"Ohhh…" Kaminari said, whimpering. His shoulders went limp as he curled in on himself, the sounds of his nausea more than obvious. Kouda rested a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it in sympathy.
"It seems Mr. Kaminari is a bit ill. Kouda, would you mind escorting him to Recovery Girl? Hurry back afterwards, if you can. I wouldn't want you to miss anything." Aizawa said, his face relaxing back into his neutral expression—but Izuku could still see the hint of his manic grin. It crinkled the corner of his eyes, gleaming in the depths of his irises.
The large boy nodded, lifting Kaminari by the arm and escorting him away.
As soon as the duo were out of sight, Aizawa pivoted to Toru and Mezou.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Your prep time is dwindling."
Toru spluttered over herself as Mezou tilted his head, confused.
"But… wasn't he Two? What about Midoriya? Who's gonna be his partner?"
Izuku said nothing as Aizawa shrugged.
"Nothing's changed. Sometimes, you lose people in the field, and have to get the job done yourself."
Mezou fell silent, his feelings awkward on his face. The large boy glanced between Izuku and Kaminari's vomit.
"That's crap!" Kirishima said, pushing his way into the forefront of the students. "That's not fair to—"
"Kirishima."
Hearing his name, the red-headed boy zipped shut. Perhaps Izuku's tone could've been a bit more polite, but by no means was Kirishima's interjection necessary. Already, people were on Kirishima's heels. Uraraka and Ashido were by his side, silent but present, and Hitoshi and Tokoyami were close behind. Izuku could almost laugh—the look of confusion stretched across Kirishima's face was near comical.
He raised a fist to his ear and pumped it, willing One for All to rev in his gut. Immediately, an itch traversed his body, centering around his shoulder and rippling through his back in waves. His pupils dilated, and the overhead sun grew bothersome with his sensitive eyes. Energy flowed through him—like he plugged into the world, and its data downloaded straight to his brain. A deep breath had his lungs craving more.
He closed his eyes, and for a brief, infantesimal second, imagined himself far, far away—in the rubble of a destroyed mall, a helicopter's engine thick in his ears—and then his eyes opened, and he gave his friends a solid nod.
"Aizawa's right." Izuku said, before waving Toru and Mezou onwards. "Sometimes, heroes… are alone in the fight. It's logical, and honestly, I prefer it this way—though I hope Kaminari feels better."
Mezou gave him a long, multifaceted stare—of his six limbs, half grew into eyes. A thick moment passed between them, and Izuku thought he might refute him, and request a second opponent. After a few seconds of searching, however, Mezou's eyes seemed to see something, blink, and melt back into hands.
"Alright."
The pair of gloves jumped as the larger boy turned away and slipped into Aizawa's indicated building. They hovered in the air, conflicted, but soon scurried off. The only indication of their hesitation was the way her gloves hovered around the entrance for a tad longer than necessary.
Aizawa pulled out his phone, scanning it with a quick glance.
"They wasted almost half their time with a decision not even in their hands. Well, shame. Midoriya, leave in two and a half minutes. Everyone else, follow me."
Izuku nodded, and watched the class file away whilst counting seconds in his head. One by one, they all made their way into a building across the street. He was hyper aware of the attention that stuck to him, however, despite how the class dispersed around him.
Kirishima kept throwing him concerned glances, and Ibara's dull green eyes left impressions on his whole form. He elected to ignore them and focus on planning.
What was the goal of this trial? To test out their skills, powers, and strategies? Probably—though Aizawa mentioned something about testing their suits, too.
Something crashed in the villain's hideout, and the impact swam through all the building's supports and into the pavement, kissing Izuku's shoes. It shook his knees a bit.
If he had to guess, he'd assume these miniature earthquakes were thanks to Mezou's great strength. They were probably blocking off the entrance…
Izuku couldn't help the small smile that grew over his lips. He hadn't been lying when he said he preferred it this way. The strongest kid and the stealthiest kid being on the same team? The thought of picking them apart stirred the excitement of One for All.
Blackwhip burst through his suit's left shoulder, though it didn't tear—rather, the material separated on its own accord. Without a thought, half a dozen more Blackwhips sprouted and braided into an arm. In his head, he could practically hear the clock alarm blaring. A single glance at his phone confirmed it; so he saluted the nearest camera and took a deep breath.
[x]
"Mr. Aizawa, sir?" Ibara asked, her voice quiet. Despite the numerous people in the observation deck, her near-whisper pierced every ear. Eijiro turned to her, then, pulled from his reverie by her inquisitive tone. "Is it truly… noble to allow Midoriya to challenge the two of them? It hardly seems fair."
Eijiro opened his mouth, but no words came out. He agreed it wasn't fair—but something about the way Ibara said it made him uncomfortable.
Glancing around, he noticed the way the whole class seemed to shift. Some muttered their agreements, others—Uraraka and Ashido most prominently—grumbled the opposite. Beside him, Tokoyami shook his head, his eyes closed.
"Noble?" Aizawa asked, swiveling around to face them in his chair. Behind him was a grand array of screens, each connected to a monitor. "Are you concerned about the nobility of the exercise, Ms. Ibara?"
