As Present Mic continued speaking, more shapes emerged. Pillars erupted from the stage's four corners, each as tall as All Might's shoulders. Each was obelisk shaped, with indistinguishable scribbles marking the pillars' four sides. When they reached their full height, the triangular prisms crowning them exploded—or, rather, appeared to. In reality, it seemed each obelisk's tip leapt from its tower to the next, all rotating counter clockwise. Izuku almost couldn't see it—but the sun caught a thin glare in the world, like a floating stitch of fire.
Izuku's knees shook.
When the obelisks' tips resettled on new towers, they left behind wires connecting to their original towers. When he squinted, he could also tell the triangular prisms weren't as simple as they appeared. Each possessed several tiny legs. These spider-triangles pinched and pulled the web-wire attaching them to their previous tower, and soon, the picture became whole. In a matter of seconds, these robotic spiders, working in tandem, crafted a safety net that spanned the whole stage's length. As soon as they finished, little spider cubes jumped from the obelisk's mid-way point, and repeated the process. The finishing touch, Izuku noticed, was the cushioned ground that replaced the stage's concrete. There was a meter-wide ring hugging the statue's circumference where no protective netting could catch someone.
U.A. left no precautions behind, it seemed—but Izuku wasn't scared of the fall. He'd already fallen nearly as far after Darkshadow swatted him out of the sky. Falling, an instinctual human fear, was far less dangerous for him. So long as he was conscious and his throat was well, he could catch himself with relative ease. So, no, Izuku wasn't scared of the fall.
This climb scared him. For a litany of reasons. Perhaps upwards of a thousand reasons.
"The goal, U.A., is simple!" Present Mic said, once the awe of the moment passed by. For Izuku, it was still in the back of his mind, lingering, but everyone else seemed recovered. It was a big—titanic, absolutely mountainous—statue. Big whoop. "Bring our lovely Midnight a flag!"
A glance at Midnight. She smiled and gave the classes a polite princess wave.
Heads spun, eyes flashing and necks turning. 1A, and presumably all of U.A., searched the whole stage for these aforementioned flags, but came up dry. This, to Izuku's dismay, made perfect sense—given he barely glimpsed the flags nestled amongst All Might's scalp.
"As for rules? I think you all can guess, but here it is: In the first event, you're not allowed to directly engage another student in combat. And, since we're all heroes, I would also, humbly, ask you to not shove anyone off the top. The nets will save anyone from a fall, but not if they slip through the climbing gap. It's not against the rules, but its strongly discouraged. Any questions, kiddos?" Midnight asked, piggybacking off Present Mic's compliment.
A dozen students clammered for attention, but she only called on one. Setsuna, who bisected at the waist and floated above them all, caught Midnight's microphone when tossed her way. Mummers spread through the classes as they saw her quirk in action.
"How many flags are there in total?" She asked, before pitching a perfect throw back to Midnight. Catching it with ease, Midnight smiled, stuck a pose, and answered.
"Forty-nine! Anyone who can retrieve a flag, make it back, and show me will move on. Those who do not will be left behind."
Izuku's chest squeezed, hearing the parameters. Every inch of him shook, from his shoulders to his fingers to his calves far below. He tried to breathe, but it only made the jittering worse.
Unsteady fingers crept up to his throat, feeling around his adam's apple. His mouth felt drier than a desert.
This was catastrophic, he decided, because—
"U.A.! Form a ring around the base!"
The classes surged forward, almost trampling Izuku in his surprise. It was almost immediate, the way people clamored for a spot nearest All Might's outer ankles. It was the only place with visible rock-climbing handholds, and those students without mobile quirks wanted, or rather, needed that advantage. He swore a fight or two almost broke out before the low-mobility students finally decided who got the absolute best position—a 1B boy named Tetsutetsu.
Izuku just let the crowd fight, all along focusing on himself. By the time the first years finished forming their ring, Izuku was exactly due south of All Might, studying his well-carved back muscles. There was a cool breeze accompanying the shade it offered. Still, by any other estimation, it was a terrible starting point, but that didn't matter. Not seeing the statue's face cleared his mind somewhat.
Despite his terrible position, he found himself sandwiched between two of 1Z's best—Inasa Yoarashi and Itsuka Kendo. If they wanted, they could've easily manhandled their way to the best spots, but it seemed they also conceded their efforts. He supposed there was no point, since they weren't going to climb—or at least, Yoarashi wouldn't, and Kendo probably had a trick up her sleeve. They were like him in that regard—except for opposite reasons.
