Chikuchi can still feel the concussive force of an explosion erupting in her face. Her nose is broken. There's blood everywhere. And she can just imagine how horrible she must look. The way the burst blood vessels pop up across her face, how the outer edges of her skin turn a burnt, glossy pink slowly drifting into the uncomfortable colors of ash and soot.

How she still can't feel her frozen-solid hand.

Everything is throbbing like a second heartbeat. But this is what a quirk like Explosion was made to do.

"N... No."

Her seeds are scattered. Her pouch nearly empty of its contents. Without the support her quirk might as well be useless.

"I... I want to-"

She tries- She tries and she tries- But what remains of Umino's water and the soil she attempts to gather doesn't provide nearly enough fuel to sprout more than a few frail buds. Not enough to produce even a single thorn.

Her quirk is absolutely powerless.

"...I want to win!"

It's weird. She didn't think it would be hitting her like this. The regret.

Suddenly, all she can think about is what she didn't do. All the nights she spent at home doing nothing, the nights she decided to goof off or gossip or study instead of practicing with her quirk, when she could've been focusing on something... anything...! That- That might have actually helped her.

She'd forgone any type of training or practice-

The only thing she'd done was meet with Umino and Agoyamato and formulate a plan to work together, to synergize their quirks. All she had managed to put in was a few hours, maybe. Maybe a little more than that or maybe a little less. It had seemed like a lot at the time but now-? She wasn't sure at all.

(How horrible she was- to have failed them like this? To try and push forward when she didn't deserve to.)

She manages to pull herself from her knees to her feet.

She manages- gasping- to take a single step forward.

It's not until the world has grown dark and muted that the feeling of falling forward hits her. It's a sickening experience. A lurch in her stomach that has the taste of bile rising to her throat.

And, even after only one step, she's caught in an untimely nose-dive headed straight towards the ground as her consciousness fades.

Damn it.

Damn it. This... This really was as far as she could go, huh?

What a disappointment.

...

...

She doesn't quite hit the ground.

Her legs fold and her already scraped up knee slams into the dirt to catch her, but she doesn't collapse like she was about to. She can't. Not when a hand grips her by the elbow and steadies her.

There's sweat clinging to her forehead.

It feels like the world has frozen. Stuck in a stand-still. She nearly chokes on the cry that escapes her, the whispered syllable that drags itself from her lips like a wail.

"...why?"

"You're clearly not okay."

He says it like he's talking about the weather. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world and that's all there is to it.

"So?!"

She's not afraid to admit that she snapped. That her already short-fuse finally lit and- of course, it had to be now. It just always has to be with him too. Honestly, Chikuchi doesn't know what's more frustrating; her own pathetic state, or the fact that it always seemed to be shared with the one person she didn't want noticing it.

"Why are you here?" It's like the energy has been sucked from her lungs. All the determination and the heart-stopping feelings of failure are just... swept away. "Do you- Do you even have time to stop and... a-and make fun of me? Or are you really just that arrogant?"

The insult- the accusation- seems to brush right past him.

She doesn't expect the feeling of relief welling up inside her at that.

(She doesn't want to hurt him. It's a shocking revelation, and she's disgusted with herself that its even surprising in the first place.)

"...Why do you even care?"

"Who else is going to?"

The world dips into darker and darker shades of gray but it's not quite as nauseating as it once was. Not when indigo eyes, half-lidded behind purple lashes seemed so sharp and pensive that they have her rooted to her spot.

She can't help but wonder what she must look like to him. If he thought her truly pathetic and a waste of space or if this was the final straw that would get him to start looking at her with pity in his eyes.

She wouldn't blame him for either.

Instead-

He sighs, a haggard sound that probably twists his mouth into a crooked smirk. She can't tell. He's wearing a mask, making it infinitely harder to gauge his already muted expressiveness. She thinks that, if he is though, a look of pity might suit him better than the concern he was offering her. "No one else was going to come over to pick up after your sorry-ass. My bad. Next time, I'll just make sure to kick you on my way out."

"Asshole. You're the moron wasting both of our time."

She has just enough time to catch sight of him rolling his eyes before his hands are colliding with her shoulders and she's being shoved into the dirt.