She nodded—and beside her, Reiko did too.
"Yeah," Reiko said. "I am too. It seriously isn't fair. I… we all saw what Midoriya could do, yesterday—what with the second ball-toss and the Zero Pointer's remains—but we also saw the physical exam. It takes him a lot of time to make those big moves, and without them, he's nowhere near Mezou's level, physically. The guy is literally down seven arms from his opponents. As things are, the whole exercise seems pointless."
Aizawa didn't say anything for a while, considering her words. Eijiro squinted his eyes at the screens behind the man—as he took his time to answer Reiko's question, something began to happen. Like himself, Uraraka seemed glued to the screens.
The very first camera, the one overlooking the starting street, went black. Then the second, in the building's entrance. Then the third at the first floor's first cross-section hallway. After that, the original camera lightened. It faded from flat, smothered black to a thin green, and then whisps, and then it was clear once again. The building almost acted like a vacuum, Eijiro noticed, in the way it seemed to suck up this green gas.
"I agree that this is an unfortunate pairing, Ibara, Reiko. And it's a shame that Kaminari took a turn for the ill—but I'm afraid you might be under the wrong impression. By no means is this a fair matchup, that's true… but your perspective might be a bit warped."
Suddenly, behind Aizawa's head, the path of the darkening cameras split. Two clouds formed. One took the left path, and a second took the right. On the array, it looked like two dark-green snakes slithering in opposite directions. At last, it finally clicked in Eijiro's brain: this was Midoriya's quirk, and he was using the clouds as camouflauge.
Shattered glass pierced everyone's ears—but the array had no speakers. Eijiro and Hitoshi scrambled to the nearest window, and he nearly fell out of it in surprise. One of those cloud-snakes exploded out the building's windows and surged into the sky above. His eyes climbed as the soft structure ballooned outward. What started as little more than a car-sized cloud grew into something far, far larger than the building beneath.
Twisting back to the array, he saw how the remaining cloud-snake accelerated, no longer slithering but now speeding through all the halls and floors of the building. Eijiro could hardly keep up as, in half a minute, Midoriya's cloud cleared the bottom three floors. They stopped all at once, then, and hovered outside of the villain's hideout, its searching ceased.
"Man, what the hell is Midoriya's quick?" Someone muttered from behind him. Turning, he made out the confused expression of Sero, and he couldn't help but nod.
"Really." Kirishima said, before glancing at Hitoshi and Uraraka. "You guys saw him in action, right? What was he like in the test? I saw the rope-canon thing, but I won't lie, it kinda went right over my head."
"His power is weird," Uraraka said, pulling her eyes from the screen. "He's got black ropes and green-smoke-gas-stuff. All I know for certain is that with enough of either, he can produce some serious power."
"Not only that," Hitoshi interjected, pointing back to the screen, where the other smoke cloud had finally arrived at the top floor. Instead of barreling straight into the bomb room, however, the cloud suddenly stopped. "He's pretty good at delicate work too. During the test, I saw him using the smoke like a sniper. I'm not sure how it works, really, but I think it's pressure-based. I—"
The cloud on the top floor condensed in a blink, revealing the green-gray form of Midoriya. A dark jaw-mask adorned his face, but even through it, Eijiro could make out the hint of a smile. His emissions seemed to swirl in place, rather than stay stagnant. At first, it was like a hurricane, but then it thinned out, becoming tornado-like.
Despite blitzing through the whole building, Midoriya seemed to slow down, here. He approached the door, and when it didn't budge, he walked away, his smokescreen swirling between his hands all the while. About seven paces from the entrance, he stopped, and faced the wall.
"What's he doing?" Tokoyami muttered under his breath, so quiet that Eijiro thought he was the only one to hear. To his surprise, however, Mina jumped at the words. She bounced from foot to foot, stars in her golden-black eyes.
"Ooh! Ooh! I think I know! Setsuna told me about this! I think it's something new!"
Uraraka's cheeks nearly flew off her face with how fast she spun on Mina.
"Setsuna?" She asked, a crack in her voice. Eyes drew to the two as the girls stared at each other, both equally flushed. Mina spluttered, short for words.
"Oh! Uh—ah, Setsuna! She's in 1Z, and she's his—"
Aizawa glanced over his shoulder, and the class fell silent.
"Focus. This is a part of your grade."
The class's attention returned to the screens—all except for one Ochako Uraraka, whose red-cheeked stare seemed glued to Mina.
Something happened on Izuku's screen. The little tornado he'd nursed seemed to twist in on itself, turning 90 degrees and flattening into a disk-like shape. Gaps appeared along the edges, but they were a blur—like serrated teeth on a circular saw.
The black-rope quirk arm and his flesh arm came together—keeping apart by an inch at most. Between his palms, the smoke-disk stabilized. Then, in a burst of motion, the hands came flying apart, and with them, the smoke-disk separated, splitting into four separate paper plate-esk shapes.
