The crowd cheered wildly, the sound echoing through Izuku's ears. They had been shouting all day, but now it had reached its peak, reflecting their excitement for the match to come. Sweat beaded on Izuku's upper lip, and he longed to wipe it away, but he couldn't take off his mask in order to do so. Instead, he opted to lick it off, although that didn't do much to resolve the problem.

Present Mic appeared on one of the screens hovering above the crowd, and Izuku directed his gaze toward it, although he wasn't listening to anything that was said. Across from him, directly outside of the lines of the battle court, stood Shinso, also giving Present Mic his full attention.

Izuku's fingers twitched, and his eyes jerked through the stadium, seeing Endeavor and All Might watching, along with Cementoss, who had created the arena. It seemed that for the final event, he would be the pro hero ensuring they didn't get hurt.

"Please, no moves that could be fatal. A true hero tries to put villains in prison, not kill them!" Present Mic finished, and Izuku rolled his eyes. That attitude is exactly the reason why the heroes are going to lose. Patting his side, the lump of his favorite knife attached to his otherwise empty belt under his hoodie reassured him. Despite not believing he would have any use for it, Izuku didn't go anywhere without a weapon, and in an environment like this, he felt he needed one he could rely on.

"Let the match begin!" Izuku and Shinso both stepped into the battle court, both of them freezing once inside, sizing each other up in silence. The crowd quieted, and Izuku became acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest and the sound of blood rushing through his veins. His fingers curled and uncurled, and he breathed out slowly.

"Not a very exciting start here, folks!" Present Mic said, his tone muted. "Say, the Masked Mystery isn't carrying his support gear anymore; that scarf-like item? I wonder why that could be? What do you think, Eraser Head?"

"I don't know," Eraser Head responded, his voice muffled by the bandages over his face. Izuku's eyes darted to the screen. When he had found out Eraser Head would be announcing the Sports Festival along with Present Mic, he had wondered if the pro hero would ruin his plans. After all, Eraser Head had to know that the Binding Cloth belonged to Shinso, and he was all too familiar with Shinso's quirk.

He probably knows who I am too, which means he knows I'm quirkless. From the beginning, he knew my plan to help Shinso win, and yet he didn't reveal it. Izuku had been reasonably sure he wouldn't, but it was still somewhat surprising to see it in action. I'm glad he isn't getting in my way. I just hope that after this is over he won't reveal my identity.

"Speaking of his support gear, it did look a lot like your Binding Cloth. What do you say to that?" Present Mic tried again, his grin stiffening.

"I don't see it." Eraser Head's voice remained flat, and Izuku's head lowered. Lying. Not very heroic of you, Aizawa. Present Mic frowned and glared at his companion at the lackluster response.

Wind blew past Izuku's face, and he stepped to the side, avoiding the punch Shinso directed at him. Since my eyes were on the screen, he thought I was distracted. Izuku jumped over the leg Shinso attempted to swipe under him and flipped backward, retreating. Your two weeks of training won't be enough to beat me that easily.

"Shinso strikes first, but was thwarted by an easy evade from the Masked Mystery! What will happen next?" Present Mic's voice strained and almost cracked, and he cleared his throat.

"I figured that wouldn't work." Shinso straightened and brought his fists up to protect his face, his eyes wary as he watched Izuku calmly circle him, his hands behind his back. "Who trained you, anyway?"

Izuku jumped and spun, kicking Shinso across the face and landing smoothly on one leg. The boy stumbled backward, eyes wide, and Izuku shook his head. Not going to happen.

"Fine." Shinso gritted his teeth, wiping at his nose, which was now bleeding. "Let me show you what my master's been teaching me!"

I know exactly what he's been teaching you. Izuku dodged out of the way of Shinso's fist before catching his incoming kick and shoving him backward. It's not nearly as impressive as you think it is.

"And we have a full on brawl, people! But what about Masked Mystery's amazing quirk? Eraser Head, do you have any thoughts on why he isn't using it?"

Izuku slowed his movements in an effort to allow his opponent to land a blow or two before retaliating, only using a small percentage of his strength when he did so. He focused on using his feet and elbows to strike, avoiding damaging his hands any further.

"Maybe his quirk has a time limit. Perhaps he can only use it once a day," Eraser Head finally responded with not just one, but two full sentences. "Without knowing who he is or what his quirk does, it's hard to tell."

