Chapter 19: How Do We Make a Difference?

It wasn't much of a surprise that Kacchan won against Iida, but Midoriya couldn't deny that it was the slightest bit disappointing.

Slightly scorched but otherwise unphased, Iida stood beside Midoriya, leaning over the barricade at the stands, whilst Kacchan and Shoto approached the centre stage for the finale of this godforsaken festival.

"How are you feeling?" Iida asked Midoriya.

"Hm? Me? Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

"Well, you lost too."

"I-I think I did ok, all things considered!" Midoriya beamed. "I didn't lose immediately!"

"Speak for yourself," Sero huffed distantly.

Iida simply smiled and cast his gaze back to the arena, taking in what Present Mic was eagerly yelling at them all for a while.

"I know my family was watching my fights," Iida spoke up after a moment or so. Midoriya could barely hear him over Present Mic.

"Are you looking forwards to seeing them again?" Midoriya replied with a raised voice.

"I am. How about you?"

"Err, well I have a small family. It's just me and Mum – I think she'll just fuss over me a lot and I'll spend most of my time on my computer. There's not much to say."

"– BEGIN!"

A blast of cool air filled the stadium when Shoto encased Kacchan in ice. The move was still smaller than his attack on Sero, but much larger than when he was against Shinso and Midoriya. It wasn't hard to hear the echoing booms of Kacchan tunnelling his way out of the glacier. This was definitely an interesting matchup.

"I never thought I'd get a medal in the UA Sports Festival," Midoriya breathed, still not quite believing it.

"I always had my hopes," Iida admitted. "I am privileged to share third place with the likes of you, Midoriya."

Midoriya grinned at him, "Same!"

Once free of the ice, Kacchan launched himself forwards, directly at Shoto. It was at the last feasible moment that, with a small, controlled blast, Kacchan flung himself to Shoto's left, away from the danger of his ice.

Strange, Midoriya wondered how closely Kacchan had been watching his match with Shoto. He must have noticed his tactic of keeping to Shoto's left, and that Shoto had yet to use his fire today. Midoriya silently hoped Shoto wouldn't avoid using it again… He thought he'd gotten over that, but today seemed to have really set him back. Shoto was just like that – he couldn't just… get over something as detrimental to his life after one brief conversation. He could grow – move forwards a little, knowing it would take moments to slip up and fall all the way down again. UA tested all of them in ways they'd never expected.

The opportunity for the fire arose moments later. After a brief tussle, Kacchan had Shoto's left arm and shoulder in his grip, out of range of the ice but not from flames. Despite that, though, Shoto tossed Kacchan away. It could have been because he didn't want to use half his power. It equally could have been on instinct – fighting tactics drilled into his mind – none of which utilising the seemingly controversial ability.

Midoriya was so focused on the match that he didn't notice the way Iida had tensed up beside him, tapping his fingers along the barricade, deep in thought, at least until Iida cleared his throat and asked if they could talk.

"C-Can we after?" Midoriya asked, not tearing his eyes away from the battle.

Iida didn't reply, but Midoriya felt exceedingly guilty, not allowing the conversation to continue. With a sigh, and one last glance at Shoto skating around the arena on a wave of ice, he gestured Iida to follow him up the stairs and just out of sight of the rest of the class.

"I just want to say sorry," Iida blurted out.

Midoriya frowned as he turned to face him, "W-Why?"

He ran his hand through his hair, clearly nervous and unsure. "It is simply that… like Monoma, I did judge you on first glances. I feel as though I only became close to you because I believed you needed protecting from the rest of class A! You soon proved that you were far more than that, and I… I have to admit that I began to distance myself. But despite everything, all you have ever done is for the benefit of others, and very rarely for yourself! Meanwhile you've been hiding your situation with Bakugo and all these underlying injuries and insecurities – Midoriya it isn't healthy. I just feel as though I haven't been a good friend through all this."

Midoriya stared at him. "Iida – you're really overthinking this… I-I… Well, thank you – but you didn't have to say sorry! If anything, I should be the one saying sorry for taking the class president spot! That should have been yours I really didn't deserve it."

