My Mangekyo Sharingan Can't Save My Hero Academia: 38 The Hosu Stakeout 2

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN—WELCOME BACK!!"

Present Mic's voice blasted through the stadium speakers before the crowd even finished settling. "THE FIRST MATCH MIGHT'VE BEEN SHORT, AND TRAUMATIZING FOR SOME, BUT HEY! WE SURVIVED!"

A wave of laughter rolled across the stands.

Down on the competitors' platform, Midnight flicked her whip with a sharp crack, calling everyone to attention.

"Finalists for Match Two—step forward!"

Fire spurted from the edges of the ring in a fantastic display.

"NOW LET'S GET MOVING. FROM CLASS 1B'S HERO COURSE, HERE TO SHOW THAT EVEN PRETTY FLOWERS HAVE THORNS, IBARA SHIOZAKI!"

Shiozaki stepped forward with a calm demeanor, hands folded in front of her as if she were entering a church.

"VERSUS, THE HERO COURSE'S SPARKY KILLER, DENKI KAMINARI!"

Kaminari bounced lightly on his heels, face seemingly contemplative.

From the stands, the Hero Course cheered for their respective participants.

Midnight raised her hand.

"Contestants… ready?"

Kaminari rolled his neck once, sparks prickling across his fingers.

"Let's make this quick, Shiozaki. How about after I win, we go on—uh—a date? Maybe? I'll be happy to accompany you if you'll have me."

Shiozaki blinked at him. "A date? Why?"

He let out a light grin.

"Because this match will probably be over in a second."

Above them, Midnight raised her whip.

"BEGIN!"

Kaminari instantly planted his feet, sparks exploding across his frame.

"Hope you don't hate me for this!"

Indiscriminate Discharge.

A blinding burst of electricity erupted from him—1.3 million volts flooding the arena in a tidal wave of lightning.

The audience gasped.

Dust swirled.

And—

Shiozaki simply turned around.

Her vines speared downward like roots seeking soil—piercing deep into the ground. With a serene exhale, she lifted her arm.

The earth trembled.

A massive dome of intertwined vines erupted upward, shielding her completely as Kaminari's attack crashed into it like a storm hitting a cliff.

WHOOOOOM—!!

The lightning scattered harmlessly across the curved wall, dancing along the vines before grounding out into the earth.

Present Mic's jaw dropped.

"UH—WAIT, HOLD ON—"

The smoke cleared.

Behind the vine wall, Shiozaki still had her back turned.

Still praying.

Meanwhile, Kaminari…

"Uhhhhh… hurrrhhh…"

Fully brain-dead drooling idiot mode.

Vines burst from beneath the arena floor, looping around his limbs and torso, lifting him gently into the air like a captured fish.

Shiozaki finally turned.

"I apologize, Kaminari-san. But I cannot condone reckless violence. Please reflect upon your actions."

"Uh… hehehe… friendo…" Kaminari responded by blowing a snot bubble.

Present Mic threw his arms out wide.

"AND THAT'S—ANOTHER!!—INSTANT!! WIN!! SHIOZAKI ADVANCES TO ROUND THREE, AND CLASS 1-A LOSES THEIR SECOND FINALIST!!"

The Class 1-B section ERUPTED.

"YEEEES!! THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE!!" Tetsutetsu roared.

Pony waved both hands. "Go Ibaraaaa!"

Kose wiped away dramatic tears. "Our beautiful angel wins again!"

Monoma jumped onto the railing.

"HAHA—DID EVERYONE HEAR KAMINARI SAY HE'D END THE MATCH IN A SECOND? AND HE DID—HE JUST HAPPENED TO BE THE ONE WHO DIDN'T LAST A SECOND—"

THWACK.

A single karate-chop from Kendo folded him like a lawn chair. He collapsed sideways, and she grabbed him before he could fall off.

Kendo bowed apologetically to Class 1-A.

"Sorry! He's… enthusiastic. And loud."

The applause continued as Shiozaki bowed gracefully and exited the stage, her vines carrying Kaminari off gently.

Yuta, watching absentmindedly from the viewing area, exhaled slowly.

'Well… that went exactly as expected.'

It was practically the same thing he remembered from the anime.

Yuta glanced up toward the board displaying the next matches.

MATCH 3: SHOTO TODOROKI vs. HANTA SERO

MATCH 4: TENYA IIDA vs. MEI HATSUME

Todoroki vs. Sero? A massacre.

Hatsume vs. Iida? A walking advertisement.

