It's hard to hear over the crowd.

"...It's not... that weird, is it?"

"Hm?"

His daughters lips purse. The cheers and chatters of the stadium swallow up her words in striking waves of excitement that force her to pause and try and find a lull long enough to speak in. "For a class to get along? Work together?" It was frustrating enough that she scrunched her face. "I mean, everyone's acting like it's... Oh my god, so shocking! But shouldn't it be expected for those in the other classes to team up? That's what I would do if I were them."

"Well... it's a- uh. A bit more complicated than that..." He tries his best to answer. "The festival isn't just a competition, it's also a show. Students are trying to sell themselves to the public and the hero companies and if they give up the spotlight, or share it with someone else-" He doesn't need to finish for her to get the idea. Still, though.

"But aren't there way fewer heroes that partner up nowadays? I mean, after what happened with Water Hose..." She trails off.

He pats her head.

"Wouldn't that make more companies interested in them? Since people using their quirks together like this is apparently so rare?"

"A-Ah, you should keep in mind that most groups don't come together until well into their careers, even students from the Hero Course are dissuaded from relying too heavily on their classmates 'cause I imagine it gets awkward having to work around someone else for years like that. Besides-!" He smiles. "Think of the rankings! Only one hero can be nominated at a time, nobody really wants to be partnered when they get more for working by themselves."

As far as she was concerned that seemed like a pretty lame excuse.

"Well, that sounds stupid."

It gets a derisive snort.

"This is a hero competition, kid."

And, apparently, even in a stadium filled to the brim with chattering people, there was still always going to be that one person who had no qualms about eavesdropping and sticking his nose into other people's conversations.

They share a look.

"Nobody is interested in seeing what a mob of students can do. Teaming up is just a cheap tactic that spoils the show for the rest of us and tells us exactly how cowardly they really are."

She opens her mouth to argue but is quieted by her father gently squeezing her shoulder, casting a furtive glance to the man. She grimaces. Taking in the bright and overdramatic costume he's wearing, the sure sign of a Daylight Hero. The last thing they needed was to be kicked out of the stadium for somehow antagonizing him.

"All this is showing us is that they're too weak to do anything for themselves. Just watch."

She scowls.

It's not as if she doesn't get where they're coming from. It was- It was a- A feeling that she couldn't push aside, coming from somewhere deep in her gut.

They were weak on their own, sure. But they knew that. They knew that and, yet, they had put aside their differences, even though it wasn't entirely to their benefit, and decided they were stronger together than apart. It was rudimentary. A little unpracticed and awkward.

But they had deemed it worth enough to at least try. That was more than most could say.

And, to her, she couldn't help it. She just-

"I... still think they're pretty cool."

-0-

He is a beast.

He growls and he bares his teeth.

It's a threat, not an empty one, per se... but Ikimaru wasn't made for this kind of thing. He wasn't made to fight and claw and hurt. Even if his appearance would say otherwise. His blue, his fuzz, his tail, fangs, and sharp nails- to him, they felt superfluous on the best of days. Nothing but bits and pieces that made him up, providing him with aesthetical aspects that made people want to either pick at him or shift away in fear.

"Go. Away."

Every syllable is stretched, his lips pulled back over his gums until his cheeks are strained into a grimace that's both painful and terrifying.

Ikimaru is a beast. But only because he looks like one.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you lost. We all did. It's as simple as that."

He wishes that he would be enough. That they'd take one look at him puffing himself up, trying to appear stronger and braver than he actually is, and decide that it just... simply isn't worth the effort. That they'll turn on their heels and flee away, intimidated by his growls and his posturing.

But he trembles. Unable to stop himself. Unable to lie to his body and lie to them that it's just the cold that festers and chills the air.

Ikimaru will always be a scaredy-cat, even when he tries to shove it down somewhere deep and untouchable. It'll always be something he'll never be able to run away from.

"Please."

Begging is a mistake.

And Kiko says nothing.

