What Friends Are For

by Constipated Genius

Amidst an era of villainy that threatens to upturn hero society, sometimes, the most enduring force against terror can be something as simple as the friendship shared between the aspiring forces for good. An AU in which two more students are thrown into Class 1-A and face an entirely original set of circumstances that follows only the outline of canon. (Rated M for safety purposes)

30. The Weight of Expectations

With a sore back doing nothing to make him forget that he was laying on what felt no softer than the ground he'd collapsed on after his fight, Jomei's eyes slowly opened from his fitful sleep. He blinked a few times to acclimate to the hard afternoon sun coming through the window, but the sight of the sterile room around him offered little comfort. The long-since outdated fan spinning overhead thrummed and squeaked cyclically, betraying its age, and the sunlight creeping past the room's blinds did little to soften the harsh white walls or hard mattress beneath him.

He attempted to shift into a more comfortable position, but the persistent fatigue and pain throughout his body quickly convinced him not to. Indeed, although he may have felt leagues better than he did before his slip into unconsciousness, every part of him was stiff and sore in some way or another. He hoped he hadn't been out for long.

'Wait… where am I?'

He blearily looked to his left for clues, and the first thing that caught his eye was the window that allowed only a tiny amount of natural light to trickle through. Beyond the half-opened blinds, the main campus of U.A. was visible in the distance, as tall and stalwart a bastion against villainy as ever. To the left of the window was a poster, laminated so that none of the color or detail of the paper would be desecrated by time's passage. Thereupon the pinkish background of the poster stood a youthful nurse with a syringe in the bun of her hair and an almost pouty yet seductive look on her face. She was dressed in the style of at least fifty years earlier, in an outfit that was equal parts provocative and professional, and the large bold text printed at her feet read 'feel better' in a flowing cursive font. Jomei stared at the poster for a long time, trying to discern why the nurse in the image looked so familiar.

"Well look who decided to wake up." Recovery Girl's voice jolted Jomei's attention from the poster, and her elderly face abruptly appeared merely a few centimeters above his own. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead! My office has too few beds to be available to each of my patients indefinitely, you know."

Jomei's only reaction to the pro's unexpected appearance was to oblige. He forced his arm into motion to rub the sleep from his eyes before using them both to hoist himself up into a sitting position supported by the pillow his head had been resting against. As he started to massage a not-negligible amount of stiffness from the back of his neck, he watched Recovery Girl puttering around the room. His eyes flew back to the poster on the wall and his jaw almost dropped. Looking back to the Pro Hero by his bedside, his eyes widened. Before he could properly dignify her with a greeting, she chuckled.

"Did you think I looked like this my whole life?" she asked, amused.

His hand suddenly stopped moving and fell to his side. "Oh! Not at all, Recovery Girl! A-And I wasn't intentionally trying to ignore you, I was just-"

"Oh please," Recovery Girl said with a dismissive hand-wave, "I understand completely. You're tired! And I certainly can't blame you after what you went through back there."

"Well…" Jomei blinked, and bowed his head in her direction. "Thank you for healing me. I appreciate it. Do you have any idea what's the deal with all the soreness, though?"

Recovery Girl sat back into her comparatively massive office chair and rolled herself to a nearby table with the same motion. She picked up a clipboard with an assortment of papers on it before pushing herself back toward him. "I figured you'd ask about that. First off, I think I should inform you of the severity of those injuries you were handed over to me with, then everything else should make a lot more sense. Sound good, sonny?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Alright. Now I don't think it should be a surprise to hear that you were in a rather bad way after that fight of yours. Your arms, legs, and especially your torso, front and back, were covered in burns. Most of them were first degree, but I will say that after that final attack blasted you out of the arena, you're lucky to have gotten off as easy as you did," Recovery Girl explained, flipping through papers. "If you were even a slightly-less hardy sort, I could imagine that you would've suffered much more than cuts, bruises, and burns at the end. In fact, in some capacity, you did."

"What do you mean?" Jomei asked.

She lowered the clipboard. "I mean that some of your ribs were outright fractured when they took the brunt of that final blast. Fortunately, they were only minor fractures, and the rest of your injuries weren't too severe, so I was able to treat those broken bones with the tender love and care they needed. As for all those other wounds, I ended up applying a lower dosage of my Quirk to them, since they weren't life-threatening, hence the fatigue I imagine you're feeling right now. Honestly, I'm more impressed that you woke up so quickly after being treated in the first place. You haven't even missed a match!"

At the mention of future matches, Jomei's attention shifted inward. He hadn't missed a match yet, but that didn't mean he could futz around forever. He cast the sheets covering him aside, and tried to throw his legs over the edge-

Only a sudden painful spasm in his side saw fit to stop him mid-motion, and his hand snapped to clutch at his side with a groan.

Swiftly descending from her chair, Recovery Girl made her way around the edge of the bed and put one of her hands sternly up in front of her. "Now, now, I healed your most severe injuries but that doesn't mean that you should go ahead and try jumping back up to your feet!" she scolded. "What's so important that you need to hurry up and hurt yourself all over again?"

The pain subsided, and he exhaled in relief. "I want to get back to my friends."

"Then you might want to put a shirt on, sonny."

Jomei's eyes widened and he looked down, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that, aside from some bandages wrapped neatly around his abdomen, his entire torso was completely bare. "...oh."

It was barely audible, but Jomei could've sworn he heard the elderly pro giggle, though a light shake of the head was all she let through to hint at her amusement. She then sighed and started meandering out of the room, making sure to retrieve her syringe-slash-walking-stick as she did so. "You'll find a new uniform in a bag on the table to your left. Your old one was burnt and torn to tatters after what you went through." She stopped as she opened the door. "Now I know you want to get back to your friends, but be sure not to rush. I don't want to have to heal you all over again because you were in too much of a hurry to take care of yourself. If I've made myself clear, I'll leave you to it."

The door closed behind her, and Jomei groaned. "Yeah, you did…"

Besides, he'd be damned if he didn't heed her warnings. There was a reason Recovery Girl was considered one of the most accomplished healers in Japan, and one would do well to listen when she told you what to do. Of course, that wasn't even mentioning the potential whack from her walking stick one would be entitled to if they ended up undoing all her hard work to heal them.

With that thought, Jomei snatched the plastic-wrapped, factory fresh sports uniform from the table next to him and set to work making himself presentable. He took his time in washing whatever dirt remained off his face in a nearby sink and slipped into his uniform's jacket easily enough, but he also made sure to take advantage of the new pants the set came with since his current pair were both torn and singed beyond belief. Once he finished changing and had put back on his shoes, he threw out his ruined pants and was ready to go.

Almost.

As he had absentmindedly gone through the motions of stripping down and changing, now that he had time to reflect on what had happened to him, his mind wandered. More specifically, his thoughts drifted toward the most obvious and important source of analysis for him, at the moment – toward Bakugo.

Jomei wasn't as initially heartbroken as he thought he'd be. In the wake of his opponent's win, it was almost as though the closure of it finally gave him enough clarity to really make sense of the situation. The first thing that came to mind was the realization that while there was indeed a gap between him and Bakugo in terms of power, it wasn't nearly as wide as one would've thought. Bakugo had won, yes, but at the most basic levels, Jomei now knew for certain that they were at least somewhat comparable in strength, speed, and skill. Time would tell if this gap between them would widen or close, but the prospect of deeply mulling over the details of that impossible-to-tell line of thought wasn't nearly as compelling a notion as his next.

Bakugo had called him Nishimura.

His name. Not lightshow, nor any other kind of demeaning nickname Jomei was sure he'd have come up with for any given member of Class 1-A, but his name. It may have seemed like a small gesture, but Jomei was convinced that it was an important one. And considering that Bakugo was the last person on the planet who'd ever say what he thought of a person aloud, Jomei also had to accept that this was probably the greatest understanding of his one-sided rival he'd ever achieve anytime soon.

But this newfound insight wasn't near enough to ease the encroaching embarrassment he felt about his loss.

Sudden buzzing from his phone caught his attention. He finished tying his pants and hesitated briefly before he made his way over to the table his phone had ended up at, and the disheartened feeling in his gut only grew when he read who the text was from.