Iida shook his head, "No, only you can be president of this class. I understand why Mr Aizawa used the system he did now. He needed someone to lead 1-A – someone that everyone would listen to. Because a majority of our classmates have spent their life fighting against the likes of our teacher. They were never going to follow the rules of a hero. But you are different, Midoriya! Because everyone could see you struggle as much, if not more than, the rest of us. Despite the odds, you face the world with such a determination that others can't help but follow."

He rested his hands on Midoriya's shoulders (significantly lower down than his own), "Don't let what people like Monoma say get to you. With threats like Stain and the League of Villains – the heroes need someone like you. It may not be why you're here – but it's why you need to be."

After a moment of stunned silence, Midoriya grinned from ear to ear. There was even a lump in this throat – that's how close he was to crying, right there in the corridor. He used to be a very emotional person. Over time, he thought he'd grown past that, but apparently not. "T-Thanks," was all he managed to stammer.

Iida took a step back and sighed deeply, pushing his (slightly cracked) glasses further up his nose, "I was devastated upon learning I'd be sent to this class. I felt so ashamed… Even more so because I simply could not feel remorse over what I did to get in this position. In fact, I would do it again in a heartbeat. But I-I never expected class 1-A to be like this. No one here is what I could have anticipated. However, above all, I think I should commend you for how you managed to first convince an entire class of would be villains to be vigilantes, and then progressed that to heroes. I don't think anyone else could have done it – are you ok?"

"Yep," Midoriya squeaked, now rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm, "I-I'm fine."

"You don't look fine – are you hurt?" Iida frowned, "Did you visit Recovery Girl after your fight with Shoto?!"

"N-No, that's not why –"

"That's highly irresponsible of you, Midoriya! What have I said about taking care of yourself?"

Midoriya laughed whilst rubbing the inklings of tears away from his eyes.

"This is no laughing matter! It's imperative that you –"

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" Midoriya insisted, waving his arms about. "R-Really! I don't need Recovery Girl."

Iida hesitated, "…Are you sure?"

"Yes," he nodded with a grin.

And so they went back to watching the fight.

"What was that about?" asked Tsu curiously when Midoriya decided to stand on the seat between her and Hagakure.

"Doesn't matter," Midoriya smiled, still shaking his head. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing much. Bakugo keeps attacking and Shoto dodges, ribbit."

"Has he used his fire yet?"

"Only to melt away a bit of his ice. I think Bakugo keeps yelling at him to use it properly, which is probably why he isn't."

Midoriya bit his lip as he watched Shoto continue to dodge Kacchan's outbursts, both verbal and physical, persistently using his ice.

He could just see him, standing high in the arena, his arms crossed, and face etched with a seemingly permanent scowl – Endeavor. Midoriya wondered if Shoto had spotted him too.

The ice was a great advantage against Kacchan. The chill would stop him from sweating, which made his explosions significantly weaker. Kacchan was countering this by moving around constantly, but at the expense of his own energy. His previous opponents didn't exactly go down easily. Both Iida and Uraraka gave him drawn out fights, in which Midoriya was sure his limit was at least approached. Shoto, meanwhile, had not been given battles in which all his energy was used up. Two of them ended almost instantly, and the third had been Midoriya's, which didn't last much longer. So, was this simply a matter of stamina? Did Shoto have a plan at all? What about Kacchan? Surely one of them had an end in –

"You do know you're saying all this out loud, right?" Tsu pointed out, poking him in the shoulder to make she he'd heard her.

Midoriya flinched, "A-Ah – Um, s-sorry…"

"You mutter a lot – ribbit – don't you?"

No time for conversation, because Kacchan had just launched himself from a pillar of ice, high into the air. He began to spin; engulfed by a whirlwind of smoke and fire of his own creation, he flung himself back down to Earth with a force that seemed almost suicidal.

But Shoto held his ground.

Midoriya saw how he glanced to Endeavor on one side of the stadium, whilst slowly raising his left hand towards his opponent. In the last second, his eyes flickered away, up to Midoriya.

He smiled, and his hand glowed hot red.

Did Shoto really know what would happen next? Probably not.

All he was sure of, was that ten seconds later, after an explosion incomprehensible to his ears, Shoto found himself with his back against a wall of ice, inches from the arena's boarder line.

Head throbbing and legs shaking, he pushed himself up and examined the destruction that surrounded him. Little remained of his ice, mostly now in puddles or ruined pieces. The concrete too, had taken a beating, but that wasn't entirely his fault.

