Chapter 29 - Todoroki vs. Bakugo

The final battle in the U.A. Sports Festival arena was a storm of clashing wills and explosive power. You sat back in your seat, chin propped on your hand, watching Shoto and Katsuki tear into each other. Shoto had finally used his ice, but the sight brought a twinge of disappointment. You exhaled softly, leaning back, feeling the hard plastic of the bleachers press against your back.

Well, we can't exactly force his hand now, can we?  You thought.

You had seen Shoto's true potential before. You knew the fire inside him—both literal and figurative—could turn this match into something unforgettable. But he was still holding back. His ice, though beautiful and powerful, was only half the picture. The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

As if on cue, Katsuki blasted through the icy storm with brute force, enduring Shoto's barrage. He wasn't just a powerhouse; he was thinking, analyzing, strategizing. His movements were deliberate, precise, and each explosion sent him closer to his target. Shoto's attacks lacked their usual edge, and it was clear Katsuki had noticed.

You caught the flicker of frustration in Bakugo's eyes as he closed the gap between them, explosions crackling in his hands. He lunged at Shoto, dodging another ice attack with a mid-air burst that brought him directly to Shoto's side. With a growl of effort, Katsuki grabbed onto Shoto's left arm, using his momentum to toss him away.

The crowd roared, but your attention drifted for a moment. A butterfly swept by, its wings fluttering lazily in the warm sunlight. You watched its delicate movements, momentarily distracted from the chaos below. It was a small, fleeting moment of calm in the storm.

"Y/N," Izuku's voice pulled you back. He nudged you with his elbow, his wide eyes locked onto the match. "Please focus. You won't want to miss this."

You hummed in acknowledgment, sitting up straighter and turning your attention back to the ring. Shoto was on the defensive, creating an ice wave beneath his feet to glide out of bounds. It was an elegant move, but it only seemed to fuel Katsuki's frustration.

Katsuki exploded forward again, relentless, his blasts ringing in your ears even from the bleachers. Shoto managed to dodge another direct hit, his agility keeping him just out of reach. Then, in a surprising move, Shoto caught Katsuki's forearm with his left hand. For a moment, it seemed like this might be it—the moment he'd unleash his flames.

But he didn't.

Instead, he threw Katsuki away with raw, physical strength alone. It was effective, but not what the crowd—or Katsuki—was hoping for.

Katsuki recovered mid-air with a burst of explosions, landing with a controlled skid. His frustration was palpable, boiling over as he stood upright, smoke curling from his palms. "What the hell is your problem?! You think I'm unworthy of your flames or something?!"

Shoto's eyes narrowed, his voice cold and sharp. "If you are, that's not your business."

The crowd gasped, and a ripple of tension spread through the arena. Even from where you sat, you could feel the heat rising—not from Shoto's flames, but from Katsuki's rage.

Katsuki sneered, his lips curling back into a vicious grin. His voice cut through the noise like a blade. "So, a lizard bastard could make you use your actual flames but not me?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and your head tilted ever so subtly at the insult. Lizard bastard, huh? Katsuki always did have a way with words. You weren't sure whether to take offense or find it amusing.

Shoto's expression didn't falter, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—annoyance, maybe, or perhaps something deeper. Either way, he didn't dignify Katsuki's comment with a response. Instead, he raised his right arm, ice creeping out and spreading across the ground.

You leaned forward in your seat, suddenly more invested. "Now, this is getting interesting," you murmured, earning a sidelong glance from Izuku.

Whatever came next, you knew one thing for certain—neither of them was going to back down. And as much as Katsuki's words had been aimed at provoking Shoto, they had reminded you of one undeniable truth: you had already made your mark.

The tension in the arena was palpable, every word from Katsuki Bakugo cutting through the roar of the crowd like a sharp blade. His taunts had been relentless from the beginning, each one more pointed than the last. But this—this was something else entirely. He wasn't just provoking Shoto Todoroki anymore; he was dragging you into it, and the shift in Shoto's demeanor was undeniable.

"So you think that lizard bastard will choose you when you don't even use your fire?" Bakugo's voice was mocking, dripping with condescension as he prowled closer to Shoto. "She told you during your match that you're nothing against her without it, right?"

Shoto froze mid-motion, his hand tightening into a fist at his side. The twitch in his eye was subtle but noticeable—a crack in his usually composed exterior.

Katsuki smirked, clearly reveling in the reaction he'd provoked. "Ah, hit a sore spot, did I?" He took a deliberate step forward, the ground beneath him scorched from the lingering heat of his explosions. "You see, Y/N respects me. I don't think she does that with you."

That was it.

"Shut it, boom boom," Shoto hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and simmering with suppressed frustration. His left hand flexed, and for a split second, the air around him seemed to grow heavier, as though the fire buried deep inside him was threatening to erupt.

