His first mistake was underestimating her. The moment Nighteye announced the beginning, the girl's form compressed, each limb tight against the other. He watched this, his guard loose, trying to figure out her ability; perhaps she was an enhancer, or an emitter—Boom! He couldn't react. One moment, a young girl was standing a good ten paces away, and the next a fist planted itself in his gut. Mirio folded around the impact like a hinge, the force sending him sprawling onto his ass.

He hadn't even had a chance to use Permeation; the hit came way before he was ready. Off to the side, he heard All Might's old teacher grumble.

"Teachers are too soft these days…"

"That's one knock; two more, and you lose, young man." Nighteye said as Mirio struggled to his feet, nursing his gut. He looked around him, confused as to where his opponent was.

What was her power? Could she turn invisible, or was he going crazy? Overhead, he heard a feminine giggle.

"Blondey, you look so funny right now."

Flicking his eyes up, he gasped. Setsuna wasn't a speedster, nor could she capture him in illusions; overhead, she was a tornado of cackling, floating limbs. She spun over him counter clockwise in pieces no longer than a hand length. In the center of it all was her head, whole and unharmed and smiling.

"Woah! This is freaky." He said, taking a step back. It only made her laugh harder as she descended to her previous spot. Her feet touched down, but the rest of her stayed airborne. His eyes struggled to track her wild movements, her body language unintelligible.

"Thanks! Can't say much about you, though. Come on, show me why you're here!"

"No problem!" He replied, rushing her down. It'd been a fluke, he'd thought; that her ability to knock him flat had been because she surprised him. He was only half correct.

Mirio aimed at her larger pieces, deciding the tiny ones were too troublesome. The big pieces were cumbersome, less efficient than the others. His knuckles brushed against what he thought was an elbow and a belly button, but it was always a glancing blow. Her natural affinity for evasion was excellent, and she remained elusive through his onslaught. Throughout it all, she kept her head far out of reach.

"You gotta do better than that!" She said, taunting him from afar. Mirio grit his teeth; despite the excursion, he wasn't feeling any burn. Time wasn't much a factor either, given the adrenaline he went through keeping her at bay. What frustrated him was something outside the fight itself: the rules.

His brain was working a mile a minute to crunch the numbers. How was he supposed to win? How do you pin someone who could break into pieces? How do you knock someone down who can fly?

He thought back to the Sports Festival, and the difficulties he faced going from round one to the Silver Medal. There were a dozen powerhouses and half a dozen more technical types, and he beat each one with just muscles and sweat, until the final round.

A lower appendage, maybe the ball of Setsuna's foot, collided with the back of his head, killing his train of thought. Saying it hurt would be an overstatement, but it was troublesome. One by itself was nothing, but a dozen? He felt another pellet of flesh knock into his thigh.

It was like standing in a hailstorm, arms stretched out in welcome. He pounced toward a larger piece, a shoulder joint, as it passed. A high pitched yelp split in his ears as he gripped it tight, squeezing it with all his strength. Maybe she'd throw in the towel, or maybe this'd count towards a pin.

He barely saw the leg coming. As he tried crushing her shoulder, a dozen pieces slotted together like legos, forming the full length of her lower appendage. It cut through the air like an ax, his shoulder the timber at her mercy. Mirio got lucky, in all honesty. The congregated flesh created a larger shadow on the ground than the rest, tipping him off as soon as the attack finished charging.

As her heel tried cutting through his shoulder, Permeation kicked on, turning his torso to air. All her foot caught was his shirt, surprising her as it tangled around it.

"Woah, woah! You're so freaky, man!" She said, pulling her leg back into the swarm. Mirio didn't have any lungs to answer with, so instead he lunged forward, grabbing the shirt and the leg trapped within. Unable to free her leg before his maneuver, all she regained was the top few inches of her thigh.

He wrestled the leg into submission as it thrashed in his grip. Thank god he'd switched into sweats, as she almost ruined the shirt by the time he succeeded, taming the leg. The threads wore thin, the paleness of her flesh peaking through the cotton-polyester. Tying a knot in the shirt, he trapped the leg in a makeshift bag before pinning it under his left flank.

Despite how powerful her punch was and how quick her kick would've been, she had an obvious weakness. Physically, she wasn't very strong; she relied on winding up power, her evasiveness, and lizard-tail splitting style attacks.

Really, he was almost a perfect counter. He could shrug off half her attacks, and the ones that she strained herself over he could just phase through. He may have lost the Sports Festival over his embarrassment, but he was over that now. Shame was like Nighteye'd said, just a human weakness. And if Mirio had one thing, it was the willpower to overcome weakness.