"Ow!" She bites back a growl. "You- You are so damn dramatic, Shinsou."

He scoffs.

And she says nothing after that- just lets the humorless laugh threatening to escape finally bubble out of her. Trying not to think about how there hadn't been any malice, any intent to hurt, behind that gesture. That the haste in which he leaves her behind isn't mixed with any foul, personal feelings that she wouldn't have blamed him for having against her.

It was almost kind.

Deep down, she knew what he was doing: reminding her of her limitations. He was telling her to stay put. That- That she was done and she needed to acknowledge it. Somehow, that hurt more than her injuries ever could.

(She doesn't know why she appreciates it, but she does.)

Chikuchi's back hits dirt, her fall unceremonious but much softer than it would have been if Shinsou hadn't been there. There's dust and dirt and pebbles digging into her shoulders, but it doesn't feel cruel anymore. It's not humiliating and pathetic.

Because, at least with Shinsou, this was something that felt right.

She doesn't know the proper words to say. She doesn't know how to articulate the mix of feelings that suddenly corrode her. There's too much.

There's no well-wishes when he turns on heel to leave her lying there and she has half a mind to, at least, thank him for that. She doesn't.

As it is, all she does is finally, finally tell herself to stop.

The relief is instantaneous.

And the very last remnants of her consciousness fade with the silly thought: Wow, what kind of dork would wear that mask in public?

-0-

It's cute.

Three white lines on each cheek. A little button nose. A simple, three-shaped mouth with teensy-tiny triangles for fangs.

It was downright adorable. Inarguably so.

A pensive gaze peaks over the edges, sharp eyes with a cynical look that stands out in stark contrast to said-adorable mask. The kitten mask remains unruffled by these proceedings. Like a match made in hell.

(It was hard to say why they seemed to suit each other so well. Maybe it was the contrast. The rough, cold and unfriendly aura that Shinsou surrounded himself with against the cute, affectionate and cartoony face. Opposites attracting. They got along like a house on fire.

Maybe it was something like that. Or-

Or... maybe it had something to do with the fact that the deep violet of the mask went gloriously well with his eyes. But, ah~ no one could truly say for certain if that was the definitive answer.)

Shinsou's plan had simply been to obscure his face. Though it had little to do with actual recognition, the goal had been to make it hard for people to tell when he was talking and when he wasn't. If he was talking at all.

It was why he was wearing thick, black gloves and a pair of goggles on his forehead and protective ear plugs, too.

All to make it harder to guess how his quirk worked.

It was too little too late to not be instantly recognized as the "villainous, brainwashing kid from 1-C", especially when it came to anyone that cared to listen to high school rumors, but it was enough to screw with people's perception of how his quirk worked. It was the apex of everything he and his friends had so carefully set into motion.

He reminded himself to thank them, not for the first time since taking to the field. He wanted them to know how much... how much their efforts meant to him.

But the first step of that was to make sure they knew that he was worth it.

It's just...

It's funny.

Shinsou had been prepared for a lot of things. To be thrown flat on his feet, to have all his plans go up in flames; hell, he'd even had a nightmare that he'd take one step onto the field and someone would take one look at him, point, and spill the beans on his quirk, how it worked, what he was doing, and he'd be nothing but a laughing stock. A villain trying to steal the hero label from somebody else.

None of that happened, of course, but... he was still anxiety ridden Shinsou and he had been prepared for it.

What he hadn't been prepared for, was how...

How easy this was.

Logically, Shinsou knew that the events would only get exponentially harder. That the competition would only get more fierce, passionate, and focused as they weeded out the unqualified. The fodder. The unworthy. But he also knew that there were only so many qualifying places.

Forty. There were forty slots. It seemed like a lot at first glance but it wasn't. And everyone knew why they had chosen such an oddly specific amount, but no one would ever say it out loud- for politeness sake or something else, he didn't know.

Forty slots for the forty students that made up the Hero Course: 1-A and 1-B.

It was as if UA was already saying who belonged and who didn't. It's why his heart stutters in his chest, it's why he counts and recounts, and counts again who remains ahead of him and who remains behind. There was no room for error. Little room for arrogance. The only way that anyone in any other program- Support, Business, Gen. Ed- would get a chance is if someone in the Hero Course slipped up or if they proved themselves to be better.