All that really mattered now, was that Shoto's and Bakugo's colliding force, had knocked one of them out of the ring, but the other was still standing.

"Bakugo is out of bounds," Miss Midnight proclaimed, "Todoroki is the winner!"

The only thing Shoto registered was Bakugo's frustrated cries, as he stood as far out of the arena as Shoto was in. Neither had really been defeated. It was a luck of the draw that Shoto had hit this ice, and Bakugo hadn't.

The crowd roared and confetti flew around them. The son of the number two hero had won, that's almost a victory for the heroes, right?!

Shoto didn't know what he'd won – if anything at all.

Whilst the arena was being cleared up, Shoto found himself in a waiting room below the stadium. There was a podium there, he was to stand on it when it was raised above the ground.

"That was awesome, Shoto!" cried a familiar voice, and Midoriya came barrelling towards him, skidding to a halt just in time. "The air was really cold and then when you used your fire you super-heated it and it caused a massive explosion to counter Kacchan's! Did you think of that before the event? How did you know the heat of Kacchan's Quirk wouldn't be enough to counter the cold beforehand?!"

Shoto just blinked at him, waiting a few seconds to make sure he'd stopped, "…No."

"No?"

"I, um, didn't know."

"Oh, ok – well, it was still really cool!"

"You sound like Uraraka."

"Yeah, well, she keeps stealing my notes and writing stuff in them… Now when I try to think about pages all I can picture is the comments she adds so now I think like her."

"…Makes sense."

"Would you two shut UP?!" yelled Bakugo, who wore as many plasters and bandages as Shoto did.

The officials waiting for the go ahead to send the podium up backed away nervously, glancing at each other and likely wondering what they'd do if Bakugo decided to initiate a rematch, right then and there.

Shoto ignored Bakugo, "So, what now?" he asked Midoriya as Iida approached.

Midoriya blinked at him, "What do you mean?"

"Well… the Sports Festival's over. Now what do we do?"

"We have the supervised home visits next," Iida explained. "One week away from school under our families' supervision."

Shoto tensed up, "Oh… right."

Midoriya glanced between the two of them nervously, "I-It'll be alright, Shoto, really. UA has to keep an eye on us and –"

"The number two hero won't be allowing any extra guard," Shoto hissed, averting his gaze.

"Shoto, I –"

"Ok, the arena's been cleared up!" someone proclaimed, cutting into their pointless conversation. "Take your positions, please!"

"I ain't accepting freaking second place!" Bakugo cried.

"Oh, shut up, Kacchan," Midoriya sighed, following Iida up to the third-place podium. "Get up on your podium and stop having a tantrum."

It almost made Shoto smile.

After a little more anxious encouragement from the officials, whoever they were, Shoto walked up the stairs to the first-place position, and the stairs were wheeled away.

He wouldn't be ashamed to admit he was, well, terrified, more so than when he stepped out to any of his fights. When the roof opened above them, and the mechanical system rose the podiums out into full view of the roaring crowd, the shock of the change of light was more intense than it had been at the end of his battle with Bakugo. Worse, his head was spinning, ears filled with the same, squealing white noise that he was all too familiar with – as though he'd hit his head. He stood there in a daze, mind racing through nothingness.

Thousands upon thousands of people, and he was standing on a pedestal before all of them. Of course, it had been like this for Shoto for far too long, but for some reason, only now did he truly appreciate the scale.

He blinked and All Might was there.

Shoto had mixed feelings about the man, but after the USJ; after seeing his power up close, he'd found a new… admiration of Japan's number one hero.

However, a glance to his left, and Shoto could see Midoriya.

Different to the starry-eyed, awestruck individual he'd been talking to moments prior, this Midoriya was cold and calculated – his gaze hardened the moment he laid eyes on All Might.

Of course, because Midoriya knew something about this man that no one else did – something serious enough for him to risk his life at the USJ for him – a hero that he was clearly not fond of.

Shoto couldn't hear it, but he was sure a few words were uttered between the two when the third-place medal was awarded. He could only gage Iida's reaction, but he showed little emotion, other than perhaps confusion.

Shoto stood there awkwardly whilst he waited his turn, trying not to focus on the crowd, or anyone who stood amongst it. The rest of their year was standing below them, separated into groups of classes. Class A was obviously the most enthusiastic. Class B seemed more than a little disheartened.

