Classroom of the Elite OneShots.

Death Match

The harsh, artificial light attacked the eyes of the two who had been forced into the large grey, hollow, cube known as a room. Closer to the ceiling of the room were two glass panels on either side, expanding from the width of each side of the room. Spectating from above, as if gods. Cold and analytical eyes survey the barren, grey, room below. The room was neat and clean, not a speck of dust visible. Below these 'gods' were two vessels of entertainment, preparing to fight.

Both boys had multiple similar, physical characteristics. Brown hair, muscular builds, and similar heights although these things were only off by the most minute fractions, just making a difference clear. But the most significant difference between the two?

The boy exiting on the right of the spectators wore a contorted blend of hatred and anger for a face. The exact emotions were indecipherable, which made it all the more fun.

"The champion of the 5th generation, subject 501!" An announcer said, standing beside the glass window pointed at him. It was a simple tactic, by giving them a bit of backstory on the purpose, the fight would feel more meaningful, and these people would return.

"Having struggled through many hardships to reach the top, including the death of his friends - he reaches the top. The only obstacle left is an unshakable wall, unable to be scaled even with the required gear and standing strong. Resolute on blocking others."

On the other side, staring down at him was a boy with an aura of confidence, standing up perfectly straight and examining his hands. None of the spectators were unsure of what he was doing, so the announcer spoke once more.

"The opponent is the longstanding masterpiece, Subject 401! An enigma, a totally unknown phenomenon. It's difficult to decipher what his true goals are, but you'll find out soon enough!"

Now, this draws the attention of the spectators even further, the uncertainty of the winner and the goals of each opponent compelled the spectators to watch.

"1 Million for subject 5-01!"

The single shout-out had led to a chain reaction, the betting had begun.

"4 million on 4-01!"

"10 million on 5-01!"

The bets had been collected, and one side of the votes was going to lose money. But they would come back, they always did.

The announcer pressed a button, his voice now resounded through speakers attached to the top corners of the room that separated them and the deadly fighters.

"You will start when I order it." He says almost robotically, it was important for there to be no emotion in his voice even if he too was excited to see the result of this battle. It had been talked about for a while among instructors and spectators, even the professor himself was curious to see who would win, after all, they had rarely seen the full potential of subject 4-01. He refused to go all out, no matter how far they upped the challenges he easily adapted but it was easy enough to tell he wasn't trying.

Perspiration rolls down the neck of subject 5-01, as he firmly plants his feet. Ready to rush at his opponent, anticipation causes him to shudder lightly, but he recovers quickly - regaining mastery of himself. The person in front of him had caused his burdens to increase, resulting in a direct increase in his hate for subjects 4-01.

Subject 4-01 was not oblivious to this, but he stood calmly. Both hands were by his side while he had placed his right foot in front and his left foot behind it so that he was now turning his head to his right to look at his opponent. His chest was completely exposed, and his stance was carefree - which only served to outrage his opponent.

"Begin!" The voice on the speaker says louder. Immediately, 5-01 charges at his opponent. His opponent, 4-01, instead of raising his guard continues to stand in the same position.