Blood began to pound in his ears, echoing the crowd's cheer. Details began to sharpen, shapes becoming more crisp and important details highlighting in his eyes. Present Mic continued to speak, but he ignored him in favor of focusing.
Though there were traditional rock-climbing handholds dotting All Might's ankles and up, past his knees, paths diverged—as did styles. Instead of blocks, around All Might's quads, the climbing holds became cavities. Around his hamstrings, they simplified into near ladder-like steps. He could easily imagine the least athletic students fighting for that path. In truth, it was appealing to him as well.
But his eyes didn't linger on All Might or his legs for long. His gaze fixated upon an entirely different aspect of this challenge.
Revving One for All's engines, he tested a small puff of Smokescreen and frowned. His new limits were disconcerting, since the USJ. Though Aizawa taught him better ways to breathe, it wasn't a cure all. Flying to the top and back would require a great exertion—something he was reluctant to do, with his throat's fragility. That left him few options. Blackwhip would've made things easier, but that was out of the question. Even if Izuku won the lottery, and the whips did what he asked—something that hadn't happened in a month—the chance that they didn't was too high. If they went out of control, then it would reflect terribly on him.
And, of course, he couldn't exactly climb with the rest. He'd tried rock climbing once or twice, under Nighteye's potent instruction, and…
Well, his lateral amputation made things complicated.
Izuku could barely climb at all, let alone comparably to any athlete—forget if they were practiced climbers or not.
As a solution began to bud in his mind, however, he felt a heavy hand clap his shoulder.
"Damn, what a statue! Poor folks over there fighting for the slow way. That'd be crazy to climb, right, 1A?" Yoarashi said, his voice at this proximity louder than Present Mic's in the speakers. "Seems you're tough enough to not go with the sheep though, right? I'll…"
Izuku stood frozen as Yoarashi trailed off, his heavy, simple stare drinking him in. He thought he saw the moment when the lightbulb went off behind his eyes. Yoarashi seemed a little less sharp than his father, but he was sharp nonetheless—to Izuku's discomfort.
"You… you're the one who saved my father! Wow! I guess I should've expected as much, if you're over here. Thank you and good luck! …Er…"
Something ugly twisted in his gut, something near and close to One for All. While his quirk bubbled and churned, this other sensation twisted and wound upon itself—like an astrolabe of nausea. He still only remembered bits and pieces of what happened at the end—flashes of carrying Setsuna, throwing himself to the ground, and screaming. People told him he saved Whirlwind, and he believed them—but with a healthy skepticism, as an astronaut might believe in aliens. Izuku didn't know why he didn't remember. Maybe he didn't want to.
He forced an approximated smile onto his face, deciding the boy's thanks was earnest. Perhaps by appeasing him, Yoarashi might finally take his hand off his shoulder. Izuku was growing sweaty.
"Midoriya," Izuku tried answering—but in that exact moment, a gargantuan gong's boom overshadowed his whisper. It swallowed all other sounds in the Stadium, even Yoarashi's subsequent war-cry. When it finished ringing, only one thing could be heard. In Izuku's focus, he'd lost track of the moment, and when Present Mic next spoke, a stab of panic pierced his heart.
"Let the first event of the Sports Festival begin!"
Riding the high of his own enthusiasm, Yoarashi practically exploded. With a scream, he leapt backwards, empowered by enough winds to seemingly lift a tank. The force sent him hurtling towards the stands—but he caught himself before crashing, and then he began to… fly. Izuku stood frozen at the spectacle, and fought back a jealous instinct. U.A.'s Stadium practically begged for flight, and here the boy was, doing it like a natural born bird. He wasn't the only one, either. Further and further out from him, shapes began leaping into the air after him—some surprising, but most uncomfortably familiar.
Setsuna actually exploded into a gorey mess of pieces. She'd been cleared to wear the lining of her hero suit, just not the scales. Instead of circumventing the safety nets, she split into tiny enough pieces to fly through the net's gaps. Katsuki followed Yoarashi's initiative, practically bursting a few eardrums as three serious explosions launched him off the stage, straight up, and towards All Might's flags.
Shoto, after glancing his way, practically built an ice-replica of Tokyo Tower—just at a thirty-degree angle outwards. From its peak, he formed a staircase ensured only by the power of his concentration, creating footholds when he needed them. To Izuku's surprise, however, when flames burst onto the scene, they weren't from Shoto. They were from a random blond boy with bangs—Monoma, if Izuku remembered. Izuku didn't remember anyone having a flame quirk, but this one seemed extraordinarily powerful. The boy had enough thrust to fly as though carried by a jetpack.
