Apex

(Momo Yaoyorozu's POV)

The roar of the crowd filled my ears as I stepped into the arena, the sun warm on my skin. My heart raced, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through me. This was it. The moment I had been training for, the chance to prove myself against one of the strongest in our class.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Present Mic's voice boomed. "ARE YOU READY FOR A CLASH OF TITANS?"

The crowd cheered, the sound washing over me like a physical force.

"IN THE RED CORNER, THE BRILLIANT STRATEGIST, THE MASTER OF CREATION... MOMO YAOYOROZU!"

I waved to the crowd, trying to project a calm I didn't quite feel. Across the arena, Bakugo stood ready, his posture relaxed but his eyes intense.

"AND IN THE BLUE CORNER, THE EXPLOSIVE EXPERT, THE HUMAN GRENADE... KATSUKI BAKUGO!"

Bakugo didn't react to the cheers, his focus solely on me. I could see the respect in his gaze, the acknowledgment of a worthy opponent.

"BEGIN!" Midnight's shout cut through the noise, and the world narrowed to this moment, this fight.

Bakugo took the initiative, launching forward with an explosion. I was ready, a shield forming to deflect the blast as I created a staff to counter.

We clashed in the center of the arena, my staff against his explosions. Bakugo was relentless, his attacks precise and powerful, but I met him blow for blow.

"Not bad, Yaoyorozu," he grunted as we separated, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Deku's been teaching you well."

I smiled back, taking the compliment in stride. "He's a good partner. But don't think that means you can underestimate me."

Bakugo's grin widened. "Wasn't planning on it."

He came at me again, feinting left before blasting right. I spun away, using my staff to vault over his head, a flashbang forming in my free hand.

The blast disoriented him for a moment, giving me an opening to press the attack. But Bakugo recovered quickly, his reflexes as sharp as ever.

We traded blows back and forth, neither of us able to gain a significant advantage. Sweat ran down my face, my breathing heavy, but I refused to give ground.

But Bakugo's stamina was monstrous, his quirk perfectly suited for drawn-out battles. Slowly, gradually, he started to gain the upper hand, his explosions coming faster, harder, wearing down my defenses.

"You've got skill, Ponytail," he said as I staggered back from a particularly heavy blast. "But skill alone won't beat me."

I knew he was right. I needed a plan, a way to end this before he overwhelmed me completely.

Inspiration struck like a lightning bolt. It was risky, but it might be my only chance.

I created a smoke bomb, hurling it at Bakugo's feet. As the smoke billowed up, obscuring his vision, I charged forward, a weighted net in one hand and a taser in the other.

Bakugo blasted the smoke away, but I was already on him. The net tangled his legs, the taser sparking as it made contact with his side.

He roared in pain and anger, his explosions ripping the net to shreds. But it had bought me the second I needed.

I tackled him, using my weight to bear him to the ground. We grappled, rolling across the concrete, each trying to gain the advantage.

But Bakugo was stronger and with a final, powerful heave, he threw me off, sending me skidding across the arena floor.

I tried to rise, but my body wouldn't obey, exhaustion and pain weighing me down like lead.

Through blurry eyes, I saw Bakugo approach, his stance wary but his expression almost gentle. "Stay down, Yaoyorozu," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "You fought well. There's no shame in this defeat."

I wanted to argue, to keep fighting until the last breath left my body. But I knew he was right. I had given it my all, had pushed myself to my absolute limits.

And though it hadn't been enough to win, it was enough for me. Enough to know that I had grown, that I had become stronger than I ever thought possible.

As Midnight called the match in Bakugo's favor, as the crowd's cheers washed over me, I felt a smile tug at my lips.

I had lost, yes. But in defeat, I had found a new resolve, a new determination.

Next time, I would be even better. Next time, I would be the one left standing.

But for now, as Bakugo helped me to my feet, his grip firm but respectful, I could hold my head high.

Because I had faced one of the strongest head-on, had given him a fight he would not soon forget.

And that, in itself, was a victory.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

(Izuku Midoriya's POV) 

The crowd's roar was a distant buzz in my ears as I watched Momo walk out of the arena, her head held high despite the defeat. She had fought with everything she had, pushing herself to her absolute limits. Watching her go toe-to-toe with Kacchan, seeing the fire in her eyes... it was breathtaking.

I wanted to run to her, to wrap her in my arms and tell her how incredible she was. But I knew she needed a moment to herself, to process the fight and her own growth. So I waited, my fingers drumming restlessly against my knee as I watched her enter the tunnel.

"That was one hell of a fight," a voice said from beside me. I turned to see Kirishima, his eyes wide with awe. "Yaoyorozu's got some serious moves."

I grinned, unable to contain my excitement. "Right? She's amazing. The way she adapted, the strategies she came up with on the fly... Kacchan didn't know what hit him."

Kirishima chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder. "You've got a keeper there, Midoriya. A real badass."

