[Third Person Pov]
When Melissa appeared next to Tony rubbing her face, he stared at her with open amusement, his lips already curling into a grin. "I just want to make it clear," he said, barely holding back his laughter, "that every single time you punched yourself, all I could think was, 'Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?'" He even mimicked the childish tone, unable to resist teasing her.
"Just shut up," Melissa muttered, her voice soft and embarrassed as she formed a small, adorable pout. She avoided his eyes for a moment before glancing back at him. "Aren't you supposed to be congratulating me on my victory?"
"Huh? Why should I?" Tony replied immediately, his tone calm and completely sincere. "There was never any doubt you weren't going to win."
Melissa blinked, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact he sounded. There wasn't a trace of sarcasm or mockery in his voice. Just absolute certainty.
A warm smile slowly spread across her face. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and slipped into his arms, naturally taking Momo's previous place as if it had always belonged to her. She leaned into him, resting comfortably against his chest, her earlier frustration melting away.
Tony wrapped his arms around her without thinking, holding her securely as he glanced down at her with lingering amusement. "Did your own punches hurt?" he asked, genuinely curious, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Of course they hurt!" Melissa immediately complained, grimacing at the memory as she pressed herself closer into him, seeking comfort. "It felt like I was getting smashed over and over again with a sledgehammer."
"So," he continued, his tone turning contemplative, "if you're strong enough to hurt yourself that badly, but also durable enough to survive it… does that make you strong or weak?" He paused deliberately. "What a paradoxical conundrum."
Melissa didn't hesitate for even a second. "Definitely strong," she declared confidently.
She pulled one arm free and flexed her bicep proudly, her expression filled with smug satisfaction.
Tony chuckled, and Melissa joined him soon after, the two of them laughing together without a care in the world.
Meanwhile, the rest of the spectators watched in silence, their expressions stiff and forced, their eyes occasionally drifting toward the affectionate display with varying degrees of disbelief, discomfort, and resentment.
Kane slowly turned his head toward Maria, his face completely flat, "Your son is a womanizer."
Maria simply shrugged, releasing a long, tired sigh. "What do you want me to say?" she replied helplessly. "I raised him too well. They both wanted him, and now they share him."
Despite her defeated tone, there was an unmistakable hint of smugness hidden beneath the surface.
Kane and Eric both stared at her blankly, unsure how to even respond to that. Maria, meanwhile, looked far more satisfied than she was willing to openly admit.
At the same time, Momo stood facing Coach Lawrence directly, her posture calm, steady, and completely composed.
Coach Lawrence wasted no time activating his quirk.
His body began to dissolve almost instantly, breaking apart into thick, rolling fog that spread outward in all directions. Within seconds, the surrounding area was completely blanketed in dense mist that surged toward Momo like a living entity.
From within the fog, massive hands and fists began to form, stretching outward as they lunged toward her.
Momo reacted instantly.
Her movements were precise and efficient as she maneuvered around each incoming strike, her footwork flawless. She didn't waste unnecessary energy, avoiding every attack with minimal motion.
Her mind was already several steps ahead. She had already conceived multiple ways to end the battle.
The only question was how long she felt like entertaining it.
A staff materialized in her hands. Almost immediately, the fog shifted again, forming snarling hounds that launched themselves at her with savage aggression.
One of them clamped its jaws onto her staff. Momo responded without hesitation. She lifted the staff upward, raising the creature off the ground before slamming it down with overwhelming force. The moment it hit the floor, its body destabilized and dissolved back into harmless fog.
More fog pressed inward.
Momo began spinning her staff rapidly, the speed generating powerful currents of air that forced the fog backward. The mist struggled to advance, its movements disrupted by the controlled vortex she created.
She wasn't just defending.
She was controlling the battlefield. Every movement of her staff guided the flow of the fog, redirecting it, manipulating it, asserting dominance through a perfect balance of strength, technique, and precision.
The fog shifted again.
This time, it formed into vultures—large birds of prey that circled above her before diving downward in coordinated attacks.
Momo responded by creating small spherical devices and tossing them outward.
They detonated instantly.
But instead of fire, they released concentrated bursts of freezing energy. A wave of cold spread rapidly across the battlefield, causing the temperature to plummet. Frost began forming along the ground and in the air itself.
The fog reacted immediately.
Its movements slowed.
Its formations became sluggish and unstable. Coach Lawrence's quirk depended on maintaining cohesion and control over dispersed particles. The sudden drop in temperature disrupted that balance, making it significantly harder for him to maintain his transformed state.
The fog trembled. thinned. And finally, it began collapsing inward.
Forced out of his dispersed form, Coach Lawrence reassembled into his human body, his figure reforming as his quirk destabilized under the harsh environmental conditions Momo had created.
He stood there once more, no longer an untouchable force of nature, but a man facing an opponent who had already figured out exactly how to defeat him.
Momo had already been waiting for him.
The moment Coach Lawrence fully reformed, she moved.
