God of Heroics: Comicman!

Cementoss repaired the arena between matches. His hands pressed flat against the damaged concrete and the material was reshaped by his control, filling craters and smoothing acid scars until the stage looked pristine again. The crowd watched in polite appreciation. The maintenance crew breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Match six!" Present Mic announced. "Kendo Itsuka from the hero course versus Yaoyorozu Momo, also from the hero course! Class B's president against Class A's vice president! Two of U.A.'s finest going head to head!"

"Both are intelligent fighters with budding leadership qualities," Aizawa said. "Yaoyorozu got into U.A. through recommendations and placed first in the Quirk Apprehension Test for her class. Kendo placed sixth in the entrance exam with a high amount of villain points. This should be an exciting battle."

Kendo walked out with her fists already clenched. Her ponytail swung behind her. Her eyes were locked on Yaoyorozu from the moment she stepped onto the concrete, and there was nothing strategic about the way she was looking at her.

She'd been waiting for this.

Yaoyorozu took her position across the ring. Tall, composed, her long black hair tied in its signature spiky ponytail. She was already thinking. Her hands were at her sides, fingers twitching, mentally cataloguing what she could create, what she might need, what molecular structures she should prepare.

"START!!!"

Kendo sprinted.

Yaoyorozu's hands moved. The first shimmer of Creation light bloomed across her forearm as she began producing something, a shield, a staff, anything to buy distance.

Kendo's right fist expanded mid-stride. It swelled to three times its normal size, the fingers thickening, the knuckles broadening into a wall of flesh and bone that was bigger than Yaoyorozu's entire torso.

She didn't slow down. She didn't feint. She didn't set up a combination or wait for an opening.

She just swung.

The enlarged fist hit Yaoyorozu before the creation was halfway formed. The impact caught her across the chest and shoulder with a sound like a bag of rice hitting a wall, and Yaoyorozu left her feet. She flew backward, the half-formed object dissolving from her skin in a shower of sparks, her body ragdolling through the air until she hit the concrete six meters away and didn't get up.

The crowd went silent for a beat. Then erupted.

"ONE HIT!" Present Mic screamed. "KENDO TAKES IT IN A SINGLE BLOW! YAOYOROZU DIDN'T EVEN FINISH HER FIRST CREATION!"

"Yaoyorozu's weakness has always been acting under pressure," Aizawa said. "Her quirk is one of the most versatile quirks in the world, but it requires time and composure to use. Kendo didn't give her either."

Midnight checked on Yaoyorozu. Unconscious but breathing fine. Recovery Girl was already waddling toward the stage.

"Yaoyorozu is unable to continue! Kendo wins!"

In the 1-B section, the class cheered. Tetsutetsu was banging on the railing. Monoma was clapping with both hands above his head.

Kendo stood over her fallen opponent for a moment. Her fist shrank back to normal. She looked down at Yaoyorozu with an expression that wasn't gloating or cruel. It was the look of someone who had spent months being compared to another person and had finally gotten to answer the comparison with her fists.

She bowed to the unconscious girl, then walked off the stage.

"Haha that was awesome." Manga said from the stands.

"Was it? I thought it was pretty boring." Kamakiri asked.

"Awesome for us… I meant."

“You’re starting to sound like Monoma, Manga-kun.” Yanagi pointed out.

“Why are you saying that like its a bad thing?!” Monoma felt attacked.

“Ehh…” Tokage couldn’t help but say. “One Monoma is enough for Class B.”

…

"Match seven!" Present Mic was vibrating. "THIS is the one I've been waiting for, folks! Kirishima Eijiro versus Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu! HARDENING VERSUS STEEL! THE MIRROR MATCH OF THE CENTURY!"

"They have nearly identical quirks, fighting styles, stats, and even birthdays," Aizawa said. "This is going to come down to who wants it more."

Kirishima walked out grinning. His red hair was spiked to its maximum, his sharp teeth bared in a smile that radiated pure excitement. He was bouncing on his feet, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck.

Tetsutetsu walked out grinning harder. His grey hair was wild, his teeth were sharper, and his eyes were burning with something that went beyond excitement into the territory of spiritual conviction.

They met at center ring and looked at each other.

"Dude." Kirishima said.

"Dude." Tetsutetsu agreed.

