xiii.

Walter knew these sorts of games well. However, when he'd been a boy, they'd gone by very different names – ceremony and initiation; hunting; cleansing; blessing. They'd been celebrated just as loudly as this, and had been marked by the same clash and blur of colours, movement, life. But there'd been more blood, torn skin, splintered bones. And the tribe had used spears or bows, never quirks. Quirks had had no names apart from 'the Curse'.

From his place in the crush, Walter looked down at the Twins: two golden heads bopping, gesturing and pointing. Utata's friend, the one with the bush of purple atop his head and the sleepy eyes, was between them, looking quietly from one to the other to the other again like a fascinated mongoose. Walter liked that boy. The Quiet One. The Serious One. Though perhaps it was only because of how excitedly Kelele spoke about him – Shinsou-kun is just like Kashi! Just like him! It's a fated meeting, I'm sure of it. They're so cute. I friendship-ship them. Don't you, Walter? Walter didn't know what 'friendship-shipping' was. But he 'friendship-shipped' them.

"Do they plan to form a team with that boy?"

"I do not know, Sir."

He hoped so.

The students had been instructed to form teams of four, then to return to their waiting places before the next round. The Twins and their Purple friend showed no signs of splitting up: they'd chosen their pack, it seemed.

Next to Walter, there came a smooth sigh like water. No, not water. Something closer to a hiss. "That won't do." One leg crossed itself over the other, slinky and smart in its suit. The gold hands on a gold watch-face ticked – four ticks, five – and Mister Kururugi turned a hyena-pleasant expression onto Walter. "They're not going to win by relying on General Study students," he said. "Don't you agree?"

"He is strong boy, Sir."

"Perhaps," Mister Kururugi said quietly, only just audible over the frenzy of watchers, pro-heroes, and other family members around them. "But I think it would suit everyone better if you'd have a word with my children. I saw Tsukiko talking to the Bakugo boy. They ought to form a team with him, or with Endeavour's child. What was his name again? No matter. Just suggest it to them." He checked his watch again. He didn't mean 'suggest' like it was meant to be meant. "I didn't have them transferred here for them to fall behind."

Walter resisted a frown.

"Oh, and Waitimu…" It was wrong, how correctly Mister Kururugi said Walter's given-name. "Don't let Tsukiko or Takashi know I'm watching. They'll get distracted."


When they got into the waiting area, Takashi and Tsukiko's African man was already in the hallway, just outside the door. Black sunglasses particularly black. Dark suit particularly dark, and sharp, and imposing. He seemed to take up the entire corridor, and still attracted beady looks of curiosity and concern from passersby. Catching sight of him, the twins gasped, delighted. And forgetting entirely about Hitoshi walking between them, they dashed to their African man – Walter, Hitoshi remembered – in a dizzy gust of blonde hair and bare feet tapping across the floor.

Walter had to stoop down to talk with them. Though part of the twins' charm was how tiny they were – indeed, Takashi was a whole half-head shorter than Hitoshi, Tsukiko even slightly smaller – now they looked dangerously elfin. It was sort of funny. Almost… sweet? Maybe?

Hitoshi lingered awkwardly for a moment, Takashi's unfinished sentence hanging in his ears: You know what quirk would be really useful for these sorts of things? Something spidery. Like, not only would you have the setules for climbing the walls, but it would also help a lot to be able sense vibrations. I mean, it would be cool right? I was thinking that– Ah, it's Walter!

Takashi seemed to draw a lot of his strategy from animal facts. It was weird – especially considering how he'd told Hitoshi a little while ago that he didn't actually like animals – but it was also endearing. A few times since they'd started hanging out, Hitoshi had purposefully asked animal questions to see Takashi grin all crooked and clever. He would've asked now what the hell setules were, or why spiders had eight legs, or if Shoji in their class could technically have counted as having something close to a spider-quirk (and naturally, Takashi would reply with something like, "What? No ways, don't be dumb").

"Shinsou-kun!" Tsukiko called, interrupting Hitoshi's train of thought. "Why are you just standing there? Come say hi ~ and don't look so confused, silly!"

"Walter only bites when provoked," Takashi said in turn.

Lowering his sunglasses, Walter considered Hitoshi through shockingly pale eyes: the right a silvery blue, the left a gaseous green. "You are Shinsou Hitoshi," he said, voice a rumble. "You did good job in race. Sneaky techniques."