But as the seconds ticked into minutes and he carried himself in a brisk jog, a pace that he knew he could keep up without wearing himself out, even if all he wanted to do was desperately run as fast as he could until the finish line was far behind him, Shinsou couldn't help but notice a few things. As he had a habit of doing.

He watched students wheezing for breath, hands on their knees and heads bowed, refusing to take another step. He eyed those that took one look at the robot obstacle and screamed. Hell, some of them even turned back to run the way they came. And he felt his lips thin into a flat line at the sight of those off to the side, out of the realm of danger but... but unable to go anywhere because of it.

And it- it couldn't be because of him.

Shinsou wasn't nearly so arrogant or confident in the skills that he'd been trying to train up- he hadn't had nearly as much time as he would have wished for- and he didn't think he was necessarily better than anyone on the field. (It was hard to think that, when everyone always seemed to be trying to tell him how much of a waste of space he was.) But- But he looked over the field with a mounting frustration building in his chest, his eyes a blazing heat.

He had the same scrapes and bruises as everyone else. He even had aching ribs from where one of the robots had noticed him sneaking past and managed to ram itself into his side before he could fully dodge out of the way.

But that was nothing.

It was absolutely nothing compared to a punch to the gut or hands clamping down on his jaw or squeezing his throat.

Shinsou knows that he's changed a lot since the beginning of the year. He wasn't the same skinny, toothpick that walked into UA with a cold temper and a glower and an exhausted resignation. Sure, he was still... himself. But he looks at them and he wonders if- if-

If there was a possibility that he was ever once like them.

"Is this a joke?"

He curses himself in his head. He's supposed to be staying quiet- quiet- quiet- there was no need to draw any undue attention and there were a couple students passing him by even now. An inconsequential few, he knows, he counted, but still a few too many for his liking.

But-

But-

He can see Chikuchi.

She's so far away now. She's laid prone on the ground. Bruised, defeated, and a little crispy on the edges. She's behind him and he'd left her in the dust to move forward, but... for all her faults, for all that he truly disliked her, she had still been so ready to fight. Even though she'd had way too much confidence and none of the skill to back it up, she had still done her best.

"Are any of you even trying?"

"Hey, screw you, man!"

His eyes flash.

There's a part in him that sounds suspiciously similar to Medama telling him that trying looks different for different people. That he shouldn't be so quick to judge when he doesn't know all the facts, but he's still looking at Chikuchi.

"Shut up."

A part of him wants to hate the student that left her behind like dirt on their heel. A different part of him, a more logical and calm part: understood.

And he's understanding more and more, as he looks out over these students, and he hates it. His insides twist with something a bit more bitter and acrid. Something that's far more angry than it should be.

To the hero students... they must really seem like flies, huh?

His teeth grit.

Chikuchi beaten. Umino and Agoyamato frozen. Everyone else? He could only guess.

They'd been nothing more than annoying, constant, minor inconveniences and the easiest and simplest way to get rid of flies was to swat them down. Shinsou hates how much he gets it.

"No wonder the Hero Students think they're so much better than us." He mutters with a shake of his head. It had only been a seconds pause, a second too many, but it hadn't felt right to stay silent and watch them squander the chance they still had. It felt like nothing more than a cold mockery of his classmates' attempts and he wouldn't stand for it. "If you're not even willing to pick yourself off the ground then everyone's right: You don't deserve to be heroes."

He suddenly couldn't shake the image of himself at the beginning of the year, judging and wondering and forced to ask himself the question: was he ever truly that pathetic? And, if he was... Shinsou bites his tongue.

(God, why did Medama even care to say hi?)

Unbeknownst to him, because Shinsou is already gone before anyone can get a word in edgewise, using his heel to twist around and stalk off, the three second pause he had given them had a rather startling effect. Oh, it was mixed with indignation and offense and there would always be those that cursed and sneered and turned up their nose- it wasn't as if Shinsou had said anything kind, neither had he said it nicely- but there was also a hush that wasn't there before. It was small at first, but then it picked up just the tiniest bit. And a few students began to push themselves just a bit more, a few even braving the robots that they'd been so quick to turn away from and-

"Hey, where are you going?"