As for the rest of 1Z, most went for the statue—but they didn't crowd the handholds. Yaoyorozu, in a shower of light, procured a grappling hook from her ribcage. With a single shot, she zipped all the way to All Might's lowered elbow—and with another, she nearly beat Yoarashi and Setsuna to the top.
Kendo was the first 1Z student Izuku saw actually manually climb the statue, but hers was a unique strategy. Instead of using the premade hand and footholds, she used the immense girth of her enlarged hands to pinch the statue's organic curve. Where a normal person might not be able to wrap their arms around even a tenth of All Might's ankle, she could manage about half. It was enough to give her more leverage than anyone else, and in multiple big heaves, she shuffled up the statue at an extraordinary pace.
The second 1Z student Izuku actually saw climbing was Iida, Ingenium's young brother. While he did follow the normal path, Izuku found that, even as a speedster, Iida had advantages here. It wasn't thanks to a special arm span, like Kendo's, but instead due to his extraordinary musculature. Most of 1Z was athletic—with both Yoarashi's height and Katsuki's breadth being notable—but Iida was both taller than Yoarashi and broader than Katsuki. Though his quirk was leg-based, his hands were very deft. His ascension was conventional but swift.
That left Honenuki, who did nothing special—or rather, nothing at all. He simply stood, watching the stragglers rage for space alongside Izuku, who remained stationary beside him.
In the corner of his eye, he saw the absolute chaos that constituted All Might's ankles. Some of 1A, 1B, and even the General Courses bypassed the chaos with ingenuity and advanced mobility like 1Z did. Shiozaki used her vines, Sero used his tape, a 1B student seemed to hop between successful climber's shadows, and Izuku thought he saw Asui leap from the stage to All Might's waist. Aftering observing them for so long, it felt justified to see them compete alongside 1Z's overwhelming competence.
The only real disappointment he saw was Tokoyami, who moshed with the rest of the stragglers left behind around All Might's ankles. With Darkshadow, climbing should've been easy, but it seemed the quirk wouldn't come out—or, perhaps, Izuku mused with a frown, he wouldn't let it out. He rarely did, in training. Still, this seemed like a rare success story, as just when Izuku turned away, he seemed to find an early foothold.
As he watched the classes mob for the best holds, he felt a strange emotion come over him. Climbing All Might was not lost on him. The irony was an insult, and he wondered if Nedzu specifically designed it to mess with him. Regardless if that was true or not, he also wondered how it affected everyone else. No one would ever truly understand his position, but that didn't mean other people were emotionless sentinels. Surely this was a hard pill to swallow for other students too.
But… As he stood still, trying to digest the situation, everyone was moving. Everyone was racing, running—jumping and maneuvering and fighting. Everyone except him and Honenuki. His first instinct was to be bitter—this was clearly favorable to everyone else but him. Almost as a repeat of the Colosseum, Izuku was now pit against the absolute worst possible matchup for him. On that stage, it had been Aizawa and his quirk-eraser. On this one, it was a two-handed activity.
But… As he watched Uraraka swallow her nausea to float above the nets… And as he watched a floating pair of gloves slip past everyone and scale All Might's leg like an invisible spidermonkey… And as he saw Kirishima break into All Might's stone skin with his hardened fingers, making his own climbing holds where he couldn't squeeze into the others, Izuku felt…
Proud. Though none of them were as resourceful or skilled as 1Z, even the greatest victims of the USJ seemed to have grown beyond who they were before. So, even as Izuku's stomach felt knotted and his ears pounded with blood alongside helicopters and iron tainted his dry tongue, he decided he couldn't stand still forever.
Honenuki glanced at him.
"You heading up or what?"
Izuku answered his question by turning exactly ninety degrees.
Danger Sense was useless. Blackwhip was out of the question. Smokescreen was a limited resource. Izuku couldn't fly. He couldn't compete in a climbing contest.
But…
He didn't run towards All Might, but instead, the four obelisk pillars holding up the safety nets. While he couldn't read the foreign scribble dotting each side, the letters were emboldened, and the obelisks themselves tapered upwards.
They were massive, towering things, but while Izuku only had one good arm, he had two great legs. With a single spring, he leapt a meter up and snagged a letter's groove. Finding footholds, he took a careful step up, pressed his chest close against the obelisk, and snatched another handhold a few inches higher. He pulled himself up a little, and repeated the process.