I caught your match, Jomei! My manager might not have been too thrilled about it, but it looks like things are still gonna be fine for me. As for you? You did awesome! I don't know what got into you at the end of your fight with that explosion kid, but you had him on the ropes! Win or lose, you can bet your ass your old man wouldn't have been able to do half the crap you pulled even if I had plenty of gases to work with. So hey, even if you didn't make it through to the semifinals, don't think I'm disappointed, because I'm not. I'm impressed! More than impressed, even. Enjoy the rest of the Sports Festival and don't get too down in the dumps now, alright? I'd watch the rest of the matches, but I've been stalling long enough. Talk to you again soon.

Despite his wistful smile at his dad's message, he couldn't help but feel the disappointment deep in his gut. In fact, his smile died almost as soon as he finished reading it, and a painfully hollow feeling crept in to replace whatever momentary warmth he had felt at first. Haruto's text may have been filled with praise and pride, but it only succeeded in reminding Jomei how many people he'd failed.

His parents.

His friends.

Himself.

Honestly, he knew that his friends and family wouldn't care about his loss nearly as much as he would, but the fact remained that he no longer had the opportunity to aim for the fast-track to fame he'd desired so badly when the festival had first started. Now that opportunity was only available to those who would progress to the semifinals, and he would be but a footnote in the records of this year's Sports Festival. On a stage so grand and important as the Sports Festival presented, there was no consolation prize for those who gave their all to reach the final stage of the proceedings only to flounder, in the end.

Jomei's frown deepened. He stared at his phone until the screen dimmed, but he finally mustered the courage to type out a response that betrayed none of the emotional tumult he felt. Then, noticing a missed call from his mother, he sent a text her way to let her know he was fine. His smile returned for a fleeting few seconds as he reflected upon how much his parents had always been there for him, but the warm feeling faded just as quickly as it came. His posture slouched, and a long exhale blew out through his nose.

"You had one job, Jomei," he muttered to himself. "Beat Bakugo. Do that, and everything would've been fine. Instead you lost, and now you're here, and you failed to do everything you wanted to do with the Sports Festival this year. Great job."

The hurried sound of a swift procession of multiple simultaneous footsteps headed his direction stirred him from his thoughts, only for them to come to an unexpected halt moments later just outside his room. Familiar voices exchanged muffled but clearly concerned words with what sounded like Recovery Girl before they continued down the hall, and Jomei didn't need to have heard what was said to predict who would burst through the door first.

"Jomei!" Akiko dashed into the room, only stopping when she rounded the bed to throw her arms around Jomei in a gentle embrace he barely had time to return before she pulled back and stared up into his face. "I was so worried. Are you okay?"

Thankful for the distraction, he was all too happy to respond. "Yeah. I've still got some cuts and stuff, but most of the big injuries have already been taken care of. Recovery Girl said I should take it easy, but I'll be fine…" he paused. "Physically, at least."

Akiko stepped back, her mismatched eyes taking on that familiar concern he'd seen so many times. "You mean about your loss."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jomei noticed Kyoka and Denki enter the room. He tried to put on a convincing smirk, but he could only assume the mask he made was painfully transparent for what it was. "Yeah."

"You did great, though!" Akiko stressed.

"Isn't that the truth…" Denki contributed. "Seriously, you shoulda seen the crowd during your guys' fight! You'd have thought it was the finals they were so excited! Some people were pretty much throwing themselves over the rails back there they were so pumped up!"

Kyoka raised a brow at his exuberance, and turned her attention back to Jomei. "What he means to say is people other than him were doing that."

Jomei tried to chuckle, but it came out as a light huff. Leave it to his friends to lift his spirits even a little bit if they could. "Thanks, but… that doesn't change the fact that I lost. I can hope all day that what I did will be enough to get me scouted, but I still got knocked out in the second round of the finals. It's easy to get overlooked by pros out there watching the festival if you don't even make it to the semifi- gah!"

Kyoka crossed her arms and gave Jomei a warning glare before reeling in the vengeful earphone jack that had whipped him across the back of his head. Meanwhile, laughter had already begun bursting out from Denki beside her.

Jomei rubbed the back of his head, suddenly sheepish when he remembered their own fights. "Right. Sorry. I wasn't thinking when I said that."

Kyoka's glare faded. "It's fine, I know you didn't mean anything by it. But listen, you really don't have a reason to think that just because you didn't win against Bakugo means you didn't make the most of this gig."

"Yeah man, I'm with Kyoka on this," Denki agreed as his laughter trailed off. "Everyone watching was super stoked about your fight, and here's the thing. I dunno if you heard it at the end, but they were cheering your name before you passed out."

"Wait… really?" Jomei looked up at his girlfriend for confirmation, and she nodded.

He recalled hearing the crowd cheering someone's name, sure, but the possibility hadn't struck him that the person they could be expressing such excitement for would be him. He'd lost, and somehow that had managed to still earn him the attention, and perhaps even the respect, of at least a few thousand strangers.

If that was the case, then it wasn't too farfetched to assume that there would at least be some overlap in the demographic of people he'd endeared himself to among the Pro Heroes that were bound to have been watching his fight. With any luck, that meant he'd likely stand a chance of being noticed by pros for internships and other such training opportunities in the future. Without even realizing it, a great deal of the gloom that had manifested in the air around him faded, and his slightly consternated features smoothed back into something more readily resembling his typical calm.

"Now that's the spirit!" Denki continued, throwing his fist up. "And hey, at least now you can join the spectator's club with me and Kyoka. We can all cheer Akiko on next!"

His heart skipped a beat, and his gaze snapped back to her. "Wait, is your match now?"

"No, no. Iida's going up against Ashido next, but their fight hasn't started yet," Akiko explained. "We'll overhear Present Mic introducing them even though we're here."

"Oh, good," Jomei said, relieved. "So we still have time."

Akiko's lips pressed into an uneasy line, and she clasped her hands over her stomach. "Yeah. I suppose we do."

A mental prickle born from the oddly passive nature of her response spurred him to look closer, and Jomei saw an uncertainty in Akiko's eyes that convinced him something was bothering her. "Akiko? What's wrong?"

It then hit him, and what he'd promised them before his fight came back to him in a rush.

"It means I don't hate him as much as I used to," he remembered assuring them. "But I can tell you that no matter what happens, I'll try my best not to let myself get too intense, down there."

Denki and Kyoka must have picked up on what Akiko was thinking about too, and the easy atmosphere inside the room grew tense. Silence reigned, with no one willing to be the first to speak on the matter they now all knew was on their minds. Jomei's disappointment in himself returned, this time no less severe than what he'd felt sink into his gut when he realized the severity of his loss to Bakugo in the first place. Still, he'd been the one to cause the awkwardness that now hovered over all of them, so it was only right that he owned up to his mistakes.

"I know what you guys are thinking," he finally said, his tone soft and ashamed. "And you guys are right. When things got rough and I was pushed too far, I went berserk. I'm sorry. Is… did Bakugo get back to the booth before you all came here? Was he okay?"

Hesitantly, Denki responded. "Yeah… he was about as 'okay' as he's ever been, really. I guess he might've powered through Recovery Girl healing only his big injuries because he still had a few cuts and stuff when we last saw him. He seemed really out of it, too. Really quiet and way more broody than usual – it was kinda creepy."

"Honestly, I think all of us were surprised by how he was acting when he came back," Kyoka continued. "After getting beat to hell by you, it was pretty much everyone's assumption that he'd be super pissed off because he almost got knocked out in the quarterfinals, but then he gets back and he's so quiet he wouldn't even tell Kirishima what was up. I'm gonna guess that whatever happened between you guys during your fight must've hit him hard, right?"

Jomei's thoughts fell back to the things he'd said to Bakugo right before he started to lay into him. The insults, the heartfelt roar of his voice as he tore into the very fibers of what he believed made up Bakugo's being, all of it returned to the forefront of his mind. At the moment it was all going down, Jomei had been far from in the right mindspace to think about what effect his words would have, or even could have on his opponent, but now he saw with clarity how wrong his words had been. Jomei couldn't imagine any other reason why the description of Bakugo his friends had given him made him sound downright pensive.

He mulled over this realization for a few seconds longer before responding. "That… does sound about right, after everything that happened down there."

"That doesn't change what happened, though," Akiko commented. "What matters is that you lost control. I wasn't only worried about Bakugo when that happened – I was worried about you, too. Probably even more than I was about him. What happened? What provoked you?"

There was a degree of hurt in her voice that made a new wave of shame wash over Jomei, now suddenly feeling ten times worse about what he'd ended up doing during his match.

So he opted to answer in the most delicate way he could. "I would say I don't know, but… that'd be a lie."

"So what was it?" Denki asked.

"You know how my mom's stuck in a wheelchair?"