(She's cold. Unconscious. Her skin is a paper-white that matches the lines in her gym uniform, painting her into a ghostly-ghoulish figure that sits in her wheelchair not unlike a corpse.

The only reason he's not afraid she's dead is the harsh sound of her wheezing breath. It's like her lungs are screaming so loud the whole world can hear them.)

They're jeering at him. They're pounding on him.

Their fists have curled into tight little balls, cruel and unceasing as they shout at him, tugging his hair, his tail, and only giving him the opportunity to curl protectively around Kiko whilst he takes every hit and every beat. Only semi-aware of the bruises forming on his skin.

"Stop. Stop. Leave us alone!"

His eyes squeeze shut, so tight that it's painful. Unable to even raise a hand to protect himself. At least, that is until he feels Kiko shift beneath him and opens his eyes to catch sight of ugly fingers digging into blonde hair he's so desperate to protect.

Ikimaru sees red.

And the resulting scream, the flash of blood, the thrum of his own heart beating in his chest makes his stomach instantly sink. The shame that fills him is immense. The guilt, though, nonexistent.

He couldn't even imagine raising his hands against them if it was only him that they were hurting. But if it was Kiko, if it was someone else, he would snap without hesitation.

B-But... But he doesn't know if he'll ever forget the feeling of his nails raking through flesh, the way it catches on skin and contorts him into some semblance of the beast he resembles. It's a disturbing feeling. Instinctual and defensive and gross. The wide-eyed looks of horror they fix him with fill him with more fear of himself than it does of them. And, like the scaredy-cat that he is, he whimpers.

"I s-said... t-to go away. You're the ones that didn't listen!"

It's an accusation burning on his tongue like a hiss.

"You should have listened."

He imagines their face will scar. He imagines it'll never go away.

The thick, painful lacerations that slash their cheeks.

They don't scream like he expects them to. Their expression so overcome with shock that it's a wonder if they even feel it, the taste of their own adrenaline heavy in the air, muting the fear and the pain and replacing it with something more like rage.

When they stand back up, Ikimaru backs away. He stumbles. Desperate to pull Kiko undertow, failing as her wheels barely chip at the ice that freezes her in place-

His eyes snap shut when they raise their fists once more.

There's a lot of noise after that.

Then there's nothing.

And Ikimaru's heart is thundering so loudly that it rings in his ears and he doesn't realize until later that he's covered them in an attempt to protect his head. That he'd deafened himself to the commotion, only coming back to himself when he feels something warm press against him. A soft, gentle touch that tickles his face.

It doesn't hurt. It doesn't even make him jump.

It's just... there.

Somehow familiar and a little bit annoying.

He peeks open his eyes to find Tobira poking him in the cheek.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing out of his mouth, his void-like features a shifting mess that doesn't give him a lot to go off of, despite the fact that Iki knows he's offering him a warm smile, "you just seemed like you didn't want to handle it on your own."

Ikimaru's mouth is dry.

His eyes blearily flick back and forth, only now realizing that one of them is nearly swollen shut.

There's... no one. The students- his aggressors- are gone.

"W-Where..." His words slur and he tries to swallow down his anxiety. "Where'd they go?"

Tobira seems to give off the feeling of blinking. "Oh. That." He seems disinterested by the question, completely nonplussed. "I pulled them into Kiko's trees with my quirk. They're stuck until someone decides to fish 'em out."

Iki's eyes fill with unshed tears.

Tobira notices.

"You're crying?"

"I-" He tries to cover his face, his hands splayed out to hide himself away from sight. "N-No, I'm fine. Kiko's fine. Everything is-"

"I didn't ask if you were fine, I asked if you were crying."

It's so stupid. It's silly and it's awful. But he's so horrifically embarrassed and all he can focus on is the fact that his face has grown hot to the point that it's burning and he can't see himself, but he'd be willing to bet that he's such a deep shade of purple that it would be impossible to tell his blush from the color and swelling of his bruises. "I-I-" Ikimaru is an absolute mess.

