After 7,749 goddamn matches - or at least it felt that way - I finally dragged my ass into the quarterfinals.
To be real, I was hyped as hell, like this whole shitshow was the last thing I'd have to deal with today. And the next fight too. When they rolled the dice to see who'd kick off the first quarterfinal, I couldn't tell if I'd hit the jackpot or drawn the short straw - because there I was, slated to go first again. And my opponent? Fate's twisted sense of humor threw Bakugo at me, the prick I'd been itching to teach not just one lesson but a whole damn curriculum's worth, thanks to that smug, over-the-top attitude of his.
Since this was the quarterfinals, the crowd was losing their minds - louder than when the eliminations kicked off. The stands were packed to bursting, cheers echoing like a damn war cry, every eye glued to how this showdown between me and that asshole was gonna play out.
Truth is, I wasn't 100% sure I could match his pace or even keep up with his style. My close-combat skills were decent, and my Quirk - hardening my body into tough-as-nails materials - was solid enough. But if I couldn't land a hit on Bakugo, all that meant jack shit. His Quirk, Explosion, was a royal pain in the ass from every angle: versatile, mobile, damage output that'd make your jaw drop, and with his near-master-level control, he could even play defense. The one edge I had? My Quirk's unpredictability - tricks he didn't know about yet. Surprise could take him down, no question. But I wasn't banking on that 50-50 gamble.
Nah, this time, the plan was shifting gears.
Explosions, huh? Let's see how easy I can turn your own Quirk against you.
"Don't just stand there like a punching bag, dipshit!" Bakugo bellowed, voice dripping with rage, practically daring me to hurry up. I didn't say a word - just flashed a faint, taunting grin and waved him on as the starting whistle blew.
You don't even know, asshole. The second you stepped into this ring, you became a pawn in my game.
He charged, hands blazing bright, explosions roaring like thunder as he shot toward me like a bullet, slamming a direct blast right into my chest like he wanted to end it quick. The impact shook the ground, smoke and dust swallowing the arena whole. The crowd went dead silent for a split second, then erupted like a tidal wave as the haze cleared.
I was still standing, untouched. The blast stung - left my body aching a bit - but it wasn't enough to drop me in one go. Part of it was the layer of material I'd shifted into right before he hit, part of it was the training that let me tank a hit like that without folding.
"Thought that'd do it?" I smirked, brushing dust off my shoulder.
He roared, squaring up like he was ready to rush in and blow me away again. "I'll crush you!"
Fine. Let's give you what you want.
I turned the air around me into a propane-butane mix - just waiting for him to charge in and spark his Quirk. With that gas in play, his explosion would blow up way bigger than usual, enough to knock us both back hard. I hardened up with my Quirk again, but this time just a thin metal layer on my skin - less protection, more damage taken compared to the first hit. No avoiding that.
Bakugo, sharp as he is, clocked it fast. That blast shouldn't have been that massive. He staggered up, yelling like he was interrogating me. "What the fuck was that?!"
Bingo. That's the plan right there.
Set it up so the crowd sees a student beating another to a pulp - too brutal to call it a fair fight anymore. Pair that with the dirt Toga's about to drop, and that's my checkmate. No flashy violence, no over-the-top Tokusatsu-style explosions - just pure brain and grit.
Ignoring the creeping exhaustion, the dull ache from that second blast, I hauled myself up, squared my stance like I was ready to counter, and flashed a half-assed, provoking grin to bait that hothead into charging again. But it didn't go quite like I'd figured - after a few rounds of the same trick, he stopped spamming his Quirk the usual way. Instead, he leaned on those explosive boosts to close in fast and slug it out hand-to-hand. Caught me off guard, and honestly, it didn't feel safe anymore.
Even so, his Quirk was slick as hell, but his basic fighting skills? Dogshit. I still had the upper hand in close quarters, all while tweaking the air around me into flammable fuel, taunting him with, "Without your Quirk, you're fucking nothing," to piss him off and push him into unloading one last blast out of spite. I knew he would - smart or not, his temper was a sure bet.
And it worked. My jab lit his fuse, and like clockwork, he couldn't hold back. He rushed me, hands glowing fierce, charging up a blast in a split-second burst of fury. I'd hooked him right into my trap.
"You'll see real power!" he snarled, his shout mixing with the shrill buildup of the explosion about to rip loose.