"Yeah," I said softly. "Yeah, I really do."

The sound of footsteps made me look up, my heart leaping into my throat as I saw Momo walking towards me. She was bruised and battered, her jacket torn and singed, but there was a fierce light in her eyes, a quiet pride in the set of her shoulders.

I was on my feet before I knew it, crossing the distance between us in a few quick strides. "Momo," I breathed, my hands hovering uncertainly, wanting to touch her but afraid of hurting her. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. "I'm okay, Izuku. Sore, and my pride's a little bruised, but... I'm okay."

I couldn't hold back anymore. I pulled her into my arms, gently, mindful of her injuries. She melted into me, her face pressing into the crook of my neck. I could feel her heartbeat, strong and steady against my chest.

"I'm so proud of you," I whispered into her hair.

She laughed, the sound muffled against my skin.

I pulled back slightly, cupping her face in my hands. "I mean it. You inspire me, Momo. Every day, in every way. Seeing you out there, fighting with everything you have... it reminds me why I fell in love with you in the first place."

A single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. I caught it with my thumb, brushing it away with a tender touch.

"I love you too, Izuku," she whispered.

I kissed her then, soft and sweet, pouring every ounce of love and pride and admiration into the press of my lips against hers. She responded in kind, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer.

A wolf-whistle broke us apart, Kaminari grinning at us from across the room. "Get a room, you two!"

I laughed, feeling a blush heat my cheeks. Momo buried her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking with giggles.

I laughed, feeling a blush heat my cheeks. Momo buried her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking with giggles.

"Come on," I said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Let's get you to Recovery Girl. We need to get you patched up."

She nodded, leaning into me as we walked.

As we walked towards Recovery Girl's office, my mind drifted back to my battle training match with Kacchan. The raw power, the relentless aggression, the way he came at me with everything he had. It was a stark contrast to the Kacchan I had just seen.

In our previous fight, Kacchan had always relied on his instincts, on the brute force of his quirk. He would lash out with explosions, hoping to overwhelm his opponent with sheer power. But now, as I thought back to the matches I'd seen throughout the festival, I realized something had changed.

Kacchan's moves were more calculated, more precise. He wasn't just reacting anymore, he was thinking ahead. Each blast was controlled, aimed to achieve a specific purpose. Whether it was to create distance, to throw off his opponent's balance, or to set up for a bigger attack, there was a strategy behind every move.

It was a subtle shift, but to me, it spoke volumes. Kacchan was evolving, growing as a fighter and as a hero. He was learning to control his power, to use it with intention rather than just letting it explode out of him.

I thought back to his match with Uraraka, how he had kept her at bay with targeted blasts, never letting her get too close. And against Kirishima, he had adapted on the fly, changing his tactics to deal with Kirishima's hardening quirk.

It was impressive, and if I was being honest, a little bit daunting. But I shook off that thought as quickly as it came. I couldn't afford to doubt myself, not now. I had my own strengths, my own skills that I had honed.

Kacchan might be evolving, but so was I. And in the finals, we would see just how far we had both come.

I clenched my fists, feeling the Tandava's power lick at my fingers. I was ready. Ready to face Kacchan, ready to give everything I had. In the end, it didn't matter who won or lost. What mattered was that we would push each other to our limits and beyond, just as we always had.

That was the promise we had made on that rooftop. To keep chasing each other, to keep driving each other forward. And I intended to keep that promise, no matter what.

So bring it on, Kacchan. Show me how much you've grown. Because I've got a few surprises of my own, and I can't wait to see the look on your face when I unveil them.

In the end, that's what this was all about. Not just winning, but growing. Becoming the heroes we were always meant to be.

And I couldn't think of a better way to do that than by facing my oldest rival on the biggest stage of all.

(Unknown Location)

In a dim, secluded alley, the metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air. A pro hero lay crumpled on the ground, his once vibrant costume now stained a dark, sickening red. His shallow breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the crushing weight of his injuries.

A figure loomed over him, their face shrouded in shadow. They surveyed the fallen hero with a mix of disdain and disgust, a sneer twisting their lips.

"You call yourself a hero?" the figure scoffed, their voice dripping with contempt. "You're nothing but a pretender, a false idol."

The hero tried to respond, but all that came out was a gurgling cough, blood bubbling from his lips.

The figure crouched down, bringing their face closer to the hero's. In the faint light, their eyes gleamed with a fanatic intensity.

"There's only one true hero," they hissed. "Only one worthy of the title. All Might."

They stood, their gaze distant, as if seeing something beyond the confines of the alley.

"He's the symbol, the pinnacle," they whispered, the name almost reverent on their tongue. "The only one strong enough, righteous enough, to be called a hero."

A harsh laugh tore from their throat, the sound echoing off the narrow walls.

"And he's the only one worthy of taking me down," they declared, their voice rising with a fevered intensity. "The only one I'll allow to stop me, to end me."