A complete fool in the making. And he's just trying very, very hard not to cry-

Ikimaru's breath hitches when he feels thin fingers curl around his own, pulling his hands away to reveal his watery eyes and... and...

A rim hits the bridge of his nose, something dull pokes into his cheeks, and the already blurry world blurs even further. Into colorful hues and shades that paint the dark trees and the ice into something less... spooky.

Into something a bit more lovely.

"Um."

He reaches up to touch his face.

"There we go!"

"U-Um?"

"It's my glasses! My totally rad star-glasses," Tobira all but chirps, "they're prescription so you won't be able to see much, but hey-! At least now it'll be easier to hide your tears. And- and~! This way you don't have to worry about me seeing you cry... because I can't see at all!"

Ikimaru chokes.

There's a floaty feeling in his head, it's a dizzying effect that feels like walking on clouds or diving headfirst into a pile of the softest blankets he can find. It manages to get a laugh to take him by surprise, bubbling up somewhere in the back of his throat to leave him absolutely stunned by its wild, awkward intensity.

Tobira meets it with bared teeth in a grin so wide it makes him look almost feral.

Ikimaru can feel the heat in his face grow to an almost unbearable degree.

"That... That's silly. Don't blind yourself for me."

"What makes you think it's for you?" Tobira sticks his tongue out. "Maybe I just thought they suited you better."

Ikimaru thinks his heart might leap right out of his chest.

He doesn't know when his tiny little laugh turns into partially-swallowed sobs or when Tobira grips his shoulder to steady him. He just knows that his stuttered thanks are waved off and the fact that Kiko is finally safe. "I'm sorry. I- I know you probably want to just go back to the competition already but you've- you're so kind. To come back and... and be s-stuck in here with me-"

He expects Tobira to latch onto the opportunity, to say his goodbyes and hurry on before he's left behind by everyone else too-

"Don't worry so much about that, Iki~! You're our precious Vice President, none of us would ever leave you to fend for yourself."

And- well. Maybe it's not the exact words that he'd been hoping for, nor the words that would make his heart flutter and soar in his chest, but he doesn't need to be wearing Tobira's glasses to look absolutely starry-eyed.

-0-

This is terrifying. She doesn't know how she could be so stupid- to think that she would be strong enough, even with the help of others, to defeat students that have been training their whole lives for this moment.

But she was here. With Umino and Agoyamato by her side.

And there was no time to regret.

Her knee hurts from where it's pressed into the ground, sharp rocks and pebbles digging into her pant leg, awkwardly scraping against her.

It was a minor inconvenience. The only real distraction she allowed herself, trying not to think about the giant robots and the ice and the sound of so many other students behind them.

It feels like they're barely free from the tree branches.

Even so, they're much farther than most. If only because they'd been prepared to move and Kiko hadn't exactly been hiding her plans, nor trying to hold them all back too. It may have been an all-out attack but it wasn't nearly as indiscriminate as many seemed to believe.

(Iki was the closest to her. If she truly hadn't cared who she was targeting then he would've been the first caught. And none of them thought Kiko would ever forgive herself if she had hurt her friends or, even worse, trapped them in her tangled web when she only wanted to shove them forward.)

So Chikuchi doesn't falter.

But she can feel her arms straining to hold Todoroki down, her quirk like another limb, one she's desperately pouring all her untrained strength into, hoping for the best.

She should have hoped for more.

"Umino-!"

There's sweat collecting on her brow. Her normally sweet voice, gravelly and rough: "I'm... I'm working on it." As her eyes drip- drip- drip pools of salty tears onto the ground at her feet, turning from tumultuous ponds to desolate waves that make her hiccup between her near-silent quirk-induced sobs. "I- I can't do too much more o-or I'll flood the whole field!"

Chikuchi grits her teeth.

It's a battle for control between them and Todoroki. A mind-staggering struggle.

The Class President's waves, her ocean eyes, and Chikuchi's own thorn covered whips, are working together in almost perfect tandem- a harmony they'd practiced to get- and it only takes a few seconds before Chikuchi realizes that they're already losing.