It even gets a student to pull away from her friends. An embarrassed expression tinging her cheeks as she furtively avoids their gazes. They'd huddled together on the sidelines, debating whether or not to walk off and give up or to continue gossiping and acting as if they were doing their due diligence.

Honestly, they'd been more taken with the idea of cameras potentially being on them than with what those cameras were actually catching.

She suddenly felt extremely silly.

"I- uh. I don't know guys, I think I'm... I think I'm going to keep running for a bit longer. Just to see how far I can get."

"Wha- hey?!"

It wasn't anything amazing. But with head bows and quirks in hand, a couple students tried a little harder than they did before. It wouldn't amount to much of anything. Not this late in the game, but for some- it meant something. That they at least kept going.

And Aoyama, struggling to keep his face straight, clenches his fists over his stomach and tries to ignore the sharp pain twisting his insides into a ball. He bites his tongue, dragging himself away from destroyed robots that he'd spent way too much time and effort on, towards the finish line. Trying his best not to feel like a fraud.

...

...

Shinsou would like to say that he aced the rest of the obstacles after that, but that would be a lie. A canyon with a limited number of ropes greeted him and one glance down told him that if he fell there would be no chance to climb back up. Which left climbing himself and trusting his training to have gotten him strong enough or finding someone useful to use as a means to an end.

His lips press into a thin line.

It feels like a total waste, but he stops. And waits. And observes.

His knee bounces as time ticks and he begins contemplating just grabbing onto a rope and going for it when a flash of pink makes him startle. It's not the same but he finds his eyes almost naturally being drawn to a head of pink hair in the mix of students that hang along the edge. She's got a smile so wide on her face that he can see almost all of her teeth and she's cackling in... what can only be described as a "mad scientist laugh".

There's gear and straps of thick leather covering her from head-to-toe.

"The Support Course can bring any gadgets or costumes we want, so long as we develop it ourselves. It makes the Sports Festival into the perfect opportunity for investors!"

She's explaining it to some Hero Course girls that are staring at her with wide, wide eyes. Wide eyes that grow even wider when she rushes past them to leap off the cliff edge with her witch-like laughter following after her. A cord ripping her towards one of the many earthen pillars that make up the obstacle.

Shinsou blinks.

That is...

"Interesting."

A Support Course student, huh?

That could be useful.

He takes the time to search and it takes longer than he would like because suddenly he's remembering that the Support Course had been primarily behind him in the starting tunnel and would have most likely gotten snatched by Kiko's explosion of branches- and the fact that he had... helped a few folks off the course that had been wearing metal and bracers and backpacks that would have denoted them as Support.

His palms are sweaty by the time he finds a boy knelt over a pile of bits and bolts, seemingly taking his time to prep some kind of machine that's fastened to his wrist. It's enough to get his panicked heart to slow down. Just a bit. By now, there's too many people ahead of him, too many to be comfortable, but if he plays his cards right he might be able to correct that number.

He slows to a calmer pace, letting his shoes shuffle in the dirt and rocks.

The boy looks up at his hopefully innocuous approach as he looks back at the canyon, a mutter under his breath just loud enough that it would be heard: "I wonder what happens to those who fall?"

The boy turns green.

"Don't say that, man! I don't even want to think about that sort of thing."

Shinsou laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." He grins beneath his mask, letting his eyes crinkle behind the tinted goggles. "Truth is, I have a fear of heights so this is probably it for me. My quirk is no good for this kind of thing anyways."

It's a deep sigh, drained and resigned and the kid frowns as he looks over his gear. Shinsou startles when he just looks up and gives him an earnest expression, so full of enthusiasm and friendliness that it completely throws him for a loop.

"No way, dude! You should still totally try!" Shinsou opens his mouth, closes it. "I mean, my quirk isn't good for this sort of thing either, but that's why I'm in support. Gear like this..." He looks down at his stuff, fingers flying over the mechanics and screwing things into place, "it's supposed to help people with less versatile quirks so they'll be able to do their best no matter the circumstances."

"...Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods, a silly grin on his face. "Being in Support means that you get to support your heroes and, well, I'm sure you've heard the tales about how difficult it is for them when their quirk can't help them save someone. They end up... completely unable to help. It must feel horrible. Being forced to watch bad things happen in front of you."