Bakugo refused to properly take the silver, he instead snatched it from the hero's hand and stared at the medal as though he hoped for it to melt under his gaze.

"You did well, my boy," All Might said as he drooped the first-place medal over Shoto's neck.

He said nothing in reply, only rubbing his thumb over the engravings in the metal, catching his own reflection in it.

"Your friends seem very proud."

Shoto looked up at that, "What about my family? Isn't that what people usually say, your family must be proud?"

All Might's expression didn't waver. His smile seemed fixed, "That goes without saying! Family are the people who always stand by you, are they not?"

He glanced passed All Might at the rest of class A, still clapping and whooping in celebration, brilliant smiles across every face. Then down at Iida and Midoriya. Iida seemed a little unsure, whilst Midoriya's toxic green glare still burrowed into the back of the hero's skull.

Shoto smiled slightly, nearly laughing to himself. "I suppose you're right."

The way All Might's never-ending grin softened to something more real, made Shoto think that maybe, just maybe, he understood.

The hero stepped away and Shoto found himself breathing a sigh of relief. This horrid event was finally over. He could set his sights on other things to dread.

"And now, the winner's speech!" Midnight proclaimed.

The what?

Shoto found a microphone being shoved into his hands. The stadium went dead quiet, and all eyes were on him.

"U-Um…" his voice echoed around him, through every speaker. His face was on every screen and he could see the fear in his own eyes.

No, not a chance. What would he say?! Err, thanks for watching? No.

He glanced around for someone to give the microphone back to, and once again found himself facing Midoriya, who blinked back at him in bewilderment.

After a moment of thought, Shoto sat down on the podium, legs swinging over the edge, and leant over to pass the microphone to his friend.

Midoriya stared at it for a moment, realised there was really no other option, and accepted the challenge.

"Hi," was his first word. "Um, I'm not the winner? I-I'm Midoriya – and as you can see, I'm in third… But err, Shoto doesn't seem to want to talk, so I will instead."

He kept glancing at Shoto, who had his chin in his hands, still sitting down and listening intently.

Midoriya cleared his throat.

"You might have realised by this point that everyone who stands on this podium is from class 1-A. Yeah, you cheer for us now, but remember, you were booing at us when we first arrived. And don't shake your head, saying that you weren't laughing and playing along; that you never really meant it – because that would be a lie. This isn't an underdog story; this is the story where you lost. We're not on your side – if you ostracise us, make us out to be villains, and then publicly humiliate us on live television, we're not going to like heroes, are we? And we're not going to like you. So, I don't want to hear you cheering. We don't want your empty praise.

"Something else you might want to think about is that one of the people standing on this podium is Quirkless. Call it luck of the draw, call it some kind of false victory, I don't care – the fact is that I'm standing here, and none of your hero course members are. But if I see one article saying that this year's class B was just really weak, then I'd say that you're looking for excuses. Don't you dare call them weak, because not only does that insult them, but it insults us too. The only reason we managed to do this well is because we decided to work together. Oh, and I may or may not have tricked the entirety of the hero course into thinking I have the power to steal other people's Quirks since the second day at school, and the only one who knew that I was actually Quirkless decided not to say anything – thanks, Honenuki."

"You're the best!" Uraraka yelled from the crowd, and Honenuki gave her a pained thumbs up.

Midoriya laughed a little, running his hand through his hair nervously, "W-We decided we wanted to win the Sports Festival, so we did, it's as simple as that. Class 1-A has never won before, let alone completely wiped out all other competitors. So, maybe you should stop treating us like the garbage you make us out to be. We're people too, and… we've made mistakes, that's why we're here, but it's not why we still are. But I suppose I'll leave that last point up to you – just know that we don't plan on leaving this school in the way you want us to."

Midoriya stopped. Shoto thought this was because he'd ran out of things to say, but he soon realised it was in fact the fault of their other classmates, who had been excitably whispering to each other for a while now, and after a split-second decision, a few had just vaulted over the barricades, dodged by the shocked heroes standing in their way, and clambered up onto the podium.

