Hey, whaddap? It's ya boy, putting out another extremely late Sunday because he wrote 8k words over the span of two days like a procrastinating dumbass.
I'm going to not postpone writing for the sake of nothing or gaming these next few weeks because that was a stupid idea. I ended up added a perspective here last second because I felt the need for more context, and rearranged scenes for this and next chapter until I felt the notes read in a better order than they were originally. Chap 25 is already 1.5k words in thanks to typing them out months ago, so I've got a head start where this chapter was completely empty a week ago, so it should be easier but I will not promise myself anything. I've made a weekly promise to you all already, I'll stick to keeping that.
That aside, I did just watch The Last of Us a few hours prior to posting this and that was a good hour of cute gay shit to distract me, so blame good TV on stalling this out longer.
Now that we're in the final stretch of the Festival, I hope you all enjoy the bigger changes to the battles and the stories going on within them. This is where the changes for this arc will shine to the end, sorry the obstacle course was still so standard.
Edit 1/30/23: It was brought to my attention I never mentioned the names of everyone who made it into the finals this or last chapter, so I added in a small segment listing the missing names and information from this chapter. Nothing bit or plot related changed, just added info, that I'll spell out here since it's not that important compared to other content.
Izuku, Ojiro and Iida came in first place. Bakugou, Kirishima, Hanta and Ashido came in second. Kendo, Uraraka and Shiozaki (fixed Ibara's name) came third. Shouto, Yaoyorozu, Kaminari and Hatsume came fourth. Monoma, Tetsutetsu, Setsuna and Shoda made it to fifth, and Monoma and Tetsutetsu won a game of rock-paper-scissors to advance from their team. That is all. Sorry for missing it prior.
Izuku didn't have many favorite heroes growing up. Admittedly, his only 'favorite' was All Might for the longest time, but there were still a few he really admired. Long before he met Gang Orca he was a fan; mutant-quirked heroes weren't too common in the higher ranks unless their mutations were minor details on an otherwise humanoid body, but the whale-quirked man made it so far due to his kindness contrasting his intimidating features. The Wild Wild Pussycats were maybe the most famous hero group across Japan in spite of their low rankings, their cheery performances in interviews and their persistence for flashy poses were certainly entertaining to his younger self. While Mirko was a vocally aggressive heroine in vain of Bakugou's volume and a public opinion disinterested in the previously mentioned hero groups, she was — to the embarrassment of his younger self — a physically and visually flashy hero to watch on the news and online, worthy of a whole notebook just to herself.
And Endeavor, in spite of his hard-ass attitude (pardon his French), was a hero Izuku deeply respected.
He wasn't a hero like All Might, or the many who tried to capture his presentation; some kind, friendly smile as though they were an old friend one hadn't seen since college. He wasn't a hero known for making the public feel warm or welcomed in his presence, despite his quirk for the former and how his dedicated fanbase adored the harsher reality. But he was a man dedicated to his job; he was the most proficient Japanese hero in closing cases and arresting criminals, and maybe the best hero in making Japan a safe place to live. Feeling like a safe place to live in was another matter entirely, but Endeavor was a hero committed to shaping the country down that path, and in turn garnered honor and respect all the way to the second-highest ranking on the Japanese charts. Izuku had dreamed of meeting him in person, adding his autograph to his collection and thanking him for the work he had done.
Not once did he dream of the man searching for him, though.
"Your performance so far has been exceptional," the flame hero praised him loudly. The two had settled atop an empty staircase, leaning opposite of one another on the railings. "To win the first and second event in the same year is not a feat many students of your alma mater can claim, and none with a performance as simple as yours using nothing but simple strength alone. Despite how you have humiliated my son's performance in competition with your own, I applaud your victories. I can see a competent hero in your future."
"I" — Izuku faltered, slipping down a step as he took a deep breath — "don't think an autograph is gonna top that. Thank you, sir. That means a lot to hear."
"I would think it should. You kids don't usually show such promise and teamwork until late in your second year, after the training and practice you'd have gone through up to that point. Whatever Lunch Rush is feeding you works faster each year."
That pulled laughter out of Izuku. Endeavor was not known for his humor, but he didn't seem foreign to it. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about, sir?"
"Only partially," Endeavor admitted, bowing his head with eyes closed thoughtfully. "What I do wish to discuss with you regards my son: Shouto."
