6 - A Festival?

Ken had come to a realization.

Mind bending headaches made for good cover when he didn't want to talk to anyone.

At least when no one knew it was because it was a hangover, that is.

I'm never getting drunk again…

For some reason, he knew that was a lie. Considering the last time he said that, it was also a lie.

As per usual, he made sure to greet Ashido with a smile and a short greeting. And ignored Midoriya's attempt at one, of course.

Ken knew today was the day, the day where he'd get closer to his classmates. Tri-angle was right about one thing, he needed to make friends. It'd save him a lot of time and effort to do something so simple. It was easy anyways. All he had to do was just… hang around.

How do I do that?

He spared a glance at the pink girl,

What do I… talk about?

Ken felt his chest tighten as his mind supplied a fragmented memory of two faces he wished he never saw again.

But he could handle it now, he made sure of it. Ken severed the train full of scalding memories before it could spiral.

Back to Ashido.

She was humming. Tapping her fingers on her desk, bouncing her knee up and down.

Oh.

Ken was enraptured, his attention absorbed by the bubbly girl sitting right next to him.

That's…

"FreQuency?"

She stopped, and Ken thought he'd messed up. If not for the fact her face was practically glowing.

"You know them?!"

"Yeah, I do."

"What song was I humming?"

Ken lifted a finger to his chin, and tapped it. "Hmm… Day After Day?"

"Finally! Another fan!"

Ken chuckled, This is working.

"They're good aren't they?"

"Oh brother, I first heard them in a live concert. It was amazing. Midori was with me too."

And like that, his mood plummeted. For more than one reason, that is.

"Really?"

"Kirishima and Uraraka too! It was when I invited some peeps out after USJ, remember?"

He didn't actually.

"Oh… right. I, uh, couldn't contact you at all. Wanna give me your socials?"

Socials… a number would do.

"I can give you my number."

"Oh~ Slick with it are we?"

Tri-angle's words echoed in the recesses of his mind.

"Wouldn't miss the opportunity." He replied, calm as ever.

Ashido laughed and reached out with her hand to playfully smack his shoulder. "Didn't know you were a flirt, Kitajima."

Doll-like.

He pulled out his phone before he caught the unease on her face, and showed her his number so she could punch it in.

Ken cleared his throat, "Lunch together?"

She was always the one asking first, and he didn't miss the joy in her eyes when said it this time. "Not even a question."

Before Ken could say anything more, a heavily bandaged Eraserhead silenced the room with his mummy-like appearance.

He heard Bakugo mutter, "The fuck?"

Ken echoed the sentiment after his spiel about a sports festival.

A festival?...

Ashido, ever the empath, caught his confusion. "Have you never heard of the Sports Festival?"

"No?..."

"It's like the biggest event! Everyone watches it!"

"Everyone watches?"

"Yeah, it's like televised all over the world – hell it pretty much beats the Olympics in viewership and in ratings."

"What?"

"You've seriously never heard of it?"

"I haven't. I've never been told."

"Huh… Well I guess not everybody pays attention to it."

"Is it like… football or something?"

It felt like she saw through him, even if it was only for a split second. "You've really never heard of it."

I'm drawing too much attention, Ken realized that more than half the class had their eyes on him. Ken tried his best to deflect. "I mean, I didn't even know who Endeavour was until Kaminari compared Bakugou's lunch to his quirk." He muttered not-so-quietly.

"Pfffftt!"

"What?!–"

.

.

Within seconds of leaving the classroom, Ken excused himself from Ashido's company and headed towards the bathroom.

Ken tried his best to hide the ever present and growing panic in his gut.

He was breathing fine.

He wasn't losing control.

No, he just felt like an absolute idiot.

How the fuck did I miss something broadcasted worldwide?

"Fuck."

Why is it that no matter what he did, every step forward was preceded by two in the opposite direction? It was always because he wasn't good enough either. He was supposed to be prepared for anything. Suck up to the heroes, suck up to the heroes-in-training, be nice, be kind, act like a hero, earn their trust, find the spy, don't ever reveal your true capabilities, never slip up–

He was failing so hard.

I'm still in control. As long as no one figures me out, nothing else matters.

But the quicker he does his job the faster he gets to do what he needs to.