Finally, Midoriya thrust his quirk-arm and flesh-arm forward together, and the disks shot forward, disappearing into the wall. Eijiro blinked. Nothing seemed to happen—
Lifting a knee up to his chest, Izuku's leg exploded outwards. The wall came away in a perfect rectangle, and the eight-inch-thick pure concrete fell over domino-style. Eijiro, all the way across the street, could hear the impact of the stone slab crashing against the floor. Izuku's smoke immediately swallowed the dust it kicked up and dispersed it. The hallway's camera drank in the last view of Midoriya's shoulders as he stepped into the villain's lair.
"Oh. Heavens." Ibara, the vine-headed girl muttered. "That was… quite a kick."
"Forget the kick… were those fucking saws?"
"Damn."
Watching the scene, he felt his hand harden on reflex. As an old habit from his youth, it was how he dealt with stress. Slowly, finger by finger, he softened. With each intentional act, he began to relax—and then wonder. If Midoriya could manage all this despite missing an arm, what kind of hero was he trying to be? He must have put an asinine effort into his training… No, that didn't matter so much as his next inquiry. Through all this power, this skill, this weight and trauma… who did Midoriya want to be? …Just a hero? Was this insane finesse just the trade off for his amputation, or something… more?
He thought back to yesterday morning, when the son of Japan's greatest hero basically told Midoriya to "hurry the hell up." Hurry what up? Did he mean joining 1Z? Was that Midoriya's goal? To get to the streets as fast as possible? To put his obvious talent to work? If he was so talented, then why was he in 1A in the first place? Who was he? What…
His flurry of questions slowed, upon realizing he was missing the big fight. He turned his attention back to the top screens, but the weight of his confusion stayed with him.
It left him feeling a little hollow. Who was Eijiro to wonder after another man, when he didn't even know who he wanted to be himself?
"Yes…" Aizawa said, muttering more to himself than the girls now. "It's an unfair matchup… but not for Midoriya. Really, this exercise would be more accurate if Midoriya was on the villain's side. It's very rare nowadays, since the Era of Peace, that it's the villains faced with the overwhelming threat, rather than the heroes…"
[x]
Shoji heaved the second stone pillar across the door, fully blocking off the only entrance. It must've been close to a ton, but he managed—being strong made a lot of things manageable.
Hero school, for one. It was either that or construction work, and sometimes his parents hadn't been so sure about him being in the city… but he knew what he wanted. Another perk of strength: it gave him the piece of mind to discover himself. Not long after realizing his power, he knew he wanted to use it. What'd taken a while was figuring out what that meant.
Somewhere in the room, Toru sneezed. Besides her gloves, it was the only indicator of her physical presence, but he hadn't forgotten her. He'd been extra careful setting down the stone pillars, even if only because he was afraid he might squish her by accident. She was a small little thing, he figured, from the sound of her footsteps. So, naturally, he worried for her.
That mindset was the catalyst for his stay in U.A.
He had strength. She did not—at least not a conventional one. She had skills, yes, innate ones, but no power in her frame. Shoji'd like to get to know her, if all goes well, and glimpse her inner strength—that was for later. Now, they needed to prepare. Toru, mentally, and Shoji, physically.
His top set of hands morphed into jaws—he couldn't quite adjust their size yet, but he did his best to generate harsh mandibles. The bottom two became various forms of hands. He kept the nails short on the middle set, more so focusing on calluses. The lowest became almost cat-like, with thin fingers and long, thick nails that came to a point.
Shoji had no real intention of scratching Midoriya, of course… but having such a tool was welcome. Far below, perhaps two floors, a window shattered. Thankfully, Shoji had the foresight to also block off the windows with stone pillars as well. In fact, he'd nearly sealed them shut—only the few gaps in his barricades allowed air to filter through.
Very, very slowly, Shoji became aware of a low buzzing noise.
His mind, unoccupied beyond base concerns, wandered back to the root cause of this event: Midoriya.
He was somewhat like Toru, in a sense: petite, small, and lacking obvious strength. Yesterday, when he saw the guy rip his own arm off, Shoji'd nearly lost it—and then he almost lost it again when he realized Aizawa knew. The whiplash nearly broke his neck.
Yet Midoriya, who seemed so small at a glance, pushed onwards regardless. He wasn't like Shoji—he couldn't regrow limbs, his great strength wasn't natural, but he made good use of what he had.
That clicked when he threw a baseball out of orbit. Then, in the lockers, when he'd perhaps snuck an inappropriate glance at his peer's thin frame, only to realize he wasn't skinny—just cut from marble. He was small, yes, but packed. Still, his muscles would never be enough to compete with Shoji's own. Midoriya's defining trait, it seemed to him, was his determination. For Shoji, it was his power.
The low buzzing grew in his ears, and suddenly Toru's voice pierced the dull roar.
"Huh? Do you hear something?"
He shook his head and put one clawed finger to his lips. Kneeling, he morphed one of his clawed hands into an ear and pressed it straight to the floor.
Immediately, a far more voracious warning assaulted him than he'd expected.
"Toru! In position!"
Tiny footsteps dashed across the room, chasing after the odd appearance of floating tape. He wasn't so much a fan of capture tape, but rules are rules, and they'd eliminate Midoriya without having to hurt him. All Shoji would have to do, if the guy even got in the room, was distract him.
