Chapter 48: Echoes and Embers
Rock Lee felt the gentle but firm pressure of Recovery Girl's hand on his shoulder. "You're all patched up, dearie. Now, go and sit. No more fighting for at least an hour. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for your care," he said, giving a respectful bow that made the fresh bandages on his torso pull taut. He felt a hundred times better than he had on the arena floor, but a deep, resonant exhaustion still hummed in his bones, a quiet echo of the power he had unleashed.
He walked slowly back down the long, sterile corridor that led to the stadium's viewing stands, the distant, muffled roar of the crowd growing louder with every step. As he pushed through the door into the Class 1-A section, a wave of warmth and noise washed over him. His entrance did not go unnoticed.
"HE'S BACK!" Kaminari shouted, jumping to his feet.
"Lee! Man, that was incredible!" Kirishima exclaimed, his sharp teeth flashing in a wide, proud grin.
He was immediately surrounded, a flurry of excited questions and heartfelt congratulations filling the air. Mina Ashido was practically vibrating with energy, asking him to describe what it felt like to move that fast. Iida, in his own way, praised the strategic and decisive conclusion to the battle. Lee, though drained, felt a genuine smile spread across his face. He answered their questions with his usual earnest politeness, the feeling of camaraderie a soothing balm on his weary spirit.
As he finally took a seat, the voice of Present Mic boomed from the stadium speakers, cutting through their chatter. "AND THERE YOU HAVE IT, FOLKS! AFTER A DAZZLING DISPLAY OF HER 'BABIES,' HATSUNE MEI HAS GRACEFULLY STEPPED OUT OF THE RING! THE WINNER OF THE THIRD MATCH, BY RING-OUT, IS THE UNFLAPPABLE ENGINE OF CLASS 1-A, TENYA IIDA!"
The class erupted in another cheer for their class president's victory. Lee watched the screen as Iida gave a stiff, formal bow to the crowd. The tournament was moving forward, a relentless machine of competition.
A few minutes later, two more figures returned to the stands, their presence shifting the atmosphere once more. First came Izuku Midoriya, his arm now in a fresh cast, his expression a mixture of relief from his victory and deep, analytical contemplation. He sat down with Uraraka and Iida, his eyes immediately finding Lee, and he gave a small, respectful nod.
Then came Shoto Todoroki. He did not rejoin his classmates. He walked to a separate, more isolated section of the stands, leaning against a high railing in a shaded archway. He stood alone, a solitary figure of ice and embers, his gaze fixed on the arena floor, his thoughts a world away.
"ALRIGHT, PARTY PEOPLE, NO TIME TO WASTE!" Present Mic screamed. "LET'S GET RIGHT TO OUR FOURTH MATCH! ON ONE SIDE, SHE'S A VIRTUOUS VINE-WIELDER WITH A RESOLVE AS STRONG AS OAK! FROM CLASS 1-B, IT'S IBARA SHIOZAKI! AND HER OPPONENT, THE ZERO-GRAVITY GIRL WITH A HEART OF GOLD AND A METEORIC AMBITION! FROM OUR VERY OWN CLASS 1-A, OCHAKO URARAKA!"
Uraraka took a deep, centering breath before jogging out onto the stage, a look of fierce determination on her face. Ibara followed, her movements serene and graceful, her hands clasped before her as if in prayer.
The starting bell rang, and the battle was immediate. Ibara's green, vine-like hair erupted from her back, a living, writhing tidal wave of green that shot across the stage. It was a beautiful and terrifying sight. Uraraka, her eyes wide, was immediately on the defensive, using the hand-to-hand combat skills she had learned from Gunhead to dodge and weave, desperately trying to find an opening to get close.
But the vines were relentless. They were everywhere at once, shooting up from the ground, lashing out from the sides. After a minute of frantic evasion, a single vine managed to whip around Uraraka's ankle. It was all Ibara needed. In an instant, dozens of other vines converged, wrapping themselves around Uraraka's arms, legs, and torso, lifting her into the air, completely and hopelessly entangled.
"It's over," Kirishima muttered from the stands. "There's no way she can get out of that."
But Uraraka was not panicking. Trapped and suspended in mid-air, she closed her eyes, a look of intense concentration on her face. She focused, ignoring the tightening grip of the vines. Then, with a quiet grunt of effort, she pressed the fingertips of both her hands against the thick, thorny vines that bound her chest.
A faint, shimmering pink glow pulsed from her pads.