Hands formed overhead, shooting down on his flank to retrieve her appendage.

"Gimme back my leg, man!" She screamed, her head flying closer as she did so. Her fingers tore at his side, trying to either rip the shirt free or apart. For a second he followed along, playing tug of war with her. As he struggled, her head grew closer and closer to inspect their battle, and when it was close enough, he made his move.

He overpowered her, wrenching the leg away. In her haste to recover lost ground, all her pieces lunged toward him at once. She never saw it coming.

Permeation flooded every inch of his flesh as he leaped, going straight for the head. Fingers, elbows, knees and abdomen phased through him like they were nothing—or rather, he was nothing. His world was cold and black for but the briefest second of his leap, as even light and warmth ignored him.

Casting Permeation off his skin, he proverbially opened his eyes back up to the world, and the girl's skull cradled in his arms.

"Me personally, I'd consider this a pin. Nighteye?" He asked, turning towards the spectators.

All three males, pro heroes and trainees alike, turned in unison, inspecting something 45 degrees away from him. The little orb he held against his chest was burning like a star, his pecs sizzling in her heat.

"Oh, my god, put some freaking pants on, man! Oh god, oh god…" She said, her face a blushing mess. His cheeks flushed pink as he freed her head, hands materializing from nowhere over her eyes. "Oh, god… I knew I freaking recognized you, you're t-that d-damn nudist from the Sports Festival!"

He put his pants back on after that, and chose not to look anyone in the eyes for a while.

Nighteye coughed into a fist as Mirio slipped his shirt on, frowning at the new wrinkles. It was stretched in all the worst places. Setsuna was whole again, and standing behind Izuku, rather than the way she'd covered him before. It was like he was a door, and she was peeking around Izuku to spy on him.

Izuku still wasn't looking at him, though it was less the courteous way of the adults and more like he just couldn't. Like a fog settled over his eyes whenever he saw Mirio. It made his stomach turn, that blank look. He blinked; Nighteye'd been speaking to him.

"Sorry, sir. What was that?" He asked. Nighteye's upper lip curled a smidge, his eyebrow twitching.

"Why do all the talented ones have to be so scatterbrained?" Torino mumbled off to the side, wandering over to check on Setsuna. Mirio saw in the corner of his eye how he prodded her shoulder, noting how she winced. A small guilt bubbled in his gut.

"Damn, son. You did a number on our girl. To be honest though, I'm surprised you beat her. Girlie is a bit of a monster." He continued. Setsuna huffed.

"When will you quit calling me girlie? It's demeaning, you old fart." She muttered. Mirio was about to apologize, but Nighteye cut him off.

"Torino is a bit vulgar, but he cuts deep. You definitely surprised us there; we hadn't expected you to be so composed over your nudity. Was the Sports Festival just nerves?" He asked, the glare in his glasses subsiding as he bent his face down to meet Mirio's. He shook his head.

"N-nah, I guess you could say I'm a bashful guy. The Sports Festival was definitely not the first time I screwed up like that. I just figured, y'know, today I should give it my all. A little nakedness is a lot less embarrassing than falling short after talking myself up." He said, a small laugh on his lips. It was true; he'd promised he could work hard, and a promise was a promise. Nighteye'd taken a chance on him, and it was on Mirio to meet his expectations.

The flicker of annoyance on Nighteye's face had faded with his admission, a firm nod replacing it.

"That's good then; it means you aren't all talk about wanting to learn. So, how would you say Girlie stacks up to U.A.'s standards?" Torino asked, waddling back over to them. Mirio blinked at the question, tapping a finger against his lips as he considered it.

"The girl is—" He began, his eyes flicking to Setsuna. It was rude to pretend like she wasn't there. "You're about as good as any freshmen I've seen, including myself. Then again, I was a bit of a stinker at first. I got a friend, Suneater, who you remind me of. Totally opposite personalities, same vibe."

"Suneater?" Izuku said, speaking to him for the first time. His eyes had locked onto his own, but it was like they were staring straight through him. Mirio nodded, subconscious of himself. "I've heard of him; in his first internship, he helped Fatgum subdue a minor villain. Tentacles, wings; he can partially animorph, right?"

Mirio nodded, a hesitant smile on his face. Even if the boy was treating Mirio like he was translucent, he was always happy to talk about his friend.

"Sorta! He can manifest the shape of any creature he's eaten recently. He's really, really shy, but he's probably the best of us second years. The dude rocks."

"Hmm…" Izuku made a noise in his throat, but said nothing more. A small smile tugged on his lips, however. Mirio took it as a win. Setsuna stopped hiding behind the boy, but she stayed close, leaning deep into him.