Bakugo's friends were congratulating him and telling him to stop acting so grumpy, to which he responded by threatening to blow them up in front of the entire arena. Uraraka floated up beside Midoriya and Iida, and Tsu soon hopped up between them. It wasn't long before everyone was there. Yaoyorozu sat down beside Shoto whilst Uraraka helped Midoriya reach the first-place podium.

"We got what we wanted," Midoriya grinned. "We won the moment we stepped foot in this place. What else can I say?" And he handed the microphone back to Shoto.

He stared at it for a moment, and then looked up to meet his father's eyes, across the stadium. After little hesitation, he said a few choice words that UA most certainly didn't appreciate being transmitted on live television and proceeded to lob the microphone as far as he could. It hit the floor and sent out a high-pitched noise that made Jiro screech and, in a very Bakugo like fashion, threaten to kick him off the podium.

If someone had told Shoto that the Sports Festival he'd been feeling sick to the stomach about for so long, would result in him swearing several times in front of the whole country, wearing a first place medal and laughing with a group of unlikely friends, he'd freeze them solid.

Funny, how things work out.

The TV went black with a touch of a button.

Teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, Shigaraki stared at his own reflection in the screen for a moment, before turning to the remote and clenching it tight, watching it fall into pieces in his hand, the dust seeping out the cracks in his hold like the sand in a broken hourglass.

"This wasn't how the story was supposed to go," he hissed to himself.

The soft sound of Kurogiri cleaning the disused glassware behind the bar faded. With a clink, he rested the glass down on the counter and turned his gaze back to Shigaraki, who stared back angrily.

"All is not lost, Tomura Shigaraki," Kurogiri insisted. "Class A is ostracising themselves; they don't wish to be associated with the heroes, so it seems. The words their class president uttered were choice. Listen carefully to them. There are many important players in this game. Villains such as Zero and Todoroki – vigilantes including Red Riot and Tail. They are trapped within UA's walls. There is hope yet; they can still be swayed."

A moment of silence passed between them, until Shigaraki raised his head once more and said, "They?"

On the table, now covered in a thin layer of dust, were nineteen cards. Playing cards – the numbers and patterns ignored and drawn over with a black marker. He'd moved them as the tournament round continued. Number 18 wasn't at the top. He'd never been the priority – why would he be? An insignificant, Quirkless space-filler.

Brushing off the dust, Shigaraki pushed that card away from the others.

"It was too early at the USJ," he realised, "they hadn't established their hierarchy yet. Back then he still looked like an expendable NPC, but in reality, he was already in charge… No, it's not they – it's only him. He is their weakness – and they are his."

"They tried to flee UA," Kurogiri reminded him, putting his glass away in a cupboard and retrieving another. "The matter was not brought up during the Sports Festival, but the school was obliged to tell the press a few weeks ago. If they still do not wish to be there, they may attempt to leave again soon, following their home visits."

Shigaraki paid little attention. He stared down at the cards before him.

He needed Todoroki – a vital piece in his plan, but the boy would go nowhere without pesky Midoriya – the unknown; the unexpected.

However, "Dabi," Shigaraki hissed, glaring at the number 15. "The brat will leave with Dabi and we still can't find him."

"He would leave his friends behind?"

Shigaraki gritted his teeth again. It was all so terribly complicated. "How do I find Dabi?"

Kurogiri wavered, "He must find you."

In a fit of frustration, Shigaraki swiped his arm across the surface, sending the cards flying to the floor, alongside the glass Kurogiri had mistakenly set down. The floor was littered with dust, cards and shards of glass.

The movement pulled at his injured muscles. His bullet wounds were taking too long to heal.

Clutching at his shoulder, careful not to touch his clothing with all five fingers, he winced and hung his head. In the process, he zeroed in on the one card left on the table, almost over the edge, face down.

Shigaraki carefully flipped it over –

4 – Tenya Iida – their vice representative.

"They are his weakness," Shigaraki repeated to himself. "If one were in danger, the others would step in – especially that martyr they have for a leader. He saved All Might; someone he supposedly hates – he'd save his vice president…"

"And this would capture the attention of Dabi?" Kurogiri questioned, staring at the broken glass upon the floor.

Shigaraki simply grinned, gazing down at the other fallen cards, the number 18 written bold over the king of hearts. "No, no. You're right, Dabi will come to us, it's only a matter of time… But to get 18… we need a little more incentive…"