And that earned Izuku a kick to himself. Should have been obvious from the start the father would know the son's actions and intentions going into the Festival. He doubted the declaration to fight him specifically came from the older man, but he wouldn't be surprised if the hero at least knew how his son saw Izuku with some connection to All Might. The man wasn't known for being competitive with the one hero who placed above him in the rankings, but maybe Todoroki held the insecurity in his father's place. He would have to look into that later.
"Seeing as your third and final event will be the tournament bracket of fights it always is, a match against my son is inevitable. Your quirks and strength cannot be matched by your schoolmates in this scenario. What betting pools my agency has flushed out online see you both as the likeliest candidates to face in the semifinals; disgusting fools placing money on children's heads. But I do not disagree with their expectations." The flame hero looked down into Izuku's eyes. "And I cannot think of a better opponent for my son to face."
Izuku returned the man a contemplative look. "Did he tell you about his declaration of war to me he gave this morning?"
The hero responded with his own confused expression. "Of that, Shouto told me nothing. He speaks little of his classmates, though with such notable family lineages alongside you both — Yaoyorozu, Aoyama, Iida — I'm disappointed he hasn't. Your generation is heavy with the continuation of powerful families. But he has mentioned you. And though your name is not one I recognize, your strength is one I can. To compete with my son physically, I can see you providing; but it is your speech this morning that shows me my son may be outmatched."
"Really?" Izuku asked back. He had made his speech a request for challenge in face of Todoroki's; hell, partially just to spite it for not including the rest of their classmates as worthy opponents. He didn't expect his aggressive delivery to resonate with most people, but Endeavor saw something in it?
"To use nothing short of your best and show the world your fullest capabilities is a message Shoto struggles with. He is intent on using only his mother's side of his quirk to be a hero; to half-ass his efforts and somehow grow into a great hero without putting in his all. He belittles his fire — my fire — as though it would be a detriment to his goal when his quirk is the perfect mix of hot and cold to avoid the hazards one alone would cause his body. His foolishness during the villain attack proves as such. To challenge you would not only test Shoto's physical strength but his moral strength as well."
"So you're asking me to kick your son's ass?"
Endeavor's unamused glare made Izuku regret his joking question. "I want Shouto to beat you. I want him to show to the world the fruits of the training he has undergone and the strength of his quirk that could best the child who toppled a gigantic robot and a villain capable of fighting All Might." Izuku was almost surprised the man knew about both events — much less one of them — but almost every new person he met seemed to know about them so maybe it would be more outrageous to find someone who didn't. "But I need him to learn from his errors and understand his faults. I need you to instill your philosophy into him before I can accept his victory. We heroes do not put men behind bars simply because they are physically dangerous, but because the world must understand safety and peace and the consequences for disrupting such. A victory for the heroes is a victory for the morals of the righteous. If my son cannot learn the faults of his ideals, then his win would still be a loss.
"I am not asking you to let my son win," Endeavor clarified, stepping forwards towards Izuku and clamping a hand down on the teen's shoulder. "Challenge him. Break him. Confront him and his foolish beliefs. Show him why you giving your all was the factor behind your earlier victories."
Izuku had already turned down an offer to directly face Todoroki as his opponent. Even coming to terms that there was now a chance he'd face the dual-hair colored boy before the day ended, he refused to see him as his only competition.
"Thank you for the compliments, sir." Izuku bowed his head respectfully, and gently pushed the man's hand off his shoulder. "But is this not something you should talk to him about? You've been a hero since you graduated from Yuei. Your advice has more validity than mine."
"Shouto does not listen to me. He and I have" — Endeavor pursed his lips in frustration, before sighing and sagging his shoulder — "a complicated relationship. One I have not been able to fix since he was scarred. My words cannot reach him; I am the image of what he declares never to become. But you are the one my son chose to declare his fight against; you are the only one he sees. You may be the only one whose words can reach him."
Izuku stared at the hero silently, then looked away down the hall to nothing and no one, and looked back at the taller man. "He got the scar from you?"
"No," the hero clarified, "his mother scared him. Drenched his face in boiling water. But he blames me for her psychotic break and her actions. I am his scapegoat, and he is dead set on hindering his own future. I need him to know that being the next best hero requires his everything to achieve." The hero's flames flared as he clenched a fist in front of himself. "Be to him who All-Might is to me and push him to his true limit."