Todoroki's hands are pushing against the ground, his feet braced to keep his head above water and every deterrent they send at him doesn't seem to be doing anything other than making him more and more annoyed.

His right hand is covered in ice.

Fuck!

"Y-Yama, we need a hand!" She would never admit to it, but her voice raises to such a dangerous pitch that it hurts even her own ears. She squeaks in terror when heterochromatic eyes turn to glare her down. "Agoyamato-!"

"I-I-I'm kinda busy! Hold on!"

"We d-don't really- have a second-!"

"There are robots, Chikuchi!"

His mild-strengthening quirk was more defensive than outright offensive and he was in a much better place dealing with whatever robots were trying to attack them from behind.

That didn't mean she didn't wish for him to drop everything just to be by her side.

"Shit. Shit."

Her heart is about to beat right out of her chest and she's never experienced such numbing anxiety before, to the point where it feels like the world is a mile away and she can't even begin to reach out and grasp it. She wonders if this is how the others feel on a day to day basis and wonders how they deal with it all.

Chikuchi digs a hand into the small pouch kept at her waist band.

(It was a support item. Technically. Even though it was only a small, drawstring bag with nothing special about it. She'd had to write a very detailed request as to why it was important and necessary for her to bring it.

She hadn't been able to find an eloquent way to say that her quirk wouldn't work without some way to carry around the very things necessary to using it.)

Her fingers sink into the seeds she keeps inside. It was a random assortment. It didn't much matter what they were so long as they held the basis for what she needed to attach her quirk to.

Chloroplast. Sunlight. Water.

And her own little quirk factor to mix it all together.

She pulls out a fistful and dumps it into Umino's waves.

And she hopes, hopes, hopes that this is enough- that they can drag Todoroki under the waves and leave him behind to finally prove themselves-

Her quirk sparks to life in an explosion of plants. It's an endeavor and a half but she tries her best to make it reminiscent of Kiko's own attack, even if just a little bit. Tries to shut out the world behind sharp, vicious thorns and-

Ice.

Everywhere.

"Get down!"

It takes her a moment too long to realize that one of her hands is frozen solid and stiff, stuck to her side by a freezing chill that's so cold it almost burns. That she's been shoved to the ground by Agoyamato- who either had the best timing in the world or the absolute worst because, now, he was half-frozen. Petrified in some horrific state that left her sick to her stomach at the sight of his chattering teeth and the way his breath comes out more like a hiss. The warmth of his own body sending steam into the air that somehow, ironically, reminded her more of sizzling heat than actual ice.

Chikuchi is weighed down by dread, a knot in her throat, at the thought of turning to see Umino. Turning to see their classes' princess- their President- stiff and unmoving. Like a cadaver. Like a moment frozen in time.

Because if her waves and her current was beautifully encapsulated by ice like it was in front of her- the terrifying visage of Umino Me caught in something similar was enough that she didn't want to look.

She doesn't.

She fixes her eyes shut and tries to breathe through the hypothermic pain that crawls up her arm. Her breath hitching in her throat and wondering when it began apparent that time was moving again, as if the speed of things had slowed during her encounter with Todoroki and what had felt like a lifetime was, in reality, only about twelve seconds long. And wasn't that a pitiful realization?

Twelve seconds was all she amounted to.

"H-Hold on, w-wait...!" Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, a weight that makes it hard to talk. She ends up stuttering on every other word or, perhaps, shivering...? "You... You can't just- you can't just act like we're nothing- like we're-"

She stumbles in picking herself up off the ground.

"Don't turn your back on us a-as if that's a-all we are. T-That kind of attitude-" He hadn't even hesitated. He'd already turned, even though he was drenched from head-to-toe and was covered in nicks from her thorns, and was running forward again. As if they'd been nothing but flies to him. "-really pisses me off."

She wonders why the sight of him walking away reminds her of Shinsou.

"H-Hey-!"

She's drowned underneath sound, underneath cheers for her and her classmates' overwhelming defeat and Todoroki's win.