"I…" Denki paused, his eyes darting around as he searched his memory. "You told us that, yeah. You never mentioned anything more than that she was in a wheelchair, though. No reasons, or anything like that."

"Villains did that to her," Jomei continued, answering the question that would inevitably follow his friend's line of thinking. "Gangsters. She was always a really good officer, and she was put in as part of a raid team on a drug operation one day. Long story short, since a lot of the guys they were there to arrest started using those drugs to fight back, one of her friends wound up in the line of fire. My mom dove in to help, but… she ended up taking the hit for them. It didn't matter that she was wearing armor, either. The spike the gangster sent out hit her right in the spine, and she's been stuck in a wheelchair ever since."

"Wow, I'm really sorry Jomei. Did Bakugo say something about her or what happened to her, or something?" Kyoka questioned.

"I think he was getting there," Akiko answered on his behalf. She then looked at him, equally concerned and sympathetic with her knowledge of the effect the events he'd described had on him. "You… you don't have to say it if you don't want to. I think I know where you're coming from, now."

"But they deserve to know, too," Jomei said, and his head pivoted to face the other pair. "So you guys now know about what happened to my mom, but you probably haven't heard about what exactly Bakugo said to me when we first met."

"Jomei…" Akiko trailed off.

"It was during the practical portion of the entrance exams," Jomei continued, a faded bitterness in his tone as he recalled the event that had spurred his hatred of Bakugo to begin with. "He jumped in and destroyed a three-point faux villain that I was fighting, called me an extra, and flew off. I ran ahead of him and stole twelve points back. He then goes ahead and threatens to hurt me so bad I'd never walk again."

"What!?" Denki exclaimed, the aghast look on his face warping into one of fury. "That's so messed up! Even if he doesn't know about your mom, who the hell does that guy think he is saying that kind of stuff!? No wonder you got so pissed off at him!"

Kyoka clearly shared in his frustration, but managed to maintain her composure. "Seriously. It doesn't matter that he might've been pissed off at you for getting revenge – you can't go to the entrance exam for U.A. and pretend you can get away with saying crap like that."

"Then you understand why I went nuts," Jomei concluded, and he paused to carefully consider what he said next before anyone could respond. "But it doesn't make it okay, I know that. It won't happen again. Not with him at least."

A glimmer of confusion surfaced in Akiko's eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Because I don't think Bakugo's a one-note bastard anymore," Jomei explained, shocking even himself with how easily the words came out. "None of you could've heard it, but before I passed out, he called me by my name. That's something he's never done for anyone besides Kirishima, and he even told me that our fight was 'good.' I don't know what Bakugo's thinking about right now, but I think I can guess that he's starting to realize what he said to me when we first met was messed up. Even if he doesn't know the reason why, he might even regret it now."

He stared down at his hands before clenching them tight. "We're not friends. I don't know if it would even be possible for us to ever be friends, but… Before now, I didn't think he's ever seen any of us as people worth being called his equal, but maybe our match changed that. Maybe he'll actually see some of us as worth a damn. No matter what happens next, maybe he'll be careful about whatever insults he sends anyone's way from now on. As for me? I'm done hating Bakugo." Jomei held Akiko's gaze for a long moment. "For good, this time."

A small smile pulled at her lips. "Thank you, Jomei. That's… that means a lot to me."

Jomei nodded. "Yeah. Besides, I owe it to all of you guys to make sure you don't have to worry about me like you did. I owe it to myself."

A now companionable silence permeated the room. Denki looked like he was about to open his mouth when the sound of distant cheers and Present Mic's introductions came through the walls.

"Looks like Ashido and Iida are about to duke it out," Kyoka said, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. "Unless we've got something else to talk about, wanna go ahead and catch it?"

"Yep!" Denki chirped.

"Sounds good to me," Jomei said.

Akiko nodded. "I'm glad we were able to take care of all this before we missed the match. I promised Ashido that I'd try to tune in and watch her fight."

Denki started a slow jog toward the door. "Well let's get a move on then! I don't wanna miss this either, and I bet ten thousand yen Ashido's gonna manage to win this one!"

---

"Oh yeah, let the hype keep rising right through the roof! You sports fans thought that the first match of the quarterfinals was super sweet? Well, we got plenty more where that came from, starting with the two tenacious trainees we have stepping up to the plate next!" Present Mic said, his voice as intense as the audience's energy in the stands. "Up first we have the bubbly, beastly, and generally awesome acidic fighter who took down her tape-slinging foe with one killer punch! Ashido Mina!"

Her shoes already having been tossed aside, Ashido planted her hands confidently on her hips before she flashed a toothy grin for all the world to see. Her pants and jacket sleeves had been rolled up to avoid the fiasco that was her last uniform being acidified and destroyed, which meant that she was more than ready to begin, mentally and physically. Her victory in round one had brought the horn buddies that much closer to true glory, and she was sure she'd be able to make the quarterfinals serve to help her continue that journey.

"And second, it's the scion of the hero family himself! He may have not had a chance to show his talents as anything but a testing dummy against Hatsume, but something tells me he's real ready to show what he's made of! It's Iida Tenya!"

Iida stood tall and his expression was calm, but it was clear that aside from his typical decorum, there was a fierce level of determination hidden beneath the surface. In preparation for the imminent match start, he entered a runner's stance, his pant legs already rolled up to let the nozzles of his engines stretch out and poke freely from his calves. Even now, they vibrated and thrummed with potential that had been forced to lay dormant for the entirety of the final stage thus far.

"I hope you aren't rusty after that fight with Hatsume, Iida!" Ashido playfully taunted. "Because I won't show you any mercy if you are. I've got a promise to keep!"

"Hm. I can assure you that I'm no such thing, Ashido, and I commend both your sportsmanship and your spirit," Iida responded, his lips tugging into a slight smile before they flattened back into something more serious. "But I have much to prove, as well. As the youngest of the Iida sons, I owe it to my family to excel here. Between the two of us, may the best fighter prevail."

She raised a thumb and a beaming grin in his direction. "That's the spirit!"

"And would you look at those two down there! All smiles and sportsmanship, and the match hasn't even started yet!" Present Mic praised. "I won't hold you back any longer, then! Let's get this match started in three! Two! One! Start!"

"Here we go!" Iida shouted, and he burst into motion.

'Gotta keep the horn buddies dream alive!'

Iida had only begun to pick up speed, but already Ashido had planned a counter. One of her arms stretched out to the side and wound up into a pitch. "Now don't you think I'll let you get close for free! Take this!"

Globby acid formed a ball in her hand and flew for Iida, only to miss him by a meter as he suddenly halted and exploded back into gear from another, more obtuse angle of approach. Ashido repeated the attack several times more, ejecting acid from her feet as she had during Aizawa's Quirk test at the start of the year to speed up her throws and randomize the timing in which they were thrown, eventually stopping her flurry of ranged moves when the constant motion threatened to dizzy her. As it turned out, Iida had managed to navigate through the barrage of acid balls just fine, and in the absence of the need to dodge, his engines belched dust and smoke as he picked up dangerous speed to close in on Ashido.

"Your skill is commendable Ashido, but I'm afraid I won't let myself be outmatched by such straightforward attacks, no matter how numerous!" Iida shouted, and with one final shift of gears endowing him with another burst of speed, he launched himself into the air and his leg flew in the direction of Ashido's abdomen.

She barely avoided the blow, but wasted no time before spraying a wave of acid out before her and swiftly sliding away atop her Quirk's emissions. Her feet slid along the path one of her hands had created until it petered out, and she still continued rapidly forward in hopes to create some distance between her and Iida. She was strong, yes, but Iida was much more physically imposing than Sero could ever be, and entering close-quarters combat against someone with strength and speed on their side wasn't a risk she was willing to take. When she twisted around and let herself keep sliding backward, she was met with the sight of Iida having recovered from his attack. He was now coasting around the edge of the stage much like she was, carefully avoiding the trail of low-intensity acid she left in her wake but still more than fast enough to catch up if she didn't interrupt his advance.

"So you can dodge some of my acid balls, huh?" Ashido started, enforcing confidence into her tone despite the desperate nature of her initial dodge. "Well if you can do that, then I guess I'll have to mix things up! Try this on for size!"

Practice with her acidic speed enabled Ashido to continue sliding backward without worry of accidentally leaving the play area, and she started her next offensive with a determined look on her face. Raising one hand, mossy green and intense acid gushed from her palm. A large and uneven pool formed in front of her, creating both a menacing snare for Iida himself and uneven ground for him to run through. Some of the acid ate through the concrete it landed on while her other hand sprayed her Quirk into the air to create an impromptu acid rain over the pool she'd created. Once that task was done, both hands oozed two more loose globs of acid in preparation for her next attacks.