It simplified things. Made things manageable. He was strong, so Midoriya wouldn't even worry about Toru until it was too late. The little guy had some strength, it was obvious, but he was human, just like everybody else. He'd always assume the biggest threat were guys like him. The only dangers were his persistence and will to resist.
All too quickly, the buzzing ceased. It was a sharp change, one that nearly tripped him up. As fast as he could, he morphed his other hand into an ear as well and placed both against the floor.
It was a matter of seconds before Shoji deduced Midoriya's exact position—a little left of the main door. Accompanying him was an odd swirling noise, like wind stirring sand. He glanced behind him at the giant bomb, making sure it was still in place, before rising.
Sliding a leg back, he bent his knees and morphed his ears back into clawed hands. Across the room, Toru's stance also lowered, her tape stretched out and prepared.
Shoji took a deep breath and focused. He'd put down Midoriya easily, without brutalizing him. He didn't want to hurt him, and his strength would make that easy.
If, that is, he ever got in. Which he doubted. The guy could cook up a powerful base-ball cannon, but using that kind of technique indoors would just set off the bomb.
Vroom.
Green smoke exploded outwards from the wall, four disk-like shapes appearing and vanishing in a blink. A moment later, a deep thud impacted the wall, and to Shoji's total astonishment, came crashing down. As if cut, a perfect square fell away from the thick stone wall and slammed into the floor, shaking the whole building. Immediately, his eyes flicked to Toru, who was closer to the impact than him.
He only had a second to understand that she'd fallen before black ropes exploded across his vision, seizing him and flinging him aside. The impact against the wall shoved the air from his lungs. Shoji tried blinking away the blackness that threatened him, but only half of it disappeared. He made to move, to stand on his own accord, but found the black ropes only grew, not weakened, and their strength only increased the more he resisted.
Midoriya was like a mother tree, and his roots sprang across the room to envelop him. Shoji choked out an exclamation, but the darkness smothered it. Vertigo threatened to overtake him. His vision wavered, darkening, and for a moment, all he could see were the inflections of light, and Midoriya was darkness.
Then something bright reflected in the corner of his eye, and he almost relaxed. Toru dashed at Midoriya with near-inhuman velocity, her capture tape a tiny white blur. Unlike before, when her footstep's signature was as light as a feather, now disappeared entirely. Midoriya would never see it coming—
Instantly, Midoriya ducked under Toru's first tape-swipe, hopped over her second, spun away from her third, and pivoted around her forth. With one arm dedicated to maintaining Shoji's prison, he fought her off unilaterally. The exchange was furious, but ultimately ended with Midoriya smacking the capture tape from her hand. The roll went flying, leaving the girl with just her gloves.
Then her gloves went flying too, though of her own accord, and she tried to assault Midoriya bare-knuckled. Shoji had no way of knowing if she was a good fighter or not, but even he'd be hard pressed to handle attacks he couldn't see—but Midoriya didn't seem to harbor any such weakness.
Even one-armed, even tethered to Shoji, he dismantled her. His feet never stopped moving—he weaved in and out of her range, and Shoji couldn't make out a single time where her strikes struck home. His elbow, knees, and palm became a deadly flurry, and each made a sharp clap against her bare skin. The fight was over in seconds. Toru couldn't resist any further. She dropped—though her body never met the floor. More ropes slipped from Midoriya, scooping her and her capture tape up. He said something, then, but Shoji couldn't make it out over the sound of his heart in his ears.
After a second of deliberating, Midoriya willed the ropes to wrap the capture tape around Toru's ankle. Speakers crackled to life overhead.
"Toru Hagakure eliminated."
With Aizawa's voice, however, came Midoriya's lapse in judgment. For a brief, infantesimal moment, his black ropes slackened, and Shoji heaved.
His limbs grew longer, spindlier, with each branch splitting into two and the next to three. A web of pure muscle scooped outwards, wrapping around the trunk of Midoriya's black ropes and twisted. He pinned the odd power in place and dashed outwards, pushing off the wall with his other set of arms. The force cracked the stone, but he didn't care—he'd failed.
Toru was his responsibility, but he'd left her alone. If his strength couldn't protect one person, then he was a failed hero… but he wasn't a hero, now, was he? He was a villain, and villains only cared about themselves.
Midoriya's eyes widened in the fraction of a second it took for Shoji to reach him. Wind whistled in his ears as his fists flew to Midoriya, each limb a missile in the air. He could throw three punches in a blink, yet the first still missed by a hair. The second did, too, but by the third, Shoji understood. Midoriya was wiggly, and stupid-hard to hit, almost like a mindreader. Worse than that, he was quick, and after watching his scrap with Toru, Shoji knew he didn't want the boy to start counter attacking.
Using his top set of limbs, Shoji crashed into Izuku, overwhelming him with proximity. Before he could slip away, Shoji opened those jaws as wide as possible and bit down on the guy's shoulders. Never enough to draw blood, of course, but to puncture his suit and hold him down. Now, with Midoriya immobile, Shoji finally landed a punch.
