Blackmore sat at a table, not alone. He held a cup of water in his hand, which he toyed with by tossing droplets in the air and then passing his hands through, to amuse his teammates. All three thought his 'Quirk' was quite interesting, especially after Itsuka pricked her finger on a raindrop despite his earnings and noted that it was incredibly sharp. She then threw an arm over his shoulder and laughed.

"I still can't believe we made it to third!"

Blackmore was beginning to grow more comfortable around his team. Itsuka's hands-on approach to communication and sisterly attitude, Kinoko's shy demeanour and hidden face, and of course he had already been well aware of Ibara's gentle, kind... everything. He didn't have words sufficient to describe her in his own mind, a rare problem for one with a vocabulary as broad and baroque as his own. The fact remained; the three girls were a delight to be around.

They didn't see him as broken, worthless Blackmore; they genuinely believed him to be a worthy addition to their group, and considered his assistance in battle to be of great help. He was half the reason the game had even continued, they had said, he and that Kyoka girl who had once questioned him about his name in the past. Now she seemed all too happy to sit by the side of his master, discussing the upcoming competition.

Blackmore watched them, and was satisfied. He could see the girl's presence made his master happy, set him to smiling and turning a little red in the cheeks. Blackmore enjoyed it; Master Izuku deserved to be happy, the same way Master Valentine before him had deserved happiness. And both needed to be successful for the greater good of the world.

Ibara Shiozaki watched from across the table as Blackmore watched his master, and smiled wistfully to herself. So this Midoriya was his master, then, the one he was so insistent on being perfect for. She considered her fellow green-haired hero in training for a moment. He was smiling at something one of his teammates had said, nodding in agreement with whatever they had suggested or declared, before replying and citing a new wave of laughter from two of his three teammates. The girl with the purple hair just smiled.

Izuku Midoriya. Ibara didn't know him all that well; he was apparently something of a class star, a hero among heroes as it were. She could certainly see it; he was decisive, bold and quite obviously courageous. His various displays of combat prowess during the prior event proved all of these beyond the shadow of a doubt. But was he heroic? Was he kind and good-hearted, did he care for the innocent? She could not say. Perhaps he did, or perhaps he simply sought personal glory. His power was perfect for achieving either goal, indisputably.

Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap. Not exactly a heroic name for a power, but then again it didn't need to be. The number two hero in Japan used the power of Hellflame, after all. Names were meaningless; it was actions that mattered. Especially to Ibara Shiozaki, who was of the mind that works were just as important as faith in the greater game of morality. If a good hearted man did cruel things to his fellow man, he was not a good hearted man. He was confused at best, or a liar, or at the worst a hypocrite who truly believed his evil to be the path to a greater good. Ibara had met many men who laid claim to goodness but acted only in self-interest. She could not be certain Midoriya Izuku was not one of these men.

So she watched, and waited, hoping in part she would find herself across from Midoriya in the upcoming final event. Present Mic's declaration earlier had not been forgotten by any of the sixteen students present; the final event would almost certainly be a trial of single combat in the form of a bracketed tournament. Already several students were readying themselves for the coming battles, stretching or eating to ready their bodies.

She watched as Midoriya rose with a smile, slipping away from his table and following the departing form of one Shoto Todoroki, who was himself leaving after taking a phone call on his cell. Curious. Both of them were dangerous prospective combattants; if they were meeting, was it to exchange information? Ideas?

Ibara was not concerned; her personal combat ability with her Quirk was more potent than most, and she had a further advantage on open ground with how her vines could move below the earth. She could think of some three students that would be troublesome; the explosive blonde and the Izuku from 1-A, and from her own class she considered Kinoko the only true danger. Her Quirk's fungal offspring could overtake Ibara's vines, stifling their growth and killing them off by eating them alive. It was the hardest of hard counters...

But Kinoko lacked confidence. She was not the only one who knew this; Blackmore too had realized this truth about his most furtive teammate. She lacked the quiet grace of Ibara, the energetic readiness of Itsuka, or even the brash self-assuredness of someone like Bakugou. Her self-doubt was obvious. He had little to fear from her Quirk; his liquid form would easily allow him to avoid any spores, and close the gap just about instantly. It was the more physical, flexible Quirks like Itsuka's hands or Ibara's vines he was concerned with. They would be far harder to consistently dodge, especially Itsuka's hands.