"Ashido's Acid Offensive!" Ashido proudly announced, and she crossed her arms as she cast another pair of acidic balls toward Iida. "Ha!"

Only seeming to realize the severity of her sudden salvo of techniques as he entered the danger zone of it, Iida was too late to slow down, and his jaw clenched before he could form a response. Instead of worry crossing his features though, his face became a stalwart example of sheer will and determination, and he continued through the hotbed of acidic attacks undaunted.

With unforeseen skill and agility for a bulky frame moving at the speeds he was, Iida easily hopped, skipped, and suddenly side-stepped his way through the pools of acid that hadn't eaten their way into nonexistence through their interactions with the concrete. Droplets of acid rained down on him from above too, but most had grown small enough in their descent to be little more than an intense irritant that barely dissolved parts of Iida's jacket before they started to dot sporadically onto any of his exposed flesh. And regarding Ashido's acid balls, Iida dodged those as well as he had before, dropping low one moment to avoid one aimed at his chest only to push himself sideways into the air with one arm to dodge the follow-up attack.

As he neared the edge of the area Ashido's Acid Offensive had sectioned off though, he was struck directly in the stomach with only one acid ball. The only proof of the pain the attack had inflicted on Iida was an uncomfortable growl, but he powered through, and Ashido had no time to reflect upon the small victory. With one final leap over a pair of two more acidic attacks, he was home free, with the acidic minefield now subsiding into the concrete behind him with each passing second.

Ashido realized the danger she was in now that he had a clear path toward her and turned around to try and boost her speed by focusing solely on skating forward on her acid, but Iida remained the swifter speedster.

"A bold technique… but not enough!" Iida shouted, his voice intense, and an explosion of compressed air punctuated his final word.

Ashido dared to look behind her, only to immediately regret it. Iida was racing toward her with the same speed that had forced her to desperately dodge when she was standing still, and now she was in the middle of skirting around the edge of the arena. If it connected, she'd be out, and if she dodged in the only direction available to her, Iida would have an easily predictable angle to aim a follow-up attack before she could produce a counter of her own.

Which was why she took the riskiest option available to her. She stopped dead in her tracks, and twisted around on one heel in a final side-step that would cause Iida to overshoot her entirely, but she didn't stop there. She still had to attack while she held the initiative.

As planned, Iida didn't follow through with his attack and instead started to skid by her as he tried to stop and attempt another attack, but Ashido didn't afford him such an easy opportunity. Instead, she took advantage of his present battle against his own momentum so that she could punch him further away. A viscous sheet of acid covered her arm in its entirety, from the elbow to the tips of her fingers, and her fist flew right for Iida's gut.

"Sorry for this, Iida!" She preemptively apologized. "Acid Punch!"

It connected, and Iida went flying back toward the center of the stage with a sudden cry of mixed pain and surprise as more acid compounded the injury already present from Ashido's prior acid ball. To her surprise and horror though, Iida regained control over himself in record time and fluidly entered another runner's stance almost exactly like the one he'd started out their match with.

He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose, and his usually perfectly-managed hair was loose over his face, but he remained well within the field of play. His eyes eventually rose to send a serious look to Ashido, and she suddenly realized a fatal error in what she had done. Or rather, had not done, as a result of her awed gawking. She hadn't moved.

She was still at the edge of the arena. Iida was in the center, and she'd brutally punched him with a Quirk-augmented attack to get him there. Ashido shook her head and refocused on preparing to fight back against whatever Iida did next. She wouldn't – couldn't – dwell on her mistakes. Not when her horn buddy was counting on her.

Besides, she still had hope of winning this fight. Even if her attacks had only hit his gut, acid burns weren't something that even someone as big and strong as Iida could shrug off. He was bound to be in a lot of pain right now, and if she could just bait him into attacking her and somehow dodge, he'd have no way to stop himself in time and his momentum would carry him out of the play area. Game over.

"Ashido…" Iida said between heavy breaths. "I'm afraid I must apologize as well."

"What!?" Ashido exclaimed. "What're you apologizing for? I'm the one that hit you with a bunch of acid in the gut! Twice!"

"You misunderstand," Iida continued. "I'm not apologizing for my performance thus far, but rather, I'm apologizing for what I must do next. I've been keeping this final technique hidden for the entire festival as my last resort. The only time I called upon it was in isolation against Midoriya's team during the cavalry battle. Aside from those who were involved there, no one has been privy to its existence nor its power."

"So… you've been holding back?" Ashido asked, confused.

"Not quite. I didn't know when I should fall back upon it for reasons that I imagine are similar to Nishimura and his delayed reveal of his 'Flashbang' move. Now, though… I can say for certain that you are a foe I can't afford to give anything but my utmost, no matter what." Iida paused, and he looked back down at the ground, but his voice grew loud and intense. "This is it!"

Completely unaware of what could possibly come from such an ominous warning, Ashido's only thought was to ball her hands into fists and coat her arms with another sheet of her Quirk. If she couldn't avoid his next move, then she'd have no choice but to defend herself however she could. To this end, she could think of no better method of doing so other than to ready another pair of Acid Punches.

For the briefest of moments, the arena felt silent aside from her opponent's next words.

"Recipro Burst!"

It all happened faster than Ashido could comprehend. One instant Iida was in the center of the stage, the next he was right in front of her, cast in such a silhouette that only the glare of his glasses shone through to hint at the speed he'd attained. Iida's engines flared red with heat and expelled condensed blue fire from their tips, and the sound of his movement could only dream of catching up to him as his leg rocketed towards Ashido's acid-coated block.

After only a feeble moment of resistance, Ashido screamed in shock as she was sent tumbling from the stage. She grunted and gasped as she rolled along the grassy field below, and promptly curled into a ball to mitigate the damage to her body. When she finally stopped, she only hesitantly opened her eyes and looked back in the direction of the arena, at which point she realized she had been flung far enough away that she had almost hit the wall of the arena itself. She then started the arduous task of getting back onto her feet.

Midnight cracking her whip beat her to the punch. "Ashido is out of bounds! Iida advances to the semifinal round of the final stage!"

In the distance, Iida bowed humbly to the crowd, and even though Ashido knew the announcement was an inevitable one, an overdramatic groan of disappointment escaped her lips as the official announcement of her loss hit her. For some reason though, the news that she'd been defeated didn't hurt her nearly as much as she imagined it would hurt someone else. Someone she'd made a promise to not long ago.

She sighed emphatically. "Aww, man..."

---

"I'm sorry Kirishimaaaaaa…!"

Even in defeat, Jomei noticed that Ashido somehow managed to maintain her bubbly nature with one visually loud flop into an empty seat next to Kirishima and Bakugo. The former tensed for a split second and then looked down at her with wide eyes, while the latter quietly groaned and shoved his face exasperatedly into his hands. It appeared that excessive energy even in defeat wasn't something Bakugo found all that endearing.

"Sorry? What've you got to be sorry about?" Kirishima asked confusedly. "From the looks of things, you gave it everything you got down there. No shame in that."

"Blehhh…" Ashido moaned, melting further into her seat. "Even if you're right, now I can't show off the horn buddies anymore! I promised to take us super far but I lost…"

Kirishima shrugged. "Does it look like I'm mad at you for it, though?"

"No…"

"Exactly. Iida can be pretty beastly whenever he gets a solid hit in," Kirishima said. "Throw in that super speed boost of his that you couldn't have seen coming and there's no way I could blame you for losing."

Below, Jomei and Akiko shared a look. Jomei then decided to chip into the conversation. "He's right, you know. Take it from me when I say speed is something a lot of people underestimate in fights. If you can move fast enough, it won't matter how much stronger or varied someone else's Quirk is than yours, because a lot of the time, speed is strength. For someone like Iida, when he pulls out all the stops, that's gonna be rough for anyone to keep up with."

"Yeah, and your reaction times are right up there with Denki's, and you're one of the strongest girls in class," Akiko added. "If you had a chance to dodge or defend against Iida's last move, you would've been able to. The fact you were able to put up any resistance against it at all and didn't get hurt by it only goes to show how close your match really was."

"Oh, and Denki?" Jomei said with a friendly smirk. "I think you owe the rest of us some yen."