They bumped fists. The sound of hardened skin hitting steel rang across the arena like a bell.

"START!!!"

They both charged.

Just two boys with hard bodies sprinting at each other full speed and throwing the biggest punches their arms could produce.

Kirishima's hardened fist met Tetsutetsu's steel fist at the exact center of the ring.

The shockwave cracked the concrete beneath their feet.

"THEY CLASH!" Present Mic was standing on his chair. "NEITHER ONE GIVES AN INCH!"

What followed was the purest, simplest, most primal fight of the entire tournament.

They stood in the center of the ring and hit each other. That was it. No dodging. No retreating. No clever positioning or surprise counters. Kirishima threw a right hook and Tetsutetsu took it on the jaw and threw one back. Tetsutetsu launched an uppercut and Kirishima ate it and answered with a body shot that would've caved in a car door.

The sounds were incredible. Steel on rock. Rock on steel. Every impact rang out like a hammer hitting an anvil, a rhythmic metallic percussion that echoed through the stadium. The crowd started clapping along. Then stomping. Then chanting.

"THIS! IS! MANLY!"

That one came from Tetsutetsu. He was bleeding from a cut above his eye where Kirishima's hardened knuckles had broken through his steel, and he was grinning so wide it looked like his face might split.

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT IT IS!" Kirishima answered, bleeding from his lip where Tetsutetsu's steel fist had cracked his hardening.

They kept swinging.

In the stands, Class 1-A and Class 1-B were both on their feet. The rivalry between the classes didn't matter here. This was two combatants made of similar material going at each other with everything they had, and it was impossible not to respect it.

"Now I’m wishing I was in the finals. This battle is making me want to tear something apart!" Kamakiri grinned.

Three minutes in, the difference showed.

Kirishima's hardening was failing. Blood leaked across his forearms and chest where Tetsutetsu's punches had landed over and over. His quirk was starting to wear thin.

Tetsutetsu's steel wasn't cracking.

His body was denser. His punches hit harder. The training had been building his frame since the first week of school, months of working out with his classmates. His muscles were thicker, his bones were stronger, and when his steel form layered over that foundation, the result was something Kirishima hadn't prepared for. Not to mention the two times gravity training the two weeks before the Sports Festival.

Kirishima swung a right hook. Tetsutetsu caught it on his forearm and answered with a straight punch to the center of Kirishima's chest.

The hardening shattered like a sheet of glass hit by a sledgehammer. Kirishima's chest plate of hardened skin broke apart in a spray of rock-like fragments, revealing the soft flesh beneath, and the force of the punch sent him skidding backward on his heels.

Kirishima coughed. Looked down at his chest. Looked up at Tetsutetsu.

"Holy crap, bro."

"Sorry!" Tetsutetsu was already closing the distance. "But I'm not holding back!"

He wasn't.

Kirishima rehardened. The fresh layer was thinner, weaker, his body struggling to maintain what it had already spent. Tetsutetsu hit it again. And again. Each punch drove Kirishima back a step. Each impact sent cracks rippling through the new hardening before it could fully set.

Kirishima dug in. His teeth were gritted, his red eyes were blazing, and every single instinct in his body was screaming at him to keep going, keep swinging, keep fighting. He threw everything he had left into a massive right cross aimed at Tetsutetsu's jaw.

It connected.

Tetsutetsu's head snapped sideways. A tooth flew out, metallic and glinting.

He turned back. Grinned with the gap in his teeth. And headbutted Kirishima so hard the red-haired boy's vision went white.

Kirishima's hardening gave out completely. His body slumped. His knees buckled. He tried to stay standing, tried to reharden one more time, but his body was empty. The tank was dry.

He fell forward.

Tetsutetsu caught him.

"Kirishima is unable to continue! Tetsutetsu wins!"

The stadium roared. Class 1-B lost its mind. Tetsutetsu was crying and helping Kirishima up at the same time, his steel form deactivating, his grey hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"THAT WAS THE MANLIEST FIGHT I'VE EVER BEEN IN!" he screamed at nobody and everybody.

Kirishima, half-conscious, managed a thumbs up. "Rematch... soon..."

"ANY TIME, BROTHER!"

Present Mic was wiping his eyes behind his glasses. "I'M NOT CRYING! YOU'RE CRYING! WHAT A FIGHT! WHAT A FIGHT!"