He kept his strength contained as best he could, but he wasn't familiar with Midoriya's resilience. Attacking people wasn't exactly his favorite task, he now saw, as his fist entered the smaller boy's gut.
The impact folded Midoriya inwards, and a sharp inhale escaped Midoriya's dark mask. For a second, he nearly thought he killed the guy—but then his fist pulled away green, and Midoriya's eyes roared with battle-flame.
"You're so strong, Mezo!." Izuku screamed as he gripped Shoji's wrist with his singular, little palm. The grip was tighter than he ever imagined it could be.
Perhaps, Shoji thought, but then again, perhaps not. Shoji now saw, as time slowed down, that his own strength, despite its convenience, was little in comparison to Midoriya's inconvenient, inhuman power.
And then the ceiling exploded, and his world turned green.
[x]
When Hagakure awoke, she was upright and clasping a blanket. It was a thin thing, made of silk and microfibers, but it saved her bare skin from the brisk breeze.
Bare skin!? She thought, startled for as long as it took before she saw her feet. Cute off-white boots. Her hero costume. She held her hands out in front of her face, felt them on the breeze, but saw nothing. The blanket pooled around her waist, and as the wind nipped her she hurried to cover back up.
She blinked, and suddenly her gloves were in her face again, but her hands were on her chest, holding the blanket. Blinking upwards, she had to squint—the viridescent fire hurt to look at—and then she realized it was the sun haloing Midoriya's fine bush. In his hands, her gloves. She accepted the offer, confused but grateful, and slipped them on.
"I almost forgot to grab these for you. Sorry for having to rough you up like that. You were just too quick to capture without subduing you," Midoriya said, and she stared at him, uncomprehending. He seemed understanding of her confusion, however, and nudged her attention to her left with a nod.
Her eyebrows shot to her forehead as she saw Mezou's unconscious form. She glanced between him, Midoriya, and then the city-horizon and her hero-gloves.
"Aahhhhhhhh man. We lost, didn't we?"
He gave her a sad smile before a blush lit his freckles and he looked aside.
"Yeah. Sorry. I—uhm… Nevermind. Hold onto that blanket as long as you need, kay? You were shivering. Just give it back whenever it's convenient. My belt feels a little too light without it."
Hagakure glanced to the blanket and back to the green-haired boy. Her mind was still lagging behind, and she was a bit confused how they could've possibly lost, but she understood one thing. Midoriya's utility belt was pretty sweet. She wished she could have one.
She nodded at him, and settled in for a long wait—though it was needless, thanks to Mezou's quick recovery. He twitched first, and then exploded into an upright posture, his hands bared defensively. Midoriya raised a single calm hand and said something so soft that Hagakure couldn't catch, but Mezou seemingly could. After a moment of confusion, his shoulders drooped and a sigh slipped through his mask.
"How long have I been out?" He asked, glancing up at the sky.
"Just a few minutes. I brought you outside because… well, the top floor isn't exactly habitable anymore. Aizawa should be out to check on us any—"
With almost perfect timing, Izuku cut off and turned. Following his line of sight, Hagakure spotted the lanky shadow that was their teacher. Behind him were four more students—Kouda, Reiko, Ibara, and Kirishima. Aizawa, though his face betrayed nothing, seemed moderately bothered. His foot tapped the concrete impatiently, his hands shoved in his pockets.
"Points off for the hero team for destroying infrastructure. The top floor is beyond saving."
"I only destroyed the ceiling," Midoriya countered, his posture shifting. Though she doubted anyone could notice, from her angle, there was an odd parallelism to their stances. Each stood slouched, but at attention. "No load-bearing walls. And I cleaned the rubble. And! And! And the bomb went unblemished. I didn't let a pebble touch it."
"Then points off for obstructing further instruction. You've essentially ruined a quarter of the building for the next few exercises. You must be more careful in the real world, Midoriya."
From behind the boy, she couldn't see his expression—but she could hear his tone shift.
"Yes, sir. I'll try."
Aizawa nodded. He turned to her and Mezou, then.
"Are you two alright? Concussed, abrasions, sprains, scrapes?"
Hagakure didn't bother checking herself. She thought for a second before verbally dismissing him. She'd long since abandoned head-shakes and body language. Mezou shook his head.
"Alright. Join the observation bay, then, and watch with the rest. Afterwards, we'll do some review." Aizawa said, before turning to Reiko and Kouda. "Head up to whichever floor you want. I'd recommend avoiding the top."
Midoriya seemed to know Aizawa dismissed them before she did, and so turned to her and offered a hand. Surprised, she took it, got to her feet, and followed him alongside Mezou, who'd grown quiet.
She held onto the blanket throughout the rest of the tests. Though the wind no longer disturbed her… it was just nice, not being naked in front of a bunch of boys. She knew she'd have to push through the anxiety eventually, but that didn't mean it didn't suck. Silently, she thanked Midoriya, and hugged the blanket even closer as she settled in a chair towards the back of class.
The observation bay was cool. With the whole screen array, she got a good view of the whole battle trial, even though half the top-floor's cameras were blank feeds. She watched as Ibara and Kirishima pushed through the first floor, scouring the rooms and halls until finding Reiko and Kouda on the second floor.