Denki's eyes widened. "Whoa, wait a sec, you thought I was serious about that bet?!"

As Jomei laughed, Kirishima looked at Ashido. "They have good points, you know."

She sat up a little straighter but her lower lip pushed itself forward into a slight pout. "Yeah, I guess…"

"Oh, but it's true," a new voice stressed.

"Iida, you're back!" Midoriya greeted.

"Where were you, anyway?" Uraraka asked.

"It's good to see you all again, and I'm glad to see that it's as though I've been missed," Iida continued with a charming smile. "As for your question? I went to see Recovery Girl for the acid burns I sustained during my fight. With some water and a low dosage of her Quirk to my wounds, all but the most grievous of my injuries have been completely healed."

"Well, that's good…" Ashido quietly said. "Sorry about all that, by the way. I really didn't think I could beat you without going all-out there. Not that it was that close of a fight, at the end."

"There's no need to apologize or diminish your strength, Ashido," Iida said. "Our match was actually much closer than it seems you believe it was."

Ashido blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember your block against me, at the end? If that final attack hadn't knocked you out of the ring…" He paused. "I'd have been doomed to fail in our match."

"Whoa, that's a pretty big thing to say there, Iida," Kirishima stated. "You sure about that?"

"Indeed I am," Iida confirmed. "Now if you'd allow me to explain, there are more reasons beyond what I'm about to show you as to why Recipro Burst was something of a gamble to employ in battle, but what I will openly reveal is this." He knelt down and pulled up one of his pant legs, and several eyes widened as he revealed the stretch of bandages that went from around his ankle up to where his knee began. "If you'll recall correctly, Ashido, you coated your arms entirely with your Quirk in anticipation of my attack. Should my final strike not have thrown you out of the ring, such an injury as this would have been catastrophic to my chances of success."

"Huh… then it looks like our match really was close…" Ashido paused, looking up at the sky for a moment before her thoughtful expression turned back into one of her typical toothy grins. Her gaze then snapped back down to Iida himself. "But because you knocked me out of the finals, it's now your job to make me look good by going super far, alright Iida?!"

Iida stood and placed a hand over his heart. "I humbly accept this burden. You were a worthy opponent, and I wish you nothing but the-" The sudden sound of ringing in his pocket stopped him dead in his tracks, and he quickly retrieved his phone, his brow furrowing as he looked at it. "Quite odd. My family normally knows to avoid attempts at making contact with me during school hours. I'm afraid I must excuse myself – it must be a matter of utmost importance for them to be doing so. Takara. Midoriya. Should I be rendered unable to catch most of your match because of this call, I wish you both the best of luck."

At the same time he finished his sentence and started walking back into the privacy of the halls, Akiko and Midoriya's eyes widened in shock. The two fighters looked at each other, and it was only then that Jomei realized the cause for their unspoken concern – the last match had been over for enough time for Cementoss to fix the arena, which also meant that the next was bound to be starting up any minute now.

And neither of them had so much as left the booth yet.

"For those wondering when the next match will begin, allow me to direct your attention to Class 1-A's reserved seating area." Aizawa droned. "There you'll find the two students who should have already been prepared for their match, instead of illogically sitting in the stands for no good reason."

"For once, Eraserhead's right on the money!" Present Mic agreed. "We're all waiting on you two kids!"

Immediately, Midoriya and Akiko hastily stood. Moments later, after a flurry of good lucks, they had rushed up the stairs and into the stadium interior by the time Jomei had risen to his feet to even ask if Akiko wanted him to walk with her down to the arena again. The suddenness of it all left him feeling slightly bewildered, but not unpleasantly so, and he slowly sat back down into his seat. In fact, Jomei even felt a slight smirk tugging up at one side of his lips as his mind drifted towards thoughts of his girlfriend to make up for her absence.

"You aren't gonna go after her?" Denki asked. "Consider me surprised."

"Same here," Kyoka said. "He looks like he's in a whole different world with that dumb look on his face. What's the deal with that?"

"I think it's cute!" Ashido called out. "Even if I have no idea why he looks like that right now!"

"It's because of Akiko," Jomei said softly. "I'm just thinking of her, is all."

"That's new," Kyoka commented.

He gave her a half-annoyed look, but failed to maintain it as thoughts of Akiko drifted back to the forefront of his mind. "Listen, it's not like I'm concerned for her or anything, it's that… I'm proud of her. I was here thinking that I should probably walk with her down to the arena and maybe hype her up a little before the match – especially after everything I made her sit through during mine – but right there… she looked fine."More than fine, he thought. She looked determined, through her own willpower alone. He smiled.

"They really are super in love!" Ashido cheered.

"I know, right?" Hagakure gushed. "It's kind of cute to see a guy be all mushy, for once."

Despite the open gossip about his relationship, Jomei only found that his smile deepened. He couldn't exactly argue against their observations, and it wasn't like they were hurting him in any way, so he'd let them make their comments. After all, the only thing they could do was remind him how lucky he was to have found someone so easy to love.

God forbid his mother make those kinds of comments, though.

"Now isn't the time to discuss romance," Tokoyami cut in before they could continue. "If you wish to do so, you may go about gossip concerning Nishimura and Takara's love life when not everyone else is forced to overhear such a conversation. For now, I'd advise we all hone ourselves solely on the observation of the next match. All of us, not simply those who have made it into the final stage, could learn much by observing our peers in battle."

"When did you get so wise?" Denki asked.

A single breath that sounded almost like a self-satisfied laugh punched out from Tokoyami's chest, and Jomei unexpectedly wound up following his advice. He couldn't help but recognize that Tokoyami was right. So instead, Jomei consciously decided to change gears back into a frame of mind that would leave him eager and excited to watch Akiko's fight, just like when she was about to face off against Kirishima. At least in this mindset he'd be able to still feel pride in her without necessarily having his feelings for her infect it with more romantic connotations.

Once he had successfully repressed the lovestruck look on his face, a new thought related to Akiko came to mind. Her crystal core may not have betrayed much about her mental state at the time, but Jomei quickly realized that, similar to Denki and Kyoka, Akiko hadn't held anything against him for his reaction to Bakugo toward the end of his fight. Her quick departure hadn't been out of frustration at him, but simply a manifestation of her determination to win, not just on her own account, but on his behalf too. Her willingness to take on the burden of his goals for the festival along with her own. He'd known for a while that they were a team, but never more than this moment did he realize how much they were in this together.

Suddenly his loss didn't sting quite as much. He'd happily spend the rest of the Sports Festival cheering Akiko on from the sidelines if such a simple action meant that the adoration he felt for her now would never be far from his mind. He'd do it for the entire time they remained together on their journey to become pros, and forever after that.

And that was a promise.

---

It was only after Akiko realized that she and Midoriya had split up to get to their respective entryways into the arena itself that she realized she was alone. Even so, she didn't end up thinking too hard about the lack of company; in fact, in some ways, it might've been for the best. That meant that her departure had probably been fast enough to convey the reason behind her haste, aside from necessity on account of her tardiness.

She wanted to wrap Jomei's wish for himself up within her own goals, and achieve her success for him too. She imagined him cheering her on in light of such a realization of her goal in that wholesome way that gave her warm fuzzies as only he could, and her crystal core shifted to a faint magenta at her thoughts.

So far in the festival, she'd carried herself this far without much help from him in steadying her nerves, but for the one time he had to do so before her match facing Kirishima, she felt obligated to do so. Even if Jomei couldn't achieve the fame and stardom that came with making it to the final rounds of the tournament, she could at least give him the satisfaction of watching his best friend and partner do that same thing on his behalf. It'd be no substitute for him getting the attention himself, and potentially a rather mentally taxing undertaking for Akiko herself, but it'd be a worthwhile goal to pursue – at least for as long as the Sports Festival lasted.

With one conscious reminder of who and what she was fighting for, however, she felt a tide of tranquility slowly wash over her. She wouldn't panic now, as she'd already proven how capable she was to herself in her triumph over Kirishima, and she couldn't afford to do so if she wanted to achieve her and Jomei's goal and get over the next hurdle of an opponent she'd be facing at the same time.

Speaking of which, it occurred to her that she probably should've spent a little time ruminating upon the strengths and weaknesses Midoriya possessed since their match was so soon on the horizon. Sadly, though, they both had forfeited their allotted period of prep time to do such a thing when they forgot their match was next, so…

They'd both have to rely on both creativity and quick thinking in the battle to come. Fortunately for her, Akiko mused, based on her last-ditch effort to knock Kirishima out of bounds, she had both of those talents in relative abundance where one-versus-one situations were concerned.