It's- It's humiliating.

There's an explosion before she can think to shout anything else, nearly ripping her straight off her feet. It's followed by a scream- it's rough like gravel; not from disuse but, maybe, instead, over use- that only amplified the ringing in her ears. "Damn it!" Her curse is swallowed up by his presence alone.

"Get back here, you half'n'half freak!"

He's blonde. He's fiery.

There's an intense rage in his eyes that makes her flinch.

And she recognizes him. He's the winner of the Hero Exams and their years' spokesperson. No matter how terrible of a decision she, and many others, agreed it was. Maybe that's why her mortification drifts into rage and Chikuchi snaps, doing the first thing her body tells her to do.

She wraps her thorns around his ankle and hits him with all her might.

...Chikuchi is... not a fighter.

It's not a striking realization but it's one that, in this instance, somehow manages to startle her.

It hurts.

She didn't think it would hurt is the thing. Sure, getting hit would always cause pain, but she'd never thought that hitting someone else could... hurt. Her knuckles feel like they're cracking, her hand aches and burns with the stress of the strain, and her wrist feels a little like it was folded incorrectly. It's a weak hit. And Chikuchi is suddenly very aware of the fact that she's never made a fist and raised it against someone else before.

"Shit."

An explosion. Fury itself as a body twists in midair, ripping themself free from quirk in the same motion, and warped red eyes turn to her.

"Shit."

When a hand raises itself to her face, sparking dangerously, she can't help her last thought: how many people did he have to hit to get callouses like that on his hands?

-0-

Mic sucks in a sharp breath.

"That- That had to hurt."

It was fucking brutal is what it was.

The sight of her head snapping back from the concussive force of Bakugou's quirk was, frankly, a bit horrific and had him wondering if the odd click he'd heard coming from the field was real or in his own head. Either way, it wasn't great. It was enough to make him switch the screens to one of the several other drone cameras in the area, before the crowd could linger too long on the unpleasant image.

Chikuchi Togeike is half-conscious on the ground and- wow.

"Wow. That's a lot of blood." Mic's eyebrows shoot up. "I can see she's... fine, for the most part, but her nose is definitely a mess."

Aizawa grunts.

He side-eyes him. Hard.

"That Bakugou kid is a violent one, huh? Eraser?"

He watches Aizawa slump in his seat, using his scarf and hair as a shield to hide his expression. Nearly disappearing into his bandages entirely.

"...Is he always like that?"

As if to prove his point, he cuts the camera to Todoroki, just in time to see Bakugou aim a well-timed explosion at the side of his head. It's blocked and neither are intent on dragging out the fight when the importance of the race takes precedence but-

"Unfortunately."

"Well, I can't say I don't admire his tenacity." Mic folds his fingers under his chin and leans his elbows on the table, pointedly quiet for a very long, telling pause. "...You need to talk to him."

"Why? It's in the spirit of the competition."

"Not that. Well. Yes. But I mean, more along the lines of his attitude. He's going to run into more roadblocks than help if he's regularly that violent," he pauses, "especially to what pretty much constitutes as a civilian-"

"I thought you were rooting for the kids not in the Hero Course this year. Don't mock them. They know what they're getting into and, if they don't, now is as good a time as any to show them." Aa. He'd touched a nerve. "They don't need to be babied. If they want to succeed they should be prepared to be treated the same as everyone else."

He doesn't have an argument for him. Mostly because he agrees. It's just- even as someone that understood where Aizawa was coming from, more intimately than anyone else, he was also aware that he... took it a bit far on occasion.

"So harsh, Eraser!"

"It's not harsh, it's practical."

Mic's chuckle is dry. "You should still talk to him about the attitude."

"...I'll contact the hero in-charge of his internship and ask them to discuss PR with him." He doesn't doubt that he'd already planned to but, now that he was saying it out loud, Mic could see how annoyed he was. Especially considering how useless he considered things like publicity and fame. "Hopefully it'll be someone who won't make it worse."

