Chapter 54: Elegant Strategies
In the stands, the atmosphere was a strange mixture of relief and anticipation. The stadium maintenance crews worked with remarkable efficiency, the last of the tan-colored sand from Monoma's match being swept away, revealing the clean, green grass of the field below.
A few minutes later, Fumikage Tokoyami walked slowly up the steps to the Class 1-A seating section. His striking, bird-like head was bowed slightly, his shock of white hair and black feathers looking a bit disheveled. He stopped in front of his classmates, shaking a few lingering grains of sand from his ear.
"I failed," he said, his voice a low, sincere rumble of apology. He looked towards Gaara. "I am sorry, you guys."
"Don't say that, man!" Kirishima said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You fought with incredible spirit!"
The other students chimed in with their own words of encouragement. Amidst the supportive chatter, a quiet, sandy voice spoke up.
"I admire your ability and your way of fighting."
The group fell silent, turning to look at Gaara. A small, rare, and almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he looked at Tokoyami.
"What is your name?" he asked, his tone one of genuine, quiet curiosity.
A wave of stunned silence washed over the students. They stared from Gaara's pale skin and the dark, kohl-like rings around his piercing teal eyes to Tokoyami's own sharp, crimson gaze, which was wide with disbelief. After all this, after everything they had been through, he still didn't know their names. The thought was so absurd, so tragically fitting, that a few of them couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.
"…My name is Fumikage Tokoyami," he finally answered.
"I am Gaara," Gaara replied with a simple, formal nod.
The tension that had lingered in their section for days finally, completely, broke. A wave of light, relieved laughter passed through the group. It was the sound of a community beginning to heal.
At the end of the row, Katsuki Bakugo let out a sharp, disgusted "Tch!" He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stormed away, unable to stomach the sudden, cheerful camaraderie.
His departure was immediately overshadowed by Present Mic's voice booming through the stadium. "ALRIGHT, LISTENERS! THE RING IS CLEAN AND WE ARE READY FOR OUR NEXT MATCH! IT'S THE BATTLE OF THE STRATEGISTS! FROM CLASS 1-A, MOMO YAOYOROZU! VERSUS, FROM CLASS 1-B, ITSUKA KENDO!"
The class erupted in cheers for Yaoyorozu. She stood, her tall, elegant posture radiating a new confidence. Her intelligent, dark onyx eyes were filled with fire, her long black hair pulled back in its signature spiky ponytail.
Suddenly, a rustling sound grew from the Class 1-B section. A thick, vibrant bridge of emerald-green, thorny vines grew with astonishing speed, stretching over the heads of the spectators and anchoring itself to the edge of the ring. Ibara Shiozaki, her own long, green hair braided and draped over her shoulder, walked gracefully across the living path.
"Monoma-san put on a spectacular show," she said, her voice serene but her smile confident. "I cannot be a burden to my class."
Yaoyorozu's expression hardened. She would not be outdone. In a flash, a gleaming, black, shock-absorbent rubber formed around her shoes. With a powerful crouch, she launched herself from the stands in a single, mighty leap, soaring over the edge and landing with a solid, graceful thud in the center of the ring.
"A powerful entrance from Yaoyorozu!" Mic screamed.
"I cannot afford to lose, either," she stated, her voice firm.
"The use of supplemental equipment is prohibited, Yaoyorozu," Midnight said, her tone sharp.
"This is not equipment," Yaoyorozu replied confidently. "I created it with my Quirk."
Midnight paused, then let out a theatrical sigh. "Whatever. Let the match begin!"
Ibara wasted no time. A tidal wave of emerald thorns, a sea of green, rushed across the ring. But in a flash of silver light, two gleaming, single-edged swords appeared in Yaoyorozu's hands. She did not retreat. She charged.
What followed was not a fight; it was a whirlwind. She moved like a phantom, a blur of the dark blue U.A. uniform and flashing silver against a backdrop of green chaos. She used the vines themselves as leverage, spinning off of them, propelling herself forward, never losing momentum. She was a surgeon, a butcher, a dancer, methodically dismantling Ibara's attack, cutting a direct, unstoppable path to the source.
In less than thirty seconds, it was over. The last vine was severed. Yaoyorozu was suddenly right in front of the stunned Ibara, the razor-sharp tip of her silver blade a single millimeter from her throat. The shock in Ibara's wide, leaf-green eyes was absolute.
"I… I surrender," she breathed.
The crowd, stunned into silence by the speed and grace of the assault, erupted into a thunderous roar.
Yaoyorozu's victory was as gracious as it was swift. The swords in her hands dissolved into glittering particles. She smiled, waved to her cheering classmates, and shook Ibara's hand in a gesture of true sportsmanship.
But the festival moved on. The giant screen flashed to life again, displaying the final, explosive matchup of the quarter-finals.
KATSUKI BAKUGO vs. TENYA IIDA
In the stands, Iida stood, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple as he nervously adjusted his glasses.
"You can do this, Iida-kun!" Uraraka cheered.
"Give it your all, Class Rep!" Midoriya added.
He received quiet, respectful nods from both Tokoyami and Gaara. He was nervous, but he was not alone.
The camera cut to the fighter's tunnel. Bakugo was already there, walking slowly towards the light. The crowd was roaring his name, a deafening wall of sound. He was not nervous. He was calm. His crimson eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness of the tunnel, were not wild with rage. They were cold, focused, and terrifyingly serene. He was a predator, and the cage was about to open.
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