They looked back down at the hero, their expression twisting into something ugly, something cruel.

"But you?" they sneered. "You're just a message. A warning to the world that their false heroes are nothing, that their faith is misplaced."

They reached behind their back, their hand grasping the hilt of a wicked-looking blade.

"Let's see how society reacts when they find their heroes bleeding in the gutters."

The hero's eyes widened, fear and desperation mingling in his gaze.

But before the figure could draw their blade, the distant wail of police sirens cut through the air. They froze, their head snapping towards the sound.

"Tch," they spat, annoyance flashing across their features. "Out of time."

They looked back at the hero, a cold smile spreading across their lips.

"Looks like you get to live another day, 'hero'."

With a swirl of their tattered cloak, the figure vanished into the shadows, leaving the hero bleeding and broken in the empty alley.

The sirens grew louder, closer, but the hero's vision was already fading, the world turning gray at the edges.

As he slipped into unconsciousness, a single thought echoed through his mind, a desperate, terrified plea.

Tenya... I'm sorry.

(Izuku Midoriya's POV)

After taking Momo to Recovery Girl's office, I stood in the entrance tunnel, my heart pounding in my chest. The roar of the crowd was a distant thunder, muffled by the thick concrete walls. But even from here, I could feel the energy, the anticipation crackling in the air.

This was it. The final match. The one that would decide the winner of the U.A. Sports Festival.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I could feel the Tandava stirring within me, responding to my heightened emotions, waiting to be unleashed.

Suddenly, Present Mic's voice boomed over the loudspeakers.

"ALRIGHT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" he shouted, his voice filled with manic energy. "ARE YOU READY FOR THE MATCH OF THE CENTURY?"

The crowd roared in response, the sound shaking the very foundations of the stadium.

"THAT'S WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR!" Present Mic crowed. "BECAUSE HAVE WE GOT A TREAT FOR YOU TODAY!"

I could almost see him, leaning forward in his announcer's booth, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

"IN THE RED CORNER, WE HAVE THE EXPLOSIVE POWERHOUSE, THE WALKING DYNAMO, THE ONE AND ONLY... KATSUKI BAKUGO!"

The crowd went wild, their cheers and stomps merging into a deafening cacophony.

"AND IN THE BLUE CORNER," Present Mic continued, his voice somehow rising above the din, "WE HAVE THE RISING STAR, THE FAN FAVORITE, THE EMBODIMENT OF 'PLUS ULTRA' HIMSELF... IZUKU MIDORIYA!"

If possible, the noise from the stands grew even louder. I could feel it in my bones, a physical force that threatened to sweep me away.

"NOW, FOLKS, WHAT MAKES THIS MATCH SO SPECIAL, YOU ASK? WELL, LET ME TELL YOU A LITTLE STORY."

I blinked. What was Present Mic doing?

"YOU SEE, THESE TWO YOUNG HEROES-IN-TRAINING AREN'T JUST RIVALS. THEY'RE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS, FOLKS. THAT'S RIGHT, THEY'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER SINCE THEY WERE KNEE-HIGH TO A GRASSHOPPER."

Huh? How the hell did Present Mic know about that?

"NOW, HERE THEY ARE, ON THE BIGGEST STAGE OF THEM ALL, READY TO PROVE ONCE AND FOR ALL WHO'S THE TOP DOG. BUT HERE'S THE THING, FOLKS. THIS ISN'T JUST ABOUT WINNING OR LOSING. FOR THESE TWO, THIS FIGHT IS PERSONAL. IT'S ABOUT PRIDE, ABOUT HONOR, ABOUT SHOWING THE WORLD WHAT THEY'RE MADE OF."

I felt a shiver run down my spine. Present Mic's words were hitting close to home, striking a chord deep within me.

"SO GET READY, LADIES AND GENTS. BECAUSE WHEN THESE TWO TITANS COLLIDE, IT'S GONNA BE A BATTLE FOR THE AGES. A CLASH OF WILLS, A TEST OF STRENGTH AND SPIRIT."

I clenched my fists, feeling the Tandava's flames licking at my fingertips. He was right. This was more than just a fight. It was a reckoning, a moment of truth.

"WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED! MIDORIYA! BAKUGO! TAKE YOUR PLACES!"

I stepped out into the sunlight, the roar of the crowd washing over me. Across the arena, I saw Kacchan emerge from his own tunnel, his face set in a determined scowl.

Our eyes met, red on green, and in that moment, a understanding passed between us. A recognition of what this meant, of how far we had come to reach this point.

I felt a grin spread across my face, wild and fierce and full of the joy of battle.

Bring it on, Kacchan. Let's show them what we're made of.

"READY?" Present Mic's voice cut through the air like a knife.

I dropped into a stance, the Tandava surging through my veins.

"START!"

Here we go.

Plus Ultra.