"It was a good fight," Aizawa admitted while he wouldn’t support that type of fighting out in the field. This wasn’t the field.

Recovery Girl healed Kirishima on the spot. The two of them walked off the stage together, arms over each other's shoulders, both bleeding, both grinning, both looking like they'd just had the best day of their lives.

…

The arena was repaired again. The crowd had been through romance, strategy, destruction, and brotherhood. They were tired in the best way.

Then Bakugo walked out.

The energy shifted.

He walked to his side of the ring with his hands in his pockets and his red eyes fixed forward and the expression of someone who had been waiting all day for permission to hurt something.

"AND THE FINAL MATCH OF THE FIRST ROUND!" Present Mic's voice carried an edge now. "Bakugo Katsuki, the boy who placed second in the entrance exam, versus Awase Yosetsu of the hero course! Class A's most explosive student against Class B's fixer!"

In the 1-B section, nobody was sitting.

"He's going to freaking die." Tsuburaba laughed.

"Shut up, don’t say that. Awase is our friend, we gotta believe in him. He can do this." Kendo said.

"Can he though?" He laughed even harder.

"He has a plan." Kaibara said it with certainty. "I can tell."

Awase stood at his side of the ring. His headband was low across his forehead. His jaw was set. He was grinning.

"START!!!"

Awase ran straight at Bakugo.

Bakugo's reaction was instant. His palm came up, his fingers spread, and an explosion erupted from his hand before Awase had crossed the halfway point. A ball of fire and force that lit up the arena and sent a shockwave rippling across the concrete.

It hit Awase in the face.

The crowd gasped. Awase's head snapped back so hard his headband flew off. Smoke and heat washed over him. The skin on his forehead split. Blood ran into his left eye.

He didn't stop running.

His right hand came up, fingers spread, and he slammed his palm against Bakugo's outstretched hand.

Weld.

Metal fused to metal at the atomic level. Skin bonded to skin. Awase's quirk locked their hands together with a bond that couldn't be broken by force, couldn't be burned through by heat, couldn't be pulled apart by anything short of Awase himself choosing to undo it.

Bakugo felt it. The sudden wrongness of his hand not moving when he tried to pull it back. His eyes widened.

Awase grinned through the blood.

"Surprise."

Then he started punching.

His left fist crashed into Bakugo's face. A straight shot to the nose that snapped his head sideways and sent a spray of blood across the concrete. Bakugo's free hand came up to block but Awase was already throwing the next one, a hook that caught him on the ear, then a body shot, then another straight to the mouth.

He wasn't a trained fighter. His punches were sloppy, telegraphed, thrown with more desperation than technique. But at this range, with their hands welded together, technique didn't matter. Bakugo couldn't create distance. Couldn't use his speed. Couldn't fly away on his explosions. He was tethered to a boy who had decided that the only way to fight the strongest person in the tournament was to grab him and never let go.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Present Mic was screaming. "AWASE WELDED HIMSELF TO BAKUGO! THEY'RE STUCK TOGETHER! AND AWASE IS, HE'S PUNCHING HIM IN THE FACE!"

"Utterly ridiculous… Vlad, what are you teaching your students?" Aizawa glanced over at the teachers. But when he looked over, Vlad was cheering the boy on from the stands.

Bakugo recovered from the initial shock in about two seconds. His free hand, his left, sparked. An explosion detonated directly into Awase's ribs from point-blank range. The impact lifted Awase off his feet, but he didn't fly away because his right hand was still fused to Bakugo's right.

He swung back on the tether of their joined hands and came right back.

Left hook to Bakugo's jaw.

Bakugo exploded him in the chest. Awase's PE uniform caught fire. He beat it out with his free hand and punched Bakugo in the eye.

Bakugo exploded him in the shoulder. Awase's arm went numb. He switched to throwing headbutts instead.

The arena had gone completely insane.

Every hit Bakugo landed was devastating. Explosions at contact distance that burned skin, cracked ribs, and sent shockwaves through Awase's body that would've put most people on the ground after the first one. The damage was accumulating fast. Awase's face was a mess of blood and burns. His uniform was scorched black. His breathing was ragged and getting worse.

But he kept swinging.

And he kept connecting.