Glancing backward, Izuku saw they were approaching the middle of the court, still exchanging blows. The fight wasn't all that impressive, considering that neither of them had any flashy quirks or weapons. From the low hum coming from the audience, and the side conversations Present Mic kept striking up, or attempting to anyway, with Aizawa, Izuku could tell the viewers were quickly growing bored.

Guess that's my cue to lose. Izuku side stepped Shinso's elbow and jumped high into the air, knowing Shinso would follow. As he did, Izuku twisted around to kick his friend across the face, a blow which would send him careening out of the arena.

He should grab my foot as I did earlier. That way he can bring me to the ground and throw me out of the arena instead.

Shinso's arms stopped Izuku's foot right beside his head, just as Izuku expected. But instead of grabbing it, the boy lunged forward, and his fingers gripped onto Izuku's, squeezing as hard as he could.

"ARGH!" Izuku screamed, boiling pain lancing up his arm from his burns, momentarily stunning him. Shinso slammed his knee into Izuku's chest, and Izuku choked on his own spit as he hit the ground. "You little," Izuku uttered, instinct taking over as he struck Shinso's chest as hard as he could with the heel of his palm. The skin on his palm broke open, but Izuku barely noticed.

Shinso reared back and thudded onto the ground, and Izuku surged forward, his throbbing fingers reaching for his favorite knife. In just a moment, Izuku would reach him. The sharp knife would burrow into the boy's neck, and blood would spurt from the wound, splashing onto Izuku's mask and hood. Shinso would bleed out within seconds, and Izuku would be victorious. Another gifted would be dead, leaving the world a slightly better place for it.

He gets what he deserv— Izuku blinked, and his fingers jerked back from his knife. His forward momentum continued, and Shinso raised his feet, planting them firmly on Izuku's chest. With a loud grunt, Shinso heaved Izuku's body up and over his head.

Izuku flipped through the air, and his back smashed onto the ground once again. A loud shout came over the speakers, and he lifted his head, dimly observing that half of his body was laying outside of bounds. Excitedly, Present Mic declared Shinso the winner, and Izuku pressed his shaking hand over his eyes. Blood dotted the bandages covering both, wet to the touch.

"Izuku, are you alright?" Shinso rushed toward him, sliding over to Izuku's head on his knees.

Izuku sat up, removing his hands from over his eyes and securing his right hand to his chest with his left. He didn't respond, instead lowering his gaze to the ground as he stood. His heart seemed to vibrate in his chest, and he clenched his jaw. He went for my dominate hand with that attack. He must've been planning this from the start.

"Izuku, I'm sorry. I . . . I just . . . I had to do everything I could to win. I knew you'd be too good for me to beat otherwise. I had to play dirty."

I was going to let you win, you imbecile! Izuku's body jerked toward him, and he forced himself to close his eyes, counting to ten as he stepped away. Think of the mission, Midoryia.

"Izuku?" Shinso's hand rested on Izuku's shoulder, and he shrugged him off immediately, barely turning enough to meet Shinso's eyes.

"Don't. Touch. Me," Izuku murmured, calling upon his terrifying expression that was sure to disturb even the most hardened villain. Shinso's face went pale, and he stumbled backward.

Curving his shoulders, Izuku glared at the ground for a few seconds, struggling to get his next words past his mouth. "I . . . am going to go change clothes. I don't think I will see you until after your next match. Remember what I told you . . . good luck." Drawing the words through his throat scratched like sandpaper.

" . . . Right." Shinso stepped away from him again, his voice soft. "I'll . . . see you later then, okay?"

"Yeah." He didn't meet the boy's eyes as he set off toward the building, ignoring the medical team rushing toward him.

"He didn't receive medical attention for his burns," Eraser Head intoned over the speakers, and Izuku twisted around to see him speaking to Present Mic on the floating screens surrounding the arena. His posture was more alert now, and Present Mic leaned toward him, ecstatic for the unprompted review. "Shinso exploited his wounds in order to gain an advantage."

"Wow, so it was an underhanded move by Shinso that won him the match!" Present Mic gasped before grinning at the camera. "But don't worry, folks, that's not illegal! Remember, you're free to do anything as long as it's not lethal. But as for the Masked Mystery, next time, get your injuries treated!"

Aizawa muttered something, and Present Mic frowned at him before their image disappeared from view, and Izuku spun on his heels, his eyebrows furrowing as he entered the building and escaped back to the empty waiting room.

"That . . ." Izuku started before launching into a stream of curses, ripping his mask off his face and throwing it at the wall. "I am going to kill you, Hitoshi Shinso!" he roared into the emptiness. His own voice echoed back at him, and his chest heaved up and down as he stared at the ceiling.

