Chapter 46: Clash
The silence was broken by fists.
Aizawa moved first, fast and low—no wasted motion. He stepped off the centerline, arm sweeping toward Harue's head with whip-like precision. Harue ducked and countered with a sharp jab to the ribs, connecting—but only barely. The impact was solid, but Aizawa didn't even flinch.
Harue didn't have time to think. A follow-up elbow came swinging in. He blocked with his forearm, but the force rattled his bones.
Jesus. The guy hits like a crowbar wrapped in muscle.
The pristine streets of U.A.'s training city echoed with the scuffle. Glass panes shimmered untouched, pristine sidewalks caught the scuff of every boot. The fight might've been dirty, but the setting was almost surgical in its design—too clean, too perfect. It made every grunt, every blow, feel louder.
Aizawa stepped in again, eyes glowing red. Harue twisted away from the capture move, then ducked under a high kick and drove a knee up into Aizawa's side.
It landed.
Not hard enough to drop him—but enough to make him step back.
Harue didn't smile.
He couldn't afford to.
His lungs were already burning. His shoulder stung. His hands were bruised from striking harder surfaces than most humans were meant to punch.
I've landed, what… two hits? Three? he thought as he circled, boots scraping against faux concrete. He's landed ten. At least. Maybe more.
He moved again, feinting left, then striking right—but Aizawa was already there, ducking under and driving a fist into Harue's ribs.
"Ughh-" Harue stumbled, coughing.
He spat onto the ground and grinned.
Well, there go movie night plans. Hope Mina's into broken ribs.
He raised his fists again.
Aizawa didn't slow. The teacher was like a machine—relentless, focused. His breathing barely shifted, even with the handicap weights dragging down every step.
Harue pivoted and kicked toward the shin. Aizawa blocked, countered with a palm strike. Harue ducked again, spun, and aimed a quick strike to the neck.
It connected. Briefly.
The moment his hand touched skin, Aizawa trapped it, twisted his arm, and slammed Harue's back into a nearby delivery van with enough force to dent the side.
The teen groaned, rolling off the metal as it groaned under his weight.
Still think this was a good idea? he asked himself, dragging himself upright. Fighting him hand-to-hand, quirkless? Great plan. Top ten anime betrayals—starring me.
But he knew why he was doing this.
He'd had plenty of chances.
There were moments—seconds—where Aizawa blinked. Where his Quirk dropped. Where Harue could've ignited, just once, and ended it.
An eruption of fire to the face. One quick incineration.
But that'd prove nothing.
People would see it and say he cracked under pressure. That he couldn't handle a challenge without cheating. That Harue Dai was just another impulsive firecracker with no control.
So he held back.
Even when it hurt.
Even when his muscles screamed and his vision blurred at the edges.
He grit his teeth and went back in.
⸻
Five more minutes passed. Ten.
Harue's movements grew heavier, slower. Sweat clung to his brow. His vision flickered between clarity and fog. Aizawa's attacks remained steady—controlled. He wasn't trying to injure. Just outlast.
Harue tried a leg sweep. A feint. A hook to the liver.
Most of it was blocked.
He caught Aizawa in the chest once with a shove and followed with a shoulder check that knocked the teacher into a streetlight pole—but the retaliation was instant. A gut punch. Then a brutal kick to the thigh that sent Harue to a knee.
His breathing was ragged now.
And yet… he smiled.
Not because he was winning.
But because he hadn't quit.
Aizawa lunged again, arms moving in a blur.
Harue tried to block—but he was too slow.
In a flash, Aizawa was behind him, arm hooked around his neck, one knee pressing into the back of Harue's spine. He twisted, pulled, and brought him down to the pavement with brutal grace.
Pinned.
Concrete scraped Harue's cheek. He growled, tried to buck—nothing. Too late.
"You fought well," Aizawa said, calm but sincere. "Better than I expected."
Harue didn't answer at first.
Then…
A smirk crept onto his face.
"Yeah… but I'm not the only one you had to test."
Aizawa blinked.
His eyes widened.
Too late.
From the rooftops above, a compressed steel net launched down with a metallic snap!—lightweight, reinforced with shock-capacitor lines. It wrapped around Aizawa's shoulders just as a second payload hit the ground near them.
CRACK!
Electric current surged through the net, sending Aizawa into a twitching, frozen spasm. He groaned, eyes squeezing shut as the voltage short-circuited his Quirk and dropped him like a sack of bricks.
Harue rolled free, coughing and laughing as he stared up.
"Momo! Good job!"
Above, Momo Yaoyorozu stood at the edge of the roof, hair slightly windblown, her modified launcher still raised. She let out a long breath and lowered the weapon, a rare smile gracing her lips.
"I… I wasn't sure it'd hit," she admitted as she slowly climbed down.
"It was perfect." Harue pushed himself to his feet slowly, every part of his body screaming. "Timing, angle, force—you nailed it."
She looked flustered. "But it was your plan…"
Harue shook his head, then winced. "No plan works without the right partner. You pulled it off."
They both turned toward Aizawa, who now lay fully restrained on the pavement, eyes blinking slowly as the current faded.
He exhaled long and slow.
"Clever," he said at last, voice raspy. "You baited me into tunnel vision. Let me get focused on you alone."
He looked at Harue.
"You were taking hits to keep me locked in. Buying time."
Harue nodded, leaning heavily against a nearby mailbox. "Pretty much."
Aizawa looked to Momo, who stood quietly nearby, trying not to fidget.
"And you… you waited. Watched for the moment. Used non-lethal suppression force. Designed the net yourself?"
She nodded. "Y-yes, sensei."
A long silence.
Then—Aizawa chuckled, the sound dry and rare.
"You two pass."
Harue grinned. "Hell yeah."
Then, as they knelt down to start untying him, a voice echoed across the entire testing zone, booming from hidden speakers scattered throughout the city blocks.
"Congratulations! Team Harue Dai and Momo Yaoyorozu have officially passed the exam!"
It was Recovery Girl's voice—cheerful and clinical.
"They are the first pair to complete their test. Well done!"
The announcement rang through the air like a bell.
Far away, in different corners of the U.A. facility, other students paused mid-battle.
Team Iida and Ojiro ducked behind a wall. Mina glanced up from a pile of foam insulation. Kaminari looked confused mid-shock. Bakugo growled, already annoyed someone beat him.
But back in Zone 2, Harue simply let himself drop onto a nearby bench with a groan.
"Well… that was fun."
Momo sat beside him, looking unsure whether to smile or faint.
Aizawa, now free and standing up looked at them silently.
Eventually, a small, barely-there smile tugged at his lips.
"…You're improving."
Harue chuckled.
"Next time, though," he said with a mock glare, "can we plan something that doesn't involve me getting beat like a drum for ten minutes?"
Momo laughed—quiet and short, but real.
And with that, the test ended.
⸻