It was difficult, and his pace was nowhere near someone like Iida's, let alone Katsuki's or Yoarashi's, but without any competitors, it was steady. And his only choice.
If only it wasn't so slow.
[x]
Tokoyami grunted, the soft skin of his fingers burning as he found another handhold. He was up to All Might's knee, now, just passing the first safety net. He'd only been climbing for a minute, tops, but his hands still hurt. If he didn't have blisters, he'd be shocked.
He wasn't a hand-to-hand combatant, despite being an apprehension type. His hands were rather soft. Usually, it would be Darkshadow doing that kind of grunt work. It gave him pleasure. Darkshadow loved to fight—and he was good at it. Before, that'd been enough for Tokoyami. Like a general, he might stand back and watch his best soldier tear through enemy lines—like Agamemnon and Achilles, if not occupying mirrored moralities. Tokoyami was the gentle one, and Darkshadow the malevolent.
Sweat slicked the spaces between his fingers, forcing him to stop. He didn't have the grip strength to overpower such biological obstacles. Wiping his hands, he held back a hiss as—what were definitely blisters—brushed the raw U.A. fabric. His excitement spiked when he finally found that first foothold, and the accompanying adrenaline helped numb the pain, but now, a quarter way up, it was fading.
"Hey!" A red-haired boy screamed from below him, "don't just stop! Are you insane?"
More shouts echoed further and further below him. Manifesting the courage to look down, he nearly threw himself off then and there. Every single foothold he'd taken before was full. At least a dozen students were directly below him, squeezing for every space available. He was holding them back—slowing them down.
"What the hell, man! Get moving! Are you trying to sabotage me?"
"—No!" Tokoyami said, before taking a hasty step up. He almost lost his grip then and there, but with a desperate lunge, he managed to save himself with both hands. It was a precarious position, requiring all of his core strength to maintain. More berating voices echoed below him, screaming to hurry up.
His arms shook and his core screamed, but with a great heave, he righted himself. Tokoyami's was careful with the following step, and the one after. Still, the problem persisted—he wasn't built for this.
It wasn't just the exertion making him sweat so much. It wasn't the morning sun warming the stone. It wasn't even his clothes, which felt so heavy and restrictive today of all days.
It was the eyes on his neck—and not just the physical ones. From this position, only a few dozen thousand people could see him out of the hundred thousand spectators. More than that, it was the wider internet, watching through every streaming platform on the planet. It was America and Switzerland and Ethiopia and Chile. They could all see the fool he was making of himself.
It was the thousands—millions—of people at home, watching him climb like a newborn monkey. It was the little children, watching him, and wishing they could be him, even as he ruined it for everyone else—just as he ruined it for Uraraka. It was the fact that he was less than a fraud—he was an active nuisance.
It was the heroes studying him, judging him—dismissing him.
All the same, Tokoyami tried. He tried and tried and he wanted to cry—but he continued to try. Another foothold, another handhold.
Even if most heroes saw through his performance as the sham it was, Aizawa was right. First and foremost, they looked for results. It didn't matter if most forgot him after the Festival, if at least one hero took him in. That was all that mattered. Just one might be enough. He could only pray they didn't ignore him entirely for the flashier students.
It became a mantra in his head.
Ignore them, don't be ignored. Another step up.
Ignore them, don't be ignored. Two more steps.
Ignore them, don't be ignored. Three and four more.
Things changed. He wouldn't have cared so much before the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. Those times were over.
Tokoyami needed someone—anyone—to guide him. To help him. He needed a friend and a partner and someone in his corner.
He needed someone he could trust. His classmates were long since stricken from that list, after what he did.
Each fingertip burned and knee shook. His abs hurt like he'd caught a cannonball or two, but he didn't give up. After the third minute passed, he managed to tune out the complaints below.
This was his proof, Tokoyami decided, as he reached All Might's obliques. He hadn't used Darkshadow once. They didn't need each other, despite the quirk's protests. Tokoyami could achieve things without the villain lingering in his shadow.
When Tokoyami reached All Might's pectorals, he nearly cried with relief. The tiny, difficult handholds enlarged and lengthened, turning easy. Though his quads burned like crazy, his ascension sped up tremendously as the difficulty faded. The higher he went, the less steep the climb, and soon, it was almost like ascending a staircase. Whoops and hollers at the pace-change echoed behind him, but he'd long since stopped listening. He was almost at the shoulder—and from there, it'd be a small, final climb before he could grab the flag. Despite his pace, he was one of the first to arrive—in no small part thanks to how he'd held up the line.
Only a small handful of people who couldn't fly beat him.