Izuku sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head low. It had to be genetic at this point, father and son comparing him to All-Might when they barely speak with one another. Maybe God was real and found the joke funny enough to promote it to reoccurring.
"Thank you for believing I am strong enough to be your son's equal," he bowed respectfully to the hero, slowly dropping back down the steps to start his leave. "I'm going to try my best to beat him. But please" — he looked back up to the hero, pursing his lips and frowning his eyebrows — "don't compare me to All-Might. I'm…not him. And I don't want to be."
Endeavor's silence was palpable in the air as Izuku continued his descent down the stairs. He wasn't sure if he had caught the man off guard with his declaration or if he had missed the man nodded in agreement, but the teen still stopped at the curve of the stairwell as the hero spoke again: "All-Might is a hero the world strives to be. He is a man unmatched by anyone before him; and even anyone now, I regretfully admit. Anyone hoping to be a hero looks to him as their ideal self and the future to strive for. If not him, then what kind of hero would you be?"
Izuku stared down the stairwell, drifting into the space before him. He felt himself on that roof again, standing opposite the number one hero surrounded by smoke and shrunken to a skeleton of a man in its center. Blue hollow eyes above a frown of cubic teeth, decorating a hunched, angular head that swayed like his hair did in the wind. And faintly, he could hear his voice, the one word of No repeating around his ears. Even as his form shifted to a healthier glow on his skin, the smoke replaced by a leather couch, and his frown upright in a welcoming and proud smile, his No rung in the air still.
"Something better than that," he answered quietly, not looking up to the hero again as he continued his journey to rejoin his friends before the fighting began.
"Yamada," Shouta chided the man squirming beside him. "You can ask Kan to take your place, if you're going to act like this."
The blond man groaned, throwing his head back against his chair. "Kan can't maintain the same energy," Yamada argued. "Two of his students made it this far. Everyone else is one of yours or the support course girl. The neutral party here" — he shook a hand at himself — "is the only way this event can have an announcer."
"You asked me to work as your co-host."
The vocal hero waved his counterargument away. "You're my emotional support husband. We both know you don't want to commentate. Why do you think Nemuri is trying her heart out?"
Shouta leered out the window, where their wife strutted circles on her stage without so much a glance to the spectators around them or to the arena Cementoss was creating between them. His instinctual response was to ask, "When isn't she," but she also didn't often work the Sports Festivals for the first-year students. Nedzu usually reserved her more mature innuendos and commentary for the third-year students as a test to gauge their attention skills and reaction time to a distracting presence when they needed to convince viewing heroes they were still competent heroes-in-training; this year, she elected to perform for the first-years, and the day after Shouta agreed (read: caved) to sit in as their husbands co-host in the commentator booth.
"I'll make an effort," he promised his partner, and the peacock of a human beamed a smile through a mouthful of noodles.
"Good. Most of the kids are yours this year, too. Your comments might inspire them."
A far cry from last year's Sports Festival, he duly noted, looking over the list of names they (read: Yamada) had to read out. Last year he had expelled all his homeroom students to pollute General Studies for the rest of their first year, and the best of them had only shown improvements into the second round, leaving Kan's class to populate all but one slot for the tournament bracket at the end; though that General Studies student lost in the first round. If his memory served him right, though, that same student had made it into Class 2-A and was performing for his class as they spoke.
It was only because of the odd team layouts that anyone from Kan's heroics class made it into the final event. With Midoriya taking first with Ojiro and Iida on his team, and Kendo's third-place team consisting of Uraraka and Shiozaki, there were two empty slots to make up the top sixteen, so fifth place's team lead by Monoma Neito had to play a game of rock-paper-scissors to decided who would advance; ultimately it went to the team's lead in the blond boy and their classmate Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu.
Shouta still had to double take every time he read that name.
Scanning over the list of names again, Shouta grunted with a frown. "Did Nedzu randomly generate these?" he asked out loud. Prior years had selected their bouts through a lottery box before the first round. Given that did not work for his class's battle trail class and those same boys that caused the problem were both present in the final round, the rodent must have removed that option in preparation.
One of Yamada's fingers flicked the paper in Shouta's hands. "We had it up on the board in under a minute, once team five decided who would fill in for the final rounds. He and Majima probably had a generator tab on standby for the contest. What's up?"