Her brisk walk finally brought her to the threshold of the grassy portion of the arena, and without further ado, she crossed it without so much as breaking her stride.

"After a super swift set of two superb matches, we're halfway through the quarterfinals, but don't think that the excitement stops here!" Present Mic instructed. "I think we can all agree that this next battle's gonna be a blast, and well worth the wait!"

Akiko started to ascend the steps leading up to the stage, her breathing even and her expression a level of calm unlike anything she could've imagined before her first match. Excitement flooded down from the stands into the arena below, and when she reached the summit and walked to where she would start the fight, she saw Midoriya looking back at her with an expression similar to her own. He nodded at her, and she returned the gesture.

"You'd be right to remember her as the girl with a wit well worth the price of admission alone in her first fight! She's the one who made a missile outta a massive amount of concrete and crushed her opponent! Takara Akiko!"

Shutting her eyes, Akiko took a deep breath to recenter herself one last time. She was ready for whatever would follow, and her Quirk's namesake glowed a deep and determined orange to reflect her newfound courage.

"Her opponent ain't too shabby either! He looks plain and didn't get much of a chance to show off in his first match, but his willpower speaks for itself! He's the hero-in-training who flipped his opponent out of bounds even though he had some fractured fingers! Midoriya Izuku!"

Midoriya looked down at his bandaged fingers thoughtfully before his attention was drawn back up to Akiko. "So it looks like we're both battling against the limits of our Quirks."

"It looks like we are," Akiko agreed. "We're both going to have to give it our all to win here, but no matter what happens, I still hope you'll get what you wanted out of the festival, in the end. I for one need to make sure the world knows I'm here."

His eyes widened in surprise, but the look on his face faded into one of respect before long. "I wouldn't have thought that would be your goal for the festival, Takara, but I understand where you're coming from. I made a promise to someone really important to me to do that, too, so let's do our best! For our friends!"

As he raised his recently-healed hand finger-first in her direction, Akiko nodded and raised her hands, her stance widening into one more suitable for sudden movements when the match started. "Right. We can't let them down!"

"Alright, looks like all the cheers are done, so let's do this!" Present Mic eagerly shouted. "Let the third match of the quarterfinals…"

Midoriya's jaw clenched as he braced himself for his opening move.

Akiko's eyes narrowed as she noticed his bandaged fingers arranged themselves in such a manner that looked like they were ready to flick in her direction. Her legs tensed, and she shifted fluidly into peridot mode in anticipation of the attack she knew would come her way.

"BEGIN!"

His index finger flicked toward her. The air audibly popped with the motion, and a condensed funnel carrying the force of winds beyond those of any normal storm barrelled toward her. But she was prepared, and releasing the tension in her legs with a mighty leap up, a brief vertical whirlwind of her own creation threw her straight into the air. Midoriya's mighty gale passed harmlessly underneath, and she spun with the motion of the wind that had propelled her up to gain speed and build momentum with her arms, only to unleash it as she completed her third turnaround. When she lashed out in a palm-first push aimed at Midoriya, a stream of air almost as powerful as the one he had unleashed spiraled in his direction, and Akiko turned her focus to safely land back on the stage.

As she prepared to break her fall with another minor use of her Quirk, Akiko noticed the thinly-veiled grimace t on Midoriya's face. The finger that had only recently been healed had been used as ammunition to fuel his opening move, and it was now little more than a dark purple mess of broken bone and bruises. Nevertheless, Akiko had little time to muse on the horrific implications of Midoriya's strategy. One small jet from her feet allowed her to land safely on the stage, and her attention turned back to her opponent, his face clenched tightly in pain as he forced his legs to leap out of the way of Akiko's counterattack.

Midoriya rolled as he successfully dodged and held his bad hand close to his chest before quickly rising back to his feet, but Akiko wouldn't give someone as smart as him time to think of a way to fight back. With a widening of her legs lower to the ground and a strong stretch of her elbow back behind her, she forced her palm forward again with a brief battlecry to launch another forceful gust toward Midoriya. Another repetition of the attack followed, and only then did Akiko take a deep breath and pause to think of a strategy for herself.

Peridot mode had been useful, but she couldn't rely on it alone to bowl Midoriya out of the arena. Even now her opponent was more than capable of dodging the comparatively slow attacks she sent his way, and if she were to stick to merely utilizing peridot mode, the likelihood was dangerously high that Midoriya would power through the pain of breaking his fingers to land a clean shot on her while she was vulnerable in the air. She needed to take a note out of Kirishima's book and try to withstand him.

Emerald mode it would be. Maximum defensive potential for minimal strain on her body.

Her hair, chest, and eyes swapped to their familiar deep greens, and she was prepared to continue; simultaneously, Midoriya had recovered from dodging the second of her set of attacks and had raised his hand again, another one of his fingers ready to follow through with an attack of his own.

Akiko started to run toward to pressure him into attacking again while still closing the gap herself, and Midoriya's middle finger moved.

Concrete was conjured from the ground by Akiko when she stopped short and punched both of her fists vertically in front of her. She heard the familiar pop that stemmed from Midoriya's use of his Quirk muffled by the stone, and the unnatural gale thrust itself upon her makeshift shield not a second later. The force of the wind crashing into the concrete ate away at the edges of the wall enough that Akiko was sure it would fall to another blast, but she heard Midoriya groan determinedly.

He was preparing to attack again before she could pressure him any further.

Akiko heard another pop, but a pillar punched from the concrete slabs that made up the stage to propel her away from the refuge that her wall had provided. She looked back at where she had been and it was as she assumed – Midoriya's third attack weathered away enough at the concrete that it eventually collapsed into pebbles blown apart by his assault. Fearful of another onslaught's occurrence being aimed as she landed, Akiko forced another wall up in front of her the moment she landed and rolled to stop herself. She pressed up against the wall and decided to switch her strategy to ruby mode, her color-changing features suddenly blushing a blood red before she peeked out from her cover for a momentary assault.

Midoriya's face was contorted in pain and his brow beady with cold sweat, but she didn't give herself time to hesitate once she saw him winding up with his pinky for a fourth strike. She punched forward four times to unleash as many fireballs at her opponent before following up with a short-lived stream of fire from the combined force of her hands pressed together at the wrist. Midoriya hesitated, and his opportunity to merely blow away the incoming flame faded instantly. He dodged the four fireballs and fell to his knees to avoid the stream that followed soon after, but rose back onto one knee and readied up his pinky for another flick before Akiko could continue with her offensive.

Falling back into cover and smoothly transitioning into emerald mode, Akiko braced herself as a fourth pop punctuated the release of Midoriya's most recent attack. The gale pummeled into her protective barrier exactly as the previous ones had, but the wall held long enough to withstand the worst of it. It wouldn't be able to fully withstand another attack like that again, but for now, Akiko still had enough cover to at least conceal her position.

Midoriya was breathing heavily as he groaned in pain behind her, and it took everything Akiko had not to feel too sorry for him. She had too much riding on this match to let her concern over how someone else used their Quirk compromise her chances of success.

Eventually, Midoriya's unstable breaths calmed down, and although Akiko could hear him make no further movements from there, she assumed he was taking advantage of the unexpected lull in their fight to think of a new approach to their fight.

As it turned out, two could play at that game.

Akiko didn't need to be a genius to know that Midoriya would be hesitant to waste what few good fingers he had left on repeatedly ramming his ranged attacks against her barriers. A single one of her barriers equated to two broken fingers on his end, and add in the fact that during her fight with Kirishima she'd shown her Quirk was capable of creating several such barriers without much issue, and it only logically followed that, for once, Akiko held the advantage in terms of endurance against her opponent.

Thus, in order to overcome this invisible obstacle that had been placed in front of him, Akiko anticipated that Midoriya would use his now mostly-broken hand's arm as a point-blank battering ram, of sorts. Even if Recovery Girl couldn't fully heal the damage he'd undoubtedly do to his already mangled hand, such a strategy would mean he'd still have at least one good arm left to use in future fights without much issue. More important to the matter at hand, however, such an attack also had the advantage of potentially projecting her out of the ring before she could either slow down or possibly even react.

It was a gamble, but it seemed as though it was the only reasonable strategy Midoriya had available to him given the lack of control over his Quirk he possessed. Akiko picked up on the sound of Midoriya suddenly springing back into motion headed right in her direction, and she quickly came up with a way to turn her opponent's plan against him.

