"Good morning," muttered Aizawa-sensei. We had to guess at the identity of the speaker. His face was covered in bandages, as were both his arms. He looked like one of the walking dead.
"Teacher! You're back too soon!" Almost the whole class shouted in unison. The individual questions and comment started while the teacher limped painfully to the lectern. The gist was the students thought he was crazy to come back while still so obviously injured.
"My well-being doesn't matter. More importantly, the fight is not yet over." Well that certainly got a reaction. People were panicking, looking for villains. I had taken to constantly carrying a rubber stun ball as a fidget and I readied to throw at the first sign of danger.
"The UA Sports Festival is drawing near." He continued. The release of tension was palpable.
"That's a super normal school event!"
Turns out it wasn't. It was explained that as Japan no longer competed in the Olympics, the UA Sports Festival had grown to be the largest sporting event of the year. Hundreds of thousands of spectators would crowd into the stadium, with millions of others nation-wide watching it live. It was too important to let mere security concerns cause it to be canceled. As it was still a school event, I figured the media rights and other sales were a huge portion of the school's annual income. Their budget couldn't afford the loss cancelling it would bring. I just hoped this mercenary attitude did not cost lives.
"Of course, all the top heroes will be watching," Momo-chan pointed out. "For scouting purposes!" Apparently, this was one of the big ways students showcased their talents for prospective employers. So, it was not only a blood sport, it was a meat market as well. I was really beginning to look forward to it.
The excitement lasted all day. I overheard Midoriya and Iida asking Uraraka why she wanted to be a hero after she had gotten uncharacteristically fired up about the festival. Not wanting to eavesdrop I approached the trio.
"I'm curious about that too."
"… For money …" she finally admitted. "Sorry it is such an unwholesome reason. It's embarrassing."
"How is wanting to have a good livelihood not admirable?" Iida demanded. I knew he was came from a family hero business. It made sense that he would be ok with a financial motivation.
"But it is unexpected." Midoriya looked at me. We had talked about my theory that most pro heroes were in it for the money. He disagreed, but his friends' admissions bothered him. Uraraka continued to spin her tale of a hardworking family and how she wanted to lift their financial burdens, even though the parents wanted her to not worry about the and do what was best for her. It was a tale of family sacrifice that reminded me of "The Gift of the Magi" - heartwarming, but ultimately futile.
At the end of the day our classroom door was blocked by a crowd of unknown students. I thought I recognized a few from the lunch room and hallways, but they were not in either class of the hero course.
"What business do you have with Class A?" demanded our fearless leader – Iida, the Class Rep.
"We can't get out!" whined Mineta. Even out of costume the kid was a bit of a baby. Perverted, but a baby.
"Scouting the enemy, small fry," Bakugo answered in a surprisingly reasonable tone. "We're the ones that made it out of the villain attack. They probably want to check us out before the sports festival." Half the class looked to Midoriya, who had known the blond hot head the longest, to explain his unusual calm.
"That's Kacchan in neutral…"
Before Midoriya could finish his explanation, Bakugo reverted to his usual charming self. By the end of the conversation he had managed to not only alienate the general studies and business students, but tarred us all with the same broad brush.
Something one of the general studies students said caught my particular attention. "Depending on the results of the sports festival, the administration will consider our transfer into the hero course. And it seems they may also transfer people out."
Well isn't that special. Another situation where I didn't want to do well enough to attract attention, certainly not in front of millions of viewers, but I had to do well enough not to get booted from the program and sent home. Joy.
I wondered if I could be transferred to the support tech program and still stay at UA? That would be the best of both worlds, but that might screw it up for Sato when he returns at the end of the year. Still worth checking out the possibilities.
For the next two weeks all of the students, from all of the classes, were spending every spare moment preparing for the Festival of Doom.
On the second day, I tracked down Pony's host sister, Nee-chan. She was flying timed laps above the running track. I waited until she landed for a break. "Hey, do you have a moment?"
"Oti-kun! How's it going?" She replied in English and gave me a hug. I enjoyed every second of it while trying not to be that creepy guy. I think she mostly spoke to me because I offered her an opportunity to practice her English on another native speaker.