"The structure is too convenient." The first match was an odd one to him, pitting the sons of two well-known heroes — though one defamed and incarcerated — against each other; hopefully no one would notice the connection and he could reign in Yamada from making such an obvious comment. But then Midoriya was facing off against one of Kan's students, Monoma, and the blur provided about his quirk seemed too good to be coincidental, especially for the first round.
And why was Bakugou seated on the opposite starting bracket from Midoriya? They knew the rules of their agreement with the blond to impress them with his behavior and make it a convincing argument to reinstall him in Shouta's class. He'd passed the obstacle course will but a single argument and scuffle with Todoroki as they fought for first before Midoriya stole it from them, and he had gone the cavalry battle without so much as approaching the green-haired teen or violently fighting other students, so why postpone a possible fight between the two boys instead of ripping the band-aid for the first round? If all the fights went a certain way, it would set Bakugou against Ojiro, Yaoyorozu and Iida — all students Shouta knew had a personal connection with Midoriya — before the two would face each other in the final round. Had Nedzu personally set that up for a potential gauntlet for Bakugou to impress them with an improved attitude? Would he really test one student in the middle of this competition?
"Don't go convincing yourself of something that isn't there," Yamada warned him. "The principal isn't that nefarious to structure the brackets maliciously."
Yes he was, Shouta kept the remark to himself. There wasn't anything he would put past such a disassociating creature of a headmaster. Care for these students as he might, there was never a moment the underground hero wouldn't question his methods of doing so. God, give him strength.
"Alright," Yamada smacked his lips, repositioning his chair to curl over his microphone. The stadium field beneath had been remodeled by Cementoss to sport an elevated stage to conduct battle, and the man had seated himself in a stone throne opposite of Midnight, still posed atop her stand. "Let's get these kids underway."
God, give them strength.
Even though Shouto's fight was first, he could not tear his eyes away from Midoriya. Even when the green-haired teen was seated up in the stands with the rest of their classmates, Shouto could point him out in a second, and he was all the teen could focus on.
He had seen, as so many others did, his father pull Midoriya aside to talk; it was hard not to hear the man from the crackling of his fire alone. No one followed them, of course, but Shouto didn't need to in order to know why they were talking in the first place. Of course the old man would try to pull Midoriya into one of his schemes — some ploy or demand to coerce Shouto into using the bastard's fire. He wouldn't put it past Midoriya to agree to it, either; he wasn't dumb enough not to know what the green teen was getting at when he continuously told the dual-haired boy to "give it everything he's got" over the span of an hour. Maybe they had already met prior, planned all this out, and were simply reconvening to develop a new course of action in making Shouto's life a living hell.
He wouldn't put that past Midoriya either.
There was no reason to use his fire, nor any reason for someone other than him to care so much about whether he did or not. His father's fire wasn't good for anything; nothing for Shouto to gain from using it. It had taken a life, scarred his face, torn their family apart, and drove their father into a hungry lust for power and dominance. The hero could not hold his head higher than the fire he's plagued their family with could burn. Shouto's own left side was nothing but a reminder of the flame's true nature.
And Midoriya had to have known. How hard he pressed Shouto to use his fire — more than anyone around them — was too coincidental to simply be his own opinion. He could see the scar; he'd been told countless times that he wouldn't use it; there was no way he was just some daft yankee who couldn't hear a fucking thing. He bothered Shouto on purpose; targeted him to laugh and complain and make an example of him for his own superior image.
It's why he could do nothing but return Midoriya's harsh, critical stare boring down on him from dozens of meters away. How he could feel the holes burning into the other side of his head from his father opposite in the stands. They wanted nothing more than to make him the monster his mother had seen.
He wouldn't give them that satisfaction.
"Let's get ready to rumble!" Present Mic's voice greeted him to the stage, standing opposite of the black-haired boy with the angled smile in his class. "Our final competition is now underway, and from here on out it will be fight after fight to the finish! Welcoming us to our third event, we have the powerhouse of a prodigy who's ridden the highs of the rankings against his fellow classmates to make it this far: Class 1-A's Todoroki Shouto!" Of course even his teachers would refer to his father, first thing's first, Shouto remarked with a sneer.