"Thanks. I do try."

"You are now on a team with Utata and Kelele?"

"He means us," Tsukiko chirped.

"So I assumed…" Hitoshi smiled small at her. "We need one more person to be a complete team."

Takashi rolled his eyes. "Tsukiko wants to ask Monoma–"

"He's sweet, and he's funny. But I was also thinking it would be nice if we could get him to stop hating Class A so much."

"But why not Kelele's pink friend? You wanted to work with her, yes?"

Tsukiko shrugged. "She's already on a team with other people."

Throatily, Walter hummed, and looked somberly at Hitoshi again. Dropping his glasses once more, and then pushing them back to shade those ghostly eyes. "You three already make good team. I think there is no need for more – you have defense and offense. Shield and spear. No need for more, no need for less." Walter dropped a massive hand onto Hitoshi's shoulder. "Only, do not disappoint, Purple Friend. Otherwise, I will come for you in night."

He squeezed lightly, and Hitoshi was surprised by the gentleness of the motion. The twins were watching him, expectant and sugar-spun; and when Hitoshi looked more fully at Takashi, he could see behind his goggles the vaguest glimmer of something teasing.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry to say this…" Hitoshi rubbed his nape, and flashed a smirk in Takashi's direction, "But Kururugi-chan and Kururugi-kun are just stepping stones to me. It'll probably come as a disappointment when I beat them in the quarter finals or the semi-finals. Because we're not here to make friends, right, Takashi?"

Takashi's lips tipped upwards into that geeky grin of half-slants and dimples. "Right."

"Ah, so I see." Walter nodded, contemplative like a philosopher, before turning away. "In such a case – go for his throat, Twins. He cannot use his quirk if he cannot talk."

The way Tsukiko giggled was just a little more than ominous, and Walter patted her head affectionately (Hitoshi found it still more shocking how his entire palm just about enveloped her crown like an oversized hat or blanket). Instead of making his way towards the exits, Walter went in the opposite direction, soon enough disappearing around the corridor's corner in a hulking mass of black.

It didn't seem as though he'd taken Hitoshi too seriously. And though any number of weeks ago Hitoshi would have meant what he said, he wasn't so sure he could take it seriously now either. His plans hadn't changed, of course. He was still there to become a hero, no matter what it took; to prove to the world and to Aizawa-sensei and to himself that he deserved it. But considering how Tsukiko slipped her hand into his and pulled him down the hallway because she'd just spotted Monoma, and how Takashi groaned and stumbled after them with a grumble about Monoma being so loud, Hitoshi thought that maybe he didn't need to avoid making friends completely.


Shigaraki Tomura narrowed his eyes, bored and irritable, at the TV screen. The scene had been set for the next event – and in a zoomed out panorama, a twisting length of maze was displayed like a Pac-Man game. Only so much larger. Only so much more complicated. And as the stadium bristled with spectator excitement, it was only just possible to make out the ten teams taking their places around the arena: each at a different entrance to the maze, too far apart to be able to see each other and all an exactly equal distance from the center.

The Kururugi Twins had teamed up with two boys – Shinsou Hitoshi and Monoma Neito from the Hero Course, Class B, apparently – though Tomura only faintly recognised the first from the previous year's festival. A quirk like brainwashing was only useful if nobody knew how it worked. Tomura scoffed. And the Kururugis were supposed to be as smart as their daddy.

The siren sounded.

'Staaaart!' went that shrill, annoying announcer.

And off they all went in a mad dash like ants. The cameras remained focused from above. There was cheering and there was screaming and Tomura wanted something fizzy to drink and Team Kururugi seemed to have no interest in the first two ropes they passed.

But was that not the whole purpose? To get ropes? They were embedded in the maze walls, all carrying certain points, all just waiting to be tugged out from their confinement. But then again, the ropes at the center, the finish line, carried bigger scores. Perhaps that was it. Get to the center before time ran out. And if that was what they were plotting, Team Kururugi weren't the only ones making a B-line for the finish line.

The League's old friend Bakugo Katsuki – with his band of brats in tow: bird-brain, pink-skinned thing, red-headed sharp boy – were running too. And Midoriya Izuku, with his team.