"Why don't you just do it?"

He gets a long, hard stared.

"What? I know it's not your forte but the kid respects you so you'll know he'll at least listen. Who knows, he might even prefer your methods as opposed to, you know, mine."

Aizawa continues to give him a look and Mic throws up his hands. "Fine! Fine. Awful suggestion, I get it!"

A resounding cheer from the crowd has them distracted and Mic quickly turns back to the screens he'd only been half-paying attention to, rather professionally keeping himself from fumbling over his words as he went back to high-energy that seemed to visibly drain Aizawa next to him-

"Oh-ho-ho-! It seems like those 1-C students aren't the only ones in their class trying to go for the gold!" He shouts. "It almost makes you wonder how they failed to pass the Hero Exams, maybe they just weren't feeling it that day but now-! Now they're making themselves known; the Ultimate Underdogs-!"

He pauses, watching the screen before feeling one of his eyes twitch.

He covers the mic so he can whisper to Eraserhead.

"No, but seriously, how did that kid fail?"

...

...

"It's so embarrassing!"

Her head is in her hands, near trembling underneath the quiver of her shoulders. She can hear the whispers around her. Like- totally crawling over her skin and everything.

"Please, don't laugh, Poke!"

And her very best friends in the whole world found the humor in the situation where she didn't.

Sebone Poke. Kanmon Sango. And, of course, even Hanzengi Kigen: who was probably tasting her humiliation with some flavor of delight like the little snake that he was.

"I t-tried to ask if- if I could re-take but they would only let me do the Written Exam...!"

Poke howls with raucous laughter. It only makes her turn an even brighter shade of red, one that nearly matched the blood-red of his hair. "Y-You...?! You slept through the Exams-?!" If anything, his laughter grows even more wild. "They were practically designed for you, you have a-a-"

"An EMP quirk, wow...!"

Denji squeaks at the quiet gasp. It comes from a green haired boy that'd just managed to crawl free from Kiko's branches, sticks and twigs tangled into his wild hair and dirt smudged all over his face. She could hardly see the freckles peaking out from his cheeks.

"That's so cool! Those kinds of electronic quirks are super rare, especially one that's focused like that. I wonder if it..."

He's talking to himself. About her. Drifting off into wild mumbles and musings that make her face turn a bright shade of pink and has her scrambling away from sight.

"Poke! Don't be so loud, people are discussing m~me!"

"Isn't that the whole point of this event, Denji?"

Her cheeks flush an even deeper shade.

Poke rolls his eyes at her.

And Denji Myaku bows her head in absolute defeat, pushing her glasses back up her nose when they slid down her bridge. "I understand why they wouldn't let me try the exams again, everyone else would have had to too. But..." She slumps. "It just hurts so bad knowing I would've passed! All these robots...!"

She jabs a finger at them.

"They're weak!"

"Hell yeah they are!"

It was just... so disappointing. Urgh. She didn't even want to think about it anymore.

Denji sighs and calls out to her one friend that is, at least, not ragging on her already unlucky situation: "Zengi! Are you almost done? The others have already gone ahead, we'll leave you behind at this rate!"

He offers her a chuckle. "Almost, almost."

She doesn't get why he insisted on taunting everyone he could but- aa. She couldn't really judge him.

The guy had seemed like a prickly pear anyways.

...

...

Monoma's back nearly hits dirt. He manages to just narrowly catch himself on his elbows, trying to swallow back the grunt that escapes him. The wind had been knocked almost completely out of his lungs. A foot digging into his chest to keep him pinned and- damn it. The quirk he'd stolen was absolutely useless.

An empathy quirk... who even thought those were cool nowadays?

"You're awfully arrogant for not even knowing how to use my power effectively."

He growls, turning his chest to metal with the last few seconds of use he had left of Tetsutetsu's borrowed quirk. Just enough to wipe that stupid smirk off the assholes face. "Screw you. Like anyone even needs a passive ability like this... People like you are only in this competition to make the hero students look better!"