"I wanted to check something I heard with someone that has been here a while. I figured you were my best bet for finding someone in the know." I had a tendency to use more slang and idioms when speaking to her, just to help her practice.
"I will give it my best shot."
"Is it true that if hero course students do particularly poorly in the festival competitions that they could be booted from the hero course?"
"Yes."
"Could they be transferred to the support course, or is it straight to the general studies course?"
"Usually they are … booted? … out of UA completely. If not, then it's general studies for them. If you don't want to get sent back to the States in disgrace, you'll need to put in at least some effort at the Festival. Whatever you do, don't screw up your classmates' chances if there is a group event. This is serious for them, possibly even life-changing. They don't need you to drag them down."
"Crackdoodles …"
Yes. She laughed. I thanked her and went back to my plotting. I wondered if I could get out of the competition completely. So, I went to talk with Kocho-sensei. Normally I would have gone to my homeroom teacher, but Aizawa-sensei did not know my real situation. And my grandma had taught me to always go to the person that can say yes. In this case that was the rodent/bear/dog at the top!
"No," said the rodent/bear/dog at the top. "This is exactly the sort of extracurricular activity the exchange organizers had in mind as essential for the students to savor the full essence of the UA experience."
Great. So now what? Despite my dismal failure hiding my true identity at the USJ battle, I was determined to keep my secret during the sports festival. I really did not want to see how Otis Armstrong would be treated in Japan, a country that might actually be more hero-crazy than the US.
I studied up on past festivals to see the sorts of competitions that were common. The pattern seemed to be three to five events, some solo, some team events. Each event eliminated a percentage of the competitors, until there were 12-20 left for a final multi-round, single elimination contest. The problem was the contests were different each year, and for each grade. And the competitors would not know what each contest was until just before it started. I'd have no idea how to throw the competition until it was underway. I could not get into the final competition and I could not throw any team events. I could, on the other hand, be totally screwed. Sorry, Grandma.
I would often see my classmates and the other students working hard to prepare for the range of possible events. Quirks were stretched to their limits and beyond. Bodies were improved and wits sharpened. I watched in wonder, mostly wondering what I should be doing. I spent time bouncing around campus, juggling, and tinkering with my robots. I also worked on the speed exercises All Might had set me.
At first, he had me wearing a headband with a tennis ball attached to it by an elastic cord. It hung between my eyes. I was to try to punch the ball repeatedly. It should bounce away from my fist, then be pulled back at speed. If I missed the repeat punch I would have to dodge it before it hit my head. It proved to be too easy for me, much like a two person or bounce juggling exercise. Punching instead of catching and throwing took a little time to get used to. But after that, I could do the trick every time. Unfortunately, this didn't transfer to my punching speed in a sparring match.
Then he set me up with a speed bag suspended between two elastic cords. My first punch knocked the bag across the room. We got another bag with stronger, stiffer cables. I learned to punch it carefully so as not to remove it from its elastic moorings. But regulating my strength seemed to make my blows even slower. This meant I usually missed the second blow and had to dodge. The dodging helped me increase my reaction speed. All Might pointed out that dodging was not the primary purpose of the drill. He told me to keep trying and to concentrate on hitting the ball repeatedly.
One afternoon I was in the gym punching and dodging almost mindlessly. I had fallen into a rhythm – punch, miss, dodge, dodge, punch, miss, dodge, dodge. A voice broke me out of my fugue state, causing me to get smacked in the face when I missed my punch unexpectedly. The bag stopped completely when I unconsciously absorbed its energy. As part of the exercise I had to concentrate on not automatically absorb the bag's momentum to avoid this very thing.
" … I don't think you're doing that right," the voice continued. I turned and saw Momo-chan in her workout clothes. She was wearing gym shorts and a tank top. She had fingerless padded gloves and was barefoot with padded leg guards. She exuded such grace and energy just standing there, it was like a glow surrounding her.
"Huh?" I replied, displaying the depths of my savoir faire.