It doesn't matter anyways. Why am I worried? I'll just not participate.

Ken took a deep breath, trying to quell the spiraling thoughts. It really isn't that complicated.

Why am I?...

Ken gripped his wrist tight enough to leave sweltering marks.

Was that not enough? Did he have to take it farther? How much more?

He felt his neck sting with phantom teeth, his body turn clammy at the thought of more touch.

So what? Man up. I've handled it before, I can do it again. Nothing matters more than this right here and right now. I can't fail, if I do, then there's no point to me being alive. What other reason do I need?

That's how it's always been.

I'm just a blade. Nothing more.

I don't need to be anything else.

I won't fail.

.

.

"What do you mean I have to participate?"

"Not just participate, the boss wants you to win."

"What?… why?!"

"It's a tournament." Ken could hear Tri-angle's grin even through the speaker. "You'll get a prize for first place."

"A prize?"

"Fuck if I know. She said you would know – when you win, that is."

"The entire world is going to watch and she wants me to win?"

"That's the point."

"What?"

"She wants him to know."

A surge of anger sparked his body into flames.

"Wasn't USJ enough?! That's not what I'm doing this for!" Ken sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. "I don't give a flying fuck about All For One and you know it!"

"Watch what you say." Tri-angle growled out, venom oozing from the gruff voice. "What makes you think you have a choice?"

He really didn't.

But by whatever fucked up god there was in heaven he wished he did.

"Good. And lose the phone – shouldn't have called me."

"No– wait–"

The call was cut.

"Fuck!" He threw the device across the room, watching as it hit the wall with a loud crack and flicker into darkness,

He had just gotten Ashido's number on it.

Ken felt something bubble in his chest – and suddenly he couldn't breathe. An awkward and ugly sound filtered past the static ramblings of his mind.

Oh.

Ken was bent over his stomach, his butt sliding down the wall behind him as the sound turned louder and more hysterical. He was laughing.

I'm worried about losing her number?

Another fit of laughter followed the crazed thought.

I'm losing it.

.

.

"Ashido," Ken called out, his voice cutting through the bubbly and energetic conversation of the so-called Bakusquad. "Are there any recordings of past Sports Festivals?"

Lost my phone before I could check…

Ashido snapped her attention away from the odd conversation she shared with the rest of the squad and to Kitajima. He had her entire focus – like it was a surprise he was talking at all.

A mistake on my part, I need to be more social.

"Yeah, but they're usually different every year so it doesn't really help all too much. But you get the gist of it I guess."

"It always ends with a good ol fashioned battle tournament at the end!" Kirishima helpfully added.

"Battle tournament…" Ken echoed.

"It's definitely the most exciting part." Sero added, his toothy grin present as ever. He was all smiles and carried a casual aura about him. Easy to talk to, easy to spill the beans to without having to worry about him snitching.

Ken paid enough attention to them to know it.

"Quirks through it all huh?"

"Wouldn't be much of a school for heroes if we don't use them right?" Denki pointed out.

My quirk…

Ken's eyes drifted away from the table, and to the rest of the cafeteria, his eyes on those whose quirks were destructive and powerful in ways his was not.

How do I stifle it, and win? Hand to hand isn't an option… Todoroki would freeze me over in a second. Bakugo wouldn't let me get up close and personal with his explosions. Midoriya could send me flying with the flick of a finger.

And those are just the obvious standouts.

Kirishima would be a chore, but possible. Yaoyorozu would need a scare, and she'd be out for the count. Sero shouldn't be hard if I play it safe and sever his tape.

Ken felt an impulse rise within his chest at the thought of his quirk. It was fast and overwhelming, there for only a split second but it hit hard enough for him to realize what it told him.

He looked down at his hands.

Battle tournament…

Ken shut his eyes tight and shook his head.

Focus on the strategy. Everything else is unimportant.

.

.

Ken rapped his knuckles on the open door, "Sensei? You called for me?"

A mass of bandages turned away from an unorganized desk. "Come in."

Ken let his eyes wander around the office, not having to worry about hiding his curiosity. It was his first time inside, and, well it would look normal.

"Take a seat."

He did as ordered, grabbing the chair on the opposite of the teacher. Ken held himself as stoic as the hero before him, and he would make sure there wouldn't be a single thing he'd let slip. Whatever it was he was here for, he was prepared.