Eventually, he collapsed onto the ground, his stomach heaving. Acid crawled up his throat, and Izuku choked it back, the noises coming from his mouth sounding inhuman. Hot tears shuffled down his face, and Izuku convulsed, his heart stopping for a moment as he saw it again.

Blood. It covered his hands, dripped down his wrists, filled his mouth. The iron taste blended with the bile, and Izuku couldn't help but swallow. Large, terrified eyes jerked about in confusion before settling on his. Blue irises, flecked with gold—no. This time they were purple, and instead of simple fear, betrayal filled them, cutting strong and deep.

Grabbing at his head, Izuku pulled his hair, a tuft of it coming loose in his hands. "Stop it, STOP IT!" he screamed, closing his eyes, but the image didn't go away. The blood stuck to his hands and his clothes, and the knife shone even in the darkness, the bright red color reflecting the moonlight. A sickening thud echoed through the still air, and Izuku vomited onto the floor as if on cue. His head followed soon after, and he plopped onto the ground, face down in his own puke.

"Kid!" someone yelled, and a hand grabbed onto his collar, flipping him over in a smooth motion. "Are you alright?"

Who . . . Izuku couldn't open his eyes, couldn't talk, couldn't even so much as muster a twitch. In fact, he couldn't breathe, and hadn't done so for a while. The edges of his consciousness blurred, and his head lulled to the side.

"Breathe!" someone commanded, and a hand smacked his chest, startling him so much he sucked in a deep breath, and the darkness retreated. He continued to breathe in and out, despite the vice that had tightened itself around his chest.

" . . . Hurts," Izuku whispered, the word barely making it out of his mouth. His entire body burned, and he attempted to move his fingers, to no avail.

"Your injury is severe," the person murmured. Something brushed against his fingers, and Izuku screamed, jerking away, adrenaline allowing him to move, if only for a moment.

"That bad, huh?" Something pressed against his lips, and Izuku struggled to open his eyes. "Drink this. It's a painkiller."

Don't really have a choice, I suppose. Izuku parted his lips, and a surprisingly sweet and cool liquid rushed over his tongue. The container lifted from his lips, and Izuku groaned as another spark of pain traveled up his spine.

"You should feel better in a few minutes."

Izuku opened his eyes, turning his gaze in the direction of his rescuer. "Eraser Head," he muttered, surprised to see the pro hero sitting next to him. If there was anyone the teacher should visit, it would be his protege, especially as he had just won his first match in the final event of the Sports Festival. Why was he here, of all places?

"Mr. Aizawa," he corrected, his dull eyes meeting Izuku's. "I brought this because I thought you'd be in pain, but I didn't expect it to be this bad."

"It's not." Izuku sat up, trying, and failing, to hide his wince. His body felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, but most of it wasn't due to his injury. If experience served, he would be back to normal in a few minutes. I thought I was over it by now. Izuku kicked himself mentally, disappointed in his lack of progress.

"You just threw up and almost passed out. If I hadn't found you when I did, you might've drowned in your own vomit." Aizawa's tone, unlike his words, was gentle, and he tilted his head, his gaze lingering on the bandages covering Izuku's hands. Wet blood streaked across the white fabric, and Izuku raised them to rest of his lap.

"That was because of . . . something else." Izuku turned his head away, avoiding Aizawa's penetrating gaze. He rubbed his face clean on his shoulder, disgusted at just how much throw-up had stuck to his face.

"Your head wound?" Aizawa guessed. Izuku started, surprised he hadn't thought of the excuse himself.

"Maybe . . . It just happens sometimes." Shaking his head, he curled his fingers into a fist and raised it to show Aizawa, ignoring the sheer torture that ripped through his nerves at the motion. "See, I'm fine."

Aizawa hummed softly, tapping the metal container that contained the pain medication onto the floor. "Let's get you to Recovery Girl regardless."

"No," Izuku blurted. "It's fine—I'm fine. No need to trouble her."

His head tilting once again, Aizawa examined Izuku up and down. It was a bit disturbing, considering how every inch of him was covered in bandages except his eyes. "Do you perhaps have a vendetta against Recovery Girl?"

Izuku blinked, and his face flushed. "No, no, of course not!"

"Then why are you so against getting treated?"

I don't want to tell him about my scars. "I don't need it."

"Not good enough."

"She has more important things to deal with," Izuku tried again. "I'm sure a ton of other students are injured."

