Chapter 28: The Robot and the Requiem
The race had begun. The initial, claustrophobic chaos of the starting gate had given way to a thundering stampede. Shoto Todoroki, with his overwhelming display of power, had secured a commanding lead, a solitary figure gliding across a slick of his own ice. Behind him, a fierce and determined pack from Class 1-A followed, having expertly navigated his opening gambit. Bakugo propelled himself forward in angry, explosive bursts; Yaoyorozu ran with an athletic grace, while Iida's powerful legs ate up the ground.
Gaara ran at a steady, unhurried pace somewhere behind them, but ahead of the main mob he had liberated from the ice. He was a silent, crimson-haired figure, his expression unreadable, his breathing even. He was not just running; he was observing, processing, analyzing. This was his test, and every moment was a new variable.
"AND AFTER A TRULY UNEXPECTED START, THE RACERS ARE NOW APPROACHING THE FIRST OBSTACLE!" Present Mic's voice boomed across the stadium, a sound of pure, adrenalized energy. "AND IT'S A FAMILY REUNION OF SORTS! GET READY FOR… THE ROBOT INFERNO!"
As the students rounded a wide corner, they saw them. The path ahead was blocked by a phalanx of the colossal robots from the U.A. entrance exam. They were the Zero-Pointers, multi-story behemoths of green and black steel, their single, glowing red eyes scanning the approaching students. They were terrifying, mechanical titans, their very presence designed to inspire awe and fear. A wave of panic went through the students who had never faced them before, their confident strides faltering.
Todoroki did not falter. He did not even slow down.
As he approached the first line of robots, he simply touched his right hand to the ground. A massive, beautiful, and terrifying wave of ice surged forward, a miniature glacier that completely engulfed the legs and lower bodies of three giant robots, freezing them solid in their tracks. He had caught them mid-stride, creating an eerie, frozen tableau of captured destruction. Without a second glance, he ran through the path he had created between their frozen legs.
"WOAH! TODOROKI IS UNSTOPPABLE!" Present Mic screamed. "HE'S IMMOBILIZED THE BOTS AND CREATED YET ANOTHER OBSTACLE FOR THE COMPETITORS BEHIND HIM! A CHILLINGLY BRILLIANT MOVE!"
In the announcer's booth, Aizawa watched, his bandaged head still. "He planned his attack to be large-scale from the beginning," he stated, his voice a low, analytical rasp. "By freezing them off-balance, he's created an unstable trap. Logical and ruthless."
As Gaara approached the frozen giants, he could see what Aizawa meant. The ice had frozen them in awkward, lunging positions. One of the largest robots, its immense weight held at an impossible angle by the brittle ice, was beginning to groan. A deep, tortured sound of stressed metal and cracking ice echoed through the air.
It was directly in his path.
The crowd in the stadium let out a collective gasp as the colossal robot began to tilt, its descent starting as a slow, inevitable lean that quickly accelerated into a catastrophic, multi-ton fall. It was going to crash down directly where Gaara would be in a matter of seconds.
Gaara saw it. He saw the tons of steel and ice plummeting towards him. He saw the shadow that raced across the ground to swallow him. He did not panic. He did not break stride. His teal eyes narrowed in a look of pure, absolute concentration. This was not a threat to his life. It was an obstacle in his path. It was a problem that needed to be solved.
He raised a single, open hand.
The sand answered his silent summons. It surged from the gourd on his back and erupted from the very earth beneath his feet. But it did not form a shield to block the impact. It rose as a thousand coiling, whipping tendrils, a living, breathing net of sand and grit. The tendrils shot upwards, enveloping the falling behemoth. They wrapped around its arms, its legs, its torso, its head, a swarm of powerful, sandy pythons.
The robot's descent stopped dead. It hung in the air, meters above Gaara's head, completely suspended, its fall arrested by the silent, absolute power of the sand.
Without a single upward glance, Gaara ran directly beneath the suspended, groaning giant. The image was one of supreme, terrifying confidence, a boy jogging calmly under a mountain of metal he held aloft with a mere gesture. The stadium fell into a stunned, profound silence.
He was a dozen meters past it when he made a simple, clenching gesture with his still-raised hand.
The requiem began.
The sound started as a low, grinding groan from the suspended robot, a sound of metal under impossible pressure. That groan quickly escalated into a high-pitched, agonizing shriek of tortured steel. The cocoon of sand visibly constricted. Armor plates, thick enough to withstand explosions, buckled and warped inward as if they were made of tin foil. Rivets popped like machine-gun fire. The robot's limbs were torn from their sockets, its massive head crushed into its torso. It wasn't a quick, merciful explosion. It was a slow, systematic, and utterly ruthless implosion.
Gaara's sand squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed, until the multi-story giant had been compressed into a crumpled, unrecognizable sphere of scrap metal no larger than a small car.
With a final, silent command, the sand released its grip. The mangled ball of steel dropped from the sky, hitting the ground with a deafening, final CRUNCH. Then, the sand flowed back, a silent river returning to its source, leaving only a stunned silence and a grotesque monument to its terrifying power in its wake.
The crowd was speechless. The other students, who had been struggling to get past the remaining robots, stared in a mixture of awe and absolute terror.
In the announcer's booth, Present Mic was silent for a full three seconds before Aizawa's voice cut through the airwaves, his tone grim. "That was not a simple display of power. That was a controlled, systematic execution. His level of precision… is unsettling."
High in his private viewing box, Toshinori watched the monitor, a deep frown creasing his skeletal face. That technique, he thought, a cold knot of concern tightening in his gut. The way he held it, then crushed it… it's not a technique one develops to fight robots. It is a killing technique. That boy needs guidance… and he needs it quickly.
Far ahead, Bakugo heard the colossal crunch behind him. He glanced back, his eyes widening as he saw the mangled ball of scrap and the red-haired boy who was now running, closing the distance. His rage was tinged with a new, grudging respect. "Show-off…" he gritted out, and redoubled his own explosive pace.
Todoroki, still in the lead, also looked back. He saw his carefully laid trap, his elegant display of power, and he saw the brutal, efficient answer that had been given to it. He now understood. The boy was not just a chaotic, emotional force as he had been at the USJ. He was controlled. He was powerful. And he was competition.
The race had just become far more interesting.
Gaara continued to run, his breathing even, his face a mask. The silence and stares of the world followed him. He had been told to prove himself. He had just made his first statement, and he had done so without saying a single word.