"Thanks? I'm really not that good though, you should see—" She began, before Nighteye interrupted her.

"Mr. Togata," he said. "Your test isn't over yet."

Mirio blinked. Surely not.

Setsuna squeezed Izuku's shoulder, wishing him luck before she pushed him into the center of the ring just as the adults retreated.

"W-wait, are we actually..?" Mirio whispered, staring at Izuku, or to be specific, his stump. Izuku said nothing, his face blank as he slipped his shirt off just as Mirio adjusted his, making sure it'd still stick to his frame.

Mirio was taller, broader, and more muscular than this boy, yet the kid didn't even seem nervous. If anything, his silence elevated the sense of confidence that floated off him in waves.

Setsuna'd been one thing; she'd been loud, boisterous and clearly having fun. Not only that, but she'd been super capable. Mirio didn't know these kids super well, but he'd definitely gotten the impression that she was the more… active between the two.

"Same rules as before. However, brat, you gotta pick your number."

"Two." Came his response; immediate. Practiced. Mirio blinked again, confused.

"No ropes."

"Alright."

"After this, we'll go over your schedule for the rest of the week, alright?" Nighteye said, looking at Mirio. He swallowed hard, but nodded. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring himself to look away from the kid's arm. His tongue felt dry in his mouth.

"Begin!"

[x]

It was like he was a living silhouette. No matter how hard Izuku tried, no matter how much he squinted and focused, he couldn't see Mirio Togata's face. He had the pieces; tall, broad-shouldered, golden hair and a pearlescent grin. Soft lines struck down his face like thunderbolts where he smiled, his blue eyes a shade lighter than dusk. Despite the softness of his features, he possessed a defined, strong jaw. A round hairline crowned his face, matching his button nose.

Yet the pieces floated apart like a shipwreck, the image scrambled. He'd seen the boy on television, and though Nighteye had given them only the barest of warnings, Izuku knew what to expect upon his arrival. A talented, bright person with a good heart and healthy sense of shame. A powerful, but quick fighter who wore his deceipts on his bare chest; a boy who was unapologetically honest in his lies.

That'd been what he got. Izuku's first guess was right on the money, and he was glad to see it. They weren't kindred, but Izuku felt a similar sense of responsibility and charitable camaraderie floating off the guy in waves. There shouldn't have been a problem; really, he should be over the moon at the new face.

Staring at him was like trying to talk to someone to the west, the setting sun darkening their face. A golden crown of positivity haloed the boy, and it was blinding. Izuku's gut twisted against itself as he recalled the boy's greeting.

Slipping his shirt overhead, he let himself be bare chested. The cool warehouse air nipped at his naked flesh, but it was nothing to him now. Smokescreen needed bare skin, and he had learned to let go of his modesty. His figure was in great shape for his age, and he had nothing to hide. Not really.

He'd only been lifting for a year and some change, but he'd made good gains for a fourteen year old. Bulbous, supple muscles had grown over his old runner's body, giving him the best mix of speed, endurance, and power he could ask for. There was still a long road of fitness ahead, but his strength was at a good enough spot to begin the next stage of his training.

Well, should've been.

One for All bubbled in his gut as Gran Torino banned Blackwhip, the quirk warming his already fatigued frame. He willed the quirk to flood through him like a raging river, wanting the sheer power to embrace him. Such fantastic energy filled him that when Nighteye announced the start, Izuku could almost imagine static electricity jumping between his fingers.

He took a single, powerful step, and then…

Nothing. Togata's heel raised for a backstep, but for no reason. There was nothing.

No burst of speed, no insane power carried him across the arena in an instant. No divine power graced his form, filling him with the strength of Heracles. It was just a normal step forward, and it drove him crazy.

"C'mon, kid. You can't just let the power fester inside you, you have to bring it out." Five said, admonishing him from his peripherals. Izuku grit his teeth. Obviously.

Eighth's famous strength didn't course through his veins, no matter how hard his heart pumped. It hadn't taken them long to figure it out, to his dismay. Around his last birthday, Nighteye'd finally sanctioned a session to test out Eighth's strength, the best doctors just around the corner. The strength just marinated in his bones, rather than his muscles. He wasn't bullet proof, he wasn't as fast as sound. He couldn't bench press a building.

At best, someone could throw him through a wall without breaking his spine. Still, he'd suffer contusions, bruises, tears and scrapes across his softer flesh. His strength was only the slightest durability in his bones and his bones alone. His muscles were like a dead sponge, unable to hold any of what One for All should've given him.

