Yuta watched Bakugo leave before glancing back down at his hands. The tingling in his chakra pathways was still there, a persistent reminder of his body's limits.
'Can I go all out against Bakugo with my pathways like this?' The smart answer? 'Probably not.'
More like definitely not. His ability to examine his Chakra pathways stemmed not just from his Sharingan, but his quirk itself. The intuitive feeling practically screamed it was at its limits.
'Let's leave that for now.' Yuta shook his head.
It was nearing the end of The Festival. He needed to check in with his mom first.
Entering the waiting room, he found a relatively quiet corner near a vending machine, sat down on the chair, and dialed home.
He kept the conversation brief, focusing on reassuring his mother, Aiko.
"Mom, I promise, I'm absolutely fine. I healed my burns. Recovery Girl made sure of it. I'm just waiting for the final match."
Aiko's voice was still tight with worry.
"Yuta… are you sure? You look burned pretty badly. Eri nearly cried herself sick."
"I'm okay," he said gently. "Really. Recovery Girl wouldn't have let me leave otherwise. I'll be home soon."
"…You promise?"
"Yeah. Promise."
Aiko exhaled, some of the tension bleeding out of her voice.
"Alright. Just… be careful. Eri and I are watching."
That familiar warmth tugged at his chest.
"I know," he murmured. "I'll make it quick."
They exchanged a few more words before he hung up and let the phone drop into his lap.
'Now to the problem at hand.' There wasn't really much to think about. Neither his chakra nor Chakra pathways would sustain another drawn out fight.
Without it though, the finals were practically a forfeit. Bakugo wasn't Todoroki. What the blond lacked in range and control, he made up for in speed and literal explosive power.
Pure offense, Pure offense, relentless aerial advantage, extreme mobility, and a genius-level ability to analyze and exploit weaknesses.
'He's probably been observing every match so he'll be just as wary of body flicker as Todoroki was. Then he'll figure out why pretty quickly when I don't use it.'
Yuta tapped his fingers against his knee.
'I can't use multiple Body Flickers. One or two more and I might tear something important.'
If his pathways strained further, he could be looking at weeks, maybe months, of enforced rest. Forget about getting stronger, using his abilities might become a problem. It would defeat the entire purpose of getting into the hero course.
His motivation snapped back into clarity. He was here for the legal capacity to fight, not a symbolic title
First place was bragging rights, PR bonus and a medal most students hung on their bedroom walls.
But for him?
The real goal—transfer opportunity—was already secured the moment he'd defeated Todoroki in front of the entire country.
If U.A. still decided to leave him in General Studies after that performance?
He'd just transfer schools. Simple.
There was no additional reward for pushing himself past breaking.
The pragmatic choice was obvious.
…And yet—
Yuta was unwilling. Coming this far, over so many others as a previously unnoticed candidate, only to lose at the final moment .. just didn't sit right with him.
'Is this OCD?' He was pragmatic, yes. But he was also still a fifteen-year-old boy on national TV.
'I could try Earth Style… but he probably won't take the bait. Plus, if he senses I don't want a prolonged match, he'll push the tempo and wear me down.'
Fortunately, impulse could only go so far. No matter how strong the urge to win was, he would never jeopardize his own safety for something meaningless.
'Well, I'll just have to try something else.' His fingers tapped against his knee. 'So… what can I do?'
His gaze wandered across the room, past the vending machine humming beside him, and landed on a mirror bolted to the far wall. Yuta stared at his reflection for a long, quiet moment.
Then, slowly, his brows lowered.
'Hold on ..'
He activated his Sharingan.
The red tri tomed pattern spun alive. And along with the visual clarity came a well timed realization.
One that didn't require heavy chakra expenditure, or damaging his pathways any further.
"…Yeah, that'll work."
"FINALISTS, PLEASE PREPARE YOURSELVES! THE LAST MATCH OF THE U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL WILL BEGIN SHORTLY!"
The noise of distant cheers rolled through the ceiling like a wave.