When he stepped up to the shoulder, however, he paused.
He was high in the sky—higher, even, than when his and Darkshadow's worlds merged into one, and he'd betrayed his friends. The thought gave him pause. His memories from that time were spotty, only clear around the beginning and end. And whenever he screamed. Always the screaming.
Tokoyami shuddered, his feet locked in place. He didn't even remember deafening Uraraka, hurting her. Hours later, he'd simply woken up swaddled in hospital blankets, and Sero told him.
The memory rooted him in place, bile beginning to sting his throat. He almost wretched over the statue's side, but he swallowed it back down. No hero would take him if he threw up on All Might.
Shaking and nauseous, he finally turned his sights on All Might's ear—a litany of footholds and grooves meant for climbing.
He'd hurt people, but never again. With this, he could move on to the second event, and then to the third. He probably wouldn't win—in fact, he knew so—but he'd do well enough to gain attention. A hero would accept him, he told himself, and they would teach him what he needed to conquer Darkshadow.
But before he reached All Might's ear, his slow pace finally caught up to him. The person who he'd held up the whole climb shoved past him, gunning for the spot ahead.
Tokoyami, with his exhaustion and frayed nerves, did not have the wherewithal to catch himself. Falling, his shoulder knocked against the curve of All Might's, and he began slipping. He scrambled for anything—a foothold, a groove, anything, but it was just smooth, rounded stone.
"H-hey! Help!" Tokoyami said, screaming for anyone—but there was only one person on All Might's shoulder, and it was the person who shoved him. "D-don't leave—"
The request died on his lips, as he saw the heights he was slipping from. Drowning with the shadows, Darkshadow enveloping him, screaming, a burst of light. Did he really deserve to be saved, here?
That same boy who pushed him froze, like him—but unlike Tokoyami, it didn't seem out of a dark nostalgia or anxiety. He was shaking, glancing between Tokoyami and All Might's ear. Tokoyami tore at the stone's sleek surface, wincing as his nails broke where he tried digging into the stone, but no matter what he did, his fall was inevitable.
"Dammit all!" The red-haired boy said, before breaking his inaction. Turning, he lunged at Tokoyami. He reached his hand out as far as he could, as Tokoyami did the same—
They only brushed each other's fingertips before gravity proved too much, and Tokoyami fell.
The first net didn't catch him—he slipped straight through the hole between it and All Might, but his trajectory did take him to the second net. His impact was soft, safe—but hurt like hell. The threads strained to envelop him, pressing against his skin like a waffle-iron.
But more than that, losing all that progress, losing all that hope… It was like the very statue itself came to life and stomped on his chest. He could see the little shapes, far above and through the first net, scrambling up All Might's ear—his failed savior included. Dozens of students scrambled past where Tokoyami stood, with each successful whoop breaking his heart a little more. His fall opened the floodgates, and now the faster students were finally collecting their due.
"C'mon, Fuji… let me out. There's only a few left… I can get the last one." Darkshadow whispered, coiling around his neck like a snake.
Tokoyami pried the willful quirk away from his ear. He didn't need it—he didn't want it. Sitting up, he looked around.
Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, Tokoyami thought.
"Fuji!" Darkshadow said, louder this time. "I'll get us up there, just let me! You want this, right?"
"No!" Tokoyami said, perhaps louder than he intended to. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "No, I don't want it if it means using you. You'd just hurt people. I don't do that."
"But you'd win! Come on, Fuji… you've wanted this since you were small…"
But Tokoyami did not. Maybe it was childish, or maybe it was honorable, he didn't know—but he just laid back down and made himself comfortable. He began the arduous process of coming to terms with failure. There was no way he'd be able to make the same climb a second time—let alone fast enough to snag a flag.
Or, at least, he did until he heard Present Mic's voice.
"Wow! Look at Midoriya go! It's certainly taking some time, but look at how easy it is for him! I still don't know if it's against the rules, but look at him go!"
Out of curiosity, Tokoyami began searching All Might for Midoriya—perhaps his classmate might've done something fantastical with his quirk. The more he searched, however, the less sure of that he became. Midoriya hadn't focused on his quirk much since… the USJ.
Even if he had a bad angle, if he'd done something with those whips, or especially that smoke, he'd be able to see it from here.
That was, at least, until he spotted a tiny green dot in his peripherals. Midoriya wasn't climbing All Might at all—he was climbing the pillars holding the safety nets. And easily, at that.
Tokoyami sat back up.
Oh, damn it all, he was a genius, even without his quirk—
Especially without it.