Shinsou is slow to respond. There's a knot in his throat. He nods instead.

"I want to... I want to make support gear that will mean that no hero is stopped by their own limitations. Gear that means that everyone can be saved," he laughs, "aa, sorry. That's... That was kind of an embarrassing speech, huh? It's just- well, I have a habit of rambling on about the stuff I'm passionate about and it usually makes people uncomfortable, so-"

"No," he breathes, "no, you're fine. I get it. Trust me."

"Huh?"

Shinsou is wringing out his hands. His fingers twisting and clenching as he looks away from the boys brightness. "That's... That's a pretty honorable goal. Honestly, my reason for wanting to be a hero feels kind of selfish in comparison to that, even if there's..." He stops himself. "It's pretty cool of you to think of something like that. Mind explaining it to me?"

"H-Huh?

"Your gear." He nods towards it before freezing when the boy only stares. "O-Or not. Sorry. Is it rude to ask that sort of thing about Support Gear, I can just go if I'm bothering-"

"No! If you want to hear, I'd be glad to tell you!" His smile is like a beam of sunshine. "No one ever asks, they're always so impressed by Hatsume that no one else in our class ever gets- I-I-I mean, sure. Sure, if you want to stay, I'll totally show you how it works."

Shinsou crouches down as he gestures to the bracers that he was fitting on himself. Listening intently as he rambled on about the invention and how it worked and how it fitted together. Shinsou tried to not think too much about the clock ticking internally inside of him, tried not to look up at the people that were passing them by and-

"Wow." He intones gently, cutting through a spiel on the properties of flexible material and what works best and why that had gotten far off subject. "You really know your stuff. It's impressive."

The boy glances up at him, as if only now realizing how much he'd talked, and blushes. His face shifts into a deep hue of pink. Shinsou tilts his head, watching the reaction.

"I- W-Well- thank you, that's-"

Shinsou smiles, pulling his mask down with a finger. "No, thank you." It's not difficult for it to feel warm, for it to actually reach his eyes. "And don't worry about your rambling, it was nice to hear your thoughts."

"Um."

"You ended up explaining it really well. I feel like I could almost use it myself, if I wanted to." The boy's face is darkening into deeper and deeper shades of pink. "Shouldn't you get going now though? If you're not careful, you might be left behind."

He stutters and dithers and Shinsou feels his smile twitch for a second when he doesn't turn around to leave. His shoulders tensing. The bright eyed boy is looking at him with those still so earnest eyes and- "I've been meaning to ask," he blurts, "if- if you don't mind, but... what's with the mask? The cat's cute but, well." He licks his lips. "It's not like you need it?"

Shinsou feels his smile tighten, feels it slowly fall.

He's not going to let him out of his sight just yet, is he?

He can feel the clock ticking.

He doesn't have to fake the disappointment, regret, nor the downcast look on his face, not like he has with everything else. His eyes drifting away to avoid the boys gaze. "...It's for a lot of things, but right now?" He shrugs. "It's so people think I'm a nicer person than I actually am."

The boys brows furrow.

"I'm sorry about this."

"Sorry about what-?"

Shinsou sighs. His eyes closing tight for a moment as he pulls the mask back into place. He hadn't been able to hide his quirk like he'd been hoping too and a kid as smart as this one would put two-and-two together in seconds- There's no time to think about it right now. There's no time for the regret and shame that's twisting his insides into a stressed mess of emotions. There was no time to think twice now.

He steels himself as he opens his eyes, forcing himself to look the boy in the face and take in the sight of his now dulled expression.

Yeah. He certainly felt like a villain.

He was a total asshole.

"Take it off."

He orders, voice bland and eyes blank. The announcement that someone had reached the final obstacle was ringing out through the field and he needed to start moving. Fast. Or it would be him left behind. Shinsou just kind of wished that he didn't have to use such a nice guy for his own gain, he'd been hoping that he'd at least be a jerk too-

"Not your clothes. Not your clothes!"

He almost collapses in relief when the boy stops slowly unzipping his pants.