Everybody else had started tugging at ropes. Some had already run into each other and had decided to engage, to try and knock the other teams out of the two meter radius they were allowed. Sensors on each teammate's body tracked their distance from each other; to stray too far from one's friends was to be disqualified.

"Tomura-kuuun." Himiko came bounding into the office-lounge-sort-of-game-room. "Whacchu doing?"

"Research," Tomura replied blandly. "Now leave. You're being a distraction."

"Ooh! Ooh! Is this the Sports Festival? Are you watching those twins? They're cute. I wanna watch too."

He was about to say something biting when, with a fresh surge of patience or cunning, he paused. Considered Himiko's absurd flush as she beamed at the TV screen. Pulled a face when she squealed Midoriya Izuku's name.

"Get me a soda from the bar. Then you can join. Be quick about it."

"Yay!"

She was gone again in a girlish hurry, delighting herself with sing-song hums and coming back with a soda and gummy worms. By this stage, Team Kururugi had managed to collect three ropes of thirty points, thirty points, and sixty points – the last of them collected, the first two stolen from another team. Or not stolen, as such, but given. It seemed the Kururugis did have a plan for the brainwash boy after all. And along with the ropes, the Monoma Neito boy had copied a quirk.

Said other team had been disqualified. The first out of two.

The leaders had two hundred and thirty points.

There'd been five notable explosions so far. Three from Bakugo Katsuki (all saffron oranges and heat). Two from the Kururugis (all bright white and glowing).

One team looked hopelessly lost and kept returning to the same dead-end, scratching their heads and spinning about themselves like socks being turned inside out. Himiko laughed at them. Tomura sucked on a gummy worm.

Five minutes remained.

Two thirds of the way to the center, and Team Kururugi collided with a group of boys from Class B. Kururugi Takashi reacted faster than his sister did – from the tips of his fingers, five pointed blasts like bullets set dust in a plume about the other team. Then so too did Team Kururugi dash headlong into the obscurity, ropes tied around each other's waists (an obvious solution) and piercing through the Class B boys in a tight formation like an arrowhead.

It was not long. And it was quiet, hard to see. But soon enough, one of the Class B boys ambled glazed and dreary out from the dust, followed mournfully by the lament – "No! Tetsutetsu, you moron! You knew Shinsou was going to do that!"

The sensors buzzed. The Class B boys were disqualified. And shameless – nothing personal, just business – the Kururugis and their two teammates sprinted off with two more ropes and sixty more points, their length carried easily by the telekinetic quirk the Monoma Neito boy had stolen. He and Kururugi Tsukiko high-fived with rather too much dazzle.

Two minutes.

The leaders had four hundred and ninety points.

The Kururugis were in third place with three hundred and thirty.

"Tomura-kun..." Himiko cooed, knees to her chest and a gummy worm being twiddled between her fingers. "Those two vials of blood on your desk. When do I get to taste them?"

"Soon, Toga."


Even in all his worst nightmares, Neito would never have imagined himself on the same side as anyone from Class A. In all his brooding – for he was nothing if not obsessive – he had replayed in his mind over and over again Class B's triumph at the Sport's Festival. This year they'd do it. This year they'd show them. Class A and Class B going head to head once again.

But Kururugi Tsukiko was just the cutest thing. And nobody had ever asked Neito so nicely to be on a team with them. And who on earth was he to deny such a lovely young lady with such a lovely request? Though, then again, it hadn't been much of a request. She'd flounced up to him with Shinsou in tow, blossom-cheeked and breathless (as she always was), and had said quite decidedly, "You're going to be on a team with us, Monoma-kun. Takashi came up with a good plan. I think it could work! Pleasey-please?"

Even if it did mean betraying every notion in his body, he'd relented.

Now here they were, steps from the end and with several ropes ghosting between them in weightless streams. For sure, Neito felt bad – the betrayal in his classmates' eyes when he'd copied Reiko's quirk, and when Shinsou had sent those distracted enough by the Kururugis' blasts in a brainwashed stroll out of the vicinity of their groups. Perhaps that was why Tsukiko wanted Neito on their side. It would take everyone by surprise to see him working (so willingly, quite happily) with Class A's newest superstars.

Present Mic-sensei announced forty seconds left on the clock.