"Not good enough."

"I . . . want to keep the scars." It worked on Todoroki.

"Not good enough," Aizawa said again, and Izuku's blood began to boil. Is that all you're going to say? I'm not giving you what you want.

"I want an excuse to get out of school."

"Not good enough."

"My mom and I have a doctor we prefer."

"Not good enough."

"I don't want to be seen as weak."

"Not good enough."

If Izuku could move his hands, he might've grabbed onto his hair once again. What was this guy's problem? Would the teacher even accept any excuse? How could he get out of this situation?

Aizawa's steady gaze peered into Izuku's soul, and pressure mounted on Izuku's shoulders until finally he couldn't take it anymore. "I refuse to let a gifted use their filthy quirk on me!" he yelled, his eyes squeezing shut.

Silence descended, and Izuku opened his eyes, surprised to see Aizawa simply staring at him. Crap, what did I say? Izuku quickly sorted through his memories, the blood draining from his face as he realized what he'd done. "I—I didn't mean—," he started, his fingers twitching with anxiety. "I don't mean that their quirks are filthy, I ju—"

"Why do you feel that way?" Aizawa asked, interrupting Izuku's ramble.

His mouth hanging open, Izuku contemplated the question. "The universe didn't deem me worthy enough to receive a quirk. I'm not good enough for my own, nor anyone else's." The words were extremely sarcastic, but Izuku kept his tone steady, not wanting to let on how deeply he felt about the issue.

Aizawa shifted. "Do you believe that?"

"Does it matter? Everyone else does." Izuku bit his tongue, blood spurting into the back of his throat. What am I talking about? I have to find a way out of this situation.

"Izuku Midoryia," Aizawa started, and Izuku's gaze jerked to his, surprised at the mention of his full name. "Do you hate the . . . 'gifted?'"

Lips pursed, Izuku stared at the floor for a long moment. "No," he said finally. The last bit of dread flake from his being and disappeared, replaced by fatigue. "I don't," he whispered, reiterating what he'd said before.

"But you hate quirks." Aizawa's head tilted, and Izuku turned his own away, refusing to answer, even though it didn't sound like a question.

Me and my big mouth. Izuku's jaw clenched, and anger sparked in his chest. No, this is Aizawa's fault. He's going to ruin everything!

"You don't think you need a quirk to succeed, do you?"

"Sure." That was why, when All for One had offered to give Izuku his own quirk, he had declined. The world may assume that quirkless Deku was nothing more than a waste of space, but Izuku knew better. In that moment, he had resolved to destroy that which hated him with his own strength, and nothing more.

"Neither do I." Aizawa shifted, and one of his bandaged hands alighted on Izuku's shoulder, causing him to stiffen. "I understand why you feel the way you do, but I don't suggest this because I believe you are weak. Everyone needs help sometimes, even me. I saw Recovery Girl for my own wounds, and I think you should as well."

Izuku stared at the hand on his shoulder before scooting backward, out of Aizawa's reach. He pulled his legs up to his chest and angled his body away from the teacher before muttering, "Why can't you leave me alone just like everybody else? I'm fine."

"Because you don't need to be alone." The answer was immediate but followed by a long pause. "I won't force you this time, but on one condition."

Grudgingly, Izuku asked, "What is it?" It wasn't fair, being forced to barter for the freedom to treat his own injury as he wished, but if there was an easy way to get out of this, Izuku would take it.

"Train with Shinso from now on."

"No."

"That wasn't a request." Aizawa's voice took on a hard edge, but Izuku merely shook his head, undeterred.

"You can't make me do anything," Izuku replied. "I'm not doing something I don't want to do."

The bandages on Aizawa's face bulged, cluing Izuku in on the fact that his jaw was clenched. "I'll make you one last offer before I tie you up and drag you to Recovery Girl, whether you want to or not." He paused for a moment as if allowing that to sink in. "Attend one training exercise with Class 1-A."

Izuku's lips pursed. With Bakugo? Is he crazy?

"Shinso can join as well." Aizawa straightened, his eyes narrowing. "You won't be in the same group as Bakugo."

He's too perceptive. I hate it. Izuku sighed, lowering his forehead to his knees. "Just one?" he asked.

"Just one," Aizawa confirmed.

"Fine," Izuku muttered, closing his eyes. Who knows, maybe this will help us in the long run. I'm too tired to tell right now. At least Shinso will be happy. Izuku flinched as an image of his "friend" came to mind, and his hands began to shake.