He could already picture it:

• Sero frozen solid in twelve seconds.

• Iida spending ten minutes being used as free marketing for baby carriers and rocket boots.

'So, I have nothing to do for the next ten to twenty minutes. Tch.'

The irritated click left his lips.

With nothing demanding his attention in the arena, his thoughts wandered—almost automatically—to the one thing he'd been trying not to obsess over.

"Hey Yuta. Earth to Yuta?"

His thoughts were interrupted as a hand waved in front of his face. Hana.

"Huh?"

"Did something happen?" Hana asked. "Your focus isn't really on the battles. You seem to have something on your mind."

'Huh. When'd she start reading me this well?'

Yuta glanced back at her, then at the arena where Cementoss was repairing the stage.

"Just... waiting for something," he said finally.

"Waiting for what?"

"To see if a plan worked out."

Hana tilted her head. "What plan?"

Yuta's lips quirked slightly. "Can't say. Not yet."

His eyes focused back on the stage. Twenty seconds later, his gaze wandered again.

Yuta sighed, turning toward the exit. "Yeah, I'm not sitting through those."

He turned away from the arena and headed deeper into the hallway.

Even if there was a possibility that things might be different, it didn't really matter.

Some matches just weren't worth front-row seats.

"Yuta, where are you going?"

"Bored."

"Bored? But the fight's about to get good. The ice guy from the Hero Course is up next. Aren't you going to see what he can do? You'll have to fight him if you win the next round," Tanaka said.

"Well, I already know what he can do." Yuta shrugged.

It would be several matches before he had to come back to fight. Instead of worrying about things he couldn't affect, it would be better to devote that time to "researching" jutsu.

He stepped into the hallway, the noise of the stadium dulling behind him with every stride.

'Well, no rushing memories means it's still alive.'

That could be good, or bad—depending on how he looked at it.

The sounds of the arena faded completely as he rounded the corner.

His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

Then—

__

HOSU, JAPAN.

Strike the vagus nerve cluster just right—pressure, angle, timing—and the body's own wiring does the rest. Blood pressure drops. Heart rate plummets. Lights out.

Though Yuta knew the mechanism, he hadn’t practiced the technique on anyone. He’d only seen it in a medical handbook during his days in the hospital. An illustrated diagram of the vagus nerve, the angles that exposed it, the pressure needed to disrupt the reflex arc.

The Sharingan had done the rest.

One glance was enough to memorize the page forever. Another to track Mirage’s airborne movement, calculate the exact moment her neck turned, and see the nerve cluster beneath her skin like a faint red silhouette.

That was enough.

What he hadn't accounted for was how fragile the effect actually was. A head tilting five degrees. Weight shifting off-center. The difference between ten minutes of unconsciousness and five.

Mirage lay where he'd left her, propped against the ventilation unit. Chest rising. Falling. Steady.

The city murmured below—traffic hum, distant TV chatter, Present Mic's voice bleeding from a storefront speaker somewhere.

Four minutes passed.

Her right eyelid twitched.

Then again.

Her neck had shifted when he repositioned her—just slightly, just enough. The sustained pressure on the nerve cluster eased. Her body, disciplined by training and conditioned to recover quickly, worked its way back toward consciousness.

Five minutes.

Her eyes cracked open.

Her eyes opened to a smear of blue sky and sunlight that felt too harsh.

Rooftop…?

'What—?'

Memory slammed back. The alley. The masked man. The strike.

Her hand shot to her neck. Tender. Warm.

'I got dropped.'

She sat up, fast

The dizziness hit, but she pushed through it. Her hand went instinctively to her ear.

Empty.

"Bastard," she hissed.

No comm meant he either wanted her silent, or he was wearing her voice right now.

She pushed to her feet, one hand braced on the ventilation unit. No blood. No struggle. Just her, alone, with a gap in her memory and a stolen piece of gear.

No comm meant no way to warn the team.

'I need to find someone. Fast.'

She scanned the rooftops, then vaulted to the next building, moving quickly but carefully. Her head still throbbed faintly, and the last thing she needed was to collapse mid-leap.

Two blocks later, she spotted movement—a figure in a red and white costume crouched at the edge of a rooftop, scanning the streets below.

Torque. One of Ingenium's sidekicks.

"Torque!" she called out, landing beside him.

He spun, hand going to his baton—then relaxed when he recognized her.

"Miss Mirage? What are you—"

"My Comm's been stolen. I need you to alert everyone."

"What?"