He had to wonder how having giant hands wasn't more tiring. He couldn't imagine such an outlandish thing in his own world, but the girl did well with them regardless of their bizarre nature.

He sighed softly, letting the rest of the water fall back into the cup and drinking it down. He would need to stock up on fluids for the challenge facing him; already he felt dehydrated from his prior battle with Todoroki and the challenges presented by the second event. Fifteen other students to challenge; four fights to the top, if his math was correct, one of which could potentially place him against his master. A challenging prospect to say the least, but Blackmore would not forfeit for Master Midoriya's sake. Master Valentine demanded only the best from his servants in all things, especially in exercises and training.

Blackmore would fight with all he had, every drop of strength within him. And he would, by grace of God and by his own strength, win. This he swore to himself, head bowed, before reaching down and taking his mask in his hand.

"Raymond." Ibara said, and he paused in his motion to look at her. "Don't wear it. Let the world and your enemies see your face."

Blackmore held the mask in a tense grip, turning his hand so he could look at its face. It stared back at him, empty eyeholes giving him a means to look at the table. It's blank face gave him no solace... but it did give him cover. With his mask on his face he was not Raymond Blackmore, useless worthless broken child. He was Blackmore, servant of President Funny Valentine and Izuku Midoriya, future hero. He was strong and brave and everything he needed to be for the task ahead.

He swallowed, and then stood from his bench.

"Thank you for all your aid in this past challenge." he said, bowing deeply to his team as he addressed them. "I look forward to facing you all upon the field of battle, and hope to one day stand beside you again. For now, however, I bid you farewell."

He refused to meet Ibara's eyes as he put the mask to his face, letting it adhere with that strange ethereal touch. He turned and walked away, toward his master.

It was time for his little vacation to end.

In a silent room occupied by none but himself, Tenya Iida placed his smart phone face down on the table in front of him with a quiet clack of glass meeting wood. He made not a single sound, nor did he break the blank, cold expression on his face with any emotional reaction. His hands came to his sides, and without his willing it they curled into tensed fists, trembling with pent up rage. Or was it grief? Perhaps fear? Tears pricked at his eyes and a lump formed in his throat.

He did not know.

In a quiet corridor that had just moments ago been far louder, Shoto Todoroki's hands were shaking as well, clenched not in fists but with his fingers curled as claws, each side of his body running rampant with its respective climatological phenomenon. His right side was slowly covering over in hoarfrost, while his left gained a healthy flush as it heated up beyond normal human ability. Shoto's eyes narrowed as he looked to the ceiling for a moment, then back to where he could see Izuku peering into the tunnel.

Wordlessly he turned and stomped after his father, back into the arena.

Izuku watched Todoroki go, hands clasped behind his back. He had just heard quite the argument, one between the unstoppable force that was Endeavour and his pride, and the immovable object that was Shoto's hatred for his fire. With that context given, Shoto seemed to suddenly click in place in Izuku's mind; everything made sense. Shoto was choosing not to use his own fire.

Izuku's mind cycled back a few weeks. The sight of his classmates after the USJ incident; traumatized, terrified, weary and hurt. Tooru's invisible form getting wheeled away in a cart, the first Aizawa's mangled form and the second's obvious discomfort with moving between dimensions. He thought of the twenty-odd versions of himself who had literally broken themselves to keep that vast Noumu monster down, holding the line until All Might could arrive.

He thought of these things and felt a spark of anger within him. The whole class was giving it their all; Bakugou and Yaoyorozu and Asui and Jiro, Kaminari and Hakagure and Kirishima and Uraraka and all the rest were fighting their hardest to become heroes. He himself had nearly died multiple times at the USJ, saved only by D4C and One For All's combined power.

And Todoroki just coasted on by with half. Half the power he had been born with. Half the power he had been gifted at birth. Half the power Izuku had been bullied and mocked and made into a pariah for lacking. Half the power he could have used to help at the USJ, to save people. Half the power he could use to save lives and become one of the greatest heroes in the world.

Half the power.

Half.