Her features flushed to peridot mode, and Akiko prepared to leap back into action.

Aside from the sound of his footsteps, only a mad cry of determination made it clear that Midoriya had arrived, and the moment it became clear that she needed to act, Akiko threw herself into the air. The action had slightly less intensity than before as to allow her to land safely without sacrificing any time to cushion her fall with her Quirk, but it still proved sufficient to ensure her safety. Midoriya's fist flew forward to let out a deafening boom as it both broke itself and utterly disintegrated the wall on contact.

It was then that he noticed her ascension overhead too late to do anything about it. The gale Midoriya had produced still screamed wildly out before him, and he looked up with horror as he saw Akiko twist around midair to face him directly. She then prepared her next, and hopefully final, attack.

Peridot mode wasn't one that Akiko relied on for a multitude of reasons. The most important of these reasons was the fact that, in order to produce enough effective force in a fight to either move objects or people with its attacks, the strain peridot mode placed upon Akiko was leaps and bounds higher than the other three she implemented in battle. Such was why, if the need arose, it was much better suited to the tasks of defense and redirection of thrown projectiles rather than brute offense. That said, complete control over air meant that if there was a gust, or in this case a gale, that already existed…

So long as no other Quirks were around to contest her control over it, it'd be hers to command.

Swirling her arms around in the direction she wished to lead the gale to go, Akiko successfully harnessed some of the storm in front of her. It's direction changed from flowing forcefully away from her, and upon Akiko lightly landing back on the ground, right back in the direction of its originator. Midoriya overcame his moment of shock and attempted to shove his bad hand's thumb into his mouth for a last-ditch defense-

But it wouldn't be fast enough. The redirected roar of a typhoon tackled itself right into his chest and sent Midoriya flying like little more than a mouse amidst a storm. Only when he had long since cleared the concrete portion of the play area out into the grassy field below did it release him from its maw. He was out of bounds, and Akiko heaved an emphatic sigh of relief as she returned to her default colors and rubbed idly at her somewhat-sore crystal core.

Against all odds, she'd done it again.

"Midoriya has been knocked off the stage!" Midnight motioned toward the only competitor who remained atop the concrete with her whip. "Takara is the victor!"

"Well, would you talk about power!" Present Mic praised, only faintly heard over the roar of excitement emanating from the stands. "Midoriya made concrete look like cardboard with his Quirk, but I think I'm detecting a pattern here! For two matches straight she's been put up against U.A.'s heaviest hitters, and for two matches straight she's been able to turn the tide of battle with one good idea! Who coulda guessed such a flexible Quirk could be so useful?"

Praise continued to pour over her from all angles, but Akiko opted to focus less on whatever effects such attention could endow her with in favor of quickly making her way over to the edge of the stage. She stopped for a moment to brace herself and hopped to the ground as she had with Kirishima, fully intending on helping Midoriya up to his feet – and this time she'd be (hopefully) prepared for whatever perverted comments Midnight made along the way. Akiko then reached the disturbed patch of dirt and grass where Midoriya had wound up, and immediately her opponent's green eyes tilted up to meet her mismatched purple ones.

She then extended a hand. "Need some help?"

"Y-yeah…" Midoriya said.

He reached out and grabbed onto Akiko's hand with his good arm, and grunted in a mix of both exertion and pain as he worked to heft himself up. As he finally got back to his feet, Akiko noticed the empty, even bewildered look on his face. A flicker of empathy offered Akiko enough of a clue that something was wrong for Midoriya to be reacting in the way that he had. Not only was the look on his face downright alien on account of how typically friendly and understanding he tended to be, but Akiko clearly recalled the mutual promise that they'd both give their match their absolute best, no matter what that meant in terms of who'd emerge on top between them.

Midoriya's broken arm twitched, and it seemed to jolt him back to alertness as he grunted and suddenly looked down to inspect the damage he'd dealt to his now-mangled limb. He then turned his attention back to her. "I… should probably go see Recovery Girl."

Akiko hesitated for a moment as she watched him start to walk out of the arena, but quickly followed soon after and caught up with him. "Then I'll come with you. You shouldn't have to walk alone after what you had to do during our match."

"Right…" Midoriya intoned.

"There's something that's bothering you," Akiko guessed, a considerable amount of concern plain in her expression. "Not just your arm."

Midoriya nodded, and Akiko was given all the evidence she needed to delay her return to Jomei and the rest for a while longer. Clearly there was something else going on in the mind of Midoriya that she wasn't privy to, and even though she wouldn't pry too deeply if the source of her classmate's consternation wasn't something he wished to speak about, she would go out of her way to at least try and help. It was potentially her actions that had thrust such a foul atmosphere upon Midoriya, and so she felt that it fell to her to do something about it. Besides, if Jomei, Denki, or Kyoka found it of vital importance that they should speak to her, they could still easily find her in the clinic.

After all, she couldn't quite justify her desire to become a Pro Hero if she ignored someone that was so clearly in need of aid. It was a hero's job to meddle in the affairs of others so that they might help them, and Akiko was about to do exactly that.

---

All was dark and dingy as ever in the room of one unstable young adult as the Sports Festival went on. Aside from the occasional broken floorboard or completely disintegrated item due to a careless clasp of a hand over it, the decently-sized space was even neat in some regards. Rather than the man's possessions being strewn about rather haphazardly as one might expect from someone of his demeanor, every item in the room had been meticulously placed. Even though a thin film of dust had caked the man's few dressers, it couldn't be said that he lived slovenly.

Besides, a Quirk like Disintegration had a habit of making attempts to keep things too clean a rather redundant affair. Shigaraki Tomura was many things – a murderer, a man-child, and the ruthless bastard that'd be the one to one day destroy All Might – but a man with the patience of a saint was not one of them.

Much like many of the other millions of idiots and potential minions in Japan, Shigaraki presently found himself placed in his well-worn desk chair before the three computer monitors that comprised his view of the festivities from afar. As of right now, the second match of the quarterfinals had come to a close and that living cinder block called Cementoss was casually repairing the carnage two twerps had managed to inflict on the arena. He was taking far too much time for Shigaraki's liking, but it wasn't like there was much for him to do but watch replays of the previous match as he idled around waiting for the third battle to finally begin. At least whoever was in charge of the broadcast had enough of a brain to have the replays designed in such a way that they took up the majority of whatever screen they were displayed on.

In all honesty, one might think someone with aspirations as grand as his would have something better to do with his time than watching children beat each other to a pulp, but Shigaraki was someone who'd beg to disagree. Not only were the festivities rather amusing to watch, but his spectation allowed him to scout out Japan's next generation of top heroes – and he didn't even need to leave the comfort of the League of Villains' hideout to do it.

Not that he had any reason to, really. The wounds he'd sustained at the tail end of the USJ attack were still healing, and his two most important allies were already hard at work doing what needed to be done to bring the League back up to a more respectable level of strength. Although it was muffled by the sound of more screams of excitement as the third quarterfinal fight started stirring to life, Shigaraki could even hear Kurogiri on the phone with Giran right now. It'd be an arduous task, to coordinate with Giran to find new recruits that were actually worth a damn without leaving Shigaraki himself unguarded, but it couldn't be said Kurogiri wasn't an effective force even when he was assigned such difficult objectives. Shigaraki had faith in his abilities easily as much as he did Toga's concerning one of her unique areas of expertise – namely, information gathering.

Even he had to admit, when she was told to get something done that was within her powers to accomplish, she'd get it done. Not even a day after the USJ incident had ruined the League's reputation, Shigaraki had ordered Toga to get to work on the same task Kurogiri was trying to do now by proxy of Giran, but she'd immediately jumped into completing her assigned quest with a smile on her face. She hadn't physically returned to the League's hideout since she received the order, but she'd been able to provide more information on the movements of potential allies in two weeks than Giran and Kurogiri had been able to in the same period. Not all the individuals she informed Shigaraki of were hardcore enough to suit the style he intended for the League of Villains to possess from here on out, but there were still a few standouts among the list.

One such standout was a serial killer with strength, durability, and a truly monstrous degree of menace. From what Toga had been able to learn of their handiwork, some people suspected an ideological motive behind the individual's wanton murders, but the brutality by which the bodies of their victims were found was something else. It hinted at the truly frightening degree of faith the culprit must have had in their beliefs, and an equally unbreakable determination to see it come to fruition. Whatever that goal might be, Shigaraki had no idea, but he did know that he would be eager to see where this as-of-yet unnamed apex predator's story led him in the future.