That was all Tokoyami needed.
Rising to his feet, he bounced across the pliable net towards the opposite pillar Midoriya was climbing. Midroiya was near the top, but if Tokoyami was fast, he could do it.
With all the fury of a man left for dead, he reached the pillar and mounted it. Shuffling over the precarious edge, he ignored the fact that, standing here, he no longer had a safety net below him. The thought should've worried him, but it instead sharpened his focus tenfold. He found his footholds easily, and his handholds easier still. The climb was a breeze compared to All Might's borderline obstacle course—and after his short rest, he was rejuvenated.
He climbed the thing in record time, to the beat of Present Mic's announcement.
"There's only so many flags left, folks… Oh! There goes another 1A student, and he's following Midoriya's example! Only difference is, folks, this fella has the dexterity advantage. Sorry, Mido, but things aren't looking good! If things go south, I'll buy you another ice cream, buddy. Double scooped mint, right?"
Tokoyami practically belly-flopped onto the top net when he reached the peak. As much as he wanted to lay there, however, he still had a job to do. Half-bouncing, half-running, he began tumbling towards All Might's shoulders for a second time. The closer he got, the more easily he could see who was up there—and he held back a wince. There were quite a few people leaving—but very few arriving. Most people who would get there, got there already.
Not bothering to plan anything, Tokoyami used the net's springiness to launch himself up high, where he caught hold of the groove of All Might's collar bone. Scrambling up with all four limbs, Tokoyami rushed past two students—Kirishima and Tetsutetsu—as they leapt from All Might's scalp. Each held a flag.
Not wasting time , Tokoyami climbed All Might's ear and dove into his stony hair, where he finally saw it.
The last flag. It was a tiny little thing, no longer than his forearm, but it was there—sure as dusk.
Taking the final necessary steps, marveled in Midoriya's ingenuity and silently thanked him. Then, without any more ceremony, Tokoyami plucked the last blue flag and turned to jump back in the net.
And saw Izuku standing there, forehead shining with sweat and cheeks flushed with effort, empty handed.
[x]
Tokoyami held the last one, and even without Izuku saying anything, guilt was beginning to stain his triumphant expression. The bird boy took a half-step in his direction, but did no more. He seemed confused.
Izuku was confused, too—but by Tokoyami's expression, he could figure it out. The boy had seen what he was doing, climbed the safety pillars, and beat him here. He beat him at Izuku's own game.
He should've been mad, but he just felt nothing.
Tokoyami seemed transfixed by his silence. His beak opened, but it was not his voice that twisted through Izuku's ear canal with its painful bite.
"Good lord, folks, the drama! Both these students, each with incredible quirks, forsook them to expose their hard-earned athleticism. Now, here they face one another for the very last flag available! Oh, Midnight, the drama is impeccable!" Present Mic said. Another sound joined his a second later—Midnight's swoon.
"Dear heavens! The fires of youth, oh the honor! What will he do? Young Tokoyami did beat Midoriya, but only by stealing Midoriya's idea. Will his honor allow him to keep the flag, knowing it's rightfully Midoriya's? Or will he offer it?"
Between them, Midoriya moved first. With slow, numb steps, he got within inches of Tokoyami. The bird-headed boy's pupils dilated just as his eyelids opened. Izuku saw many things in his eyes—fear, panic, shame—but he felt none of the things he thought he should. If not for the rules, Midoriya would've just pushed him off All Might's head and watched him bounce in the safety nets.
"Go," he whispered, no trace of his bitterness evident. "Good job."
"B-but I…" Tokoyami said, slowly taking steps back before his heel caught on a stone hair strand. Izuku caught him before he tripped.
"Go," he said again, putting more emphasis on his whisper. "Really. Midnight's waiting."
Releasing the boy, he shooed him away. Tokoyami hovered for another second, but Izuku's stern glare seemed to finish off his hesitance. With a tight grip on the forty-ninth flag, he leapt into the net's soft embrace.
Izuku was alone, and he felt it. Even as a drone whizzed past, nearly close enough to grab with an obedient Blackwhip, he felt alone—like he stood atop Everest.
He faced the same direction as All Might. He was as tall as the man, now—and had the world's eyes on him. He shuddered. A deep, fundamental part of him squeezed.
This wasn't the first time he'd been with All Might, machines flying above, scared out of his mind.
He'd lost in the first round? Truly?
