Chapter Text
Katsuki stalked into the arena for his semi-final match with an unusual amount of trepidation. Not because he was worried about the outcome of the fight, quite the opposite in fact: Katsuki found himself not wanting to totally destroy his opponent. Eyebags had earned his way to the third round, and then had his chance to prove himself taken from him, and Katsuki blasting him into the wall in a few seconds would only compound that tragedy. And the insomniac had been growing on him recently, damn it.
The match started, and Katsuki charged forwards, resolving to take a similar approach to his bout with Tailboy and not use his explosions until further in. Eyebags met him halfway and starts to throw insults and provocations, baiting a response from Katsuki.
Katsuki responds with a firm fist to the other teen’s face, and the match begins in earnest. Eyebags only started learning to fight a few weeks ago, and is no match for Katsuki’s limited mastery of Taekwondo, but the explosive teen sandbags slightly, letting the other blow get a few hits in. Eyebags realizes this quickly and grows more and more irate. His swings get more erratic, and Katsuki punishes repeatedly, spots of skin blooming to match his opponent’s hair.
“STOP LOOKING DOWN ON EVERYONE” Shinsou cries, the angry outburst coming at the two-minute mark of useless punches and even less useful insults. “FIGHT ME FOR REAL”
“I’m Not-” Katsuki cuts off mid-sentence, the distress and frustration fading from his face as his body stops moving. Eyebags pants heavily in front of him, the crowd cheering his perceived victory.
“USE YOUR EXPLOSIONS DAMMIT” The purple-haired boy screams at his unresponsive opponent, tears trickling down his face. Katsuki recoils inside as his hands raise, the familiar heat of a spark followed quickly by popping noises as he mechanically brings his hands to bear.
Eyebags seems to realize his error, panic flooding his face as he hurriedly decks Katsuki with a solid right hook, his first blow to properly land this match. Katsuki stumbles for a moment, feebly fending off the follow up. His disorientation from the brainwashing slows his movements, and he takes several heavy blows.
Katsuki recovers in a moment though, and straights with a smirk on his face. He starts to block each punch smoothly, advancing slowly in a walking stance as his hands crackle and pop.
“Use my explosions?” He says menacingly, “If you insist.”
The blonde jumps back suddenly, putting his palms together and bringing his arms to bear. Shinsou tries to dodge too late, his unconscious body impact the arena floor a moment later. Katsuki pumps his fist in victory at the crowd, who are listless and confused at the sudden turn in the fight. The explosive teen walks over to his friend and drags him onto the stretcher.
“Come on Shinsou” he says, “Lets get you to the infirmary.”
()()()
Neito returned to the field for his fated rematch against Midoriya feeling anxious. The gremlin of 1-A had taken down his other opponents with almost laughable ease, and no quirk combo would give him confidence against that kind of overwhelming skill. Having Todoroki’s quirk felt pretty good though, and the heartfelt thank you he got in the infirmary felt even better. Hopefully he wouldn’t even have to use his other quirks, because he wasn’t sure that he could take Midoriya in hand to hand, even with Razor-Sharp and Twin-Impact at his disposal.
His wristwatch beeped quietly, signaling the three-minute mark. Neito shuffles in place and glances at Midnight, anxious for the match to start. Midoriya waves at him through a small gap in the forest of pillars, a wicked grin painting his face.
The whip cracks, and Neito stamps forwards, a wave of ice spreading from his foot. He doesn’t repeat Todoroki’s mistake of obscuring his vision; the ice splits into two pillars instead. Midoriya comes barreling through the sole remaining path as expected, albeit running in the air between the two icy pseudo-walls instead of on the ground like a normal person. Neito lets a smirk slowly inch across his face, lifting his foot to stamp again and finish the match.
A thrown blade impacts his face a moment later, Midoriya having detached and launched it mid-air to disrupt the movement. Neito’s foot slams down out of reflex anyways, the ice firing wildly in the form of a jagged wave of spikes. Both boys stumble, blood trickling down Neito’s face and Midoriya’s side as they recover from their respective impacts.
“YOU STABBED ME?” Midoriya gasps out from a few meters away. “What the FUCK?”
“You’re one to talk!” Neito fires back, “YOU THREW A KNIFE AT ME!”
Midoriya lets out an unacceptably pleased giggle, and Neito charges forward with his left side glowing with flames. The greenette dodges backways, movements a little stiffer now but still more than lithe enough to dodge the blonde. Gouts of fire erupt across the arena, ice steaming around them as Midoriya rolls and parkours his way across the icy pillars, and Neito gives close pursuit.
Sweat beading across his brow, Neito stops for a moment to activate the ice side. Midoriya immediately leaps backwards, twisting mid-air and ramming his remaining knife against the other boy. Neito convulses, current flowing through the new shallow wound. The blonde shakily drops off the pillar, sending a massive glacier above him to ward off his opponent.
With no Midoriya in sight, and his timer on Todoroki’s quirk running thin as he hurriedly forces his twitching muscle to function again, Neito curses aggressively and re-evaluates his options.
“AND MIDORIYA IS FREE FROM THE ICE” Present Mic’s voice rings out and lends Neito a new sense of urgency in his planning.
When the greenette drops to the floor a couple meters away though, Neito is prepared. Ice is already flowing out to meet him, flame hemming him in on one side as steam billowing around them. Midoriya rolls to the other side desperately, shoulder slamming against the pillar and grinding audibly in the socket from the impact. Neito curses again, Todoroki’s quirk fading without finishing the job.
No matter, at least he has a better chance than before. Neito manifests matching blades to Midoriya’s on his arms, and darts towards the half-prone greenette. Midoriya stumbles to his feet, leaning against the pillar as he skillfully fends off Neito’s advances, singular knife flickering rapidly to clang against each blade-arm in turn.
“Why. Won’t. You. Go. Down?” Neito hisses between gritted teeth, pressing his attack and ignoring the weak current passing through his arms every time their blades clash.
“Tis. But. A. Scratch.” The other boy says, an unholy fire in his eyes as he lunges forwards, slamming his shoulder into the wall on the way. There is a loud pop, and Midoriya screams as he drives his knife towards Neito’s stomach.
Neito jumps backwards, calling on twin-impact and causes the ground where he stomps to explode like miniature mines, covering his escape. When the rubble clears, Midoriya is shakily standing, wincing slightly as he rolls his relocated shoulder to test its strength.
“What the fuck?” Neito breaths in fear, “What are you made out of?”
“Spite.” Midoriya says, sounding oddly honest as he runs forwards.
Neito slams a fist quickly into the pillar beside him, priming impact locations before he switches back to sword hands. The two clash again, furious exchanging blows. Midoriya works his free hand in now, going for grapples and throwing lightning quick knife-hands and punches at Neito’s side whenever he lets his guard down.
One such strike catches him in the cheek, spinning him around and sending him tumbling to the ground. Neito stares up at Midoriya, panting desperately as his opponent smirks in victory. He calls on his last card, using Twin-Impact to detonate the pillar beside them. There is a roar as several doubled impacts all go off at once, and Neito is showered in rubble.
When he cautiously opens his eyes a moment later, ready to meet his fate, Midoriya is lying unconscious a few feet away and bleeding profusely from a fresh headwound. Neito grins, waving at the worried visage of Midnight as she rushes over after declaring his victory, and then passes out unceremoniously.