Chapter 40 Sports Festival 3 - Dante? Vs Shinso

The sun blazed down on the stadium as it roared with anticipation. The massive arena buzzed with tension, all the fans gripped the rails of their seats and chanted for the fight. All eyes turned to the center of the ring, where the stone battlefield awaited the next combatants.

Present Mic's voice boomed across the arena.

"ALRIGHT FOLKS! Our first match is a special one! In one corner, we've got the mystery marvel of class 1-A! A true hero in the making! The sludgy striker with his terrifying quirk—DANTE GRAVES!"

A wave of cheers erupted. Some screamed his name, others chanted "Sludge King!" Which was a horrible nickname the media had tried to push since his debut in the USJ incident. (Dante hates it)

Dante strolled into the arena from his side gate, calm, unreadable expression, his hands in his pockets. His ripped uniform fluttered in the wind slightly.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered under his breath.

Present Mic continued.

"AND IN THE OTHER CORNER! From general studies, but don't let that fool you! HITOSHI SHINSO!!"

They both took their places at opposite ends of the field.

Midnight raised a hand between them. "Combatants ready? First to step out of bounds or get knocked out loses. No killing."

Dante exhaled.

Shinso cracked his neck.

Midnight sliced the air.

BEGIN!

Neither moved.

Then Shinso took a step forward and said, in a lazy voice, "So… tell me something, Mr. Graves…"

Dante didn't respond, he just stood there.

Shinso smirked faintly. "You're pretty famous right? Everyone saw your disgusting shitty quirk show during the cavalry battle. Must be nice, having a scary quirk like that."

Still no reply.

"But I wonder… do you seriously think you'd make it this far without that quirk? You're not special. Without that quirk, you'd be a little street rat right? I know about your past, Dante."

Dante's jaw tightened just slightly.

"Maybe everyone's just cheering because they're scared."

Dante's eyes narrowed.

Little Dante's eyes were wide with rage.

"You're just a villain in hero's clothing right? You have no real friends. No trust. You're just a weapon waiting to snap just like your father. Right?"

"…what did you just say?" Dante replied, the words spilled from his mouth without thought, a small spark of fire followed the words out of his mouth.

That was it.

His pupils immediately dilated. His body locked in place.

Shinso's eyes flashed with triumph.

"Gotcha."

The crowd gasped as Dante, once a wall of confidence, suddenly stood straight with a blank face.

"Turn around and leave."

Then he turned around.

And began walking toward the edge of the arena.

Present Mic's voice cracked, unsure. "U-uh… folks, it looks like Shinso's got something up his sleeve—wait, is Dante… is he really…?"

Step by step, Dante moved, almost like he was a puppet on strings. Shinso didn't even smile. He just watched with his arms crossed, like it was already over.

But for Dante…

"What the fuck are you doing?"

The voice was small, high pitched.

Little Dante walked alongside him.

Dante couldn't reply.

"I said… what are you doing? Why aren't you fighting? Why are you walking away?!"

Dante's face remained still, but there was a flicker, like static.

"…Not my choice," his voice echoed, slow and strained. "I'm being… controlled."

Little Dante stomped forward. "I get it… this guy, he's brainwashing you, right?"

Dante's consciousness twitched once more. "…I think so, yeah."

"Then stop him! Come on! You're stronger than this."

"I… I can't!"

"Then I will."

Suddenly, little Dante's figure flowed out like mist around Dante's body. A pulse of rage flooded his body, anger, fury, HATRED.

Just inches from the boundary.

His foot hovered above the line.

The crowd leaned forward.

Midnight began to raise her hands

Shinso's eyes widened. "What…?"

Small sparks of fire flickered out from Dante's mouth.

His fingers twitched. Then his neck. His foot slowly lowered… back into the battle field.

Then—

His body started to spasm.

Dante(?) clutched his skull with a feral snarl as he turned back toward Shinso, his red eyes had changed, the X's had changed to O's.

"I'm… I'm gonna…"

"FUCKING KILL YOU..!!!!"

Shinso took a step back.

"What the hell…?" He muttered.

Dante started to stomp forward, snarling like a feral animal, the chains that were holding him back were shattered.

"What did you say," the boy growled, shoulders rising and falling. "What did you say… about my father…?"

Our Dante watched from the edge of his own mind, heart pounding as he felt the fury build up.

"Calm down…" he whispered. "You can't kill him! We'll be disqualified!"