Aizawa shuffled closer and yanked Izuku's hood off his head, and he blinked at the sudden rays of light stabbing into his eyes. "Good." Aizawa's eyes narrowed as he stared into Izuku's. "You did good, Midoryia," he murmured. "I can't say I approve of you throwing the match, but you achieved your goal well."

He moved away, and Izuku blinked. "W-what?" he sputtered.

"You wanted Shinso to win without drawing attention to himself, correct?" Aizawa stood and brushed himself off, not waiting for confirmation or denial. "You succeeded. Everyone believes Shinso only won because he exploited your injury after riding off of your success in the Calvary Battle. As far as anyone can tell, he's completely useless. Todoroki won't know what hit him."

"H-how?" Izuku shook his head. He had known Aizawa would probably deduce some of his plan, but it was so detailed, even down to knowing Shinso would use his quirk in his face-off against Todoroki. It's no wonder he's a pro hero. Due to his non-combative quirk, he probably had to learn strategy in order to keep up.

"You don't need to worry about Shinso. He had a few broken ribs from where you struck him, but Recovery Girl can fix those in no time."

I hit him hard enough to break his ribs? "Ah, I see . . ." Izuku trailed off, disbelief still coating his tongue. It was hard to comprehend how Aizawa had known so much and yet not told a single soul. He won't inform Todoroki, right? Why would he tell me how much he knew if that was the case?

"Did you hear me, Midoryia?" Aizawa said, and something about his tone drew Izuku's eyes to him. "I said, Shinso is fine. There is no need for guilt." His eyes were dull, but underlying the exhaustion resided a steel glint of determination. The expression reminded Izuku of Shinso, and this time the thought brought no disturbing images to mind.

Izuku blinked, and his hands, which he hadn't noticed were tense, relaxed involuntarily. "Right. Thanks." You wouldn't say that if you knew the truth. Izuku dismissed the thought as fast as it had arrived. I don't care either way. I never feel guilty about anything. The words stung, and Izuku pursed his lips.

"You'll see a doctor for your hands? Even if it's one that doesn't have a quirk?" Aizawa asked, and Izuku nodded, his eyes on the red stained bandages around his forearms.

Kurogiri might as well count, Izuku thought as Aizawa hummed before exiting the room without another word.

Strange. Izuku stared after him, his hands throbbing from where they rested against the floor. An uncomfortable warmth blossomed in his chest, and he frowned at the floor. Why do I always—

Voices echoed into the room from the hall, and Izuku froze.

"My boy, I don't think he's here." The recognizable voice sent a chill down Izuku's spine, and he scowled, the warmth in his heart bursting into a flame.

"I'm telling you, he went down this hallway!"

A curse tumbled out of Izuku's lips before he could stop it, and the footsteps of the two men stopped.

"Did you hear that?"

Izuku scrambled to stand up and lunged toward his mask, still laying where it had fallen to the floor. He picked it up with his bandaged hands, hissing at the pain. The mask was dented where it had hit against the wall, causing it to press against Izuku's cheek in a most uncomfortable manner, but it still fit, and that was all that mattered.

The footsteps came closer. "Masked Mystery, are you here?" one of them called, his voice light and airy.

Izuku attempted to click the mask into place, but his hands shook violently, and he sucked in a breath of air through gritted teeth. These wretched burns! Finally, he managed to click the mask into place, and he yanked his hood up and over his hair just as the two footsteps entered the room and stopped at the doorway.

"Oh hey, there he is! I told you I could find him."

"I never doubted you, young Togata."

Izuku's teeth pressed together, and his spine curled as he fought to contain the hatred brewing in his stomach. Breathe, he reminded himself. He tucked the more stubborn parts of his hair into the hood, his back still facing the intruders.

"Masked Mystery?" the younger one asked. "Are you alright?"

Forcing another breath through his teeth, Izuku spun around, still crouched low to the ground. His two visitors stood silhouetted against the doorway, the light streaming in from the hallway beyond lighting their forms and giving them an angelic glow. Both of them stood in a similar manner, hero poses and all, almost identical down to their blond hair, blue eyes, and wide smiles.

Izuku gagged, and he jerked his head to the side, pressing his lips close together to stop himself from puking again. They might as well be related. He glanced again toward the two, still unable to accept their presence.

All Might and Mirio Togata. The number one hero and his most promising candidate for his successor were here to visit Izuku Midoryia, a quirkless loser. He would've laughed if it weren't for the fact that it wasn't funny at all.