The second he triggered it, the air - now thick with hydrocarbons and oxygen - went off like a bomb. His blast amplified into something monstrous, tearing across the arena, shocking the stands into a collective gasp.
The shockwave flung me back, slamming me into the barrier wall hard enough to feel my bones scream. Pain flooded every inch of me - burning, searing, unbearable. For the first time, I yelled out loud, it hurt that fucking bad.
Getting blasted out of bounds meant I was done - eliminated on the spot. But that was exactly what I'd aimed for. The cost was steep as hell, but with no cleaner option, I'd take this route every time.
Across the ring, Bakugo got knocked back too - not out of bounds like me, but skidding across the dirt, barely staying upright. He struggled to his feet, hair singed, face a storm of rage and confusion.
"What the hell was that?! That wasn't my power!"
I lay sprawled on the ground, fighting to breathe through the agony, every muscle screaming. But I didn't play weak - forced a crooked grin, locked eyes with Bakugo as he stood there fuming like a cornered animal, and rasped out, "Well… guess I was wrong. You're… tougher than I thought… way tougher…"
The stands exploded - boos and shouts raining down on Bakugo, drowning out everything else. To them, it was a brutal win, proof of his insane strength, but also a glaring sign he'd go villain someday - total bullshit in the long run, but the optics were perfect. This wasn't just his victory. It was the opening move in my plan to make this crapsack story less of a dumpster fire.
Midnight's voice cut through: "Winner of this match… Bakugo Katsuki!"
The whistle blew, her hand pointing at him, wrapping up the first quarterfinal. But unlike before, the crowd didn't go wild with hype. They split hard - half cheering his scary-ass power, half pissed or let down by how he'd fought.
Bakugo didn't celebrate. He stood there, glaring at me, like he wanted to demand answers but couldn't spit it out. He knew something was off - that blast wasn't all him - but couldn't pin it down. It was eating at him, and I could see it.
Flat on my back, I grinned through the exhaustion, satisfied as hell. My eyes felt like lead, but I held his stare, sending a message he'd get: I won, my way.
Recovery Girl and the med team rushed in, hauling me onto a stretcher. The pain was so bad I couldn't move, but with the plan clicking into place, I could push to the next step once this mess was over.
As they carted me out, I caught snippets of the crowd's chatter: "Did he mean to make it that huge? Wasn't that overkill?" "Bakugo's strong, but did he have to go that hard on someone who couldn't keep up?" "That's not hero shit…"
…
In the med bay, I was laid out on a bed, wrapped up like a mummy - first-degree burns everywhere but my hair, bones cracked, pain so bad I couldn't lift my head. Recovery Girl hovered over me, shaking her head with a disapproving tsk. "Too reckless, Onodera. If I weren't here, your body wouldn't bounce back like this."
"Gotta risk it to live a little, right, Granny?" I joked, wincing as every twitch of my face felt like a knife. "Thanks, though… I'm still kicking, so it's all good."
She frowned, not amused. "I don't know what you're scheming, but keep this up, and don't cry when I stop patching you up."
I nodded weakly, just to humor her, then crashed for a quick nap to let my body heal enough to move again.
An hour later, Izuku rolled in - both arms wrecked, not much better off than me. Bet he'd gone toe-to-toe with Todoroki like the original timeline. Same self-destructive vibe as me, but different goals - he fought to win, I tanked to play mind games. Hilarious in a messed-up way.
Two bandaged idiots in the med bay - it was almost funny. Izuku looked awkward seeing me like this, then managed a sheepish grin. "Ryuga… you holding up?"
I raised a brow, straining my neck to face him. "Holding up? Well… still breathing, not a crispy steak yet. You good? You look as trashed as me."
He turned, giving me a wry smile. "Guess… we both gave it everything, huh?"
I snorted, then clamped my mouth shut as pain stabbed my chest. "Yeah… everything. So, did you win?"
He dropped his gaze, regret flickering in his eyes. "No… Todoroki took it. But he… he used both sides. Maybe… I did something."
Hearing it straight from him threw me, even if I'd known it was coming. Todoroki, with his tangled headspace and daddy issues, had always ditched his fire half. But Izuku's weird knack for inspiring people must've cracked that wall. A big moment - cool, sure - but to me, it just proved we were both dumbasses going all out.
"So, officially Toothpaste now…" I muttered.
"Huh? Tooth…paste? What's that mean?" Izuku blinked, totally lost.
"Forget it, just a random thought," I brushed off.