Hanzengi or whatever they said his name was had jumped to the EMP-girls defense when Monoma had reached out to add her quirk to his own personal usage, taking the touch that had been meant for her by coming out of nowhere to take him by surprise. It would've been something easily brushed off but- no. Hanzengi Kigen apparently had a bone to pick and could tell that his intentions had been less than... ideal towards his friend.

"You're not wrong that that is the intent. But why should we go along with it?"

There's the taste of a feeling on his tongue that Monoma struggles to identify, not prepared to use a quirk that seemed so... intricate.

He bites his tongue to get rid of it. It usually took him time and actual cooperation with the original quirk user to get a good grip on an effective method of using their quirk. His own filled in some holes, but it wasn't perfect- it was a lot of guessing and faked confidence and observation-

He hadn't observed a lot from Hanzengi. And all his copy quirk was telling him was that Hanzengi's quirk was passive and had... had something to do with touch that he hadn't quite managed to put together yet. It made him wonder if that was why the skeletal-boy's hands were so bony, big, and long.

He keeps away from them as best he can, wondering if he should go for it- use the mysterious empathy effect without any knowledge of what it does and simply hope for the best that it'll work in his favor.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Hanzengi seems to read his mind or, perhaps, instead, he simply could read the conflict warring inside him, "my quirk can be very dangerous in the wrong hands."

There's a taste on his tongue and Monoma-

Monoma swallows. Truth tastes like cotton candy and something else sweet he can't quite place.

"...I couldn't help but overhear the so-called 'plans' you have prepared alongside 1-B." Hanzengi changes the subject. "How many of them are actually going along with that? How many of your classmates are idiotic like you?"

Monoma curses him.

"At first, I thought it was insulting. Now that you're beneath me, though? I think you're just stupid."

"What the hell would someone like you know about-?!"

"Waiting in the wings for the perfect moment to strike, don't make me laugh." Monoma doesn't know what humor tastes like but he doesn't imagine it tastes like the ash on his taste buds. "Do you really, truly, honestly-?"

He leans in, until their foreheads almost touch.

"-think the rest of us are so weak that we'll let you? That we won't do everything in our power to seize the moment?"

Monoma doesn't care how dangerous his quirk may or may not be anymore. He goes for it.

But not before Hanzengi places a hand against him.

"Switch."

-0-

There wasn't much else other than the heaviness. It's like coming awake after a long nap taken in the afternoon without an alarm set, leaving her to wonder desperately how much time had passed and how much she had missed. Simultaneously, there's sweat sticking to her skin and her eyes are impossibly dry, as if she hadn't blinked in a very long time.

The sun is immediately blinding.

There's a sharp pain in her side.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you there, I just... thought you'd move."

Their elbow had slammed into her side as they'd turned to grab a water bottle off the ground, completely on accident but it had still been a rough hit that had made her ribs pinch.

Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth when she tries to form words that come to her more out of instinct than her actually knowing what to say: "I... Is' fine... Don't worry about it."

She can't bring herself to really care. Not when her body still felt so heavy and clouded - it was beginning to dissipate, much quicker than she initially suspected it would, but she could still feel hints of it throughout her limbs. It felt weird.

And Yaoyorozu Momo felt confused.

Just... absolutely confused.

She didn't know where she was, not exactly. She knew what she was supposed to be doing but- but-

She's surrounded by students, standing in the middle of a dirt and dust covered field, with her stomach feeling like it's impossibly queasy. It's cramping. Like it usually does whenever she uses her quirk too quickly. And she's just... she doesn't know what's going on.

The students around her are huddled next to heaters and sniffling. Over half of them are under shock blankets and just about every single one of them are trying to pull twigs from their matted and tangled hair.

There's no sense of urgency. There's no race.

For crying out loud, there's Pro-Heroes milling about to offer aid-!

She licks her lips. "A-Ano..."

She's trying to recall the seconds from the obstacle course that she remembers like the back of her hand. The explosion of terrifying branches, Todoroki's ice, her quick use of her quirk to pole vault into a degree of safety and getting slightly caught but, other than a small slip-up, she was ready to go forward.

