Chapter 36: A Declaration of Trust
The tunnel was a passage of shadow and sound. Gaara walked through the cool, echoing concrete corridor, the roar of the crowd a distant, thunderous sea he was steadily approaching. He was not thinking about the crowd. He was not thinking about the festival. His mind, a place of cold, sharp focus, was fixed on a single objective.
He saw the face of his opponent in his mind's eye—the wild, green hair, the freckled cheeks, and the wide, earnest eyes that held a startling, unnerving capacity for emotion. Midoriya Izuku.
This was not a battle born of hatred or rivalry. For Gaara, it was a simple, brutal calculation. His life for the past week had been a fragile, baffling experiment. He had been given a home, a key, a uniform, and a single, precarious chance. That chance was conditional. It was contingent upon his performance, upon his ability to prove to his wary, bandaged teacher that he belonged here. To do that, he had to perform well. And to perform well, he had to win. The boy with the green hair was simply the first, most immediate obstacle standing in the way of securing his fragile place in the light.
In the parallel tunnel, on the opposite side of the arena, Izuku Midoriya walked with a determined, steady stride, but the anxious tremor in his hands betrayed the storm raging within him. The roar of the crowd was a distant hum, drowned out by the louder, more insistent voices in his own memory.
He saw Bakugo's face, twisted with disgust, in the classroom after Gaara's first day. "I will never acknowledge that eyebrow-less freak," he had snarled to Kirishima. "He's a criminal. His place is in a prison, not in a top-tier academy like U.A. What in the world are the administrators thinking?"
The memory shifted. He saw Uraraka's kind, troubled face as they spoke in the cafeteria, her voice a soft, gentle counterpoint to Bakugo's rage. "I don't know, Deku-kun… It's just sad, seeing Gaara-kun unable to fit in with everyone. I trust the teachers' decision. I think… I think we should at least give him a chance…"
He walked on, the light at the end of the tunnel growing brighter. Another voice, sharp and logical, echoed in his mind. Iida, adjusting his glasses during that same tense class discussion. "The rules of logic and safety would dictate that Gaara's presence among us is an absolute contradiction. But… I cannot be certain. The Principal himself is aware of the situation. We cannot possibly see things from the same perspective as they do…"
And finally, a fourth, colder voice. Todoroki, as he was leaving the classroom, his tone as glacial as the ice he wielded. "You're all giving this matter more importance than it deserves. How long will you hold these ridiculous, secret meetings about him? If he is a villain, all we have to do is crush him. Heroes will always remain on top. If he does something wrong, I will be the first to turn him into an ice sculpture."
Midoriya emerged from the tunnel into the blinding light of the arena. The roar of the crowd was immense, a physical force that washed over him. He saw Gaara emerge from the opposite gate, a small, solitary figure who seemed utterly unmoved by the spectacle.
Midoriya clenched his fists, the chorus of conflicting opinions in his head finally falling silent, replaced by his own, singular resolve. He walked up the few light steps to the raised concrete ring where Midnight stood waiting. He looked across the ring at Gaara and, for a moment, he did not see the villain from the USJ. He saw the boy from the street, standing beside Shigaraki, his eyes just as empty then as they were now.
The past is the past, Midoriya thought, his own fear and doubt solidifying into a hard, diamond-like determination. And the present is the present. Gaara is here now because he is a student of U.A. I know he is stronger than I am right now, in every measurable way. But… He took a deep, steadying breath. I will show him. I will show him that I possess a power that can stop him, a power that can hold him accountable if he ever even thinks of betraying the chance he's been given. Gaara-kun, I trust the hero I see inside you. And that's why I'm going to show you everything I've got.
Midnight raised her hand, and a hush fell over the tens of thousands of spectators. She swung her arm down.
"BEGIN!"
The moment the word left her lips, Gaara acted. The sand exploded from his gourd, not as a wall or a platform, but as a chattering, grinding tsunami of grit and stone that surged across the ring. It was an overwhelming, all-consuming wave, designed not just to push Midoriya out of the bounds, but to swallow him whole, to end the match in a single, brutal, inescapable instant.
Midoriya's eyes widened, but there was no panic. There was only focus. He planted his feet, brought up his left hand, and channeled the awesome, terrifying power of One For All. He did not pour it into his entire arm. He focused it, with agonizing precision, into a single point.
His smallest finger.
"SMASH!!!"
He flicked his finger.
The world seemed to lurch with a silent, invisible impact. A hurricane-force shockwave of pure air pressure erupted from his fingertip. It was a solid, invisible wall of force that slammed into the charging sand tsunami.
The effect was instantaneous and total. The lethal, grinding wave was atomized, blasted apart into a harmless, glittering cloud of airborne dust. The shockwave continued, washing over Gaara, whipping his crimson hair across his face and forcing him to brace himself. The now-harmless sand rained down softly onto the ring floor like a sudden, gentle snowfall.
In the aftermath, the stadium was utterly silent.
Slowly, Gaara's wide, teal eyes blinked. The placid, emotionless mask was gone, replaced by a look of pure, uncomprehending shock.
Across the ring, Midoriya stood his ground, his left pinky finger now a mangled, purple ruin. Tears of searing pain streamed from his eyes, but his expression was one of absolute, unyielding resolve.
The silence was shattered by Present Mic's scream. "HE STOPPED IT! MIDORIYA IZUKU STOPPED THAT UNBELIEVABLE WAVE OF SAND WITH A SINGLE FLICK OF HIS FINGER! WHAT AN INSANE OPENING! WHAT KIND OF POWERFUL DEBUT IS THIS?!"
The crowd exploded, their roar of disbelief and excitement shaking the very foundations of the stadium.
"What…" Gaara whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise, his eyes fixed on the boy across from him. "What was that just now?"
"This is what will stop you from winning," Midoriya replied, his voice shaking with pain but steady with conviction. "Don't think for a second that this fight will be easy for you, Gaara-kun."
Gaara's shocked gaze flickered down from Midoriya's determined face to his mangled hand. He saw the broken, grotesquely angled finger. His analytical mind, even in its state of shock, processed the new data instantly. His finger… he thought, a new, chilling understanding dawning on him. That was the cost of the last attack?
In the stands, the students of Class 1-A were on their feet.
"No way! He just blew it all away!" Mineta yelled, his eyes bugging out.
"Yeah, but look!" Kaminari shouted, pointing a trembling finger. "Look at his hand!"
Mineta's face went pale. "Oh no… don't tell me he's going to keep breaking his fingers one by one, please."
Beside them, Iida stared at the ring, his expression grim. "Midoriya does not know the meaning of retreat," he stated, a deep respect in his voice. "That is most likely exactly what he plans to do."
Uraraka watched, her hands clasped tightly in front of her chest, a look of profound worry on her face. Deku-kun… she thought, her heart aching for him.