Chapter 41: U.A Sports Festival: Tournament [3]

Yami walked up to the stands, his body still steaming slightly from the intense fight with Todoroki. 

The crowd's cheers were fading behind him as he made his way up the steps, feeling the weight of the battle slowly ease off his shoulders. 

He spotted Momo sitting comfortably in the front row, her massive tub of popcorn already half gone and her giant soda nearly drained.

He smirked. "You didn't even wait for me."

Momo barely glanced at him, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth. "You took your sweet time," she replied, though a soft smile was on her lips. 

As Yami sat beside her, she leaned into his shoulder, her thick black hair brushing against his jawline.

"You really did a number out there," she said, her voice quieter now. "You sure you're okay? Last time you did that, I saw you curled up like a hedgehog."

Yami sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… need to cool down after Gear 2. Gets the blood pumping a little too hard."

Momo frowned, clearly still worried. She reached up and gently traced a finger down his jaw, feeling the heat still radiating off him. "You're pushing yourself too much."

Yami shrugged. "It's kinda the point."

Momo rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Instead, she asked, "Where do you even learn all this stuff? Half the school thinks you have ten quirks by now."

Yami chuckled. "People talk too much." He leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs. 

"But it's not that complicated. When your body can regenerate almost instantly, and you've got full control over everything—heartbeat, blood pressure, muscle strength—humans can do crazy shit. It's about figuring out how to make it all work together."

Momo blinked at him, her big dark eyes wide. "You make it sound so simple."

Yami snorted. "It is. You just gotta be willing to break yourself a few dozen times to figure it out."

Before Momo could reply, a loud thud echoed next to them as Ochaco flopped into the empty seat beside Yami. She let out a long, tired groan, her short brown hair sticking to her sweaty forehead.

"I'm dead," she mumbled, slumping forward.

Yami raised an eyebrow. "You don't look so good."

"I got thrown around like a ragdoll," she groaned, barely able to lift her head.

Without another word, Yami reached over and placed two fingers on her neck. Ochaco blinked in confusion, but a soft warmth spread through her before she could ask what he was doing. 

Her limbs stopped aching, the pounding headache faded, and her energy came rushing back like she'd just chugged five energy drinks.

"Whoa," she gasped, sitting upright. "What was that?!"

"Stamina Sharing," Yami said casually. "Figured I'd be nice."

Ochaco stared at him, wide-eyed. "You can just… do that?"

He shrugged. "Perks of my weird-ass quirk."

Ochaco opened her mouth to say something else but stopped herself. Instead, she smiled and muttered, "Thanks, Yami."

"No problem."

The three of them sat back in their seats, the noise of the stadium buzzing around them. They watched as the next set of matches played out—Bakugo exploding his way through Kirishima, Momo outsmarting Shinso by using noise-cancelling headphones to block his quirk, and Ojiro going head-to-head with Kendo in a surprisingly close fight that ended with Kendo barely winning by knocking him off balance with a massive punch.

Throughout it all, Yami barely paid attention. His mind wandered, thinking about the next round, about Bakugo and how much fun it would be to finally punch that angry pomeranian into the ground.

Beside him, Momo absentmindedly fed him popcorn while Ochaco excitedly pointed out moments in the fights she liked.

For a moment, everything felt calm.

Yami smiled. Moments like this didn't happen often. But damn, they were nice.

'When I get home, I'll get some steak; maybe I'll have Angela and Momo suck me off while I watch some TV...'

As Yami shoved a fistful of popcorn into his mouth, the loudspeakers crackled to life, and Present Mic's booming voice echoed through the stadium.

"ALRIGHT, FOLKS! UP NEXT, WE'VE GOT A CLASH YOU DON'T WANNA MISS—YAMI IWATANI VS. KATSUKI BAKUGO!"

The crowd roared excitedly, stomping and waving flags as the screen flashed the upcoming match. Yami wiped his greasy hands on his pants, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

"Well, guess that's my cue," he said, popping the last piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Momo let out a long sigh. She tilted her head, her glossy black hair sliding over her shoulder. "Yami, please… don't beat him too badly."

Ochaco, seated on the other side, nodded quickly, her big brown eyes full of worry. "Yeah, Bakugo's… well, he's explosive—literally. But you don't have to send him to the hospital."

Yami chuckled, brushing popcorn crumbs off his shirt. "I'll try," he replied, though the mischievous glint in his golden eyes suggested otherwise.

Momo rolled her eyes. "That's not exactly comforting."

Yami stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His joints popped loudly, and the tension from the last fight slowly faded from his muscles. 

He twisted his neck left and right, loosening up as he made his way down the steps of the stands.

Ochaco watched him go, biting her lip nervously. "Do you think he'll actually go easy on Bakugo?"

Momo snorted. "Not a chance; I've known him since we were kids, and if there's something he loves, is fucking and fighting; I really hope he doesn't mess up Bakugo too badly."

Yami walked through the tunnel leading to the arena, his boots echoing against the concrete walls. The air grew heavier as he approached the field, the crowd's noise pounding in his ears.

He could already hear Bakugo yelling somewhere ahead—probably threatening someone or blowing stuff up to "warm up."

When Yami stepped onto the field, Bakugo was already there, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His hands gleamed under the sunlight, and his wild blond hair stuck out in every direction. His red eyes locked onto Yami the second he appeared.

"Bout time, dumbass!" Bakugo snarled, cracking his knuckles. "I've been waitin' to blow you the hell up!"

Yami shoved his hands into his pockets. "Wow. You ever take a break from being this angry, or is that a full-time job?"

Bakugo's face twisted in pure rage. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

The crowd went wild at Bakugo's outburst, loving the energy. Present Mic practically lost his mind over the microphone.