Izuku traced the outline of Togata's figure, feeling a slight jealousy take root within. His frame was impressive; while he hadn't quite grown into adult strength, he was still better built than many men. He was broad, tall, and filled out in ways Izuku just wasn't—and never could be.

It was that bitterness that fueled him to kick off his already loose shoes, watching out for the older boy's approach. It never came. Fine.

If he wanted to go easy on Izuku, then he'd better be ready.

Flaring his nostrils, he let Smokescreen build up within him, but didn't quite release it. He let it strain against the skin of his heels, begging to break free, but ignored it for more power. A second passed as he focused; his clenched fist grounding him for a second, then two, until the clock struck five.

This time, when he stepped, he moved.

Smokescreen burst from his leg in one massive cloud, launching him in Togata's unsuspecting direction.

"Woah—Ack!" Togata screamed as he tried to dodge, but Izuku's fist shoved the air from his lungs. The blow connected just as he wanted; now, without a massive burst, his other leg propelled him to Togata's other flank. Smokescreen helped him spin through the air like a top, the torque carrying his leg through the air like a falcon's dive. The second hit came far before the blond recovered, sending him flying across the arena.

Izuku landed on the floor gingerly, leaning on his left rather than his right. He launched and kicked with the same leg, and doing both back-to-back put a real strain on him. Still, he was steady, and showed the older boy a strong front as he staggered to his feet. Had Izuku kicked the boy in the head, this'd already been over.

"Careful, Mirio! Izuku's a freak of nature like us!" Setsuna called out, encouraging the boy to his feet. Togata coughed, his unblemished hand unsure whether to cradle his abused shoulder or gut. This was the second time he'd been liver-punched today, Izuku thought. He should probably stop that; if he kept using hits like that, then the boy might go home on a stretcher.

For a moment, he felt a little annoyed at Setsuna's comment. Encouraging his opponent, then calling Izuku a freak? Yet there was no ill-will in his gut; and there never would be towards her. She knew what he was capable of, and who needed more help. Izuku could always appreciate that about her, how she always managed to sniff out the underdog. Too often, though, she just assumed it was her.

Just another thing to work on together, he thought. He shifted into a more defensive stance, his right flank forward and left leg back as Togata finally secured himself.

"Blondey really likes eating those big first-hits, doesn't he?" Torino mumbled to Nighteye.

"Indeed. Mr. Togata, you do remember that you can just phase through those, do you not?" Nighteye said, sarcasm thick on his tongue like an accent. When he didn't reply, Nighteye continued. "That's one down. Two more and it's Izuku's win. Continue."

Togata's head tilted towards Izuku's, but where his eyes settled, he couldn't say. Even now, his stomach acid felt curdled, his intestines twisting together like a python. He just couldn't place why Togata made him feel this way.

Izuku glanced at Nighteye, wondering. Why had he brought on an intern? It was obvious to everyone that he could barely tolerate Setsuna, and she wasn't even around for most of the week. All the man said was that they'd have a temporary partner, and that he'd specifically requested Nighteye's help. It wasn't the man's nature to just take on students for the sake of it. Izuku loved the man, but even he saw how short he was with people who made his life more complicated.

Was this some kind of test, to bring out Eighth's strength? Did he think that a tough fight would help him finally activate Float? These questions and a hundred like them floated around his brain as he watched Togata inspect him.

It was when Izuku let his mind wander too far that Togata struck, dashing at him faster than he'd expected. He'd thought the boy's larger frame would slow him down, but he was just as if not faster than Izuku was without propelling.

He threw a wide haymaker at Izuku's right side, which threw him off. He was more used to guarding his left flank with his remaining arm rather than his right. Most people went for the obvious weakness. He couldn't tell if the boy was still holding out on him or just messing with him, but he elected to dedicate less brainpower to pondering that and more toward dodging. Izuku didn't have the strength to block such a heavy hit, but he could try and redirect it with a wrist-tap.

Instead of de-escalating the power, however, Izuku's knuckles punctured right through his wrist, alongside the rest of his hand. Togata's arm moved unimpeded through Izuku's guard, planting itself into the flesh of his cheek. Izuku let out a microburst of Smokescreen off his face to dampen the blow, but it still sent his smaller frame flying and head bouncing against the floor.

Izuku stayed on the ground for a second, catching his breath. In Izuku's preoccupied state, he'd almost—scratch that, he'd forgotten about Togata's quirk. It slipped his mind to track its specifics during Setsuna's fight; he'd still been wrestling with the boy's vibe at the time, trying to discern how he felt. Despite his lack of attention, however, even he couldn't miss how the boy avoided Setsuna's ultimate attack, her limb storm. How he'd been untouchable for brief moments.

