My Mangekyo Sharingan Can't Save My Hero Academia: 54 The Finals 1

Recovery Girl, busying herself with arranging equipment, paused just long enough to glance at them before returning to her work.

'My motivation?' Yuta fell silent.

The first thing that came to mind was an elaborate philosophical answer.

Something about finding his place, protecting the vulnerable, the kind of deep motivation expected from a protagonist.

'Yeah ... That's definitely not it.'

"You haven't thought about it much, have you?" Todoroki uttered at his silence.

"Does it matter?"

"You beat me. So it matters. Not just to me."

Yuta raised an eyebrow. "Then what if I said I wanted to be a hero for fun?"

"I wouldn't believe that." Todoroki replied blandly.

"...You're really in an introspective mood today, huh?"

He didn’t respond. Yuta’s eyes drifted upward, as if searching for the simplest version of the truth.

"Honestly, the license."

Todoroki blinked. That was clearly not what he expected.

"Huh?"

"The provisional Hero License," Yuta repeated. "That's my motivation."

Todoroki stared blankly, waiting for the punchline, or the deeper, hidden meaning. When none came, he slowly shook his head.

"That's... a requirement, not a motivation. Every Hero student wants the Provisional License. It's the bare minimum for field experience. Why would that drive you to the top of the Sports Festival?"

Yuta sighed, running a hand through his hair. This was the part where the pragmatism clashed with the idealism.

"Because the fastest way to get the Provisional License is to transfer into the Hero Course, and the only way to transfer into the Hero Course, after missing the entrance exam, is to prove you are objectively better than the Hero Course students during the biggest televised event of the year."

Yuta stopped leaning and stood up straight, his expression becoming intensely serious.

"If you need more than that, then I want the license so I can freely use my abilities whenever the need calls for them."

".. That's it?"

"Yeah. That's it. No grand speeches. No legacy. No 'Symbol of Peace' ambitions."

Yuta tapped his chest lightly.

"If I run at super speed to stop a purse snatching, that’s vigilantism. If I use a directed blast of energy to break open a collapsed building, that’s reckless endangerment."

Yuta tapped his chest lightly. "I possess abilities that, by current law, make me a walking menace if I use them without government sanction. But I am inherently strong, and I am getting stronger every day."

He spread his hands slightly, a faint, almost invisible wisp of energy momentarily swirling around his palms.

"But I can't even train openly without risking someone filing a complaint. So what's the point of having abilities if you can never use them?" Todoroki couldn't reply.

"...So you’re saying you don’t care about being a hero."

"In essence, yes. Does it bother you?"

"It's ... Unexpected."

"Well I apologise if it disappoints you that I'm not here searching for some deeper calling. But that's my goal."

Yute turned with a slight smile. "And if saving people and fighting villains is the legal requirement to achieve it, I guess I can live with that."

Todoroki stared. Nothing in his hero upbringing had prepared him for that answer.

"I... see," Todoroki murmured, absorbing the context.

"Good. If there's nothing else, I need to go. Unlike you, I have calls to make and a new uniform to find before the Finals."

He cracked the door open, pausing just before going through

"I don't know what you have going on with your dad. I honestly don't care much either. But for what it’s worth, you’re strong. You don’t need your left side to prove it."

Todoroki’s breath hitched ever so slightly. However,

"Nevertheless, you'll never beat me without it." Yuta said before closing the door behind him.

Silence. Todoroki didn't move from the bed, still staring at the door Yuta had closed. Confusion? Maybe. Or something else.

'He wants to be a hero... for legal immunity?'

It was so far removed from everything Todoroki had been raised to believe about heroism that he genuinely didn't know how to process it. No talk of justice. No mention of protecting others. Not even the corrupted ambition his father carried—the desire for recognition, for supremacy.

Just... freedom.

Freedom to use his abilities without consequence.

'Is that really so different from what I want?'

The thought emerged unbidden. After all, hadn't he spent his entire match trying to prove he could win without his father's power? Wasn't that its own form of seeking freedom?

"Quite the conversation you two had there."

Todoroki's head snapped up. He'd almost forgotten Recovery Girl was still in the room.

The elderly woman kept her back to him, sorting through medical supplies with practiced efficiency.

"That boy's got a mouth on him, I'll give him that," she continued, shaking her head slowly. "Completely pragmatic. Utterly self-interested. Not a shred of traditional heroic idealism."

"Reminds me of half the Pro Heroes I've treated over the past forty years." She let out a dry chuckle. "At least he's honest about it. Most of them lie to themselves until they believe it."

Todoroki opened his mouth, then closed it.