"Oh dear . . ." All Might's eyes roamed the waiting room, lingering heavily on the puke still wet upon the floor and the stains covering Izuku's hoodie. "I see you're having some trouble. Never fear, for I am here! We will take you to Recovery Girl right away!" He gestured to Mirio, who nodded, and the two of them stepped forward, arms outstretched as if they would pick Izuku up and carry him there immediately.

Izuku raised his hands, then thought better of it and tucked them into his hoodie pocket instead. "That was due to an old injury, one which cannot be healed. Recovery Girl may be extraordinary, but even her powers have limits. As for the burns, it's nothing I can't handle."

All Might stopped in his advance, his face twitching in an emotion Izuku couldn't quite decipher. "I see."

"What do you want?" Izuku asked, his voice snippy, and he sneered, glad the mask covered his face. Calm down. Don't allow your anger overtake you. "As you can see, I'm not having a good day."

"We just wanted to congratulate you on your placement. It was a close match." All Might grinned, and he raised a hand to give Izuku a thumbs up. "You are on your way to becoming 'Plus Ultra!'"

Grimacing, Izuku lowered his head. Why did I ever like this guy? "Right. Thanks."

Mirio advanced toward him, and Izuku watched him, his gut tightening. "Why didn't you use your support gear for the match?" He settled on the table next to Izuku, sitting right in front of Izuku's backpack, in which lay his knife vest, an item Mirio would no doubt recognize should he see it. Sweat beaded on Izuku's forehead and ran into his eye, and he blinked rapidly to clear it.

"It was damaged during the Calvary Battle," Izuku lied.

"Todoroki's fire certainly packs a punch, doesn't it?" All Might laughed. "Your victory over his team was very impressive!"

"I wanted to ask you what your quirk was." Mirio leaned forward, his blue eyes shining with excitement. "Did it have something to do with how Tenya Ida froze in the middle of the match?"

Both of their eyes fixed on Izuku, and he blanched, grateful they couldn't see his face. What am I supposed to tell them? In just a few matches, Shinso's quirk would be revealed, and most would discover that it was his quirk that disabled Ida, not Izuku's. Once they figured that out, some would connect the dots and realize that Izuku was simply there to assist Shinso's victory, and from there it wouldn't be hard to connect the Masked Mystery to Shinso's best friend, Izuku Midoryia.

I have to get ahead of this now. "Not quite," he muttered, shifting his stance. "Brainwashing isn't my quirk."

Mirio blinked, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "Then what is?"

"I have the ability to see other people's quirks. What they're called, what they do, their weaknesses, all of it." Izuku pursed his lips at the lie, hoping it wouldn't come back to bite him later. It wouldn't be too hard to prove it here, as he knew what both of their quirks were, but if they were to meet in the future . . .

Well, it's not like the Masked Mystery will make anymore appearances anyway.

"Oh!" Mirio sat up straight, his eyes widening. "That's why they allowed you support gear! Your quirk doesn't have any outward effect." Izuku dipped his head, his eyes drifting over to All Might, who had stiffened at the mention of Izuku's "quirk."

"Why did you let everyone believe your quirk was Brainwashing?"

Izuku sighed and sat at the table across from Mirio, his attention divided between the two heroes. Looks like they aren't leaving anytime soon. "I figured if my opponents thought I had a strong quirkband didn't understand how it worked, they would hesitate to face me in the final round, giving me an advantage. It was just bad luck I was paired with the guy who actually has the Brainwashing quirk for the first match."

"Hitoshi Shinso? His quirk is Brainwashing? How come he didn't use it on you?" Mirio's head tilted, his smile still wide. It was a little unnerving, how little his expression changed.

"It's easy to avoid if you know how it works." Izuku's shoulder caved inward, and he sighed. "Unfortunately, my strategy ended up giving Shinso an advantage. No one knows what his quirk is, and when he uses it, they'll be caught completely by surprise." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "He out-smarted me."

"No sweat! You did great, all things considered. I mean, most people don't even make it to the last round. I know I didn't my first year!" Mirio shifted his position, leaning against the table, and Izuku frowned. He remembered watching that Sports Festival, and what Mirio said was certainly the truth, although his appearance had left . . . quite an impact. "Your quirk would be very useful in the field. It would be excellent to always know exactly what quirk the enemy has. If you worked with Eraser Head, you could tell him exactly whose quirk to erase and when."

