MHA; Natsu Dragneel!

**Chapter 32: Burst**

The arena was a tempest of raw energy, a living, breathing entity fueled by the deafening roar of the crowd. From the highest tiers to the front rows, every seat was occupied, every pair of eyes locked onto the chaos unfolding below. The air was thick with anticipation, the collective heartbeat of the audience syncing with the rapid-fire commentary blaring through the speakers. It was a symphony of excitement, a crescendo of adrenaline that made the very walls vibrate.

"Natsu isn't giving anyone a moment to breathe! He's charging headlong into every team without a second thought!" Yamada's voice crackled through the sound system, his tone electric, mirroring the crowd's fervor.

Beside him, Aizawa sat in stark contrast, his posture relaxed, his expression one of practiced indifference. His half-lidded eyes betrayed a man who had seen this kind of recklessness a thousand times before. Yamada, ever the spirited commentator, couldn't resist turning to him. "Hey, Aizawa, was Natsu always this... impulsive?"

Before Aizawa could respond, a small, familiar voice chimed in from Yamada's shoulder. "This is Natsu. He's always like this," said Happy, perched comfortably as if he owned the spot.

Yamada blinked, momentarily stunned, before slowly turning to face the blue cat. The mic, still live, broadcast their exchange to the entire stadium. "What... are you doing here?" Yamada asked, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

Happy stretched lazily, his tail swishing as he grinned. "This is the best seat in the house!" His eyes sparkled with mischief, as if the battle raging below was nothing more than a playful spectacle.

Yamada sighed, exasperation creeping into his voice. "That's not the point—you shouldn't be up he—"

But Happy cut him off with a cheeky offer. "Want a fish?"

Yamada's face fell into a deadpan expression. "No... thanks," he muttered, resigning himself to the absurdity of the situation. He shook his head and refocused on the action below, the crowd chuckling at the unexpected exchange.

Down in the arena, Kaminari's eyes tracked Natsu's every move. His brow furrowed as he muttered under his breath, "This reckless approach... if Natsu keeps this up, every team's going to see us as a target."

But before Kaminari could voice his concerns fully, Bakugo launched himself into the air, a human missile hurtling toward Natsu. His grin was feral, his hand outstretched, fingertips grazing the ten-million-point headband that sat atop Natsu's head.

The air crackled with tension as Natsu's fists ignited, flames roaring to life in an instant. "Come at me!" Natsu bellowed, his wild grin matching the intensity of his blazing fists.

From a distance, Jiro and Yaoyorozu exchanged a knowing glance. They could see it as clear as day—Natsu didn't understand the concept of retreat. He was a fighter through and through, ready to face anyone head-on, no matter the odds.

Yamada's voice crackled through the speakers once more, his commentary rapid-fire. "Bakugo's flying straight at him! Referee, is this even allowed?"

Midnight's sultry voice answered, smooth and confident, "As long as he doesn't touch the ground, it's fair game."

In one fluid motion, Yaoyorozu and Jiro leapt to the side, dodging Bakugo's attack. Natsu, caught off guard by their sudden movement, stumbled, his footing momentarily thrown off. For the briefest second, Bakugo's expression flickered with surprise—he hadn't expected Natsu, the fight-hungry warrior, to dodge.

Bakugo hurtled through the air, missing his target, but before he could crash into the ground, Sero's tape shot out, wrapping around him and pulling him back to safety.

"Enough of this reckless stuff! We'll lose if you keep charging in!" Sero scolded, frustration clear in his voice as he reeled Bakugo back into formation.

Mina Ashido shook her head. "We need to stick together as a team!"

Kirishima, standing firm as the "horse," grinned, his unbreakable body steady beneath his teammates. "We've got the upper hand as long as I'm the foundation!"

But Bakugo's gaze remained fixed on Natsu, his eyes narrowing with unspoken fury. "You coward!" he spat. "I thought you were a real fighter!"

Natsu turned, fire still flickering around his clenched fists, his voice low and controlled. "Why did you dodge him?" His question hung in the air, tension building.

Before Jiro or Yaoyorozu could respond, Kaminari raised his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Natsu, in a straight-up fight, you'd probably win. But that's your problem—you only want to fight. Bakugo, on the other hand, wants the ten-million-point headband. There's no point in engaging them when we already have what we need. Our job is to avoid unnecessary clashes."

As Kaminari's words sank in, the wind shifted. The faint rustle of Todoroki's hair was the only warning before his left hand began to glow, the air around it shimmering with intense heat. Iida, standing firm beneath Todoroki, locked his eyes forward, his engines roaring to life with blue flames that ignited the arena with anticipation.

Without a word, they moved as one.

"Do it, Iida," Todoroki commanded, his voice steady and calm.

"Recipro Burst!!!" Iida shouted, his engines flaring to full power.

In an instant, they shot forward with blinding speed, cutting through the air with such velocity that the wind seemed to tear apart around them. The sound of Iida's engines roaring filled the stadium, and the crowd gasped in awe as the pair rocketed toward Natsu's team, a blur of blue and orange.

Before Natsu could even process Kaminari's words, Todoroki's hand closed around the ten-million-point headband, ripping it from Natsu's head in one fluid motion.

Time seemed to freeze. Natsu's hair, pink and wild, blew in the sudden gust of wind, his eyes widening in disbelief. The crowd erupted into chaos, the roar of thousands of voices mixing with the sound of Iida and Todoroki skidding to a stop at the edge of the arena, smoke billowing from Iida's overheated engines.

Natsu stood in stunned silence, his fists still aflame, the weight of what had just happened slowly sinking in. Around him, his teammates wore matching expressions of shock, their eyes darting between Natsu and Todoroki's retreating figure.

On the massive screen overhead, Todoroki and Iida's faces appeared, their victory clear for all to see.

Yamada's voice rang out, triumphant and booming. "Todoroki Shoto has done it! What a move! This is the power of Endeavor's bloodline!"

Up in the stands, Endeavor watched, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He stood apart from the crowd, his presence commanding, as if he were a force of nature. His eyes fixated on Natsu, who still stood frozen in shock.

"So, you can use fire after all," Endeavor thought, his grin widening. "But this is where your story ends. Todoroki has inherited my flame. A boy like you doesn't stand a chance."

The arena buzzed with excitement, but amidst the chaos, Natsu's teammates watched him closely. Though his expression was one of disbelief, there was a flicker of something else—something that sent a chill down their spines.

Hidden beneath the mask of shock, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at Natsu's lips. His fists tightened, the flames dancing more fiercely than before.

"Did you say we shouldn't fight?" Natsu's voice was quiet, but there was an undeniable edge to it. His eyes burned with renewed determination. "No... I was right from the start. The goal of this game is to crush every other team!"

The flames around his hands roared to life, brighter and hotter than ever before.

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