"You seem to be practicing failure. You're drilling missing into your punching. That's not how you want to fight."
"I'm not. I'm anticipating the possibility I might miss the follow-up and preparing to dodge if it happens."
"That may be how you started, but that's not what you were doing when I walked in."
"Really?" I remembered sparring with her. She landed four or five blows on me before I could react at all. She probably knew this stuff pretty well.
"Let me see you go again. And try to use a combo … jab-cross-jab," She did something with both hands, "… instead of separate punches."
I tired, not really knowing what a combo was or the difference between a jab and a cross. I punched the ball. At least I hit it the first time. My second blow missed completely. I dodged the bag and tried a third blow on its return swing. I missed and got the bag in the face.
"No. Not like that. Step aside, please." I did and she addressed the bag. "It should be something like this," Suddenly her hands and the bag were a blur. I could hear a pop-pop-pop like a machine gun in a movie. Then she stopped. Her hair was barely mussed.
"Ummm…"
"Let me demonstrate more slowly. Stand next to me and follow along." She took three steps away from the bag, but stayed in her crouch. I nervously settled next to her, trying to imitate her stance. She looked down and told me to move my feet, specifying where they should end up.
"Bend your knees more and put your weight on your toes rather than you heels. Bounce a little. Ok. Now a jab is a quick straight punch with your left hand. It's one of the most basic strikes. You use it to set the tempo of your fight. Put both hands up close to your chin like this." She demonstrated and I tried to copy her positioning.
"Keep your elbows in tight and straight down. Now step in with your left foot and throw your left fist forward. Rotate it to hit like this. Bring your fist back quickly into position under your chin. Make sure to keep your chin down at all times. It naturally wants to come up when you punch." She went through the described motions as she spoke.
I tried to follow along. She continued to repeat the movements. I followed. Then she stopped, but motioned for me to keep going. "Good. Keep your right hand tight under your chin. Don't throw your shoulder so much. Alright. Now try it on the bag."
I snapped out the jab and the bag disintegrated as my fist punched right through it. "Good follow through." Momo-chan said quietly. "I think you need a heavier bag."
She pointed me to a heavily reinforced bag in the corner. "Once you have the basic forms down, you can work on controlling your strength and building speed."
She spent more than an hour walking me through the jab, the cross, and the hook. At the end of that time we took a break. "These strikes can be trained in combinations to increase speed and power. You may think you don't need to worry about increasing your power, but remember the sorts of opponents we may be facing. Sometimes you'll need every bit of speed and strength to prevail."
We were seated on the floor near the water cooler. I had a towel draped around my neck. I was dripping with sweat. "I really appreciate your helping me like this. You explain it so much more clearly than All Might. Thank you."
She blushed at the praise. "This is just the basics. You pick it up surprisingly well for someone with no proper training. My father would say it was a sign of both intelligence and good genetics."
It was my turn to blush. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you taking time you should be using to prepare for the festival to help me. We will be competitors."
"I want to be a hero. Heroes help people, even at the cost of their own welfare."
"It's that simple?"
"Not simple, but it's the right thing to do."
After that I would occasionally see Momo-chan in the gym. She would nod to me and occasional offer pointers as I practiced. But I tried not to put her in situations where she would spend her training time on me. In other words, I avoided her. Self-sacrifice felt so good.
As I wallowed in my solitary training, I had time to think about her comments on being a hero and how they related to the motivations I saw in my classmates. The students didn't appear to be all that mercenary. Sure, they wanted a job when they grew up. But that wasn't what was driving them.
I had idea. Japan was known for its conformist culture. How much of the students trying so hard at the festival, at becoming a pro hero, was just because that was what was expected of them? I couldn't be sure.
Part of me was wondering if I was letting my own prejudices against my family shape my beliefs and behaviors, undermining my attempts at a rational evaluation of the role of the hero in society. I decide to take a more careful look at my own motivations with Dr. Shuzenji. But I was certain I had not succumbed to some unconscious bias that made me think poorly of heroes in general.
I had very good reasons for not wanting to be a hero. Right?