Katsuki threw his head back and laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "Boom boom? That all you got?" He raised his hands, small explosions popping in his palms, sending sparks flying. "Come on, half-and-half, show me something real! Or are you just gonna keep skating around like a damn coward?"

From your seat in the bleachers, your stomach twisted. This wasn't good. You shot Izuku a worried look, and he returned it, his brows furrowed in concern.

"This is bad," Izuku muttered under his breath. "If Bakugo keeps pushing him like this..."

You nodded, leaning forward in your seat as if willing the match to shift direction. "Shoto might actually lose it," you said softly. "And if he uses a full-on fire attack—Bakugo won't be able to handle it. Not like this."

Izuku glanced at you, worry etched into his features. "But Shoto's been more composed this time. Maybe—"

"Not anymore," you interrupted, your eyes glued to the arena. Shoto was different now, his composure cracking under the weight of Katsuki's words. Bringing me into this was a mistake, Katsuki, you thought grimly.

In the arena, Shoto's glare was fixed on Katsuki, his mismatched eyes burning with a dangerous intensity. The ice beneath his feet began to creep outward, spreading across the ground in jagged, fractal patterns. But it wasn't just ice this time. His left side, dormant for so long, was beginning to glow faintly, heat radiating from his skin.

The crowd leaned forward as one, the collective energy of the spectators buzzing with anticipation. Even the pro heroes watching seemed to be holding their breath.

Katsuki's grin only widened, his teeth bared like a wolf scenting blood. "That's more like it! Let's see what you've got, half-and-half!"

You clenched your fists, anxiety swirling in your chest. This is going to go too far. Shoto's fire isn't just powerful—it's devastating.

Beside you, Izuku shifted uneasily. "Y/N," he said hesitantly, "if this keeps up, someone might have to step in."

You didn't respond, your eyes fixed on Shoto. He was at a crossroads, teetering on the edge of control. Katsuki had pushed him too far, and now the question wasn't if Shoto would use his flames—it was how much he would unleash. And when he did, would Katsuki survive the onslaught?

In the pit of your stomach, you knew one thing for certain: this match was no longer about winning. It had become personal, and that made it far more dangerous than any of the battles that had come before.

The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, the crowd holding its collective breath as Shoto Todoroki and Katsuki Bakugo squared off. Shoto stood motionless, mulling over Katsuki's words, his internal struggle playing out in the subtle shifts of his expression. He thought of the weight of his left side, the fire that represented so much pain, conflict, and potential. I'm sorry, Bakugo, he thought, his resolve faltering. I still don't know what this means to me.

But then, piercing through the noise and doubt, your voice rang out. "Don't give up, Shoto! Do your best!"

The shout cut through his turmoil like a lifeline, reigniting a spark deep inside him. For a brief, radiant moment, the hesitation in his mismatched eyes was replaced with something fierce. His left side blazed to life, flames licking upward as he prepared to meet Katsuki's challenge head-on.

Across the ring, Katsuki's grin widened. "Finally!" he roared, the sound guttural and triumphant. His hands crackled with energy as he propelled himself upward, spiraling through the air. "Let's see what you've got, half-and-half!"

The crowd roared in anticipation as Katsuki launched his ultimate move: Howitzer Impact.

The world seemed to slow as the two superpowers prepared to clash. Shoto's flames surged, roaring with a strength he had rarely allowed himself to unleash. But as he prepared to counter, something shifted. His mind flashed with images of his parents—his father's overbearing presence, his mother's soft but sorrowful gaze. The fire wavered.

No, he thought. Not yet.

And just like that, his flames extinguished.

The moment felt surreal. Shoto stood frozen, the heat gone, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. Katsuki's spiraling explosion slammed into him with devastating force, sending him sprawling to the ground. The impact reverberated through the stadium, silencing the roaring crowd.

Smoke and debris filled the air, obscuring the arena. Your heart pounded as you leaned forward, your breath caught in your throat. Then the smoke cleared, revealing Shoto lying limp on the ground, motionless.

You couldn't stop the soft howl that escaped your lips, a sound of frustration and worry mingled together. Your body tensed, ready to leap down to the arena. But before you could, a firm hand grabbed your wrist.

"Wait," Izuku said urgently, his grip surprisingly strong. His emerald eyes met yours, wide and stark with concern. "I meant it when I said someone has to intervene, but not you. Not like this."

You hesitated, the worry etched on his face cutting through your determination. "Izuku, I have to go," you said, your voice tight. "Katsuki only listens to me. If someone doesn't—"

"I know," he interrupted, his voice rising slightly with urgency. "I know that. But you can't just run out there like this! You know how he is right now. He's worked up, and if you jump in, it'll only make things worse."

Your eyes darted back to the arena, where Katsuki stood over Shoto, his fists still crackling with residual energy. He was breathing heavily, his expression a mixture of triumph and confusion. It was clear he'd noticed Shoto's flames had disappeared at the last moment. His victory felt hollow, and it was eating at him.

