….
Bakugo noticed it immediately, his combat instincts too sharp to miss the signs.
"OI! HALF-AND-HALF!" His voice carried across the arena, angry and demanding. "DON'T YOU DARE LOSE FOCUS IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIGHT!"
"I am not–"
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Bakugo's explosions intensified, frustration fueling his power. "I DIDN'T COME THIS FAR TO FIGHT SOMEONE WHO'S HALF-ASSED!"
"I am trying!" Todoroki's flames sparked, tried to grow, but couldn't maintain. His body was shutting down, prioritizing survival over quirk output.
"SHUT UP AND GIVE ME EVERYTHING, OR I WILL BLAST YOU OUT OF THIS RING! DIEE!!"
Todoroki tried to create a defensive wall, ice on one side and fire on the other, the same combination he had used against Midoriya, but his flames died out mid-formation, his ice formed weak and incomplete, and Bakugo's explosion shattered through it like paper.
"HOWITZER–" Bakugo spun in mid-air, building up explosive force. "-IMPACT!"
The concentrated blast caught Todoroki center-mass, sending him flying backward.
He crashed into the arena wall and slumped down, completely spent.
Midnight checked him quickly. "Todoroki is unable to continue! Bakugo wins!"
["AND WE HAVE OUR CHAMPION!"] Present Mic announced. ["BAKUGO KATSUKI WINS THE U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL!"]
But the crowd's reaction was muted and confused; they had expected a climactic finish like the semifinal, yet instead witnessed a one-sided beatdown in the final moments.
And Bakugo himself looked furious.
He stood in the center of the destroyed arena, breathing hard, fists clenched so tight his palms were bleeding from his own quirk's recoil.
"THAT'S NOT A WIN!" he screamed at no one in particular. Explosions started popping off his palms erratically. "YOU GAVE UP! YOU STOPPED TRYING! THAT'S NOT–"
"Bakugo–" Midnight started.
"I WANTED TO BEAT YOU AT YOUR BEST!" He whirled on Todoroki, who was being helped to his feet by medical staff. "NOT THIS! NOT SOME HALF-DEAD VERSION WHO RAN OUT OF GAS!"
"Bakugo, please calm down–"
"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" The explosions were getting bigger, more dangerous. "I EARNED THIS FIGHT! I EARNED A REAL VICTORY! AND YOU–" he pointed at Todoroki. "–YOU JUST QUIT!"
Security moved in, but Bakugo was spiraling into a full meltdown. His quirk was activating, driven by rage and disappointment.
This wasn't the victory he wanted - he had won, but it felt hollow, as if the championship had been handed to him rather than earned - like Todoroki had simply given it away out of weakness.
And for someone like Bakugo, who valued genuine achievement over everything, that was worse than losing.
"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" Another explosion, bigger this time. "WHAT'S THE POINT OF BEING NUMBER ONE IF–"
Dabi appeared beside him in a blur of movement.
His hand clamped onto Bakugo's shoulder, as he said. "Enough."
The single word carried weight and authority, anger absent, leaving only finality.
Bakugo whirled, teeth bared and palms popping with lethal heat. "He didn't even use his left…! I didn't win shit if he–"
"You are right… He didn't." Dabi interrupted, his voice a low, dangerous drawl that cut through the roar of the crowd. "You will get handed a trophy because your opponent grew a conscience mid-fight. It's pathetic, isn't it?"
Bakugo froze, his eyes blown wide and trembling with fury.
"You want to blow up the arena? Go ahead." Dabi continued, leaning in until only he was visible for Bakugo. "Prove to everyone that Half-and-Half managed to break your composure without even trying. Show them that his 'conflict' is more powerful than your 'will.' Right now, you don't look like a winner, kid.
"You look like a dog barking at a fence because it can't jump."
"The win is on the board. Take the dirty victory and choke on it until the next time you face him." Dabi said, his grip tightening just enough to be a warning.
"Then, you crush him so thoroughly that even if his entire family is dying in the stands, he has no choice but to look at you. Make yourself unavoidable. But if you get disqualified now for attacking a medic? You are just giving him an easy exit."
Bakugo stared at him, the lethal glow in his palms finally fading into thin wisps of smoke.
"Fine." Bakugo spat, jerking his shoulder out of Dabi's grip.
"Good choice. Now move. You are making a scene, and it's embarrassing to watch."
The security teams, who had been hovering on the edge of a panic attack, visibly deflated as Bakugo's quirk died out. The rage remained - a dark, simmering pool in the boy's eyes - but the 'volcano' had been capped.
Dabi stepped back, hands sliding into his pockets as he headed toward the tunnel without a second glance.
Present Mic's voice exploded over the intercom, breaking the suffocating tension. ["WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! UNBELIEVABLE! EVEN THE CLASS 1-A TIGER CAN BE TAMED! U.A. REALLY DOES HAVE SOME... ER... INTENSE TEACHERS!"]
In the observation booth, Aizawa didn't join in the cheering.
He simply watched Dabi's retreating back and shook his head.
That wasn't teaching or even disciplining, but a calculated manipulation of one predator by another.
Aizawa looked at Bakugo, who was now walking away with a terrifying, focused stillness.
He couldn't blame the kid for listening.
Anyone who had survived a training session with that scarred psychopath knew that when Dabi told you to stop, he wasn't worried about the rules.
He was giving you a chance to survive.
….