Izuku chuckled softly. It's strange, how excited they get when it comes to quirks. If I had told him the truth, I bet his reaction would have been different. "Yes, that's true. Although, I would prefer to use it in creating the perfect support gear for each hero."

"Ah, so you want to be in the Support Course?"

Izuku shrugged. "I just want to help wherever I'm able."

Mirio nodded before his smile took on a cheeky gleam, and Izuku tensed. "So, you can see people's quirks, huh? What do you see about mine?"

Easy. "Your quirk is called Permeation. You can phase any part of your body through any type of matter."

Mirio clapped and began to speak, but Izuku held up a finger. He had thought a lot about Mirio's quirk, as he was the most likely candidate for All Might's successor. As such, he considered this a great opportunity to test some of his theories, even if it could end up exposing him for the fraud he was. "However, it is immensely difficult to control. Even one mistake could end fatally. In addition, while activating Permeation, sound, light, and even oxygen cannot penetrate your body, leading you to be, in a manner of speaking, helpless while using it."

Mirio blinked, and his smile dropped to reveal a shocked expression, if only for a moment. Then he laughed, slapping the table with force. "That's right, all of it!" His gaze darted to All Might. "That's incredible, right, All Might?"

The number one hero simply nodded, his shadowed eyes staring at Izuku. He was still smiling, but something about it seemed distinctly unfriendly.

"What about All Might? What can you tell me about his quirk?" Mirio asked, leaning forward eagerly, and out of the corner of his eye, Izuku saw All Might flinch.

I don't think he knows. Izuku's eyes scanned Mirio's stance, seeing no form of tension there, whereas All Might, still frozen by the door, practically radiated negative energy. He wouldn't ask me if he knew. "Unfortunately, I can only use my quirk a certain amount of times per day, and I already used it on all my opponents. I don't have any more uses left." Izuku shrugged, and Mirio's face dropped into a comical frown.

"Ah, that's too bad." Mirio leaned his head against the table before sitting upright, his gaze on Izuku's backpack. Izuku's eyes widened, and he grimaced. Don't tell me . . . "Oh, do you have your support gear in here?" His hand began to reach for the backpack, almost in slow motion. "Can I see it? It looked interesting."

"NO!" Izuku yelled, and he jumped forward, his hand outstretched. Mirio reached the bag first, gripping it tight, and he turned to face Izuku, his face scrunched up in a question. A moment later, Izuku's fingers found the bag, and he yanked it from Mirio's grip.

AGH! His fingers convulsed, involuntarily loosening their grip on the bag. It tumbled to the floor, and the knife vest, loosely packed to begin with, fell from within and clinked onto the floor, sliding a few inches before stopping. The backpack landed with an audible thud on its side, the contents inside clanking loudly.

They each stared at the vest, laying backside up, the large smiley face with blood dripping from its orifices staring at them, completely unaware of the situation it had just placed Izuku in. Izuku's mouth opened, and an exclamation fell from his lips, although the sound of it didn't reach his ears.

"You . . ." Mirio started, his face aghast. His shaking finger raised to poimt at the vest, then at Izuku. "You're the . . . the . . . the masked person!"

Couldn't come up with a catchy name, eh? Izuku sighed, not bothering to retrieve the vest. It was far too late to place it back in his bag, along with the shocking revelation of his true identity. "Guilty as charged."

Mirio lunged to his feet, his finger still directed toward Izuku like an accusation. "You lied to me!"

"When did I lie?"

"You said you were hired to sneak reporters into the school—"

"Who better to break into a school than a student?" Izuku interrupted, raising his hands in an innocent shrug. I have to make sure he doesn't feel the need to unmask me.

"You told me you weren't a student!" Mirio stepped forward, and Izuku blinked.

I did say that, didn't I? "Alright, fine, I lied. But I didn't want to get in trouble! I didn't have anything to do with the attack, and I got help as soon as I noticed!"

"Why didn't you get help yourself? Why did you ask me?"

"Because they would've expelled me!" Izuku yelled, his voice shaking. "It's not like I could tell them why I was wandering around the grounds during class, and besides, I don't have the connections you do!"

"But—"

"What was I supposed to do? Fight the villains myself? I would've died!" Izuku sucked in a deep breath and leaned backward, not having noticed that he was leaning forward. "Everything turned out fine in the end. No one died, and only two people were injured, both of which, might I add, were already like that when I got there." Huffing, Izuku stood to grab the vest and shove it into the backpack once again, and Mirio watched, thankfully not moving to interfere.

