"Scorching Hell!"
This upgraded magma-zone technique instantly generated an enormous amount of high-temperature magma.
Masata's hands turned a vivid crimson as torrents of molten lava poured from both arms, splashing onto the ground and continuously accumulating until a small magma pool formed beneath his feet.
The dry ice scattered across the arena fought back fiercely, rapidly absorbing the heat. Portions of the magma cooled and solidified into volcanic rock, creating a brief visual equilibrium.
But the dry ice was finite.
The magma output, however, kept accelerating.
Soon, the dry ice completely sublimated into gas and vanished. In its place, thick, glowing magma surged freely across the ground.
"Ha… looks like that's it," Yaoyorozu muttered calmly.
"I don't know whether Masata could endure liquid nitrogen, but I can't make that right now."
Then, without hesitation—
"Referee, I surrender."
Hearing Yaoyorozu's words made Masata's heart twitch.
Liquid nitrogen…?
Minus 196 degrees Celsius.
Masata had absolutely no interest in personally testing whether his body could handle something that extreme.
With that battle concluded, the finals were officially set.
Because Masata's techniques had left the arena in shambles, the field required extensive cleanup before the final match could begin.
Humming softly to himself, Masata started back toward the stands to rest—but his steps slowed when he noticed a familiar figure sitting alone nearby.
"Hey, isn't this Shinso?"
"Why are you sitting here by yourself?"
After recognizing him, Masata immediately remembered—this was Midoriya's opponent, the one eliminated early, yet impossible to forget.
"Igarashi… what do you want?"
Shinso responded coldly.
"It's nothing, really. Just wanted to say hi—eh?!"
Suddenly, Masata felt his body slip out of his control.
"Tch… careless."
"I really envy people like you."
Shinso shoved his hands into his pockets and spoke with open disdain.
"What do you envy?"
"?!"
Shinso had already turned away, but Masata's response froze him in place. His eyes widened in shock.
"Your Quirk is amazing," Masata continued calmly.
"Mind control, right? It's strange, practical, and incredibly powerful."
Recalling the brief moment of lost control earlier, Masata sighed.
"If my body weren't unusually strong, I probably wouldn't have broken free."
"…"
Shinso exhaled quietly and avoided Masata's gaze.
"You were born with an ideal Quirk," he said flatly.
"People like you—who can chase their dreams freely—will never understand me."
"Ideal… Quirk?"
Masata finally understood.
Placed in the general studies course despite such a powerful ability, Shinso's resentment was obvious.
"You think your Quirk isn't suited for being a hero, don't you?"
Silence.
Since middle school, Shinso's Brainwashing Quirk had made others wary of him. Even he himself believed it—anyone who gained such power would instinctively use it for evil.
It was a villain's ability.
"Because it only works on people?" Masata pressed gently.
"That's why you were eliminated during the entrance exam?"
Still no response.
Masata smiled.
"I think your Quirk is incredible."
Shinso's eyes flickered.
"You can subdue villains without destruction, without collateral damage. That's amazing.
So—how about joining my hero agency someday?"
"…Your hero agency?"
Shinso finally looked at him.
"You're already planning to go independent after graduation?"
"Of course," Masata replied casually.
"I want to be the strongest—and the freest. Having my own agency is only natural. Two people have already agreed to join. Want to think about it?"
The sincerity in Masata's tone caught Shinso completely off guard.
"You're not afraid," Shinso asked quietly,
"that I might use this power for evil… or even control you?"
Masata laughed openly.
"Didn't you just say you have your own dream?
You want to be a hero, right?"
He leaned closer.
"And someone who works that hard to become a hero won't suddenly become a monster."
"…Besides," Masata added lightly,
"your Quirk barely works on me. So let me be your restraint."
"Your power will shine in my agency."
Those words pierced through the mist surrounding Shinso's heart.
"Let you be my… shackle?"
Someone immune to his Quirk.
Someone willing to trust him completely.
The idea shook him deeply.
"A shackle built on mutual trust…"
"That actually sounds… good."
For the first time, the cold expression on Shinso's face softened.
He turned to look directly at Masata.
"Your invitation is interesting. If I don't have a better path after graduation, I'll consider it."
Then his voice firmed.
"And even if I lost badly this time, I will enter the hero course.
I will get my license.
I will become a hero."
He paused.
"And one more thing—"
A faint smile appeared on Shinso's face for the first time.
"As the future Number One… shouldn't you prove you're worthy of inviting me—in the next match?"
"Prove myself?" Masata laughed loudly.
"Hahaha! I don't really care what people think—
but sure, consider it reassurance!"
He turned and waved over his shoulder.
"Just sit there and watch!"
Masata walked back toward the stands, leaving Shinso alone.
"I will become a hero," Shinso whispered, clenching his fists.
"What happened? Why are you smiling like that?"
Since there were no serious injuries in the last match—only massive stamina loss—Yaoyorozu was currently consuming high-calorie food with full focus.
Masata sat down beside Yaoyorozu and Uraraka, still grinning.
"I met a really interesting guy," he said honestly.
"He might become our partner in the future."
...
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