"How are you holding up, Kitajima?"

"I'm good." Kitajima fought to keep the question out of his tone.

"Do you know why you're here?"

He spared a second to ponder. Did I do something in class? He shook his head.

"You haven't been to any of Hound Dog's counseling sessions."

Ken's mouth formed an o.

Aizawa didn't give him time to think up an answer, "Several of your classmates have been going, there's nothing wrong with it – it's encouraged. What you've been through was something none of you should have experienced so early into your training."

Right.

"And… I've come to learn that you tried to walk off three fractured ribs, a broken ankle and refused to get help for it."

Midoriya is to blame for that, but Ken bit back the retort. It was childish.

"It wasn't… I didn't know it was that bad."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Aizawa's eyes widened significantly, so much so that even behind the slits Ken could tell his pupils overtook the iris. "You're telling me that walking in that condition was not that bad?"

Fuck.

"No, no that's not what I mean." Ken bit his lip, a real reaction.

Aizawa seemed content to wait for Ken to explain.

Why did Midoriya have to go and fucking tell everybody?

"It won't happen again." Ken hoped would be enough to get the get off his case.

The pro hero sighed.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"I want you to go to Hound Dog's counseling."

Ken didn't lash out, nor display any surprise. He kept himself still as the gears in his mind churned.

Aizawa continued, "Kitajima, you were involved with the deaths of several villains – even if you didn't kill them yourself. You fought a high level villain and didn't hesitate to use your quirk to inflict wounds that would have been fatal had it been any other villain – and you almost died. You tried to walk away with broken bones and third degree burns on your back you called not that bad and refused to get help for it. The way you acted on that day is not something I would expect from a fifteen year old hero-in-training. The way you continue to act as if everything is fine is even more so worrying." Aizawa sighed once more, as if the conversation had sucked him dry of whatever energy he'd gotten from the several disposable cups of coffee strewn about his table. "Had I not been incapacitated, I would have had this talk with you earlier Kitajima. You don't have to go through any of this alone."

"Okay." Ken replied without missing a beat.

Aizawa blinked rapidly. "Okay?"

"I'll go to the sessions."

I don't have much of a choice anyways. I fucked up.

"Is that all, sensei?"

Aizawa seemed to be on the cusp of either disbelief or relief, but ultimately his shoulders sagged in the latter. "Yes." He handed Ken a piece of paper. "I've emailed you Hound Dog's schedule as well."

"May I go now?"

"Mm."

Ken picked himself up, turned around and made for the exit without so much as a word.

"If you need anything at all, you can always talk to me."

Ken nodded over his shoulder, "Of course, sensei." And left.

.

.

Izuku found combat training fun. Quirkless combat, all the more. It was always exciting to see how his classmate's quirks played into their styles even when they weren't using them.

Kacchan fought just as explosively as his quirk. Fast and strong punches hid a calm and decisive mind.

Iida fought mainly prioritizing kicks and speedy footwork – to no one's surprise.

Uraraka fought with a fiery determination that betrayed her looks – getting up close and personal even through a dangerous situation.

And Sero, who he was fighting, liked to keep his distance.

Of course, it was simply their style. It didn't mean they were exactly good – something they all realized when Aizawa-sensei allowed a little demonstration against the entire class after Kacchan's ceaseless prodding.

And god, don't get him started on Ojiro.

He was a menace on the mats.

But Izuku was learning so much! He felt like a sponge, each hit he took and threw was soaked in and analyzed so that he could do better the next time.

Yeah, combat training was fun. Maybe he didn't share the same fun as Kacchan did when he pummeled someone into the ground, but he did like a good clean fight.

Izuku didn't know what to think of KItajima, though.

Izuku had nothing solid on the boy's quirk – the best he could think of was blades of air Kitajima shot out with his hands. But even then it didn't make sense when he took it into account that Kitajima used smoke as cover – wouldn't he just expose his position if he used his quirk? Unless there was some way around it? Izuku theory crafted several answers that he knew he wouldn't get an answer to until he faced it himself – Kitajima would ever talk to him.

Nor did he tell anyone else about his quirk. Most had banked on Yaoyoruzu being right anyways, with what his quirk being the air blades.