"You shouldn't have helped reporters break into the school," he said finally, not moving from where he stood, staring at Izuku's back.

Izuku twisted around to glare at Mirio. "You think I don't know that?! I snuck reporters in, and, thanks to me, security was distracted and allowed villains to break in to attack the students. You think I don't regret that everyday? Someone could've died because of me." Izuku's voice broke, and he cleared his throat, focusing on zipping his backpack closed. "I know it was my fault. I know that, and I'll never do it again. But I can't lose this school. I can't."

Mirio glanced helplessly between Izuku and All Might, who cleared his throat, seeming to have finally recovered from his shock. "Young Togata, go wait for me in the hall. I will deal with this."

Mirio obediently trudged to the door, stopping momentarily to glance back at Izuku, his eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head before exiting completely and leaving the two of them alone.

Izuku's fingers twitched toward his knife, but the pain at the action reminded him of his predicament. It's not like stabbing him would do any good anyway, not while he's in his hero form. "Are you going to expel me?" he asked, his voice quiet. He avoided All Might's gaze as the hero sunk to the ground to kneel next to him.

"Of course not! You're a bright young man, full of promise." All Might paused for a long moment. "You did your best, did you not?"

" . . . Not really." Izuku shook his head, lowering his backpack to the ground. "Mirio is right. I was being selfish." His bandaged hand raised to his hood, ready to remove it. "I should face punishment for what I—"

All Might's hand rested gently on Izuku's, and even the slight touch felt like a thousand lashes to Izuku's nervous system, and he flinched, although the hero didn't notice. "I believe in second chances, young man. Keep your identity hidden for now. I can't report you if I don't know who you are." All Might winked, and Izuku lowered his hand, tilting his head in what he hoped was a thankful manner. In reality, the longer he stayed in All Might's presence, the more he wanted to snap his neck.

"Thank you," Izuku muttered. "This school's been my dream my entire life."

All Might chuckled. "No more bringing unauthorized personnel into the premises, Masked Mystery."

"Of course, sir." Izuku nodded his head and rolled his eyes, knowing his hood shadowed his face to the point where All Might couldn't see them. It's kind of weird, taking the blame for something I actually had no part in.

"Now, I have a question for you." All Might shifted backward, his smile evaporating. "Did you tell Mirio the truth? Can you really not see my quirk?"

Izuku hesitated for a long moment before shaking his head. Maybe I can use this as a sort of leverage to not turn me in. Perhaps that's the true reason why he's being so lenient. "I can see it. I just didn't think you wanted him to know."

All Might's answering smile was one of strained relief. "Thank you, my boy. That was very considerate of you."

Izuku's eyes drifted to the door as he nodded. He lowered his voice before asking, "Who are you going to give it to?"

All Might's lips pursed. "I haven't come to a decision on the matter," he replied before standing rather abruptly. "I trust you won't tell anyone about this?"

Izuku followed, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I've known for a while, All Might. I won't tell anyone." He saluted, bringing his bandaged hand over his hood. "Your secrets are safe with me!"

All Might nodded, his eyes lingering on Izuku's hand for a split second. "Very good! Keep working hard, young mystery. In time, I'm sure you'll become an extraordinary hero. Plus Ultra!"

"Plus Ultra," Izuku responded, although the words left a sour taste in his mouth. All Might nodded to him, and Izuku bowed. The sound of his footsteps retreating felt like music to his ears. After a brief conversation with Mirio that Izuku couldn't quite make out, the two of them retreated down the hall, their footsteps fading into oblivion.

Izuku collapsed onto the bench, staring at his blood stained hands, which shook uncontrollably. Emotions and thoughts raced through his mind, too loud to comprehend. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing his mind would silence itself.

The day isn't over yet. Izuku dropped his head to his knees, a solitary tear escaping from his eye and trekking down his cheek, although he didn't understand why. I have more work to do.

—

Okay, I lied. Turns out the Sports Festival is much too long to condense into three chapters. So perhaps there will be one or two more chapters of this arc. I am not entirely sure. These characters just kinda do what they want, and I'm just here for the ride.

I'm going on vacation next week, so I might not be able to update for a while, but I promise I will be back within a month. No more three-month-long hiatuses! In fact, I'll start writing the next chapter right now just to prove it to you, even though you have no way of checking if I actually am. That's fair, right?

If you are liking the story so far, comment, vote, share, etc. Check out me and my writings at Salandrawolfe . com or by looking up my name, "Salandra Wolfe." I appreciate your support, and I'll see you soon!

Sally