Over him, two Togatas stuck their hand out, offering him help up. Izuku blinked, squinting as the boy's features lightened, the puzzle simplifying. Izuku stumbled to his feet by himself, backing away to get a better view of a boy. A few hard blinks and a shake of his head later, Togata's twin disappeared.

"Damn, Midoriya, you ate that shit. Do you need to stop? We don't want you getting hurt too bad." Torino said. Izuku shook his head, trying to throw off any lingering dizziness. Togata's shoulders stood slumped in concern, but Izuku raised his fist back to his chin, defiant. It was like he could see the boy's muscles tense in response; or, maybe he could, if he turned Danger Sense up enough. As it was, he could feel a vague, growing threat as Togata resumed his fighting stance.

Their fight was a lot less fun than Setsuna's. With them, it'd been a battle of abilities and bluffs; how could Mirio overcome her powers when the rules were against him? How could the ultimate defense beat supreme maneuverability?

With Izuku, it was more about trying to out-perform him. Of course, Smokescreen was an ability factor, but the simple necessity of being better outstripped its importance. Without Blackwhip, there were only two victorious paths he could see, and he didn't much like either of them.

If he could use Float, it'd be easier; as would having Eight's ultimate strength. He could just hover out of range, throwing wind-attacks at him from afar until he couldn't go intangible anymore. That thought made his stomach twist in annoyance, but it also brought up a greater question. What were the limits of his power?

His mind was racing as they inched toward each other, feeling out their next moves. Togata'd taken three serious hits today, but Izuku was weaker and had taken a brain-rattling punch to the chin. It was impossible to say who had it worse, but it was also impossible to say the extent of his own damage. Had the hit incapacitated his perception? Had he taken a concussion? Togata would be fine in that regard, and even if Izuku was clear, he couldn't be certain, and that would breed hesitation.

He thought back to the lessons of all his mentors, trying to recall any helpful advice. From Nighteye, he considered tactics; how to stay safe, how to guard and plan well. He put a bit of weight onto his right leg; it felt recovered.

Sasami'd done him a great service in her lessons. Deciphering Togata's power would've otherwise felt like trying to read hieroglyphs without the Rosetta Stone. What did he know? The boy could pass through any object, but doing so meant he couldn't hold onto his clothes. He'd phased through his arm and still connected his punch, all without stripping.

If he had so much finesse with his ability, why had he taken those opening hits? The same thing happened with Setsuna. It was so strange, why didn't he just—

Danger Sense screamed in his ears, guiding him to jerk his head to the side. Togata's fist cut the skin of his right cheek, almost tearing his ear off as it flashed past his head like a train. On instinct, Izuku wrapped his arm around Togata's elbow as he tried to knee the teen in the gut. Had it been any other opponent, that might've been the end.

Izuku's knee hit nothing but loose shirt, his leg resting somewhere between Togata's kidney and liver. His arm, however, remained tangible and pinned, so Izuku took advantage. Shifting his weight, he twisted and flung Togata over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground. Or, he should've, had the boy not decided to keep going with the momentum.

One moment, Izuku had him pinned, and the next, all Izuku was looking at was a pile of clothes on the floor.

He had no time to react as Danger Sense screamed at him, the elbow already having connected with the back of his head.

It'd been instant. With almost no time to react, Izuku had taken another serious head-blow and ate dirt. Thoughts hung loose on the shelves of his brain; books were sidestacked, tilted, and the spines were facing the wall. For a good few seconds, all he knew was the oddity of his confusion, and the taste of the waxed wooden floors.

Breath came to his lungs ragged and torn, like refugees after a long, troublesome march. He became aware at a snail's pace, first realizing he was on his stomach, then that his head hurt, and finally that someone was speaking.

"—rry, I'm sorry, are you alright?" Togata's voice echoed around his head, unimpeded by this brain like his skull was empty. Izuku tried to clench his fist, but his strength was like a baby's, his motor control gone. Several seconds passed before he was able to roll himself over, and even then it took all he had.

The overhead lights of the warehouse were more blinding than the sun. The overexposure made him want to close his eyes, but looking at Togata and Nighteye leaning over him set a fire under his ass, the spite forcing him awake.

In one awkward, jerking motion, Izuku sat up, brushing off their help. Annoyance was building in his gut, One for All bearing its teeth under his ribs. He wanted to punch something.

"Kid, you gotta relax. You don't need to keep going; the spar can be over. No need to push yourself like this." Five said, his spectral hand on his shoulder. Not thinking, Izuku tried shoving it off, a growl in his throat.