Of course, there were also others to watch out for;

A man who'd orphaned a boy with Pro Hero parents that dared to stand against his bloodlust but was never captured after the incident.

A junior high student who'd decided to unleash a lethal amount of mustard gas in the middle of class just to 'spice things up' at school one day.

A maniac obsessed with flesh whose last known sighting had been when he slaughtered the many officers aboard the transport that had him bound straight for Tartarus.

A hero killer, who even now was bound to be in the middle of a battle against another one of the annoying goodie-goodies that called themselves 'heroes.'

The Hero Killer: Stain.

Now that was the kind of masked monster Shigaraki needed on his side. A villain with an ideology formed to oppose the 'impurities' in the hearts of the heroes that walked the streets of Japan, a body count of dozens of dead or recently-retired pros, and a level of reputation and recognition for his actions that only someone with a truly terrifying level of talent in combat could achieve. Some no-name serial killer may have been a good potential ally, sure, but it was Stain that would bring the League of Villains to the level of credibility that it deserved. Perhaps even more importantly, the presence of Stain in the ranks of an organization that once was known as little more than a band of ruffians would undoubtedly draw in the kind of big-hitting followers Shigaraki needed. Stain was the complete package.

Shigaraki smiled cruelly. Perhaps after the festival was over he'd order Toga to try and locate him so that Kurogiri could go about 'arranging' a meeting between the two of them, at which point he'd lay his cards on the table to recruit the Hero Killer, and what happened next would be entirely up to Stain to decide. He could either join their ranks, run away and be inevitably overshadowed by the League when it recovered, or die right then and there.

Or perhaps some combination of the three. Shigaraki hadn't been able to really think that far ahead yet since half his brain was busy processing the play-by-plays of the two teenagers that had been duking it out over the last few minutes. Fortunately, the match had finally come to a close, but the absence of activity on his screen gave Shigaraki enough time to make a rather annoying observation about one of the combatants involved in the fight.

More specifically, the green-haired, plain-looking loser of the match. His name slowly crept onto Shigaraki's chapped lips as his mind took a moment to let the implications of what he'd realized about the kid sink in.

"Midoriya…" he uttered, and the screen switched views to start showing replays of the boy himself while the fight had still been going on. "Pretty strong, for such a little punk. Those wind blasts, though… they make him seem as strong as All Might. Maybe a little too strong like All Might…"

One of his hands reached up to his neck and started to scratch at the invisible itch that now plagued his scarred skin, while his other daintily secured itself around the edge of his desk in an underhanded grip. If his hunch was right… he had another piece-of-trash 'Symbol of Peace' in the works to worry about now. Great.

He had to consciously stop himself from squeezing his desk with all five fingers. Disintegrating his desk to relieve the murderous urge that had thrust itself upon him would be cathartic, sure, but it'd also be a mess he'd much rather not bother himself with right now. Bigger and bigger concerns blossomed in the back of his head the longer he thought about the potential problems a successor to All Might's legacy could cause, but first, he had to make sure his suspicions were justified to begin with. He reached out to his phone to call-

"Shigaraki Tomura. I can see the thoughtfulness on your face even behind that disembodied appendage you wear as a mask," All for One calmly observed, his voice emanating from a seemingly inactive monitor in the other corner of his room. "What concerns you?"

Shigaraki grunted as he forced himself to stop scratching. "That kid with the green hair and the crazy super strength. Midoriya. He bugs me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He bugs me because he reminds me of a certain someone I want dead," Shigaraki hissed, and his fingers tensed as if they'd been turned to stone as he tried to control himself. "There's no way he has that kind of power because he's some picture-perfect hero wannabe. He has to have gotten that power somewhere else."

All for One didn't respond.

"He has One for All… doesn't he?" Shigaraki finished.

If it were possible for a smile to emerge through an unlit screen as sound, Shigaraki was sure he would have felt such a thing hit his ears. "Well done, Shigaraki. I believe you've been able to glean much more about this potential problem than I imagined you would have. I may have made you privy to the origins of All Might's 'gift,' but you do impress me with your insight."

Shigaraki hesitated. He couldn't just brush off such a compliment from his master, even if it hadn't been what he was looking for in a response. "Thank you, Sensei."

"Consider your thanks appreciated, but to answer your inquiry…" All for One paused. "It would be remiss of me to say that your hypothesis on who the next wielder of One for All may be is without merit. This 'Midoriya' may very well be the one who All Might has chosen to pass his torch on to, but the threat he may yet pose to your plans is distant. Tell me, Shigaraki – have you been paying attention to the other participants in the final stage of the festival?"

"Yeah," Shigaraki answered. "I'm not afraid of a couple of kids, though. None of them except for that one brat have One for All."

"True, but I'd advise you to think deeply, Shigaraki. Think deeply upon the potential you now seem so quick to disregard in the peers of All Might's successor, and know that although none of them can compare to the power of One for All, each of them can become formidable foes in their own right if you dismiss them now. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sensei," Shigaraki said, his gaze firmly fixed to his monitor.

"Then I shall leave you to the task of carefully combing through the capabilities of your potential adversaries in peace," All for One dismissed. "I imagine that the final few rounds of the Sports Festival should prove quite enlightening in this regard. Until next we speak, Shigaraki."

He continued to stare intently at the image of Midoriya's face on his screen long after the last dregs of his master's voice left his thoughts. Somehow, Shigaraki felt as though he didn't even need to have met Midoriya in the flesh to know that the way he was beaten by some random girl was a fluke. Midoriya was still using an overpowered weapon without the prerequisite stats to do so, while his opponent had only won by merit of being able to actually make use of the moveset she had at her disposal. Midoriya was still the biggest threat here, and Shigaraki knew that no matter what happened during the rest of the Sports Festival, he had to pay close attention to how he grew as time went on. Very close attention.

Midoriya had been chosen above all others to inherit One for All. There had to be a reason, and Shigaraki fully intended on meeting that brat to find out what it could be. What it was that he had that made him so special, so deserving of being given the instant-win Quirk that every villain on the planet didn't even know they had to fear being brought down on them. Maybe at that point, Shigaraki would finally be able to figure out what it was that really drove him to the point of nearly losing control of his impulses when he saw Midoriya on his screen.

But first… he'd have to focus on his attempts to recruit the Hero Killer. Midoriya would have to wait until Shigaraki's business with the most impactful ally he'd made yet concluded. He looked one last time at the inheritor of One for All, and his fingers twitched uneasily.

The Hero Killer was his priority. Midoriya was a very close second, though.

---

Authors Note: I originally intended for the aftermath of Akiko vs Midoriya to be shown here, but… eh. I think this cliffhanger is better. I mean yeah, the aftermath being shown would have been neat, but this chapter already looked like it was gonna be long enough without another long, exposition-filled scene clogging up the chapter. Between Jomei processing what exactly happened between himself and Bakugo after their fight and some course-correction with Shiggy and his hate-boner for Midoriya, I felt like we had enough exposition in this chapter already. As for random notes, I'll make 'em brief.

Jomei: Really glad I was able to get his little mini-arc concerning Bakugo's being a dick over and done with. I'm proud of how it all turned out, but I'm even more proud of how it helped me further explore both his past and strengthen his dynamic with his friends and family as a result of his newfound view of his (no longer one-sided) rival. Oh, and 'twas most definitely fun having him be a little mushy instead of Akiko, for a change.

Ashido: Another mini-arc done and over with… ish. I'm not gonna forget Ashido for the rest of this arc, at least, is all I'll say in regard to her in the future. As for right now? I was surprisingly hype about her fight even though it's relatively trivial in the grand scheme of things. I always thought that if I wrote another MHA fic, it'd totally center around Kirishima and Ashido in some capacity, and maybe that's why I've latched so easily onto her when I want to have a good ol' comedic sequence stuffed into a scene.

Akiko: Hooray for her confidence and commitment continuing to grow! Her triumph over Midoriya might've lacked some fanfare in this chapter, since it had so much going on, but I do believe that given some scenes in previous chapters that the impact her victory might have will be anything but small in scale. Guess we'll have to wait until next chapter to see what has Midoriya all out of sorts, eh? Gee I wonder what they're gonna talk about.

Shigaraki: Not much to say other than… yep. Course correction. I've said WFAF is a parallel story that won't mess too much with canon while also not retreading too much of the same ground, and I'm stickin' to that plan. Jury's still out on if that's for the better, but… there'll be much more original stuff coming to the story once we finally get done with this whole Sports Festival business.