The twins, holding hands through their fancy gloves, had just managed to rip a hundred point rope from its coil in the wall – leaving behind them an eerie crack in the concrete. The center gate was in sight. They sprinted, and Neito made sure to keep a solid grip on the ropes with Reiko's poltergeist. Anyone could have been waiting just by the finish line to steal from them. Anything could have happened in thirty seconds. Twenty five–

Like Bakugo Katsuki and his team rounding the same corner at the same time as their team. A jolting electricity. A venomous glare of ill-intention.

"Well now. Isn't this just an inconvenient turn of events?" Neito cocked his head.

They were steps from the gate. Steps from Bakugo Katsuki's team – Tokoyami's shadow bird was reaching for one of their ropes.

"Monoma!" Takashi's voice rang clear and uncharacteristically sure. "Drop the ropes and throw Tsukiko!"

"Wha–?"

"Do it!"

So the ropes went slack around their waists and shoulders, and using Reiko's quirk, Neito flung Tsukiko outwards towards Bakugo Katsuki's group. She flew like a fairy – not out of reach, not out of bounds, but just close enough to touch her fingers to one of the ropes around Bakugo Katsuki's shoulders.

"Like fuck, Shitty Poodle!" He thrust his hand out to push her away, little sparks bristling to life in his palm.

"Pull her back! Pull her back now!"

There was a burst of light that propelled them forward, and only just in time, Monoma ripped Tsukiko back. They tumbled into the center ring. Tsukiko held a ten point rope in her hand.

'Team Kururugi arrives with fifteen seconds to spare! Coming in close afterwards is Team Bakugo! Yeeeah! Here comes Team Midoriyaaa!"

Neito couldn't help but be just a little disappointed when Shinsou helped Tsukiko to her feet. They dusted themselves off, untied the ropes from around their waists and dropped them as though they weren't prizes to be won. The flimsy ten-pointer lay on top of the pile, and Neito caught a glimpse of Bakugo Katsuki spitting poison with his eyes.

"All of that for such a little rope?" Neito pricked his eyebrows at Takashi, who shrugged and pulled off his goggles.

"We didn't need the rope. We needed to shake their team so they wouldn't take ours," he said. "Tsukiko drew the attention, I organised the escape."

"Dramatic," Neito nodded. "I approve, Kururugi-kun."

"May have been a little overkill. But I'd stopped counting points and didn't want to risk losing any so close to the end."

"It was good," Shinsou said, and knocked Kururugi on the shoulder with a friendly punch (what? Since when did Shinsou do that?). "You came up with a decent plan."

"I–" Did Takashi just blush? "I just wanted to get to the next round. It's no big deal."

In the meantime, Tsukiko and Ashido Mina had hurried up to each other and were gesticulating like ballerinas in bad choreography. They were congratulating each other – "No, you!" "No, you!" – and grinning wide, despite how Bakugo unknotted ropes from Kirishima in an angry flurry.


Waitimu sat in steely silence, having spoken to the twins but done nothing in the way of dissuading them from teaming with Shinsou Hitoshi. And now too, here they were with a copycat quirk which they hadn't used to its fullest potential. They'd carried two others on their backs. They'd ended up with second place. First to lose. That simply wouldn't do.

Kururugi Kiyoshi tapped his foot against the ground. Checked his watch for the umpteenth time – for no reason other than compulsion – and chewed on the back of his lip in an attempt to swallow the displeasure which threatened to sour his features. Under these conditions, any other parent would have been perfectly pleased. Tsukiko and Takashi had come second to Bakugo Katsuki. Nevermind the fact that Tsukiko flounced about behind her brother like a brainless sheep. And nevermind the fact that Takashi had very little to offer in terms of quirk compared to his sister.

Any other parent would have been perfectly pleased. And so Kururugi Kiyoshi smiled and clapped like any good parent should have.

But so help those two if at least one of them didn't win.

Kururugi Kiyoshi was placing his bets on Tsukiko. Takashi had a chance if he could rely more on hand-to-hand combat.

The big screens flashed to life with the pairings for the quarter finals. Quiet, collected, Kururugi Kiyoshi watched without looking once to Waitimu – whom he knew was writhing on the inside – and waited. Waited for those sweet faces so much like his wife's to show up in pixels and false-smiling whiteness.

And then there she was, Tsukiko against Uraraka Ochako.

And then there he was, Takashi against Midoriya Izuku.