Izuku's grip tightened slightly. "If you go now, he might take it the wrong way. We need to let someone else handle this first, like a pro."

You closed your eyes briefly, wrestling with the urge to leap to Shoto's defense. Izuku was right, even if you hated to admit it. "Fine," you relented, your voice low. "But if they don't move fast enough—"

"Then we'll figure it out together," Izuku promised, releasing your hand.

The two of you turned your attention back to the ring, your hearts pounding in unison. Pro Hero Midnight was already stepping in to declare the match over, but you could see the storm brewing in Katsuki's eyes. You'd have to deal with him soon, one way or another.

The arena buzzed with a mixture of celebration and confusion as Midnight stepped in to declare the final match concluded. Katsuki Bakugo, still seething, shouted furiously, his words barely coherent as he railed against the outcome.

"Unfair! This fight was rigged! That half-and-half bastard didn't even use his damn fire!" Katsuki's voice echoed across the stadium, raw and explosive with frustration.

Midnight sighed, clearly prepared for this outburst. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she released her quirk, the calming pheromones washing over Katsuki like a wave. His rant faltered, his body swaying slightly before he crumpled to the ground, his anger momentarily subdued. The crowd watched in stunned silence as she declared him the winner of the U.A. Sports Festival, her voice steady despite the chaotic scene.

The awards ceremony began shortly after, the atmosphere tinged with both excitement and tension. The first, second, and third-place contestants took their respective podiums, though Katsuki had to be restrained, a muzzle clamped tightly over his mouth to keep him from another outburst. His furious gaze darted around the arena, finally landing on you as you walked into the spotlight. His eyes flashed with something unspoken—regret, desperation, fury—and he tried to mouth something through the restraints, but the muzzle silenced him completely.

You gave him a faint, knowing smile, but didn't linger. Your attention shifted to Shoto, who stood on the second-place podium. His expression was distant, his gaze fixed on the ground, as though he were trying to disappear into the polished metal beneath his feet. When you approached, his mismatched eyes met yours briefly before darting away, unable to hold your gaze.

You sighed softly and stepped closer, resting a hand on his left one. He flinched at the contact, the tension in his body palpable, but under your touch, you felt a flicker of warmth—his fire, faint but undeniably there.

"You could have done better," you said quietly, your tone gentle but firm. His shoulders tensed, the faintest wince crossing his face. "I agree with that. But you still did what you thought was right."

Shoto's eyes softened slightly, though the guilt and doubt lingered in his expression. Without a second thought, you intertwined your fingers with his, your grip both reassuring and grounding. The fire beneath his skin grew a little stronger, a subtle but meaningful response.

"One day," you continued, your voice low enough for only him to hear, "I hope you find the courage to take this to the next step, my snowflake."

The nickname made his eyes widen in surprise, and his cheeks flushed a deep red when you lifted his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. The heat radiating from him was no longer just from his quirk.

You stepped back, offering him a small smile before moving to your own podium as the third-place medalist. Shoto remained frozen for a moment, his gaze locked on you as if trying to process what had just happened.

All Might appeared next, his booming voice attempting to command the crowd's attention. But as he began his dramatic introduction, Midnight interrupted with a cheerful apology, much to his annoyance.

"Midnight, please!" All Might groaned, holding his forehead in mock despair as the crowd chuckled at their dynamic. Still, he quickly recovered, resuming his speech with his usual exuberance.

"And now, let's celebrate the achievements of these incredible young heroes!" he declared, the crowd roaring in approval. One by one, he distributed the medals. First, he approached Shoto, placing the silver medal around his neck with a proud smile.

"You've grown, Todoroki," All Might said warmly. "And I have no doubt that you'll continue to find your path."

Shoto nodded mutely, his hand brushing against the medal as if testing its weight.

Next, All Might stepped toward you, holding your medal with a flourish. "L/N, your performance was nothing short of remarkable. Your resilience and strength inspired not just your peers, but everyone watching."

You bowed slightly as he draped the medal over your neck, meeting his gaze with gratitude. "Thank you, All Might."

Finally, he reached Katsuki. Even restrained, the fiery blonde radiated defiance, his eyes practically daring All Might to say something patronizing.

"Katsuki Bakugo," All Might began, his tone firm but encouraging. "Your determination and power are undeniable. But remember, a true hero balances strength with restraint."

Katsuki growled low in his throat, clearly unsatisfied, but he accepted the medal begrudgingly.

As the ceremony concluded, the crowd erupted into cheers, the energy of the festival reaching its peak. You glanced at Shoto one last time, catching his gaze. He looked steadier now, as though your words—and touch—had eased something within him. Katsuki, meanwhile, continued to fume, his restrained state only stoking the fire of his frustration.

You couldn't help but smile faintly. One battle ends, but the journey is far from over.