"Facing him down may look like your average boy, but he's inherited his own strengths and fine-tuned them to make it this far: Class 1-A's Sero Hanta!" The other teen looked up to the announcer's booth with a frown, muttering something Shouto couldn't hear under the blanket of cheering around them. "We're keeping the rules simple! Knock your opponent out of the ring, immobilize them on the field or force them to surrender, and you win! And so long as you aren't putting each other's lives in danger, you're free to fight as you please! Recovery Girl is standing by with candy to spare!"
"Any attacks too violent will disqualify you," their homeroom teacher's voice suddenly interjected through the speakers. "Your mission is to defeat your opponent, not brutalize them. Control your quirks and your attacks or forfeit victory to your opponent in your stead."
"What a cold threat, Eraser! But I know you kids will understand his warning! Now let's get this party STARTED!"
Hanta was quick to react, one tape strand shooting out to trap Shouto's arms to his torso and another around only his right leg, before both pulled him across the stadium floor. "Sorry Todoroki," the black-haired boy shouted at him with a wicked grin, "but I don't want to lose here!"
Neither did he, Shouto declared silently. The dual-haired boy scoffed, coating his right side with thin ice that trailed up the tape before both strands snapped off the other boy's arms. He stumbled across the stadium floor, not too far from the stadium's edge, as he shrugged off the shattering frozen tape and crawled onto his hands and knees. He twisted his right hand on the ground, growing spikes of ice under him, but could send them no farther as both of his left limbs were wrapped in tape and he was jerked back across the stage once more.
He's trying to disorient me, Shouto grumbled as he reached over his body to freeze the tape off once more. He can only pull me in a few directions. If I'm not far enough to get out, he needs to move me into the right place, or make me too sick to move. But as long as I'm touching the ground—
Once more, he was unable to use his ice as taped wrapped around his ankle and this time flicked him into the air as Hanta cracked it like a whip, sending Shouto spinning in the air before crashing on his back once more.
"And Hanta has Todoroki in his grasp like a sack of potatoes!" Mic commented above, bringing a tick to Shouto's head beside a possible bruise. "These kids couldn't be any more different in their skill sets but that reaction time is impeccable! Will it be enough to combat such raw power?"
No, it wouldn't, Shouto decided, kicking his foot into the air with a wall of ice to follow it. He rolled to sit on the seat of his pants, peering through the thin wall of ice blocking two new strands of tape. It didn't matter what Hanta tried now. Ice plumed beneath his feet before shooting around his blockade and shooting itself across the rest of the stage, engulfing the tape-quirked boy in a full body coat of ice. All the teen could do now was forfeit.
"Todoroki steals victory in a split second!" The crowd roared to life once more, a dead howl in Shouto's ears as he cradled the nausea and disorientation the ground had gifted him. "A splendid and shocking attempt from Hanta that sadly ends in a chilling loss! Todoroki Shouto will move on to the second round! Let's hear it for the boys!"
Cementoss had gone ahead in clearing the ice on the field, shaking the ground with his quirk to vibrate the thin layer apart. Shouto spared Hanta only a glance as the shuddering boy stumbled off the stage whence he came, and turned his eyes back up the stands; first to his father — a burning red star he couldn't miss — and then across to Midoriya's disappointment. He had nearly lost the first round to someone with a quirk he'd never once considered competition — someone who shouldn't have put him on the backfoot for so long. He couldn't allow that mistake again.
They could both get his attention later, when it was time to prove himself over them.
Watching the matches before his play out had left Izuku with little excitement in his stomach. Uraraka and Kaminari both lost in their matches to Ashido and the silver-haired boy from Class B — Tetsutetsu, the display board named him — respectively, and it sucked to watch them both return with hung heads and sighs of their defeats. He thought they had done well to hold out against their opponents, but he didn't have to voice how outmatched they both were. Uraraka could barely get around Ashido's acid to attempt knocking her out of the ring, and though Tetsutetsu's iron skin made him an easy target for Kaminari's electricity to focus on, what was he to do when the other boy proved immune to the effects not slipping beneath it?
Ashamed to admit it, however, was how more focused he was on Todoroki even after his quick match against Sero during his friends' matches; though his reasoning for doing so was in contrast to his friends. Where he had hoped for the best for his friends and gave them his condolences upon their return, Izuku felt ambivalent towards the dual-haired boy. He had once again gone through a challenge by the skin of his teeth and using only his ice. He hadn't even bothered to use his left side's flames until Midnight had declared him the winner by immobilizing Hanta in his ice. He still was not trying his hardest and had nearly lost in the first round because of it.