Kitajima was also in the middle of the pack when it came to quirkless combat.

But it didn't make any sense to Izuku. Izuku saw him fight first hand against Nomu and he survived. Izuku didn't even scratch the villain using One For All.

All Might struggled to bring it to heel and Kitajima amputated its limbs with a swipe of his limbs. It didn't make sense. Of course, he looked tired and worn out and if Izuku hadn't gotten him out of the way of the Nomu he'd be dead but–

SLAP

Izuku's cheeks were left smarting as Sero looked at him with wide, confused eyes.

They flared in heat for another reason when he realized, "J-just getting pumped up, y-you know?"

"O-oh, yeah I get it!" Sero rubbed the back of his head when Deku fell into a stance. "Aizawa-sensei told us to switch partners."

"Right!" Izuku looked to the mat right next to him, wondering who it would be– "Kitajima?"

Blue eyes pierced into him for a split second. "Yeah?"

"I t-think we're sparring partners now."

Kitajima looked like he was resisting sighing. Izuku kept his smile up, even though it stung.

I messed up with him… Even if I still think he's hiding something. He hates me.

There was no way the boy would open up to Izuku any time soon.

"F-first to fall?" Izuku asked.

*Call it quits."

"O-okay."

He took a deep breath and righted himself. Just focus on the fight now, Izuku. I got this. Kitajima was waiting for him.

Izuku dived straight in with a jab.

Kitajima easily smacked the fist away with the back of his hand, but Izuku already had his left leg coming up off the ground to score a hit on the boy's side.

Izuku let a grin slide onto his face when he was met with success, but it quickly fell off when Kitajima had grabbed his foot. His reflexes took over, quickly pivoting off the captured foot and twisting mid-air to kick at Kitajima's face.

His ankle screamed, but it was quickly freed by his risky move as he fell butt-first into the ground. Izuku had to roll out of the way when a foot came flying down towards his chest. He propelled himself up back to his feet, only to take a hook straight to his jaw.

His head snapped to the side, and his vision went blurry for a second – but he caught himself on his injured ankle. Izuku's eyes locked on to the fist flying towards his face once again, I can dodge it!

So he did, his back bending an uncomfortable amount to do so. Instead of coming straight back up, Izuku flipped backwards in a way he had seen Kitajima do once, and landed a few paces away from the other boy.

He's fast,

Izuku still felt as though the other boy was holding back.

If he gave it his all, Kitajima would have to.

The pain in his foot was muffled by the rush of adrenaline, and Izuku shot forwards faster than before towards Kitajima. But then he caught sight of the boy's face.

There was a glint in Kitajima's eyes – not the cold anger and indifference that Izuku was used to. No, this was different. His face was twisted into something hungry.

It was there only for a split second, but that alone was enough to douse Izuku's veins in fear.

He hesitated.

Kitajima went low, sweeping his foot along the ground and tripping Izuku in his mad dash.

Izuku's nose twisted with a sick crunch when it met the ground.

Kitajima didn't hesitate.

Izuku's arm was twisted behind his back and something bony and sharp dug into his back. Another arm wrapped around his neck, squeezing his throat shut. The breath in his lungs only lasted him so long before he started choking for air.

Izuku struggled, but to no avail.

He frantically tapped the mat, tears swimming in his eyes.

The pain and pressure instantaneously vanished, letting Izuku take lungfuls of fresh air through his mouth. At least until he had enough time to remember his nose was probably broken and his ankle was twisted an uncomfortable amount.

A hand suddenly gripped his face, and Izuku looked up to see Kitajima's cold eyes staring back at him.

What's he–

CRUNCH

Izuku couldn't help but scream as his nose was realigned. The few classmates around them whipped their heads towards the pair, their eyes radiating confusion and worry.

"You should learn to fall."

Izuku shot an incredulous look at Kitajima. "I was caught off guard." He pouted, blood dribbling down his lips.

"Maybe you should get that checked out Midoriya." It was Sero. "It uh– looks pretty bad."

"A-ah don't worry about me! I can't even feel it!" He swiped his wrist against his nose, only to find it slick with blood. "It's really not as bad as it looks!"