At first, their coordination was awful. Kirishima pushed forward when Ibara pulled back, and the girl's aggressive vines would trip him up whenever he made to retreat—but after a flurry of rocks forced them to duck into cover, something flipped. There was no audio, but they must've said something, she assumed, because when they reengaged the villains, they began working together.
Their timing grew comfortable, and Kirishima pushed through Reiko's hail of telekinetically flung pebbles while Ibara's vines fought off Kouda's summoned birds. Kirishima opened up his mouth at one point when he reached Reiko, and it was like the transformation was complete. In a dramatic flurry, Ibara did something that brought out Hagakure's sense of Deja Vu. Her hair surged outward, growing exponentially as it crashed into Kouda and forced him against the wall, growing outward and rooting into the wall. While she trapped Kouda, Kirishima got within striking distance of the rock-flinger, and soon apprehended her.
Hagakure blinked as Kirishima and Ibara, together, tapped the bomb and won the match. For a moment, Reiko seemed a little bitter at the loss, but with a soft shoulder-touch from Ibara, she soon relaxed and nodded. With a bow, she acknowledged them. On the screen, Hagakure could make out how Kirishima and Ibara nodded at one another.
Aizawa brought out the next pair of students and the cycle repeated. After Kirishima and Ibara, however, Hagakure found herself sidetracked.
She didn't feel… good about losing. In fact, she felt upset for herself—but more than that, she was somewhat impressed. Midoriya… he was pretty strong. Of course, she hadn't expected them to wreck him, but never in a million years did she expect him to turn it around on them so… easily.
A hand, unseen, went to her chest. Midoriya hadn't hit her there, of course—the bruises were more so on her shoulders, forearms, and stomach, but never her chest, bless him. Not only was he strong… he was rather kind, now that she thought back to the trial. She'd rushed him, of course, as soon as he was distracted with holding down Mezou. If she was honest, it was beyond frustrating that she failed here… but not for the sake of losing itself. No, what frustrated her is that she knew for a fact she could've done better, put up more of a fight.
Sure, she thought. Midoriya might've been some supernatural combat prodigy sent from heaven, but she was literally invisible. She should've been able to at least surprise him once. The fact that he'd somehow dodged everything she threw, even without her gloves giving her away, was insane, yes… but she could've done better. When she rushed him down, she wasn't at her… fastest, so to speak. Combat wasn't exactly her strong suit, but she had strength in her legs and speed in her heels. Usually.
Yet when he took her apart, one-handed and quirkless, he hadn't let her efforts go forgotten.
"You're really freaking fast, Toru!" He'd said, before wrapping her up in his quirk. "Your strikes were so sharp. I'd like to fight again, sometime, when you're…"
Hagakure'd blacked out, then, and woken up in his blanket. She wondered what he was trying to say.
"Hey," A voice whispered beside her. She nearly yelped, not having noticed someone creeping up on her—but then she saw green, and relaxed a little. Maybe, if she was visible, someone would've seen her pout.
"Don't scare me like that!" She said, scandalized as she settled her racing heart. Midoriya, quick as sound, flicked his eyes over his shoulder to check something. When he seemed to find nothing, he relaxed, and sat next to her. She tilted her head, confused at his general vibe and more specifically the red flush perpetrating his cheeks.
"Sorry," he said, before his gaze settled above her, somewhere on the ceiling. When he didn't immediately say anything, she fidgeted. Her fingers clenched around the blanket.
"You… want your blanket back or something?" She asked, her voice small and uncertain. She didn't really want to hand it over, now that his attention was on her.
His eyes didn't even look down to meet hers.
"...Y-you're… you're naked, right? No, erm, anything on your torso, right? I wasn't sure at first."
Warmth conquered her cheeks. It wasn't exactly a blush, since she didn't redden, but she knew herself to be embarrassed. Without thinking, she nodded.
Despite not looking at her, nor even being able to see her if he did, he sighed.
"Thought so. You're… y-you—gods above, this is awkward. I'm sorry, I just—your suit…"
She pursed her lips for a moment, and she began to feel a little uncomfortable. Hagakure let him speak, however, and just prayed he didn't say anything creepy. She'd dealt with enough of that from her old middle school "friends."
"Uhm… my Blackwhips… when they wrapped you up… I—how long is your hair?"
After all that buildup, she couldn't help the snort that escaped her. It caught her off guard. Honestly? She didn't know for certain. She reached behind her back and fingered the middle of her spine, searching for her wild tangles. When she found none, she shrugged.
"I guess a little below my shoulder. Armpit length, maybe?"
At that, he tore his eyes from the ceiling, and Hagakure found herself more flustered than ever as—somehow—he made eye contact with her.
"...You don't know?" He asked, his voice quiet.
"N-not really. I-I know I have wavy hair, and I think it's green? Like limes. Can't really be sure of that. I can't see myself, if that's what you thought. My fam once paid for me to be medically examined, so there are ultra-violet based photos of my face and appendages, so I know what I kinda look like from there. I've basically forgotten, though. It's been a few years."