"LOOK AT THIS! FIRE AND ICE WAS COOL, BUT THIS? THIS IS GONNA BE EXPLOSIVE!"

Midnight raised her whip, stepping forward in her skin-tight outfit. "You both ready?" she asked, though she barely got the words out before Bakugo roared, "YEAH!"

Yami grinned lazily. "Sure, why not."

The crowd held its breath. Midnight cracked the whip.

"BEGIN!"

Bakugo didn't waste a second. He blasted forward, explosions ripping through the ground as he launched himself like a missile straight at Yami. Smoke and sparks filled the air as his hands aimed for Yami's face.

But Yami didn't even flinch.

He stepped to the side at the last second, Bakugo's explosive punch missing by inches. The blast left a cloud of smoke where Yami had been standing, dust kicking up into the air.

"Too slow, jackass," Yami teased as he grabbed Bakugo's forearm and threw him away like a child, flicking a piece of dust off his shoulder.

Bakugo spun mid-air and fired another explosion from his palm, propelling himself back at Yami. This time, Yami ducked low, sweeping Bakugo's legs out from under him as he fell. 

Bakugo tumbled through the air but caught himself with another explosion, landing on his feet.

The crowd went insane, screaming and cheering as the two stared down at each other.

"You know, for someone who talks so much shit, you really aren't all that," Yami sneered. He let out an exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms above his head like he was about to take a nap. 

"For a manchild your age, I figured you'd have picked up some proper martial arts. I mean, you've got decent control over your quirk, but that's it. No real skill, just boom-boom and screaming."

Bakugo's face twisted, and even then, the bastard looked handsome. His teeth clenched so hard it looked like they might crack. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY, YOU DAMN BASTARD?!"

Yami grinned wider, completely unfazed. "I said you're nothing special. In fact, I'll make this fun for me. I'm gonna beat the absolute shit out of you using nothing but my fists. No quirks, no fancy moves—just raw hands. Wanna bet on it?"

The crowd gasped at the bold claim. Even Midnight's eyebrows shot up. Present Mic practically screamed into the mic, "YOU HEARD IT, FOLKS! IWATANI'S GONNA FIGHT BAKUGO HAND-TO-HAND! NO QUIRKS! THIS IS MADNESS!"

In the stands, Momo bit her lower lip, her thighs pressing together as she stared at Yami with heated eyes. 

She hated cocky jocks like Bakugo—always acting tough, never thinking—but seeing Yami effortlessly put him in his place? That was hitting all the right buttons for her. 

Her mind wandered, imagining herself under the bleachers later, on her knees, giving Yami the reward he deserved. She clenched her thighs tighter, feeling the heat pool between her legs. 

'Damn it, Yami… stop being so hot when you're cocky.'

On the field, Bakugo wasn't having it. "I'LL SHOVE YOUR WORDS DOWN YOUR THROAT!" he roared, launching himself at Yami with a powerful explosion from his palms. 

The blast cracked the ground beneath his feet, and he came in fast, both fists glowing with sparks.

Yami's expression didn't change.

At the last second, Yami sidestepped the attack with ease, yet again. Yami flicked Bakugo's wrist aside with a casual slap, making Bakugo stumble forward.

"Wow, is that it? But third makes right, am I right?" Yami taunted, spinning on his heel and driving his knee hard into Bakugo's side.

The sound of Bakugo's rib snapping echoed through the stadium. Bakugo gasped sharply, the air knocked from his lungs as he stumbled back, one arm clutching his side.

The crowd went wild.

Yami didn't give him time to recover. He stepped forward, fast as lightning, and chopped his hand against Bakugo's throat. Bakugo gagged, his hands flying to his neck as he staggered backwards, coughing hard.

"You should've learned some self-control," Yami muttered before driving a brutal punch straight into Bakugo's liver.

Bakugo's entire body froze from the pain, his knees buckling as he gasped in agony. His arms dropped for a split second, his body reacting to the sharp, stabbing sensation in his side.

Bakugo tried to shake it off, but Yami casually kicked him down, sending Bakugo face-first into the ground with a loud BAM.

"Embarrassing," Yami snorted.

Before Bakugo could scramble to his feet, Yami dropped down to the ground, locking his arm around Bakugo's neck in a tight chokehold. 

His muscles flexed, and Bakugo's gasps turned into frantic, panicked wheezing. He clawed at Yami's arm, sparks flying from his hands, but Yami just squeezed harder.

"You're not getting out of this," Yami growled into Bakugo's ear.

Bakugo's vision blurred as oxygen fled his lungs. His arms grew weak, the sparks from his palms fading.

Then, with one last burst of strength, Yami shoved Bakugo upward and drove his boot straight into his gut, launching him into the air.

"TIME TO FLY, DUMBASS!"

Bakugo sailed through the air, flipping uncontrollably before slamming hard against the stadium's edge. His body bounced once before tumbling out of bounds, landing in the dirt with a painful thud.

The entire stadium went silent.

Then—

"WINNER! YAMI IWATANI!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, people jumping out of their seats and screaming his name. Present Mic was practically losing his mind.

"DID YOU SEE THAT?! HE TOOK DOWN BAKUGO WITH NOTHING BUT HIS BARE HANDS! THAT WAS SAVAGE!"

Yami dusted his hands off like he'd just taken out the trash.

In the stands, Momo's face was flushed deep red, her mind a swirling mess of excitement and lust. 'Oh, I'm definitely sucking him off later. Right after the tournament. No—during the next break.'

Meanwhile, Recovery Girl sighed from her seat on the sidelines. "That Bakugo kid's gonna need a full rib reconstruction," she muttered, already grabbing her healing gear and spiting on her palms.

Yami didn't care, he couldn't care.

He raised a fist toward the crowd, his golden eyes glinting.

"ONE MORE DOWN," he shouted, "WHO'S NEXT?"