Slowly, his legs lost strength, and he found himself sitting between All Might's hair prongs. His rough-cut fingers traced the smooth stone. The last time he'd been this close to Eight… to All Might… to Yagi Toshinori…
He'd drank the man's blood. Out of context, the thought was as strange as any. Izuku killed this man, drank his blood, and sullied his legacy. And now, he'd failed even his most basic of goals—join 1Z. Could he truly say he'd lived a life of honor, in service to others? Izuku didn't feel honorable—he felt bitter and angry at Tokoyami. And serving? He'd never, not in a million years, have gotten this far without an outrageous amount of charity.
Izuku only took, took, and took. Perhaps that was why he didn't press the issue with Tokoyami. He didn't want to take the boy's victory from him, even if he felt the boy's dissatisfaction like humidity in the air. It would've taken just one request, and the boy would've surrendered.
"Is this really where we stop?" Five asked, finally speaking up since his earlier arrival. "Where we call it a good effort and try harder next year?"
"I don't know," Izuku muttered. A drone whizzed by again, tickling his ear like a mosquito. For whatever reason, they were still watching him, despite the fact that he lost. "Maybe Nedzu will just put me in 1Z anyway…"
"After a public loss? Probably not. If need be, he'll contrive something else ridiculous, or wait till next year. It seems to be his nature. To see the details and not the substance."
Izuku's fist squeezed as his eyes drifted left. The "Fist of Victory" pose All Might sported made his left hand nearly reach the clouds. It was the same arm Izuku lost. It was the same hand that linked with Izuku's own, that cupped his blood and made Izuku drink.
He would never be able to achieve the same pose. Izuku only seemed to lose. It was all he could do to offer a cheapened, mirrored effort. Perhaps he was foolish, being jealous of a dead man—a man he killed—who always seemed to win.
Perhaps he deserved this loss. After hurting so many people… If he'd embodied the school motto—if he'd been more like All Might, and less like Izuku Midoriya—this never would've happened.
"Izu, there's another flag."
He dismissed Five's visage, annoyed at his sense of humor. Kicking a guy while he was down was wrong.
His fingernails dug into his hair, itching his sweaty scalp. It brought little comfort.
Izuku lost in the first round, helpless to the circumstances. A ball of fury burned inside him, angry at Nedzu for designing such a challenge. Angry at the Crow, for making him cripple his throat. But more than anger, the ball felt infused with less righteous emotions. Disappointment and grief were givens, but they paled in comparison to the elation. That was what truly saddened him.
In a not-so-small way, he was happy he lost. Happy he wouldn't have to face her so soon. Happy their proximities remained severed. The pain was so piercing that he'd wondered if it'd ever go away. With that in mind, he let his head hang. He lost, and sooner than he expected…
But he could accept that. Sashimi wasn't enough, it seems. Karma still hadn't caught up to him yet, and remained dishing out his punishments till this very day. If he just let the beatings continue, then eventually, the world might grow bored of torturing him. Then he might get something worthwhile done—like finding a proper Tenth.
As the traitorous thought crossed his mind, however, something tugged at his shirt and hauled him to his feet. He nearly screamed and fell over—if not for the slightest hint of lavender in the air.
He blinked, stupidly, at the delicate little hand that just picked him up like a misbehaving kitten.
"Izuku," the floating pair of lips said, "I saw one. You can go a little higher, can't you?"
Frozen still, he watched as the lips pursed at his null reaction. Snapping, the fingers drew his gaze before pointing straight upwards. He didn't follow it's direction, instead remaining fried over their presence in the first place.
"Set…"
Without saying another word, the hand broke apart—Since when could she dice herself into such tiny pieces?—and flew away like a swarm of bees. Her lips followed soon after.
Blinking, he revived with a start. For a brief moment, he wondered if he'd just hallucinated. They hadn't spoken since the USJ.
Replacing Setsuna, the drone watching him had creeped closer in his reverie. It leered at him, as if begging the same question she had: Can't he just go a little higher?
Slowly, his eyes returned to the Fist of Victory—the one thing he could never manage on his own.
…Yes, he thought to himself. Maybe he lost… but what could it hurt? He was already here. The Stadium's design did beg him to think higher—so why not oblige?
With careful steps, he dropped onto All Might's other shoulder. The moment it clicked, Izuku felt a sudden understanding come over him. The event wasn't over.
There were handholds on All Might's raised arm—despite the fact that there shouldn't have been any more flags above his head. They weren't colorful things, and rarely convex. What did stick out from the smooth stone skin was stone-colored and nearly indistinguishable from the rest. He doubted anyone but himself—and his hallucinated Setsuna—noticed them.
