Chapter 21: Gravity, Ice, and the Weight of Expectations.
The stadium was vibrating. The sheer volume of the cheers for the final match of the first round was unlike anything before. It wasn't just noise; it was pressure.
"THE FINAL MATCH OF ROUND ONE! OCHACO URARAKA VS. KATSUKI BAKUGO! START!"
Uraraka charged low. She kept her body close to the ground, trying to slip under Bakugo's guard.
BOOM.
Bakugo didn't even flinch. He simply blasted the space in front of him. Uraraka was blown back, tumbling across the concrete. But she got up. She ran again.
BOOM.
She was blown back again.
To the audience, it looked like torture. Pro Heroes in the stands began to boo.
"Hey! Stop playing with her!"
"She's a girl! Just ring her out!"
On the field, Uraraka wasn't just blindly charging. With every blast she took, she touched debris. She touched rocks. She touched pieces of the destroyed arena floor.
"I'm... not... done!" Uraraka screamed.
She clasped her hands together. "RELEASE!"
Suddenly, the sky darkened. High above the stadium, tons of floating debris—concrete chunks, rocks, dust—lost their zero gravity. They began to fall like a meteor shower, raining down directly on Bakugo's head.
"A trap?" Bakugo looked up. His eyes widened.
"NOW!" Uraraka sprinted forward while Bakugo was distracted.
"If she touches him, she wins," Aokiji whispered. "But..."
Bakugo didn't panic. He raised his left hand, aiming at the sky.
"BLAST RUSH TURBO... HOWITZER IMPACT!"
A colossal explosion, a spiraling vortex of fire and force, erupted from his palm. It didn't just break the rocks; it vaporized them. The shockwave blasted the debris away, cleared the smoke, and sent Uraraka flying backward like a ragdoll.
The dust settled. Bakugo stood unharmed, panting heavily.
Uraraka lay on the ground. She struggled to her elbows. Her body was shaking. She tried to stand, her spirit screaming go, but her legs had turned to jelly.
"I can... still..."
She collapsed.
"URARAKA IS UNCONSCIOUS! BAKUGO WINS!"
The crowd went silent, realizing the intensity of the battle they had just witnessed.
Aokiji stood up slowly. He watched the medical bots lift the unconscious girl.
"Scary," Aokiji murmured, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That girl has guts of steel. And Bakugo... he didn't lower his guard for a millisecond."
He turned and walked toward the tunnel. The first round was over. The second round—his round—was beginning.
The concrete hallway under the stands was cool and quiet, a sanctuary from the noise above. Aokiji walked with his usual lazy gait, the heels of his dress shoes clicking rhythmically.
He turned a corner and stopped.
Leaning against the wall, speaking softly into a cell phone, was Momo Yaoyorozu. She looked small. Her usually confident posture was slumped.
"Yes, Mother," Momo said, her voice wavering. "I... I apologize. I couldn't display the results of my training... Yes. I understand."
Aokiji waited. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but he was trapped in the bottleneck of the corridor.
"No, I'm fine," Momo continued, wiping a tear from her eye. "Thank you. I will... I will try harder next time. Yes. I love you too."
She hung up the phone, letting out a long, shaky breath. She stared at the screen for a moment, lost in thought.
"You have a nice mom," Aokiji said.
Momo jumped, nearly dropping her phone. She spun around, clutching her chest. "Kuzan-san?! H-How long have you been standing there?"
"About thirty seconds," Aokiji shrugged. "You were focused. Next time, I'll make a noise. Maybe I'll hum a tune."
Momo composed herself, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. "I... I was just reporting to my family. They had high expectations. Being a recommended student carries a certain weight. I feel I have failed them."
"And she said?" Aokiji asked.
"She told me not to worry," Momo smiled sadly. "She said I did my best. It was... kind. But kindness sometimes hurts more than scolding, doesn't it?"
Aokiji leaned against the opposite wall, looking up at the ceiling lights.
"I'm jealous," he admitted. "If I lost like that, and my mother told me 'good job,' I'd think I was in an alternate dimension. In my house, results are the only language we speak."
Momo looked at him curiously. "If your parents were softer... would you be different?"
"If they were softer?" Aokiji chuckled dryly. "If they told me 'do your best and have fun,' I would have run away from this stadium hours ago. I'd be in a hammock somewhere."
Momo giggled. It was a genuine laugh. "That is a very 'you' answer, Kuzan-san. But... is your father truly that difficult? I noticed him in the VIP box."
"He's a businessman," Aokiji said, his expression darkening slightly. "He sees the world in spreadsheets. Assets and liabilities. Right now, I'm a volatile asset."
"I understand," Momo nodded. "The Yaoyorozu family is similar in the business world. Though, I doubt our classmates realize the extent of your family's influence. The name 'Kuzan' is usually on shipping containers, not hero billboards."
Aokiji put a finger to his lips. "Keep it that way, yeah? I don't want people looking at me and seeing dollar signs. Or asking for donations. I just want to be the sleepy guy in the back of the class."
"I understand," Momo bowed slightly. "I prefer to be seen for my own merits as well, not my inheritance. Your secret is safe with me."
"Thanks," Aokiji pushed himself off the wall. "Anyway, I should go. Round Two is starting."
"Oh, right!" Momo blinked. "Your opponent is... Hagakure-san, correct?"
"Yeah," Aokiji groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fighting a girl is troublesome enough. Fighting an invisible one is worse. Fighting a naked invisible one... that's just a headache waiting to happen."
Momo stifled another laugh. "Wait, Kuzan-san! Before you go... could I have your contact information? We haven't added you to the class group chat yet."
Aokiji patted his pockets. Empty.