"Calling it quits?" Kitajima interjected before Sero could speak up, much to the bemusement of the latter.

He grinned, looking feral as blood stained his front teeth. "Never."

Kitajima didn't bother offering Izuku a hand as he went to the opposite side of the mat, rolling his ankles and stretching his arms before falling into the same stance he started with.

Izuku obliged, and made the first move.

.

.

Recovery Girl whacked both Izuku and Kitajima on their shins (multiple times) with her cane before she forbade the pair from any more sparring.

Izuku kept his mouth shut after he slipped in a comment about him not breaking his bones with his quirk this time. She threatened to break a leg for that one.

A sprained ankle, swollen nose, bruises covering the back of his body from Kitajima's sharp bones, a broken toe and a dislocated shoulder.

Kitajima didn't play nice.

Not one bit.

I wish I could say you should see the other guy but… He spared a glance at the blue haired boy with nothing but two sweltering bruises on his face and some beneath his sparring clothes – he thinks. He got in a good hit or two. Just… not as many as the other boy.

(He also just noticed the small light scars that peppered his arms like Izuku's own freckles.)

Izuku wasn't bad by any means – he knew he wasn't as good at hand-to-hand as Kacchan or Ojiro, but Kitajima fought like he was even better than them during their spar. There were moments where Izuku just had no idea as to how he ended up on his back – or front – and was caught off guard by some move and speed he couldn't wrap his head around just yet.

So why wasn't he winning against the best in their class?

Kitajima was good.

Even Kacchan wouldn't pummel him as much as Kitajima did.

Why was he holding back? And… Why didn't he hold back when it came to him?

Does he hold that big of a grudge against me?... To hold back on everyone but me?

Izuku couldn't really think of any other reason… And… Izuku didn't really like the boy much either. He was kinda like a bully, but worse because it was like he really hated him. Kitajima was quiet, but his words were as sharp and painful as his punches. No one had ever acted like that with him. Not even Kacchan.

But… That feeling of unrest just wouldn't leave every time he thought of him. Like something was missing. A piece of the puzzle that would explain everything.

He clutched the bangs of his hair and shut his eyes in an attempt to silence the thoughts. Too confusing! Just think about the Sports Festival! I know he wouldn't spend a second thinking about me!

The sudden silence from Recovery Girl sparked a flash of anxiety.

He looked at her, staring at him with a grin.

Izuku's ears turned flush with heat.

Slowly, he turned his gaze to Kitajima.

Who was also staring at him, but this time he didn't look like a blank slate. No, he looked grossed out – if the sneer and furrowed brows were a sign.

I said all of that out loud didn't I?

Izuku felt his cheeks melt.

.

.

I hate him.

The three words kept ringing in his ears after the little spar and forced encounter in Recovery Girl's office.

Ken tried, he really did. Midoriya just got on his nerves. He was like a worm burrowed in his skin, eating away at whatever patience kept him from lashing out.

Ken wasn't ever meant to be a fucking spy, he realized. Sometimes he entertained the thought of just ending the mission in one fell swoop. No one ever missed class.

All it would take was one good swing from where his spot in the classroom.

He probably wouldn't get out alive if he did though, so Ken shut the thought down for later.

Time to make friends.

Ken grimaced.

He sauntered into the classroom, taking note of the groups that bunched up together. Chairs and tables were squished together in different corners of the homeroom class as they spoke in jovial tones of the spar session – who beat whom and whatnot.

A pink skinned girl immediately found his inquisitive eyes.

"Kitajima!" She beamed a bright smile at him.

And so did he. "Ashido."

The others in the group looked at him, most with curiosity and some with a thin veil of caution.

Sero must have spoken up about Midoriya and I.

Ah well.

Ken didn't regret it.

But it was probably for the best that he didn't do anything like that again.

He slipped into easy conversation with Ashido and the Bakusquad – nothing important at all, so he didn't bother paying much attention – and let his mind wander back to the Sports Festival.

What was waiting for him after he won? The boss wouldn't say anything like that for no reason. It had to be important.

Important to him, at the very least, if Tri-angle didn't know what it was.

Maybe a lead…

Ken dared to hope for a second, but quickly crushed the feeling before it could spark into a flame in his chest. Everything else had to wait until after he got the job done.