Recovery Girl waved her cane dismissively. "Don't look so scandalized, boy. The world isn't as black and white as you young ones like to think."

" ... Um, that wasn't .."

“Honestly, you kids overthink everything. That boy just told you he wants a license the way people want a driver’s permit,” She grumbled as she cut him off. “And you’re standing there acting like you’ve witnessed a philosophical revelation.”

"Now get out. I have actual injuries to prepare for, and you're taking up valuable bed space while you have your existential crisis."

Todoroki took a breath.

"Understood."

The door closed behind him.

“Good Lord. Every year it’s the same. Boys with trauma, reckless gremlins, muscle idiots—never one quiet child who does as they’re told…”

__

The corridor outside the infirmary was considerably quieter than the stadium above.

Yuta's footsteps echoed softly against the concrete as he made his way toward the waiting rooms. The muffled roar of the crowd filtered down through the ceiling—Present Mic was probably hyping up the upcoming finals to keep the audience engaged during the intermission.

'That went... weirdly well, actually.'

He'd expected more pushback from Todoroki. More accusations. Maybe even anger at being told his motivations were inadequate or selfish. Instead, the half-and-half student had just... accepted it.

'Does he actually get it? Or does he just think I'm hopeless?'

Not that it mattered much either way.

'Still. Todoroki asked a fair question.'

Do I want to be a hero?

The answer should have been simple. After all, he'd just explained his entire rationale to Todoroki not five minutes ago.

But.

'Do I actually see myself rushing into danger to save people?'

The question hung in his mind as he walked, his pace slowing slightly.

Images flickered through his thoughts—not memories of this life, but scenes he'd watched countless times in another one. Deku breaking his body to save a child. All Might standing against impossible odds. Todoroki himself, choosing to use his fire not for victory, but because someone told him it was his power.

Heroic sacrifices. Selfless acts. The kind of moments that defined what it meant to be a Hero with a capital H.

'Would I do that?'

He honestly didn't know.

The thought should have bothered him more than it did.

'I'd probably help if I was already there. If it was convenient. If—'

Pain lanced through him everywhere at once.

Yuta stopped, hand instinctively moving to his chest. It wasn't severe, but felt more like the warning twinge of a muscle about to cramp.

However, it was widespread, radiating from his core outward through his limbs.

'What the hell?'

Yuta frowned.

‘Recovery Girl already healed me. So if I’m still feeling this…’

His Sharingan snapped open.

A web of faint red lines lit up beneath his skin—chakra pathways straining and pulsing, threads stressed to their limits.

‘Figures. Not nearly enough cooldown. And I’ve been pushing my body since morning.’

His pathways hadn't had time to fully recover between matches, and now they were protesting.

He felt his chakra reserves, and realized that he was running low.

‘Can I actually keep this pace for one more—’

He turned the corner.

Stopped.

Bakugo stood there.

The hallway suddenly felt a size smaller.

“…Um. Hi.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.

“You.”

“Huh?”

Bakugo walked toward him with steady steps.

“I’ll be honest,” he said, “I didn’t expect you to advance this far.”

“…Thanks?”

“All this time, I figured my finals opponent would be Half-and-Half or Deku.” He jabbed a thumb carelessly over his shoulder. “But looks like I miscalculated.”

He stopped directly in front of Yuta.

“Whatever. Doesn’t change the ending.”

Yuta opened his mouth to respond, but Bakugo wasn't finished.

"Listen up, General Studies." Bakugo leaned in. "I don't care how you beat Todoroki. I don't care what tricks you've got hidden. When we're in that arena, you're going to come at me with everything you have. No holding back. No testing the waters. No bullshit."

His hands ignited briefly with small crackling pops.

"Because when I crush you, and I will crush you. I don't want there to be a single doubt in anyone's mind that I'm the strongest person in this entire damn festival. Not you. Not Todoroki. Not Deku. Me."

Bakugo's eyes blazed with fierce determination.

"So you better bring your A-game, you hear me? I didn't make it to the finals just to win by default because my opponent was too tired or injured or holding back. I'm going to beat you at your absolute best."

Yuta stared at him.

Then, despite himself, he felt a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

"You really are something else, Bakugo."

"Damn right I am."

Without another word, Bakugo deliberately stepped forward, his shoulder slamming into Yuta's as he walked past.

'Well, he's fired up.'

Bakugo didn't look back as he continued down the corridor toward his own waiting room, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Don't disappoint me, Akutami!" he called back over his shoulder.

Then he was gone, disappearing around another corner.

Yuta watched Bakugo leave before glancing back down at his hands. The tingling in his chakra pathways was still there, a persistent reminder of his body's limits.

'Can I go all out against Bakugo with my pathways like this?'