The medal ceremony proceeded.
Fortunately, Bakugo had to be convinced to actually stand on the podium, though his expression was a thunderous mask of wounded pride.
Beside him, Todoroki accepted the silver with a haunted, mechanical stoicism, with the lingering tremors of overexertion.
Then there was Midoriya - clutching his bronze with a tired, genuine smile that spoke of a different kind of victory.
As the crowds began to disperse, the students returning to their families, the Pro Heroes discussing what they had seen, Dabi remained in the staff area.
He had learned what he needed to learn.
Midoriya had finally developed a sustainable way to use his quirk. Still had issues with control at high percentages, but the Full Cowling technique was a massive improvement.
But it seemed Todoroki still needed a small push to overcome the limitations he had placed on himself… nonetheless, it was progress.
And Bakugo… well, in most cases, the one who loses learns more than the one who wins.
All three of his problem children had grown today, and that was enough.
This is going to be a long year, Dabi thought, watching them from above.
But somehow, despite everything, he was looking forward to it.
….
His gaze drifted, scanning the dispersing crowd until it landed on a familiar flash of engine-blue hair.
Tenya Iida was still present.
In the original outcome, Iida had taken third place. This time he hadn't, but that wasn't what mattered.
What mattered was that he was still at the festival.
From what Dabi remembered of the timeline, the next event after the Sports Festival should have been the Hero Killer incident.
Stain attacked Pro Heroes in Hosu City, Iida's brother Tensei, Ingenium, being critically injured, and the news reaching Tenya, pushing him toward revenge.
That chain of events should have already begun.
Yet across the arena, Iida was standing with Midoriya and the others, congratulating them with his usual earnest enthusiasm.
Which meant the call had never come - his parents hadn't contacted him about Tensei being attacked, and Ingenium's career hadn't ended.
All because–
"Only one out of three people who took the top spots has the true qualities of a hero." A voice beside Dabi spoke quietly. "See? I told you. The future of our hero society isn't bright."
Dabi sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Give it a rest, Chizome. You want to become some hero killer or what?"
The man beside him was tall and lean, with a weathered face and intense eyes that burned with conviction.
He wore civilian clothes, but there was an edge to him, the controlled violence of someone who had seen too much and decided to do something about it.
Chizome Akaguro - Better known by the name he would have taken in another timeline: Stain, the Hero Killer.
But in this timeline, things had gone differently.
"Look at the boy on the top step." Chizome spat, nodding toward Bakugo. "He screams for blood, threatens his own peers. He values the win over life. How can you stand there and tell me he belongs in the light?"
Dabi leaned against the railing, his voice dropping into a low, unwavering drawl. "Because that 'brat' would walk through hell to win a fight, Chizome. And in a world that's actually burning, I would rather have a violent winner standing in front of me than a polite loser who gives up because his feelings are hurt.
"He has got the drive… the heart comes later. Trust me."
Chizome paused, his eyes searching Dabi's face.
He had seen that look before - the absolute, terrifying certainty Dabi held when he spoke about the potential of these 'problem children.'
"And you?" Chizome asked, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips. "Where do you fit into this 'bright future'? You talk about the heart of a hero as if you've actually seen one."
Dabi snorted, a dry, self-deprecating sound. "Me? Don't be ridiculous. If we're grading on 'heroic purity,' I would have been executed in the preliminary rounds. I am just the trash collector making sure the street is clear for them."
To Dabi's genuine confusion, Chizome actually laughed - a short, jagged sound of pure amusement.
"What?" Dabi frowned. "Did I miss the joke?"
"Nothing." Chizome said, shaking his head. "Nothing at all."
But it wasn't nothing.
What made Chizome laugh was the sheer, staggering absurdity of the man standing before him - this Hero who still refused to believe he was a Hero in the truest sense.
Just a month ago, Dabi had risked his life to save students at USJ - fighting two monsters called Nomu simultaneously and nearly died protecting kids he had only known for a few months.
And before that? Before he even became a proper licensed Hero?
He had faced down the mass murderer Muscular while his own body was still struggling with cancer.
Saved two pros and a child from being orphaned, all while having no guarantee his heart wouldn't stop before the sun came up.
And what kind of situation had shaped him into the person he was now? A good teacher with the right path ahead and a peaceful childhood?
Hell no!
Stain knew Dabi's story - about Endeavor's abuse, the three years he had spent in a coma while villains experimented on him, and how he had woken up in a body that was falling apart at any given moment.
Dabi had every reason to be the most hateful creature on the planet. He had been given every tool necessary to become a monster.
And what did all that make him choose?
To be a Hero.
Stain wasn't sure he could have stayed on that path if it had been him.
No - actually, he was certain he couldn't have.
If Dabi hadn't reached out to him when he did - if he hadn't dragged Chizome out of his own brewing madness - Stain knew exactly what he would have become.
And it definitely wouldn't have been bright, not even close. He would have been a murderer in a red scarf.
He looked at Dabi, who was currently staring back at him with genuine, irritated confusion.
It was the ultimate irony: the man who embodied the 'True Hero' more than any gold-clad idol on a billboard was the only person alive who didn't believe in himself
Dabi was that kind of Hero. A hero who would never realize how great he was.
Maybe it was better he didn't realize it, Stain thought - Pride tended to ruin people, but it was still a hell of a joke.
"Stain! We brought goods!"
.
….
[To be continued…]
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