"Why the fuck would you assume I meant that? Don't answer!" Shinsou covers his face with his hands in pure mortification. Thanking whatever gods there were that, at least, no one had noticed and that he had managed to stop the boy before he got more than a single shoe off. "Redo your zipper and just hand me the damn support gear already."

He fastens it to his arm as quickly as he can, memory working to figure out all the ties and clamps and bolts that needed to be secured so it would be safe. There are thick straps that he has to buckle and clasp over his arm, all the way to his shoulder and one even across his chest, but it's snug in the way the boy had described it should be.

"Snap out of it when Mic announces the end of the first event." He mutters as he passes by. Then pauses with a long suffering look towards the sky. "And please put your shoes back on."

Shinsou walks to the edge of the cliff and hopes that whatever obstacle is next is better than this.

He takes a step off and lets himself drop.

When Shinsou finally pulls himself up the final ledge, his gloves are torn and frayed by rocks and one of his nails had gotten ripped straight off of his finger. His entire upper body feels like one massive, painful bruise and he's pouring sweat but- he's made it. Much, much faster than if he had slowly crawled his way along the ropes. He'd dragged himself past his struggling competition and made it to the final obstacle.

And, as he groans and wipes his face free of sweat and appreciates his newfound fear of heights, he looks to see what the last obstacle-

Aa. Bombs. The Obstacle Course Classic. Of course.

...

...

Midoriya is no stranger to questioning himself.

It's almost second nature to him. A curious note on the tip of his tongue, a quick glance in the mirror, or a whisper of his own voice reaching his ears. He's been forced to freeze, to pause and swallow down the something rising to his throat enough times, that he can shake the urge- the feelings that make him second guess himself. It doesn't stop his thoughts from spiraling out of control.

It's like his mutters, fast paced and endless, wandering little scrawls of text that somehow ink themselves onto his brain and drift down- down- down. Through his bones, through his veins, through the tiny scars that are beginning to warp his hands into some unrecognizable mess.

(That is an issue onto it's own. One that he doesn't know how to solve so he winds up ignoring it, trying to stamp down the fear that one day he won't be able to hold a pen anymore. That his fingers will shake, his hands aching, and the steady hand that he prided himself on- that never stuttered even through shouts, explosions, and cruel, taunting notes- would finally fail him.

But there are more important things, bigger dreams; it doesn't seem so bad to sacrifice the things he already has when there's someone else out there that probably matters more.

So Midoriya- second guessing himself, as always- shuts that yelling voice up and hopes that All Might's injuries aren't a sign of what's to come.)

(But who is he kidding?)

Midoriya swallows.

And, not for the first time, not nearly the last, he questions himself.

Is he... really going to do this?

It's not a sudden thought. In fact, it'd been a rather pervasive one. But Midoriya can't help but think that he was the biggest moron in the world for ever questioning his mother. Ever. In his life.

Because he'd always been quick to write off her worries or her fussing for even the simple reason of it feeling so babyish. More often than not, at best it'd felt completely unnecessary and, at worst... patronizing. And- it was just- sometimes. He wondered. He wondered if she looked at him and saw that same quirkless nobody that everyone else saw. That fragile little piece of glass that needed to be protected, or that useless waste of space that needed to be taught his place.

He would never voice that out loud, but... yes, Midoriya Izuku felt like a moron right now. Because now he was getting a little bit of an inkling that there were grounds to warrant her near constant worry.

Case in point, the pile of bombs that he was planning on belly flopping onto with only a thin sheet of metal to protect himself.

Even he was questioning the sheer recklessness of it all.

...He was still totally-going-to-do-it.

But, well, at least Midoriya was agreeing with his mom on this one. It was definitely some kind of stupid.

Midoriya sucks in a deep breath, his cheeks filling with air as he tries to loosen the tension in his limbs. It was time. No holding back. He had to make himself known to the world, had to get himself on-stage, and prove himself worthy of being able to say I am here or else he wasn't-

"Oh?"

It's a deep noise, curious and intensely judgmental.

Midoriya freezes. It's enough to distract him. Enough for him to twist and look-

He recognizes him.

"Hang on."

The boy. The scary, siren-like boy calls.

It's a quiet croon. Cold, but firm.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? What do you think you're doing?"