On the other side of the stage, Ibara's serene expression faltered, replaced by a look of pure, utter confusion. The connection she felt to her own Quirk, the familiar weight and tension of her vines, suddenly vanished. It felt as if her hair had turned to smoke. And then, an even stranger sensation washed over her. She felt her own body become impossibly light, the pull of the earth on her boots disappearing. Her feet lifted off the concrete. She was floating.
Uraraka had not only made the vines that were touching her weightless; the effect had traveled up the vines and was now affecting Ibara herself.
"A clever gambit," Ibara whispered, her eyes wide with surprise as she floated a foot above the ground.
"Sorry about this!" Uraraka called out, her hands now free to move within the weightless prison of vines. With a powerful, determined cry, she swung her arms in a wide, sweeping arc, like a discus thrower launching their projectile.
The floating, weightless form of Ibara Shiozaki was helplessly flung through the air. She sailed in a graceful, silent arc across the stage and over the boundary line. The moment Ibara was safely clear of the ring, Uraraka pressed her own fingertips together, releasing her Quirk. Ibara landed gently on the grass outside the arena, unharmed but undeniably defeated.
Midnight cracked her whip. "Shiozaki is out of bounds! The winner is Uraraka!"
A huge cheer went up from the Class 1-A stands. Lee smiled. It was a victory not of power, but of quick, clever thinking.
The fifth match was announced, and the atmosphere in the stadium shifted once more.
"GET READY FOR A HEAD-ON COLLISION, FOLKS! IT'S A BATTLE OF THE FISTS! A CLASH OF PURE, UNADULTERATED HARDNESS! FROM CLASS 1-B, ITSUKA KENDO! VERSUS, FROM CLASS 1-A, EIJIRO KIRISHIMA!"
The two combatants met in the center of the ring. Kirishima slammed his fists together, his entire body transforming into a jagged, crimson wall of hardened flesh. Kendo, in response, activated her own Quirk, her hands swelling to the size of massive stone mallets.
Kirishima grinned, but there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes. "Uh… you know, I'm not really good at holding back," he said, scratching his hardened cheek. "I don't really feel right about hitting a girl with my full strength."
Kendo's expression was unimpressed. She settled into a low, powerful fighting stance, her giant fists raised. "Don't patronize me, Kirishima," she said, her voice a low, serious growl. "If you don't come at me with everything you have, this will be over in five seconds. I am a hero in training, not a damsel in need of your protection. Now, are we going to fight, or are you going to stand there and talk?"
Kirishima was taken aback for a second, then a wide, deeply respectful grin spread across his face. "Heh," he chuckled. "You're… a little manly."
A vein pulsed on Kendo's forehead. "You do realize," she said through gritted teeth, "that is not the kind of compliment a girl is happy to hear, right?"
The starting bell rang, and the brawl began.
It was not a fight of speed or strategy. It was a pure, brutal, head-on slugfest. The sound of their blows echoed through the stadium like boulders crashing together. Kendo's giant fists hammered against Kirishima's hardened body, each impact powerful enough to send cracks through concrete. Kirishima, in turn, swung his own rock-hard arms, forcing Kendo to block with her own massive hands.
It was a true war of attrition. For minutes, they traded blows, neither one giving an inch. The crowd was on its feet, roaring with every earth-shaking impact. In the stands, Lee watched with a critical eye, deeply impressed by the sheer endurance and fighting spirit of both combatants, especially his former teammate.
But the battle was taking its toll. Kirishima's hardened form began to flicker, the strain of maintaining it under such a relentless barrage becoming immense. But Kendo was paying a higher price. Every time her fist connected with Kirishima's unbreakable defense, a painful, jarring shockwave shot up her arms.
After one final, furious exchange of blows, Kendo stumbled back, panting heavily. She looked down at her giant hands. They were trembling, the knuckles a deep, bruised purple. She deactivated her Quirk, and they shrank back to their normal size, now visibly swollen and red.
She looked up at Kirishima, who was also battered and bruised but still standing firm, his own hardness unwavering. She let out a small, frustrated, but deeply respectful smile.
"I give up," she said, her voice clear and strong. "You win. I can't feel my hands anymore."
Midnight declared Kirishima the winner. He deactivated his own Quirk, a look of immense respect on his face, and gave Kendo a deep, honorable bow, which she returned. The stadium gave them a massive, heartfelt round of applause for the sheer, unadulterated grit they had both displayed.