"Shut it, Five…" Izuku whispered, his anger only growing with Five's easy attitude. Izuku hadn't been this thoroughly thrashed in a while, and soft words and low assurances weren't doing anything but further enraging him. He looked to his companions, all possessing a hazy twin at their hip. The world tilted upright and sideways, his perception fogged. The Togatas were wearing all their clothes; how long had he been out? The Nighteyes appeared grave, the Torinos looked worried. His world only seemed to grow more erratic as he stood there, deep breaths beating against his lungs like he'd just finished drowning. The thoughts in his head grew louder with each second, Five's pleas drowning him everytime he tried to calm himself—

A tiny, pale hand planted itself on his side, silencing the noise in his head.

"Izu, you good?" Setsuna whispered, standing inches away. He blinked. The world was still out of focus, but it'd stabilized. He turned to the girl, her green eyes glowing with a small concern. It made the annoyance burn itself out, the growing anger stunt. Guilt replaced those feelings tenfold, but it calmed him, bringing him back to the moment.

Izuku looked to Togata, who was staring at him wide-eyed, his face a little less of a puzzle. The guilt Izuku harbored in his gut mirrored Togata's expression, even as Izuku struggled to see it.

Togata phased through the ground, Izuku realized. Becoming real again must've been the answer: when he regained his tangibility, he couldn't just exist within another space. It was kind've like high particle physics; when his matter realized it was in the wrong place, it pushed him to the nearest space it could. Today, to Mirio's good fortune, had been right behind him.

He could do all that, but Izuku could still grapple his arm. The cogs were beginning to turn in his brain, the stars aligning. It took focused effort to become intangible, and it wasn't a body-wide phenomenon. It wasn't like flicking a single lightswitch lit the whole house; he had to go room by room most times; and sometimes, in emergencies, he just had to swipe all the levers on the fuse box. Then it clicked: Mirio'd gotten lucky, reappearing behind him. The boy didn't quite have the control to do that move on command, and Izuku could abuse that.

Another thing was that he couldn't breathe or see when he made his organs intangible. Izuku'd noticed the way Togata's breath had caught in his throat when he kneed his gut, and if he couldn't breath, what reason did he have to say the boy could see, too?

All Izuku's thoughts were debris in a hurricane, circling wildly in the sky as his brain formed an image. Making his feet intangible meant he fell through the ground, it took dedicated effort to go intangible, and he couldn't perceive through intangible appendages. Izuku's eyes bore holes into where Togata's face should've been, his brain still in overdrive. One by one, the pieces were starting to fit together.

Blond hair, incredible physique, a beautiful spirit… The bud of an idea took root within, his guilt ridden gut growing queasier with it. His rough, calloused fingers brushed Setsuna's own, peeling them off his flank with a gentleness he only reserved for two people.

"Yeah, I am. Togata… has two more drops in him. I've got one. I'm good to go."

No one said anything, but Izuku could feel their looks of doubt level him. He shook them off, stepping towards a hesitant Togata.

"You said your friend was Suneater, right?" He asked. Togata gave him a bewildered, slow nod. "I can see what you mean about him and Set. Their personalities are total polar opposites, but they're cut from the same cloth. They've got dramatic, special powers and fight like it. I've seen his videos a hundred times. They're a good mix of tactics and strength."

Togata's face slid into one of slight understanding. Izuku continued.

"We, on the other hand, rely more so on technique and finesse. I'm starting to see why Nighteye brought you along… We're good, Togata, but if we keep going, I think we could be better." Izuku said, throwing out his hand for a knuckle tap-in. Everyone bar Togata took a step back, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Togata stepped forward, the image of his smile pressing against Izuku's mind like an iron brand.

"That's the most Plus Ultra thing I've heard all month. Call me Mirio." He said, tapping his knuckle against Izuku's.

"Don't go easy on me." Izuku said, before bursting into a leg sweep with Smokescreen.

The extra speed caught Mirio by surprise, but he didn't fall for it. Instead, he jumped back, avoiding the attack entirely. Izuku never let up, though, and kept propelling himself into a flurry of attacks. He kept his targets simple; Mirio's face, his ankles, and his chest. He moved faster than any normal human could, but the blond kept a good pace, dodging what he could and phasing through what he couldn't.

Izuku didn't bother dispelling the lingering effects of Smokescreen. He let them build into a cloud behind him. The furious exchange lasted several seconds as Izuku upshifted into the next gear, doubling his output as well as pace. Now, Mirio was beginning to fall behind. In the Sports Festival, he'd been the smaller, faster opponent, and he'd grown accustomed to it. Now, however, he was the tank, and he didn't know how to play against a lighter, quicker rogue-type. Izuku didn't bother aiming his attacks for his extremities; those, Mirio could just block or phase through no problem. Aiming for his weak spots was far more economical.

