the shimmering field vanished. He rubbed his neck. There was no bruise. "The vibration disperses the impact. It spreads the kinetic energy across my entire skeletal structure instantly, nullifying the point of force. And the vibration itself acts as a repulsive shield."
"So you're basically invincible now?" she asked, rubbing her shin.
"To physical trauma? Getting there," Akaza admitted. "Energy attacks are still a problem. And holding the frequency takes a lot of focus. If I lose the rhythm, the backlash tears my own muscles apart."
"Well, keep practicing," Rumi said. "Because if I can't kick your ass, training is going to get boring."
The days turned into weeks. The routine solidified. Class, training, Work Studies, and dorm life. The trauma of the summer began to fade, replaced by the drive to improve.
Then, one afternoon, Aizawa walked into the classroom. He looked tired, as always, but there was a different energy about him. Less 'impending doom', more 'annoyed anticipation'.
"Class," he said, waiting for the silence to settle. "We need to talk about the upcoming schedule."
The students tensed, expecting another boot camp or a surprise exam.
"It's almost November," Aizawa continued. "Which means it's time for the U.A. School Festival."
The class stared at him.
"SCHOOL FESTIVAL?!" they screamed in unison, the tension breaking instantly.
"A normal school event!" Mina cheered, throwing her hands up. "Finally!"
"We can do something fun!" Hagakure added, bouncing in her seat. "A cultural festival is a time-honored tradition!" Iida announced, chopping the air. "We must decide on a contribution that reflects the excellence of the Hero Course!"
"Settle down," Aizawa grumbled, his hair floating slightly. "Yes, it's a festival. But don't forget the climate we're in. The public is scared. This festival isn't just for you to goof off. It's for the other departments, Support, General Studies, and Business. They've been stressed out by the villain attacks targeting you. This is your chance to give back. To entertain them. To show them that U.A. is still a place of joy, not just a fortress."
He looked at the class. "You need to decide what Class 1-A is going to do. You have until tomorrow morning to submit a proposal. Don't make it stupid."
He crawled into his sleeping bag and zipped it up. "Wake me up when homeroom is over."
The class immediately erupted into chaos. "A maid cafe!" Mineta.... wait, Mineta didn't exist.
"A cafe!" Kaminari yelled. "A haunted house!" Tokoyami suggested, Dark Shadow nodding enthusiastically. "A dance performance!" Mina shouted. "A band!" Jiro whispered, then blushed when people looked at her.
In the back, the Big 4 watched the chaos. "School Festival, huh?" Rumi leaned back, balancing on the rear legs of her chair. "Sounds like a lot of work for no fighting."
"It's for morale," Shoto said, reading a book. "It's logical."
"Tch. Stupid extras," Bakugo grumbled, but he didn't look entirely opposed. "If we do something, it better be the best damn thing in the whole school. I'm not losing to Class B."
Akaza just sat there, a small smile on his face. He wasn't thinking about the event. He was thinking about Eri. A festival, he thought. Candy apples. Music. Games. He pictured Eri walking through the festival, holding a candy apple, her eyes wide with wonder instead of fear. He pictured her smiling. "A festival," Akaza said quietly. "Sounds good."
Rumi looked at him, saw the look in his eyes, and grinned. She reached under the desk and squeezed his hand. "Yeah," she agreed softly.
"Sounds perfect."
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