"Ah. My phone is in the locker," he said. "I don't bring it out during events. If my dad calls and yells at me, it ruins my combat vibe."
Momo looked disappointed. "Oh. I see."
"Hand me your hand," Aokiji said.
Confused, Momo extended her palm.
Aokiji hovered his hand over hers. Mist gathered. In a delicate swirl of frost, a small, rectangular block of ice formed in her palm. Inside the clear ice, frozen in perfect, jagged calligraphy made of white frost, was a series of numbers.
Aokiji's phone number. Encased in a frame of ice to keep it stable.
"Here," Aokiji said. "It'll melt in about ten minutes, so save it quickly."
Momo stared at the intricate ice sculpture in her hand. The cold bit into her skin, but the craftsmanship was beautiful.
"It's... cold," she whispered, looking up at him.
But Aokiji was already walking away, waving a hand lazily over his shoulder.
"See you later, Yaoyorozu."
The stadium screen flashed.
MATCH 1, ROUND 2:
KUZAN AOKIJI vs. TORU HAGAKURE
The crowd murmured.
"It's that guy again."
"The one who froze the whole arena."
"He looks so bored. Is he even trying?"
"But his quirk is terrifying. That invisible girl doesn't stand a chance."
Aokiji walked out into the sunlight. He squinted, adjusting his amber shades. He stopped at his starting line.
Opposite him, a pair of gloves and boots walked to the line. Then, the boots were kicked off. The gloves were tossed aside.
To the naked eye, there was no one there.
"ALRIGHT! LET'S KICK OFF ROUND TWO!" Present Mic screamed. "THE MAN OF ICE VERSUS THE INVISIBLE GIRL! START!"
Aokiji didn't take a stance. He stood completely upright, scratching the back of his head.
"Man..." Aokiji sighed into the microphone on the field. "I really don't want to do this."
In the VIP box, Soichiro Kuzan glared through the glass. He swirled his drink aggressively. Fight, you fool. Stop complaining.
"Kuzan-kun!" Hagakure's disembodied voice chirped from across the ring. She sounded determined. "Please don't hold back just because I'm a girl! I'm going to give it my all!"
Aokiji looked in the general direction of her voice.
"It's not about holding back, Hagakure," Aokiji said flatly. "It's a matter of ethics. I really don't feel comfortable hitting a naked girl. It feels... illegal."
"H-Hey!" Hagakure's voice went up an octave. The air shimmered slightly—she was embarrassed. "Don't say it out loud! It's for stealth! If you won't attack me, then I'll attack you!"
The grass depressed as she sprinted toward him.
"Here I come!"
Aokiji didn't move. He let his arms hang loose.
"TAKE THIS!"
WHAM.
An invisible fist connected with the side of Aokiji's head.
The crowd gasped.
"HEEEEEH?!"
Aokiji's head didn't bruise. It shattered. The entire left side of his face crumbled into chunks of ice, falling onto his shoulder and the floor. He looked like a broken statue.
"Oh my god!" a spectator screamed. "She killed him!"
But Aokiji didn't fall. The remaining half of his mouth moved.
"See?" Aokiji said calmly. "Physics acts both ways."
Slowly, the ice chips on the floor floated up and snapped back into place. His face reformed, smooth and unblemished.
"Ow..." Hagakure's voice whimpered.
Aokiji looked down. Hovering in mid-air, right next to his face, was the outline of a hand.
It wasn't invisible anymore. A layer of white frost covered the knuckles. Small, red abrasions were visible where the skin had broken upon impact with his permafrost body.
"Look at that," Aokiji said gently, pointing at her now-visible hand. "You punched a glacier. Now your cute little fist is bruised."
Hagakure pulled her hand back, cradling it. "It... it's so cold! It burns!"
"My body temperature is currently negative sixty degrees," Aokiji explained. "Touching me without protection causes immediate frostbite. If you punch me again, you might lose a finger."
"I... I can still fight!" Hagakure yelled, though her voice trembled. She swung with her other hand, aiming for his chest.
CRACK.
Aokiji's chest shattered. He reformed instantly.
"Ouch!" Hagakure cried out again. Now her other hand was visible, coated in frost and red marks.
She unleashed a flurry of punches. Smash. Shatter. Reform.
Aokiji stood there, letting her hit him. He broke apart and came back together like a puzzle, over and over.
"Stop it," Aokiji said.
Hagakure was panting now. Both her hands were covered in ice. Her arms were starting to appear as the frost traveled up her limbs. Drops of blood mixed with the melting ice on the floor.
"I... I have to win..." she sobbed, swinging a slow, painful punch.
Aokiji caught her fist. He didn't squeeze. He just held it.
"You can't win this way," Aokiji said. "You're fighting a force of nature with bare hands. It's irrational."
He looked at Midnight.
"Referee. Her hands are bleeding. She has frostbite. Call it."
Midnight looked at the hovering, bloody frost-hands of the invisible girl. She saw Hagakure trembling, unable to pull away, her stamina drained by the cold.
"HAGAKURE IS UNABLE TO CONTINUE! KUZAN AOKIJI WINS!"
Aokiji let go of her hand immediately.
"Sorry," he muttered. "Get those hands to Recovery Girl. Warm water, not hot."
Hagakure sniffled. "You... you didn't even attack me once."
"Sorry about that," Aokiji turned his back, walking away as the crowd cheered confusedly. "I can't be like bakugo at this point.."
As he walked back into the tunnel, he felt the heavy, disappointed gaze of his father burning into his back. But for once, he didn't care.
At least I didn't have to explain that to HR, Aokiji thought, yawning as the adrenaline faded. Now... is there a couch nearby?