When he punched Mirio's chest, he wouldn't be able to breathe. When his heel cut through his face, he couldn't see. When his toes punctured his ankles, he couldn't phase, otherwise risking falling through the floor. Attacks didn't get through his defense often, but when they did, they did more to set up the next move rather than do damage. Everything Izuku did functioned as a one-two; first, he dazed, second, he critically hit. Danger Sense did great work here, allowing him to get in close without taking hits in return; but it was reliant on Izuku's ability to react, and wasn't an automatic defense.

Eventually, a hit slipped through Izuku's guard, the boy's heel connecting with Izuku's gut like a sledgehammer. It sent him flying, but by flipping backward in the air, he landed on his feet. Smokescreen dampened the blow, blunting it to less than half power. Still, it stung like hell. Mirio hesitated, worried that Izuku wouldn't get up, and that's when he began.

The cloud behind them was monstrous, eating up a good sixteen square meters. All it took was a thought, a simple whim, for Izuku's technique to work. He'd put the years to good use, honing the control of his first quirk beyond any other of his other abilities.

Dashing back forward, he carried the whole of the cloud at his back. Mirio stood stock still, surprised beyond belief at the sudden control; Izuku hadn't manipulated a cloud around the boy, and now he was about to see his best.

Flinging the whole weight of the cloud towards Mirio took no more effort than throwing a basketball one-handed. The blond blocked the gas from his eyes as he weathered the blunt force and the wind alike as all of Izuku's excess tore at him; or what he thought was all.

Izuku watched as the cloud consumed Mirio, blocking Izuku's view of the boy for a brief second. When at last all the smoke had blown past the boy, his form reappeared with windswept hair and tears in his shirt. Izuku didn't even give him a chance.

Throwing his hand forward, the remnants of the cloud he didn't throw exploded from their compacted orb, no larger than a marble across. The impact was like a horse's kick, knocking the wind out of Mirio and sending him skidding across his back.

"Oh, shit!" Setsuna called out from the sidelines. Izuku didn't startle, or jump forward in concern. Though it stung a bit, he'd allowed Danger Sense to latch onto Mirio. He'd never hit someone so hard they'd be in serious trouble; and that Orb Attack, while powerful and painful, wasn't even enough to knock him out, let alone become lethal.

As if to confirm his private thoughts, Mirio got to his feet, coughing as he regained his breath. Smoke collected between his ankles, the residuals fading away. Izuku could've wrestled those whisps under his control, trapping and tripping up his opponent for further advantage, but it felt unsportsmanlike.

"Next knock is out. I suggest finishing this quickly, before one of you has to go to the hospital." Nighteye said from the sidelines. Izuku nodded, shifting back into a defensive stance. He could still use a bit more of Smokescreen, but his throat couldn't take much more abuse. Constant propelling did a number to a guy.

"Dude, you guys are—ack," Mirio started, pausing to cough. "So strong. Where the heck have you been hiding these kids, Sir?"

"You'd be surprised how poorly I've managed to hide one of them." Nighteye replied, side-eyeing Izuku. "Still, they won't be hidden for long. You're looking at our personal candidates for U.A.'s new recommended program."

Mirio stretched his arms a bit, taking deep breaths as he recovered.

"Not to toot my own horn, but me and my pals are kind've big deals around campus. Vlad called me a modern talent, when he was still my teacher. Next year, we might even start breaking the non-All Might records." Mirio said, not noticing the way Izuku's eyes widened. "But if these kids are in the new 1Z Nedzu's been hyping up, I can't imagine any of our records will last."

Izuku was a mix of confusion and revulsion; the mention of Eight made his heart burn, but the talk of 1Z piqued his interest. What was that?

Before he had time to question it, Mirio had already returned to his spot, fisticuffs raised.

"That was a nice shot, man, but don't think it'll happen again!" He said, before pushing into a charge. Danger Sense roared in his ears as he dropped a sudden flurry of blows upon Izuku's guard, as if he hadn't just been knocked on his back mere seconds ago.

It was like all the damage Izuku'd delivered had been for nothing. Mirio pushed on, tanking everything like a madman as Izuku's counterattacks fell apart with the boy's urgency. Without propelling, the blond had enough speed to counter everything Izuku tried, and began pummeling him.