Midoriya is twisting the metal cord even tighter around his hand.

"Those bombs. You have a plan, right? Or do you just think you're better than us?" He doesn't make a noise. Can't. "You're in the Hero Course." There's something searching about his gaze, something that Midoriya can't help but find familiar but its so... drowned with raw emotion that it's almost reaching out and latching onto him. Drowning him too. "What? Not going to say anything?"

A sneer.

He recognizes him.

From a vague memory that now feels so long ago but still, somehow, fresh. Maybe its because of the adrenaline running through his veins, but he knows him. The boy. The stranger from the vending machines. The one that had scared him.

He's staring at him, eyes alight as he lifts his goggles and glares. His feet are suddenly moving without his permission.

And Midoriya blurts out the first thing that that shadow of a memory ignites-

"Coffee. Strawberry milk."

-the stupid drinks that he'd been buying.

Midoriya wants to curl up on the ground and die.

"Gotcha."

But it's too late.

He is submerged. Drowned in a shroud that stretches into a dream. There's a high-pitched noise in his ears, a wail, steadily growing louder, and then louder, then louder still.

They are watching him. Starlights that stretch into Infinity. Snuffed and stolen from the galaxy, warped visages that wrap him up into some warm, comforting embrace.

Roots of power spread over his skin, rising to the surface in thick lines of tireless energy-

Midoriya's face slams into the metal sheet in his grasp and he snaps awake while hurtling through the sky, the wind whipping past him, whistling through his ears. His nose is bloodied. He's dazed.

And he's falling fast towards the fighting pair of Bakugou and Todoroki.

His thoughts stall and scream.

His hand grips the cord and then subsequently loosens.

There's bombs underneath them. There's bombs underneath them and there's no time.

He slams the metal sheet down with all the strength he can summon. An explosion erupts, so large that it fills the field with fireworks of color. He feels himself roll, feels his feet hit the ground, and then he's running. Faster than he ever has before. Terror nipping at his heels in such an instinctual way that he can't stop.

And as he passes the finish line, and the stadium erupts into the loudest cheers yet, he still can't get out that high pitched noise screaming in his ears.

"Ṋ̷̙̰̒ I̵͉͈̮͛̅̔ͅ ̵̟̝̮͙̟͠ N̶̬̦̍ ̴͆̓̚Ṱ̴̡͈̈́̈ ̵̡͔̯̉̎͊H̶̢̢̛͓̲̗͇̺̬̪͎̘̻̹̟̊̓̆̀͌͋̽̓͒̾̽̈̕.."

Shinsou shields his face from the explosion, his eyes snapping shut as his vision fills with pink. He's been knocked flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him and his bruises igniting in pain from the force of it all. He growls low, under his breath, his quirk rumbling somewhere deep in his throat.

He picks himself up carefully, running a hand through his hair and blinking away pink glitter from his lashes. Whoever designed those faux explosions had certainly taken no small amount of glee in making them ridiculous, but that many gathered in one place had felt- close to a lethal amount of force.

"Hrrk..."

He'd gotten a bit ahead of himself there. Seeing that Hero Student had ignited a feeling of fury and anger that he hadn't expected and he'd been- If he'd been in his right mind and looked at it objectively, he would've never approached.

Stupid.

He shakes his head. He- He'd have to be calmer next time. If he did that with every hero student, then he was basically screwing himself over.

At least that students plan- whatever it was- had backfired and he'd probably knocked himself completely out of bounds-

Shinsou stops.

Looks at the place where the Hero Student had once stood and where he'd ended up and then blinks again.

"Well. Shit."

-0-

Present Mic is roaring.

It's the only way that he can be heard above the crowd, even through the speaker system.

"That's it! That's the final student!"

Kayama hears it at the same moment that she flags the final one through, looking over the gasping, disappointed few that fall just short of the finish line. "Sorry, that's the last one moving onto the next event!" She grins, even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "We have everyone we need for our next lineup but you all did a fantastic job making it this far!"

She turns away before she can see the tears and the way their exhausted faces twist with disappointment.

Instead, she turns to those who passed and feels pride light her smile into something real.

It wasn't everyone. She never expected it to be. But it was more than she would have guessed.

They were shining so brightly.