Through his burning muscles and ever-growing peril, he climbed. The holds were complicated—difficult for anyone with two hands, let alone one. Some were built for people with longer limbs. Still, the few times Nighteye made him do this, he had been thorough. Izuku, in theory, knew the techniques, knew the tricks—and with a little ingenuity, he transformed jugs into hooks, footholds into handholds, and blocks into resting-places. Everything at his disposal became an indispensable tool. Even his chin held his weight on some holds. All the while, the drone followed his every move.
Crimson faded in and out of his vision. Helicopters—drones—filled his ears like molasses. All Might—his fist a monument of stone—his fingers, linked with Izuku's own.
When he reached All Might's elbow, Present Mic's voice finally breached the thickness in his ears.
"Midoriya! What are you planning, little listener? Penny for your thoughts? The crowd is loving it, but I'm getting a little concerned! First you climb the safety nets, now you're climbing higher than any other—and for what, we don't know. What is it you've set your eyes upon, my little friend?"
They couldn't hear him, so he didn't bother answering. Nor did he even have an answer in the first place. Why was he climbing? At this point, for the sake of it. So far as he was concerned, whoever climbed All Might's fist could be made the school clown and then expelled. It already felt like he was breaking rules—now he was breaking expectations.
Whose, he did not know. The crowd's, certainly—U.A.'s, however? His own? He could not say.
When he wrapped an arm around All Might's ginormous thumb and pulled himself to the fist's peak, however, the crowd roared. From pinkie to pointer, the platform was as wide as Nighteye's car. Wind—stronger, at this altitude—whipped through his hair.
The height atop All Might's head was immense, but this was astronomical. Had the Stadium not been near, he wondered if the curvature of the Earth would've been visible. He swayed with exhaustion, but he wasn't tired enough to let himself fall. It would kill him.
There was no flag atop All Might's fists.
But there was a gap between his middle and ring finger—about the width of a strong man's arm.
Getting on all fours, Izuku reached into the chasm, straining his numb fingers for anything. Izuku was strong, but dense. He slipped right through. It was a Hail Mary, and after a few seconds of failure, Izuku nearly resigned the hope that'd secretly crept up on him like a dastardly assassin—
And then his fingers brushed it. He practically broke his shoulder, forcing his arm in the way he did—but no matter what, his arm simply wasn't long enough. Quirkless Izuku wouldn't be enough.
He closed his eyes, picturing his goal. Shoving out all lingering thoughts, fears, and desires, he focused.
"Please," he whispered.
For the first time in nearly a month, when Izuku summoned a Blackwhip, it obeyed him. It almost didn't—he could feel it tug against his skin, but with careful, controlled coaxing, it submitted. The Blackwhip couldn't have been longer than a finger, but Izuk felt a profound sense of accomplishment.
Or, that might've just been because he found it.
Pulling the fiftieth flag free, Izuku raised it for the drone—for the whole Stadium—to see.
It was an awkward, nearly distasteful mirror of All Might's pose, but he allowed himself to forget his shame for a moment. He forgot his previous elation at having failed. He even forgot the negative karma that swirled around him like a poisonous cloud.
His crimson flag glinted in the sun, and he allowed himself to revel in today's victory. He was on top of the world.
Reality set in after the nearest drone flew within arm's length. Up close, Izuku realized its sheer size—it was nearly as big as a car. It's underbelly opened up like a plane's landing wheels, revealing something that looked like a bike handle attached to a handcuff. Letting the little robot cuff him, he grabbed the handle and stepped into open air, flag between his teeth.
He fell as though wearing a parachute. It was a novel way to descend, but slow, and left his mind time to wander. When his feet touched the ground, he swallowed back a disagreeable glob of saliva.
"The first win of today…" he whispered.
…Thanks to her.
Karma, it seemed, despite the apparent turnaround, was still punishing him. He couldn't weasel out of this.
He would have to face her eventually.
[x]
AN: Before the author's note, this chapter was 7,001 words. Thanks to the people who respect the fact that I just want to get her to a stopping point and remember I do this for free. You're loved. Finishing chapter 72 got me feeling a special type of way, both in a teehee kicking my feet way and existential dread. thats just kinda how this fic makes me feel in general, but that chapter was an exemplary example.
whenever saturday roles around and most of the reviews are done coming in, it's always a weird way to eat my breakfast. some of y'all are sweet ash and some are critical and some are uhhhh uhhhhhhhh idk. regardless, i read all the reviews, and appreciate most of em. good luck and godspeed nerds
review!~