He was quiet at that for a moment, but then did something odd. Putting his fingers into a claw-like shape, he reached over to his shoulder and tugged on his knotted, empty sleeve. The material tore, though it made almost no sound.
It was weird, and it made her almost uncomfortable, but she leaned forward and peaked at his beckoning. Pure, puckered, empty sleeve. He had a little bit of deltoid left, but by no means was it a limb. Though it was dark in the observation bay and the inside of his hero suit was darker still, she could see that the nub was more scarring than not. It occurred to her, then, that he hadn't been born defected. He'd lost it.
She hadn't exactly assumed it was a defect, but confirming it changed things. Her heart went out to him, even as he let go of the torn material. Before her very eyes, it healed over, and looked almost brand new.
"I've forgotten what my hand used to look like, y'know? I… I don't know you very well, but I think I can imagine what… not recognizing yourself is like." He coughed into his fist. "I didn't just do that to show you my… lack of an arm, though. My suit is a self-healing material. It's somewhat common, but it's… it's y'know. Expensive. I just—at the Battle Trial, you were so good. Really fast, pretty good technique, and not to mention ferocious. But… you, uhm…"
She blinked, not really seeing his point. He broke eye contact.
"Can I say something that might sound really weird? I promise, I'm not coming onto you. I just noticed…"
Instantly, her stomach squeezed, and she almost wanted to say no—but he'd been so sweet to her, and seeing his arm… Well, he was right. Hagakure couldn't recognize herself, and she supposed she was sympathetic to his plight in return. She nodded, and like before, like magic, he seemed to know, and thus relaxed.
"Self-healing material is relatively common, like I said," Midoriya said, his voice turning somewhat soulless, like he was reading off a script she couldn't see. "But it isn't the only unique material that Detnerat and U.A.'s support department offers. You see, I know an upperclassman, and he has this crazy cool quick called Permeation. When he uses it, he turns intangible, and while it's great for fighting, it basically strips him naked everytime."
She mustered a chortle at the thought, but otherwise kept silent.
"It was a huge problem for the longest time, before he joined my… gym. My teacher and him worked together to form an idea, and now his hero-suit doesn't fall off him anymore. You wanna know how?"
An inkling of understanding sprouted in her mind, and in her newfound excitement, released the blanket. It dropped to her waist, and Midoriya's chin jerked upwards, his eyes gluing to the ceiling. When she nodded, however, he kept going, almost as if his jaw wasn't struggling to break free from his neck and ascend to heaven.
"They synthesized a new material based on the genetic makeup of his hair. It takes… a lot of hair for a little material. He's always wearing a mullet because of it. In a year, he's only managed a single hero-suit and half a pair of underwear. But… you're…" once again, he coughed into his fist. It seemed like he struggled to get the next words out more than he struggled against her attacks earlier. "Y-you—y're-you're rather… large chested, and even if your hair isn't particularly long right now, if it's shoulder lengthened, there's a small chance that you could have a…"
His face was a tomato. He pinched his thumb and forefinger together, as if mimicking pulling a zipper open, and dragged the pinched fingers down his shoulder, to his pec, before opening his hand up into a cup.
"Y-y-y-you—you w-were really fast in the battle trial, but… you'd probably be faster if you were, y-y'know… secure. I-I-I've heard having t-things makes running difficult, l-let alone fighting."
She didn't say anything for a long, long time.
After almost a minute of utter silence between them, she turned to him, finding his eyes still on the ceiling. Her eyes traced the path from his eyes to his shoulder, and settled on the knot occupying his empty sleeve.
How had he lost it? Who was this boy, who was so… straight-faced and respectful and awkward—and who was the monster who'd caused him to be this way? Some drunk driver? Maybe a shark looking for an extra big snack? Maybe a god, or maybe a supervillain? Who was Izuku Midoriya?
She eyed his knot again, her heart racing and pounding and screaming in her chest.
"...How are you so fucking smart, yet forget to request a one-armed suit?" She manages to get out, before slapping a hand over her mouth. Hagakure didn't mean to sound so mean. Fear struck her heart, but after a moment, Midoriya wheezed, and a spell broke.
They both laughed, garnering a few people's attention, but otherwise stayed closed off from the rest of class. After a solid few seconds of giggles, Midoriya slowed, and she willed herself to match his control.
"It's just so funny," Hagakure said, still giggling a little as she spoke. "You're so… I don't really know, but your suit is so bland! How did you think up a solution for me before you could even design something for yourself? It's impressive."
"S-sorry if it was awkward…" He said, his voice still clinging to a small chuckle. He looked everywhere but her. "I just… I was thinking about what Aizawa said. I think "deal with the consequences of our terrible suits," was the key of the exercise, I think, and after seeing you fight so hard, I couldn't help but think there was something… off. Then when I captured you, I kinda… figured it out. Your problem… and mine, too."
"Oh?" Aizawa said, causing Midoriya to violently flinch in surprise. She'd seen him coming, but didn't bother warning Midoriya since he'd seemed to psychically know his location earlier, so… "Just one day in my class, and you think you've figured me out, Midoriya?"
