The gymnasium buzzed with energy, the crowd packed tight like a living wave of excitement. Bright lights crisscrossed the polished floor as speakers pumped an intense beat that vibrated through every bone in Jason's body. The Sports Festival's first round—a solo Dance Battle Tournament—was in full swing, and the atmosphere was electric.
Jason leaned back against the wall, watching the competitors spin, pop, and glide with impressive skill. The dance floor was a battleground, but one where fun was king. No quirk explosions, no lethal strikes—just raw rhythm, creativity, and style.
Momo was up next.
He spotted her near the sidelines, cheeks flushed a soft pink, shifting nervously but determined. That rare vulnerability tugged at something inside him, but his usual teasing grin stayed firmly in place.
"Hey, Princess," he called out, raising an eyebrow. "Ready to get wrecked on the dance floor?"
Momo shot him a glare that was half amusement, half embarrassment. "I'm not worried about you. Focus on your own performance."
Jason smirked, already plotting his next quip. But before he could speak, the announcer's voice boomed over the speakers.
"Next competitor: Yaoyorozu Momo!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, some chanting her name, others just enjoying the spectacle. Momo stepped onto the floor, adjusting her jacket with a deep breath. The DJ dropped a track—an upbeat, high-energy number full of quick beats and jazzy rhythms.
Momo moved with surprising grace. Her steps were precise, her timing perfect, but it wasn't just technique—there was a quiet confidence behind her moves, like she was fighting to prove something more than just skill. Each step was a statement: "I'm more than just the perfect student. I'm more than my family's expectations."
Jason watched, eyebrows raised. For all her primness, she had fire. That sharp focus that reminded him why he didn't want to lose to her.
When her routine ended, the crowd exploded into applause. Momo gave a small, humble bow, cheeks still flushed, before stepping off the floor.
Jason stretched, his turn coming up next.
The DJ cued his music—a heavy, gritty hip-hop beat with deep bass that matched Jason's swagger. He strode onto the floor with the easy confidence of someone born to command attention.
The crowd's cheers swelled. Jason wasn't just dancing; he was performing. His movements were fluid but powerful, every step a controlled explosion of energy. He threw in quick spins, slick footwork, and daring freezes that drew whistles from the audience.
Mid-routine, he caught sight of Momo watching, a faint blush dusting her cheeks again. Jason grinned wider, cranking up the teasing in his performance—throwing a wink her way, adding playful gestures that made the crowd laugh and hoot.
This wasn't just about winning anymore. It was a game between them, a dance-fueled duel where every move was layered with unspoken challenge and affection.
When he finished, Jason struck a final pose, chest heaving, sweat gleaming in the gym lights. The crowd roared like thunder. Jason basked in it, but he wasn't done.
He called out, loud enough for Momo and anyone else listening: "Princess, don't think that beat scared me. Your turn next round!"
Momo's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink as she glared playfully.
"Keep dreaming, troublemaker."
As Jason moved to the sidelines, the announcer started calling out the next competitors. The tournament's tension ramped up; every dancer pushing harder to impress, entertain, and outshine.
Momo and Jason found themselves drawn into the crowd's energy, exchanging quick glances and smirks between rounds. Neither wanted to admit it, but the teasing was starting to mean more.
Later, as the rounds thinned the competitors, Momo faced off against a tough opponent—a wiry kid with incredible flexibility and flashy moves. The crowd held their breath as the DJ dropped an intricate, fast-paced track that demanded precision and creativity.
Momo stepped onto the floor, her nerves jangling but her determination steel-strong. She pushed past the jitters, her movements sharper, more dynamic. She incorporated unexpected spins and staccato footwork that kept her opponent off balance.
When she finished, the judges took a moment before nodding in her favor. The crowd erupted again, this time louder.
Jason cheered the loudest from the sidelines, whistling and whooping. He caught Momo's eye and gave her a thumbs-up. She smiled—small but genuine—and his teasing grin softened.
Jason's next match was against a tall, muscular dancer who seemed to rely mostly on strength and power. The crowd expected a slam-bam routine, but Jason had other ideas.
The DJ cued a beat that was heavy but with a complex rhythm. Jason flowed effortlessly, blending raw power with unexpected agility. He dodged his opponent's brute moves with slick footwork and countered with precise, explosive hits of style that sent shockwaves through the crowd.
Halfway through, Jason slipped into a playful mode again, adding a quick wink and a teasing finger-gun aimed vaguely at Momo's direction.
The crowd loved it.
Jason sealed the win with a flawless spin and a dramatic freeze pose, chest heaving. He grinned wide, eyes sparkling with mischief and pride.
As the rounds wrapped up for the day, Jason and Momo found themselves side by side near the exit. Their usual banter softened into a quieter moment.
"You did good today," Jason said, nudging her shoulder.
"Thanks. You weren't too bad yourself," Momo replied, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Jason's grin turned just a bit more serious. "You know, you're not just a perfect student. You've got fire."
Momo's cheeks flushed again, but this time there was a flicker of something else—a spark of something unspoken, fragile, and promising.
The gym buzzed around them, but for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them—two rivals, two friends, maybe something more—locked in their own dance.