Bakugo's nose was broken. His lip was split. A bruise was swelling shut around his left eye where Awase had caught him clean three times. For every explosion he poured into Awase's body, he took a fist to the face from a boy who wouldn't stop hitting him even as his own body was falling apart.

"LET GO!" Bakugo roared.

"HAHAHA, make me, Splodey Boy!"

Bakugo began firing rapid explosions. Not one at a time. A barrage. Small, focused detonations that peppered Awase's chest and arms and face like firecrackers going off against his skin. The sound was a continuous crackling roar that drowned out the crowd.

Awase's punches slowed. His arm was heavy. His vision was blurring. The pain was everywhere, in his ribs where something was definitely cracked, in his shoulder where the skin was blistered raw, in his face where the burns overlapped with the cuts until he couldn't tell which wounds were which.

He threw one more punch. It grazed Bakugo's cheek. Barely a tap.

Then his eyes rolled back.

His body went limp. His knees folded. He slumped forward against Bakugo, held upright only by the weld connecting their hands, his head resting against Bakugo's shoulder like a puppet with its strings cut.

The arena fell quiet.

"Awase is unconscious!" Midnight called. "Bakugo wins!"

Bakugo stood there.

Breathing hard. Blood on his face. An unconscious boy hanging from his hand.

He tried to pull free. His hand didn't move. He tried harder. Nothing. The weld held.

"Get OFF me!" He shook his arm. Awase's unconscious body swayed like a ragdoll. "WAKE UP AND UNDO THIS, YOU BANDANA FREAK!"

Nothing.

"HIS QUIRK WON'T DEACTIVATE WHILE HE'S UNCONSCIOUS!" Present Mic sounded like he was trying very hard not to laugh. "BAKUGO IS, UH, HE'S STUCK WITH A NEW FRIEND IT LOOKS LIKE!" 

The crowd lost it despite the brutal and engaging fight. They laughed and their spirits were renewed.

"Someone get Recovery Girl…" Aizawa was pinching the bridge of his nose.

Recovery Girl came. She kissed Awase's forehead. His eyes fluttered open. He looked around, confused, and found himself hanging from Bakugo's hand with his face two inches from Bakugo's chest.

"Oh," he said. "We're still attached."

"UNDO IT STICKY BASTARD!"

"Right. Sorry. My bad."

Awase reversed it. The weld released. Bakugo ripped his hand away like he'd been burned.

Awase wobbled on his feet. Looked at Bakugo's face. The broken nose. The swollen eye. The split lip. The blood drying on his chin.

He grinned. One of his teeth was chipped.

"Got you pretty good though, huh?"

Bakugo's expression could have curdled milk. He turned and stormed off the stage without a word, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white, smoke rising from his palms.

He was not satisfied.

He was not happy with this victory.

He was going to remember Awase's face for a very long time.

In the 1-B section, the class was on their feet. Cheering for Awase giving it his all and probably his only strategy in possibly winning against someone like that.

"That crazy bastard…" Kamakiri said, grinning.

"He did better than I believed. I should’ve trusted him…" Kendo felt a little ashamed

"I told you he had a plan." Kaibara grinned. 

“A real man doesn’t just wait for the inevitable.” Kuroiro shared.

Manga's bubble had several confetti emojis.

Down on the field, Awase was being helped off by Recovery Girl. His ribs were cracked. His face was a patchwork of burns and bruises. He could barely walk straight.

But he was smiling.

He definitely made that explosive bastard remember his name.

…

The first round was over.

The bracket updated on the big screen:

Quarter-finals: Manga vs Todoroki, Monoma vs Ida, Honenuki vs Kendo, Tetsutetsu vs Bakugo

It was late afternoon by now with long shadows. The crowd murmured and shifted, energy building for what was coming next.

In the waiting room, Manga sat with his new girlfriend.

His water bottle was half empty. His body was loose and warm from stretching. His bubble was blank, not showing any emojis, not cycling through expressions.

Todoroki Shoto.

The son of the Number Two Hero. Ice and fire in one body. The boy who had frozen an entire arena in a single breath and looked apologetic about it.

Manga thought about ice. About fire. About the distance between them and what it would take to cross it.

“Go out and win.” Tokage grinned.

A single kanji appeared in his bubble, small and sharp.

The kanji for victory.

He stood up and walked toward the tunnel.

“You know it.”

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