There had been shouting, screaming-

There had been a lot.

But she remembers- she remembers someone bumping into her and a whisper in her ear that had made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and made her yelp. It had made goosebumps break out all over her skin and she'd been about to turn, to lash out in some instinctual fear-

Then- then there was that heaviness and she was here.

"E-Excuse me, but... what's happening...? Where am I? Isn't... Aren't we supposed to be racing?"

The person she asked- a hero wearing a UA-issued ID on a lanyard- lets out an unexpected groan that makes her flinch. The mutter of "...not another one!" makes her suspicious and her mind whirl to try and puzzle out the implications of it.

"U-Um...?"

The hero sighs. "Look, kid, I don't know how to tell you this but we've been getting quite a few of you coming over and all acting the exact same. We think it's some kind of memory-altering quirk that someone is putting to good use."

She nods very, very slowly at that. Her head struggling to connect the dots on how it relates to her. As far as she knew, her memory wasn't... altered. It just felt like a chunk of it was hidden in a heavy cloud that got heavier the more she tried to look but it wasn't as if it was just- gone.

She has the aches of walking. The knowledge that she did. Just not the comprehension of it all.

"To make a long story short: You forfeited the race by walking out of bounds. Sorry."

It's a tough pill to swallow.

Yaoyorozu is left standing there, her mouth opening and closing with words that refuse to come out. The confusion still gnawing at her insides until she can hardly focus.

"B-But I... I would h-have never done that."

And she's heartbroken.

...

...

It's easy to fade into obscurity.

Especially when so many others are so much louder, shine so much brighter, and demand so much attention.

It's easy to slow his steps into a leisurely prowl, quiet and calm as he counts the number that remains ahead of him. There's people that slow. That shuffle on their feet and glance around, as if hesitant to take another step, and he'll watch them turn- as if expecting to meet his gaze.

But they'll find nothing but the lingering feeling of knowing.

He counts.

It's by no means an efficient method but it is the simplest- the easiest one. It has less room for error. Even if it's cruel.

He doesn't care.

He counts.

It'd come to him on a late night with nothing but sleeplessness to preoccupy his mind. Already plagued by horrible thoughts and an anxiety so deep that he initially refused to entertain it. He hadn't been in the best headspace.

It hadn't been a moral dilemma. It wasn't so overtly difficult.

It had been an indecisiveness borne exclusively on how he would be perceived. Whether practicality would win against the need to be... the need to not be seen as something monstrous.

Except he just doesn't care about that. Not right now. Not anymore.

There's a whisper under his breath, nearly imperceptible but still good enough. He is the shadow in their periphery, the figure that they don't quite get a chance to look at, and he makes sure to keep himself controlled and his voice smooth and level. Because the thing about people is that, even if they try not to, even if they ignore or don't even realize it themselves, they have a habit of listening.

And he has a habit of knowing exactly what to say and how to say it so that it makes them think that they're not.

It's enough to plant a seed of dissonance between their experiences. To make enough things similar and enough different that they could ruminate, but curiosity and confusion would lead them astray. And only fear of the unknown would remain.

Shinsou is done playing nice.

(Was it the touch? When he removed his gloves and tapped them on the elbow. Was it his smile? When he would pull down the mask that covers his face and grin until his cheeks hurt. Was it sight? When he'd pull his goggles from his face and-?

They didn't get to see much of the dramatics he put on-aire but it would be enough to fool any onlooker that decided to do more than take a glance.)

His gaze weighs heavy, looking up through his eyelashes with cold precision as the sun beats down on them all.

And he counts.

Until the numbers on the field slowly dwindle.

Shinsou Hitoshi wants to win. And everyone knows that victory can be easily achieved when the competition is removed from the playing field.

If they paint him to be the monster in this- as some heinous adversary- well, he's used to that, by this point, and sometimes... sometimes, maybe, in this instance, he wants to prove them right.

That he is someone to be scared of.