Midoriya scrambled to his feet, apologizing.
"No sir! Just a guess, nothing concrete—"
"Well, sorry to break it to you, Midoriya, but you're right on the money."
"Of course, sir, I won't presume—huh?"
Aizawa turned to the wider class, then, as the last set of villains and heroes arrived.
Hitoshi seemed worse for wear, but a small smile hung off his lips. She was glad he seemed to win—between them, they were both bottom-rung, and his winning felt like a win for her. Poor Kouda.
"Congratulations for our winners and condolences for our losers. Regardless, no one here can claim a perfect score, so take this experience as a lesson. Tonight, I want everyone to find a partner and write a standard essay on how their suit fails, where it succeeds, and what you'd think up more effective equipment for them. But first," Aizawa said, his latter words cutting through the emboldened chatter his prior words birthed, "let's review."
[x]
Ibara paused outside U.A.'s gates, feeling the breeze caress her scalp. She leaned into the sensation, sidestepped from the path. Reiko hurried to join her. Almost as soon as they were both away from the gate, a crowd spilled outwards, consuming the space she'd paused in.
The sun warmed her face. Air visited her nose easily—the wind carried the scent of distant daffodils. For a second, she almost convinced herself to abandon her shoes and socks and frolic in the nearest field, but a hand stopped her. Reiko, like her, appreciated nature, but her whimsy and faith were a touch below her own. Ibara turned into her hand, confused.
"Yes?"
"...Are you well?"
Ibara tilted her head at the question. In part, she understood the reasoning. Today was the first day, and she'd committed violence against a human for the first time. Perhaps, tonight, she will take a moment for herself, but the weight of the day had yet to land. She was alright.
"I believe so. Are you—"
Over Reiko's shoulder, deep in the crowd of U.A. students, she caught a glimpse of green. Of course, green, she'd come to learn, was common in the city. Heck, she'd seen several girls with green hair today alone. It wasn't so common in the country, though—so when she glimpsed a green scalp, she couldn't help but take a second look—and felt her stomach squeeze. Bushy black hair that reflected green in the sun.
Ibara did not bite her lip. She did not squirm, complain, or jerk away. At their most violent, her actions constituted looking aside a little too quickly. She shook her head.
"I am fine. Are you? It is an odd question, no?"
Reiko saw her reaction, despite Ibara's efforts, and turned. She too, like Ibara, returned her gaze a bit too fast, and then they were awkward together.
"I…" Reiko began, before trailing off. She took another glance over her shoulder. Midoriya was laughing at something Ashido said. Though he was the heart of the crowd, even from here, Ibara's eyes couldn't help but drink him in. His tiny stature. His thin waist. His empty sleeve, flashing silver as it caught the sun in its wild, wind-born flapping. This time, Ibara couldn't help how she bit her lip.
"...am not." Reiko said.
"Hm?" Ibara asked, more humming than speaking. Her pursed lips made opening her jaw a task. Reiko glanced over her shoulder again. Midoriya's back was to them now, his already-small form turning even smaller with distance.
"I don't think I'm alright, Iba. Are you… sure you're satisfied?"
It took a moment for her to speak. Her discomfort infused her soul, and thus her body rejected her commands.
"...No, but he'll be here tomorrow, no?"
"I believe so. I… I may have heard him speak of his situation. His academics are spent off-campus on alternating days. He may be here tomorrow morning. He may not. I can not say."
Ibara hummed, watching him go. The further he went, she'd expect the pain to lessen, but it did not.
"Well, then we can broach the subject when we get a chance. I am unwell. I do not wish to chase right now."
Reiko hesitated, throwing one last glance at the disappeared form of Midoriya, long gone, before sighing.
"If not Midoriya, then at least Kirishima will be here tomorrow. He deserves one too."
At that, Ibara actually laughed.
"The big one? Fair, fair. Though I think he got your apology when he got to tackle you. Boys like him love roughhousing more than words, anyway. I… Well, I guess I'll apologize. I didn't exactly treat him fairly during the battle trial at first."
Reiko hummed before turning aside. When she began walking, Ibara followed. The walk to the nearest station was a quiet affair; comfortable. Then Reiko opened her mouth.
"Who do you think is cuter between them? Midoriya or Kirishima?"
"Reiko! Save those kinds of thoughts for confession!"
[x]
AN: And there goes 1: Izuku no-diffing the two kids with the strongest intrinsic quirk in class, and 2: Edna "E" Modeing all over the place. Chapter 47 was a nightmare to write, because it kind've felt like filler, and I've been having a slow going of things recently-but I'm hoping 48 will be a return to the norm.
I've been rereading my reviews less than before, since the story has been getting more and more negativity-but I still read every single one thoroughly at least once. Even if its more mean than critical. It makes the good reviews worth it, I think-even when I got someone complaining about Izuku's dual enrollment, as if they'd never heard of that before lol. The other stuff they said was fair, I guess.
Still, I'm always anxious for reviews. So, you know the drill by now.
(Shoutout to Dennis and Uzzu for being the main motivation to post lol)
Review!~ and I'll see you next week. 48 is the beginning of the next Big Event!