Yuta pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders once more as he headed for the exit.
He had one last move to make that would hopefully satisfy his pragmatic goal, and his pride.
__
In The U.A Arena, the noise was deafening.
People from all over Japan and across the world all stood staring at their screens as the most anticipated moment of the sports festival came to fruition.
The Final Bout.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IT'S FINALLY THE LAST BATTLE OF THE U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! !" Present Mic's voice echoed through the screens as he gestured dramatically.
"THE TOP OF THE FIRST YEARS WILL BE DECIDED WITH THIS FINAL MATCH."
Yuta walked out onto the field, adjusting the simple U.A. track uniform. Across from him, Bakugo stood, vibrating with barely contained energy.
"LET'S GET THE INTRODUCTIONS OUT OF THE WAY. FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF GENERAL STUDIES, YUTA AKUTAMI!"
'This is it.'
"VERSUS, FROM THE HERO COURSE, KATSUKI BAKUGO."
"COMBATANTS! ARE! YOU! READY?!"
Yuta narrowed his eyes. 'Logically, he'll back off like Todoroki. Put some distance between us to avoid body flicker. Maybe even go aerial and ..'
"START!"
KABOOOM!
Bakugo launched instantly, using his explosions to achieve maximum speed.
'He didn't retreat.' Yuta's eyes bled crimson. How was it both surprising and not that he did the exact opposite.
"DIE!"
Time slowed.
He saw Bakugo's right arm cock back, palm already crackling with volatile energy. The trajectory was clear—a straight blast aimed at center mass. 'Textbook opening.'
Chakra reinforced his hands and feet in low quantities.
Yuta shifted his weight, hips rotating as he sidestepped.
BOOM!
The explosion roared past him, close enough that heat kissed his cheek.
Bakugo's eyes widened fractionally. Yuta threw his fist forward. BANG!
The punch sunk into his stomach
Yuta threw his fist forward, the low-level chakra reinforcement amplifying the peak human strength of his arm.
BANG!
The punch sunk into Bakugo's stomach, hitting him squarely beneath the ribs. It wasn't a chakra-enhanced, wall-shattering blow, but it was perfectly timed and placed to catch Bakugo completely off-guard mid-lunge.
Bakugo gasped, the air violently expelled from his lungs. Momentum utterly nullified, he flew backwards and instinctively fired a warning explosion from his left hand to create distance.
Yuta, noticing Bakugo's movements, used his Quirk to achieve a zero-motion stop, pivoting slightly to let the heat blast pass harmlessly over his shoulder.
'Those are some reflexes.'
Bakugo landed hard, skidding on his heel before stopping.
"WOW! YUTA AKUTAMI GETS THE FIRST HIT! BAKUGO'S INSTANT ATTACK FAILED TO ACHIEVE ANY RESULTS."
The arena rumbled with noise.
"Hold on. Did Bakugo actually use a sneak attack?"
"It's called attacking first Kaminari."
"The outcome was expected though." Iida said while adjusting his glasses. "Yuta has proven to be faster. This just proves it once again."
Everyone expressed their own opinions. Midoriya and Todoroki however, frowned simultaneously. 'Something's wrong.'
On stage,
'So this is how much power I can actually wield now.'
Yuta frowned as he clenched his fist. He had channeled as much energy as he could manage in that fist.
The result? His pathways didn't flinch, but compared to when he fought Todoroki, it was a measly Ten, maybe Fifteen percent of chakra used.
The result was obvious. Bakugo was still standing in the distance without much of a grimace.
Just a hand over his stomach that promptly moved away. 'So no actual damage done.' That punch would be enough to hospitalize a grown man. Yet here a teenager was standing just fine.
'Well, those unconfirmed theories on Stain's unrelated strength to his quirk are finally confirmed after all.' It was merely a fleeting thought.
Right now he had other things to worry about. For example,
"Oi! General Course."
Bakugo uttered, voice low, expression brimming with menace.
"What's that punch supposed to mean?"
___
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