Little Dante didn't listen. He turned toward the mental image of Shinso's words, replaying them again and again. Every insult.

"Street rat?"

"No friends?"

"Villain?"

With every word, his body twitched, twisted, bent in ways a humans body shouldn't.

"Just a weapon…"

Veins surged red across his neck and arms, sludge pulsing beneath his skin. His body shifting ever so slightly, his shoulders were hunched, claws halfway formed, teeth gritting into fangs.

Shinso raised his arms, trying to play it smart. "Hey, don't do anything stupid… I can forfeit! Okay? Just…"

"Stupid?"

Little Dante's voice was low. Dangerous.

"You think I'm stupid? You think you can say that shit and walk away?"

Shinso's eyes widened, "Ah! I forf—"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Dante was before him.

CRACK!

Shinso's arm shot up to block, too slow. Dante's fist slammed into his gut with a wet, bone deep impact, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Before he could even breathe, Dante was already on him.

SLAM!

A hardened fist to the chest.

CRUNCH!

A clawed swipe to the leg.

"Villain? Weapon? Street rat? Oh yeah?"

BAM!

"No friends right? Where are yours?"

CRACK!

"Don't go acting like you know the first thing about me, stay grovelling at my feet, dog."

The arena was dead silent. There were no cheers. No gasps. No breaths even.

Just the sound of gravel smashing over and over, the sound of flesh hitting shone, the sound of soft, pained grunts Shinso tried to swallow down.

Dante didn't let him pass out.

Dante didn't throw him out of the ring.

He beat him down. Slowly. Painfully.

Every blow was precise. Every movement was restrained just enough to stay barely within the rules. But the message was more than clear.

"You don't get to use my mind against me."

Not without any consequences.

That's when midnight finally stepped in, her voice was sharp.

"That's enough, Graves! Step back!"

'Dante' stood over Shinso, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the cracked ground.

Shinso coughed, curled on his side, drenched in blood.

Dante turned away, steam rising from his body.

He didn't look proud.

He didn't smirk.

He didn't speak.

He just walked off the field, muttering,

"Fuckass bitch acting like he knows me."

Winner : Dante Graves.

…

…

The hallway was cold. Not physically, it was brightly lit, clean, very sterile. But to Dante, it felt like a morgue. Like he'd just crawled out of something that should've stayed buried.

His feet dragged. Every step was louder than it should've been.

He reached the waiting room door, shoved it open with a trembling hand and immediately fell to his knees.

He didn't throw up.

Not at first.

His throat felt hot.

He tried to breathe.

And that was the mistake.

Smoke.

Thick black smoke curled out from his lips with his next exhale.

He hunched over trash bin in the corner, arms shaking, body steaming, bile rising. His stomach heaved again and again, but he was forcing it back down, he needed to keep his calories.

"What… the hell?" He rasped.

His tongue felt like it had been torched. His chest was still burning.

He thought back to when little Dante took over.

He remembered the embers that had came out of his mouth, he remembered the crack in his arm when he went flying.

Why? Why was this happening?

"Hey." Little Dante's voice echoed from somewhere in his head. Unbothered.

He appeared across from him, sitting cross legged on an invisible chair, idly twirling his hair.

"You okay?"

Dante shot him a look, eyes still wide, back to the X shape.

"What the hell was that about?!"

Little Dante blinked, then he shrugged.

"Dunno, I was mad."

"That— Being mad doesn't relate to BREATHING FIRE?? You nearly made us lose control completely, what if we killed him and got disqualified?!"

"I didn't. We're still here."

Dante dragged his fingers through his sweat drenched hair, eyes unfocused.

"I can't do this. We're not stable. You're me, but you're not. You acted on your own. I'm grateful you kept me in the tournament, but you didn't need to go overboard."

Little Dante stared at him for a long moment.

"You let me."

Dante didn't argue.

Because that was the truth.

The moment he'd heard Shinso talk shit, controlling his mind, manipulating him, controlling him. Just like that man did before he came to this world… he had let everything go. He wanted revenge. Only, those feelings were locked away within little Dante, so he didn't know.

A knock hit the door.

Then a staff member leaned in, giving him a nervous glance.

"Mr. Graves… are you okay?"

Dante looked up, still dazed, faint smoke still coming from his mouth.

He nodded.

"I'm good to go."

The door shut again.

And he was alone.

"I will win."