Izuku dedicated what little Smokescreen he had left to dampening the oncoming hits. Bursts of smoke smothered the force coming towards his shoulder, his chest, his thighs, even his face a handful of times. Still, even as the hits meant little to Izuku, damage cushion extraordinaire, he couldn't keep up.

Concentrating, Izuku gathered all the stray puffs of smoke into a few micro orbs, tossing them into Mirio's face like smoke pellets. Though his head phased through the first two, his blindness made it impossible to dodge the third one Izuku delayed.

"Gah!" Mirio said, his eyes full of Izuku's exhaust. Dashing back, Izuku tried to think of a plan during his brief reprieve, catching his breath. The power difference was too much; the boy punched harder and faster, all while having enough stamina to double Izuku's own. He didn't know what to do, desperation searing through him.

Then, his skin began to itch. Blackwhip gathered beneath his flesh, the quirk coming to aid in his crisis. Izuku grit his teeth, shoving it back into the box he kept it in. Breaking the rules was a surefire way to get this match canceled. It didn't go down easily; it fought back, biting and barking within him, straining against its leash. Izuku tried to be a heavy handed master, but it just wasn't enough when the quirk woke up like this.

Izuku had gone leaps and bounds in terms of directing Blackwhip, but control wasn't something he had in spades. Blackwhip did what it wanted, and what it wanted was to go free; all Izuku had managed to do was channel that desire into his own. But when Blackwhip woke up and Izuku had no desire to channel it, Blackwhip was liable to go on a rampage.

Izuku clutched his midrift, trying to hold it all back. All across the bare flesh of his arms, little green plotches were growing. His control was slipping, and One for All was roaring and screaming and fighting within him—

Mirio's punch rocketed into Izuku's gut, breaking his concentration. Even as his shoulders slammed into the floor, Blackwhip ripped free from his skin, surging from the depths of his soul like the kraken. Only, instead of capsizing a ship, the evil limbs gripped Mirio.

The quirk wrapped the boy from head to toe, trying to cage him where he couldn't escape. Mirio's strangled scream cut off as he turned intangible, slipping into the floor. Yet Blackwhip fed off of One for All, and Danger Sense was a part of it. The sixth sense felt where the boy would reappear, and Blackwhip answered the unspoken challenge. The tentacles launched themselves at a random chunk of floor, grabbing Mirio the millisecond he popped back into existence. Again, the boy's surprised yell was cut off as he fell back through to the floor, and thus Blackwhip fed off Danger Sense again, grabbing him as he reemerged.

The wild quirk trapped Mirio just as it savaged Izuku's form with excruciating pain.

"Cut us off! Kid, cut us out—!" Five's scream faded away as Izuku dropped One for All, cutting off the source of Blackwhip's strength. The buzzing scream of Blackwhip faded away alongside the quirk's warmth, his bones suddenly feeling a lot colder than seconds prior.

Footsteps thundered in his eardrums as he cradled his painstricken form, body on its side. He didn't know who was above him, it could've been Setsuna, Nighteye, or even Gran Torino for all he could tell. His entire attention, in that moment, was regaining control over himself and the freakish strength of his wild quirk. A hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him to attention. Though all he wanted to was to curl back into himself, Izuku let himself be rolled onto his back. His stomach was tearing itself apart as he looked up, his embarrassment, shame, and anxiety all boiling over as Mirio Togata's face finally clicked in his mind.

"Woah, woah, chill out, man. I'm here, we're here, it's just us. No reason to stress, alright? We're chill." Mirio Togata said, just as Nighteye and Setsuna peaked over his shoulder. Izuku's heart was hammering in his chest; it wasn't just the shame at his loss of control, however, it was his realization.

It was the way he looked at Izuku, despite having just seen tentacles burst out of his skin. The way his first instinct was concern for Izuku, even as he himself had gotten thrashed moments prior. It was the way his eyes reflected the sky in them, the way his hair reminded Izuku of the sunset. The gentle, good-natured movements of his broad shoulders and nimble feet. The way his smile refracted only the purest light.

Mirio was the spitting image of All Might.

[x]

AN: I think this might be my favorite chapter? It's hard to say; I barely remember the rest of the story. Anyone willing to list off their favorite events? How does this story stick out? Either way, the next chapter is kinda boring, but the ending is really spicy. You'll love it. Anyways, I got my AO3 account, but I'm reluctant to start cross-posting yet. I wish the earlier chapters were better but they need to be rehauled to be improved, and that's a task I'm not willing to take up right now.

Review! This is now my most viewed story, and if I'm correct, I'll be hitting the 200th review with this post. As I'm writing this, I'm flat 500 favorites, and that's just wow. Let's go, guys. W. The road to a thousand starts now.