She attacked relentlessly, pressing forward without hesitation and forcing him onto the defensive. Her staff lashed out in precise, calculated strikes, each swing aimed not just to hit, but to limit his options and keep him from safely dispersing again.
But that didn't mean he was helpless. All Momo had truly accomplished by lowering the temperature was reducing the range and effectiveness of his quirk. He was still dangerous.
He stepped back suddenly and threw a punch.
The strike itself never reached her—but the blast of smoke that followed did.
The compressed fog exploded outward from his fist like a shockwave, carrying the force of the punch far beyond his physical reach.
Momo dropped instantly, her body lowering smoothly as the blast passed over her head. Her palm began to glow as her quirk activated.
From her skin, a staff extended outward at incredible speed, forming and solidifying in a fraction of a second, it stretched considerably until it slammed directly into Coach Lawrence's torso.
The impact was solid and undeniable. He was launched backward, his body skidding across the ground before finally stabilizing himself.
Without wasting motion, Momo absorbed the staff back into her body. The weapon dissolved seamlessly, breaking down into lipids and fat cells as it reintegrated into her system.
Tony watched the exchange with a wide grin, his chin resting comfortably atop Melissa's head as his arms remained wrapped around her.
"Haha," he laughed softly, clearly entertained. "Momo's a bit more of a show-off than she lets on."
Momo wasn't creating full weapons anymore. Instead, half-formed blades, cannons, blasters, and blunt constructs flashed into existence across her arms, shoulders, and sides. They emerged for only a split second—just long enough to strike or threaten—before dissolving and being reabsorbed into her body.
She was demonstrating complete mastery over her quirk.
Melissa smiled softly, leaning back into Tony's chest as she watched her friend. "She just wants to show everyone what she's capable of," she said gently. "There's nothing wrong with that."
The fight continued like that for several more minutes.
At the five-minute mark, Momo decided she had entertained the battle long enough. She allowed her final construct to dissolve back into her body and straightened her posture.
"I apologize in advance," she said calmly, her voice respectful and composed, "for what I'm about to do next. It may seem disrespectful."
Coach Lawrence's eyes narrowed immediately. Suspicion flared. He didn't hesitate.
His legs dissolved into fog as he launched forward at high speed, propelling himself with explosive bursts of compressed smoke. His arms expanded as fog coiled tightly around them, increasing their size, density, and striking power.
He intended to stop her before she could create anything else.
Momo calmly skated backward, her feet gliding smoothly across the ground.
Her hand glowed once more. A new object materialized instantly.
A vacuum cleaner.
Coach Lawrence's eyes widened in realization.
But it was already too late. He was far too close to stop himself.
WHRRRRRRRRRRR
The vacuum roared to life. An overwhelming suction force erupted from its nozzle, far stronger than any normal device. The surrounding fog was immediately pulled inward, torn from his control as the force dragged his dispersed body toward the opening.
He tried to resist but his quirk worked against him.
His fog form gave the vacuum more surface area to grab.
"Now this is bull—" His protest was cut off abruptly.
His entire body was sucked inside the canister.
Silence fell across the battlefield.
The crowd stared in stunned disbelief, unsure how to even process what they had just witnessed. The powerful, composed Coach Lawrence…
Had just been vacuumed.
The silence lasted only a moment.
Then it shattered, "BAHAHAHAHA!" Kane and Tony burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.
Tony held his stomach, barely able to breathe as he leaned slightly forward, while Kane wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. Even Principal Issac turned his head slightly, trying—and failing—to hide the faint snicker that escaped him.
Momo, however, remained completely serious.
She immediately turned off the vacuum and released Coach Lawrence, allowing his body to reform outside the canister.
The moment he was free, she bowed deeply.
"I'm so sorry!" she said sincerely. "Please forgive my disrespect!"
Coach Lawrence stood there for a moment, his hand reaching up to the back of his neck as he rubbed it awkwardly. He twisted his neck side to side before letting out a long sigh.
"It's alright," he said finally. "I'm not upset."
He looked at her directly, "You did what you needed to do in order to win. In a real battle, that kind of quick thinking—regardless of how embarrassing it was for me—is commendable."
Momo visibly relaxed. Relief washed over her face as she straightened, grateful he hadn't taken offense.
Principal Issac stepped forward then and began clapping his hands together. "Good work," he announced. "All three of you. There's no doubt you've passed the physical exams with flying colors. Congratulations."
The crowd immediately joined in, applause spreading across the training grounds.
Momo flushed red with embarrassment, clearly unaccustomed to that kind of attention.
Melissa and Tony, on the other hand, embraced it completely.
They raised their hands and waved confidently at the crowd like royalty greeting their subjects, fully basking in the admiration.
"Now then," Principal Issac continued once the applause settled, "if you would kindly follow me, it's time to commence the written portion of the exam."
Tony audibly groaned.
Melissa sighed softly.
Momo did the same.
Despite their overwhelming talent and intelligence, there was one universal truth none of them could escape.
No one liked written exams.
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