As if that would be enough.

Izuku stepped into a wall alcove and away into another world, where he observed the same argument again. He was watching again too, observing, another version of himself, smaller and meeker, hiding in the alcove opposite. The same argument. The same words.

The same excuses.

Izuku faded back into his reality. Then he stepped into another. And another. And another. Each time he grew more and more angry. Had this been a single time fluke, a one-universe gimmick, he might have found it acceptable. But every universe he peered into, regardless of its changes, Todoroki still insisted on deliberately handicapping himself. On choosing weakness. On being less just to spite his bastard of a father.

Izuku returned to his reality and stepped into the open of the tunnel, following after Todoroki. He didn't need to go far; the boy emerged from behind a blind corner, grabbing at Izuku's shoulders and pressing him against a wall. He hit the cement with a dull thud, grunting slightly before looking at Todoroki.

Their faces were only a few inches apart. Todoroki had an intensity in his mismatched eyes, a cold anger mixed with determination. He was upset at being spied on. Izuku could respect that. But that was all there was to respect. Todoroki opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't." Izuku interrupted, spitting the word as he would a curse, reaching up with one hand and grabbing Todoroki's right wrist. "Don't you dare try to justify this to me."

Todoroki snarled, pulling Izuku forward before slamming him into the wall again. Izuku was rattled for a moment, before he blinked and slapped the boy's hands off his shoulders with his own hands, pressing a foot against his gut and pushing him back. Todoroki grunted as he was knocked away.

"Don't sell me the sob story." Izuku continued, refusing to let Todoroki get a word in edgewise. "Don't tell me about your father's abuse and your mother's torment. Don't tell me about her mistake and his anger and your sorrow. Don't rant about guilt and cause and effect and the feeling of weakness because you know NOTHING of weakness."

Izuku took a step forward, pressing a finger against Todoroki's chest hard enough to rock the heterochromatic boy on his feet.

"Don't speak, don't excuse, don't lie or twist words." Izuku's voice was an angry hiss, a tone none had ever heard from the boy before. "Don't play the martyr and claim its for honour or pride that you handicap and weaken yourself. And don't you DARE proclaim the fire to be your father's power when you know logically AND emotionally it very well is NOT."

Todoroki lashed out with a silent punch and Izuku took it on the jaw, letting his head turn. He didn't move his hand though, that lone finger pressing its accusatory touch against the other boy's ribs. He twisted his head back to meet Todoroki's eyes again, staring him down. His eyes flashed with the purple light of Funny's Stand, and both heard in their minds the ghostly echoes of gunshots and enraged howls.

"I will not stand idly by while you commit your self-righteous suicide and drag this class down with you." Izuku said. "I will take you by the hand and drag you back above the waves and into the light, and you will accept my help or die on your own, choking on that poison pride you drink so deeply of. And should you yet choose to fall into nothingness and forsake both your mother and yourself for spite of your father's dream, I will watch and weep for the hero you could have been."

He brought up the rest of his fingers, an open hand on a stunned Todoroki's chest, and pressed him back into the opposite wall, a captive audience in every sense of the word.

"Choose your path, Shoto Todoroki." Izuku said, Funny's voice bleeding into his and making a resonant command of his words. "Will you fall? Or will you stand, tall and proud, the hero this world... no, the hero your mother deserves?"

Izuku stepped back and away, hand coming down, before turning to march down the tunnel, leaving a stunned Todoroki behind, staring at a wall with nothing to say.

"I await your answer on the battlefield."

Izuku left him with those words.

AN:

Izuku-Valentine has no chill, I know.

Speaking of chill, next chapter has a lot of it. Literally, not metaphorically; it's the icy-boy's refrain, and if you thought things got heated this chapter buddy guy, just you wait.

Blackmore still has problems. He's working on them.

Ibara might not hate Izuku? She's still thinking about it. She's also still a monstrously underused character in MHA and that makes me upset. Just... trade grapes for the vine, Horikoshi my guy. Please?

Next chapter(s): Izuku and Todoroki take their debate to the arena, Blackmore dunks on someone who probably deserves it, Kensuke tries to teach someone his name and Ibara gives the audience an educational lesson in the sturdiness of plant matter.