The 'why' still bothered him. When Izuku originally saw the scar, he assumed maybe it came from Todoroki's fire; that he couldn't control it lest he hurt himself had crossed the green-haired teen's mind. But Todoroki verbally refused to use it when they were in the USJ — never a couldn't, only a wouldn't — and he could not stop the doubt that argued against his original assumption. Now knowing who caused it, Izuku spent too much of his own time trying to piece together how a scar from his mother sent Todoroki on a personal vendetta against his father. Someone was withholding information that stopped him from putting two and two together, and he doubted he'd get a straight answer if he pressed for one now. Angry as he was at the other teen for this mission of his, it'd be rude of him now to assume it wasn't built from something traumatic.
But that would be an investigation to partake in another day, Izuku decided as he walked into the peeking sunlight from outside the tunnel. It was his turn in the big event now.
"And we're off to our fourth face-off of the day!" Present Mic's announcement sent the stadium around the roaring in excitement. "We've seen light shows of ice, acid and thunder, but now we find ourselves in a competition of mystery! Hailing from Class A, aiming three-for-three of first places today: Class 1-A President Elect, Midoriya Izuku!"
Hearing the crowd cheer for him a third time was still a surreal experience on his ears. Their teacher's clever name for their bout stood out far more in his ears, though. Very subtle indeed, he commented, climbing the steps up onto the battlefield. Across from his stepped up his blond-haired opponent, a faint smile visible on his lips even from their distance apart.
"And opposite him is a surprising ghost in our events today, sneaking his way through the obstacle course and beating rock with paper to ascend into the final round: Class 1-B Vice President Elect, Monoma Neito!" Monoma waved lightly, not to the crowds around them, but to Izuku. The green-haired teen waved back, hand held close to his side as he stared questioningly at the other boy. He hadn't seen much of him in the past two challenges to learn the ins and outs of his quirk; lucky him to get one of the only two opponents he had to face blindly.
"You already know the rules, fellas!" the vocal hero continued, signaling Midnight to raise her crop above her head. "No point in wasting time! START!"
Instead of charging ahead as his friends and classmates had in the matches prior, Izuku simply walked towards the center of the stage, and found his opponent doing the same as the blond removed his jacket. There wasn't much point in waiting for him to use his quirk first, but he knew he'd get nowhere jumping in without knowing what to dodge or block, if he even could. If Monoma was willing to meet him halfway, maybe then he'd be able to catch him quirk and off guard before he could-
"I see we had a similar idea," Monoma greeted him, stopping just a few feet away as Midoriya did the same. "They put the kid who's been winning everything against the kid who's been nowhere near him. It's like they're setting me up for an underdog story. Or you for an easy win."
Izuku squinted at the boy. "You know our matches were randomly decided. The other two competitions were too."
The blond boy shrugged. "It's just a guess, anyways. Hard not to notice our differences. At least you've shown me respect." A hand came out between them, and Monoma smiled behind his offered palm. "May the best of us win."
He shouldn't trust that hand, Izuku warned himself, but he wasn't an ass. His own hand slowly rose to meet Monoma's, and the two shared a silent and surprisingly normal handshake.
"It looks like our fighters have come to a mutual agreement of their own!" Or as normal as a handshake could be with their teacher's voice echoing overhead. "I don't know what it spells for the rest of their match, but boy am I excited to see what becomes of this!"
Even as their teacher continued to commentate and the stands of heroes, sidekicks and their classmates of onlookers continued to cheer and urge them on, Izuku watched Monoma's smile begin to crack. The blond's hand twitched in his, but the green-haired teen kept his grip locked on the other boy, before his smile faded away entirely into a serious stare. "You've got quite the strange quirk, don't you?"
"So?" Waiting no time for a response, Izuku used his grip to pull Monoma towards him, and as he took a step of his own closer, released the other boy's hand and shot his own palm forward into the boy's chest. While Monoma was left gasping for air, the green teen wasted no time in grabbing the boy's arm again and yanking him down to the ground, dropping with him to rest a knee over his chest. "Shouldn't you be paying more attention to me?"
"And Midoriya's got him in a hold in only a few seconds!" Mic's voice cheered with the crowd. "Going in for a swift finish with a countdown second to only Todoroki's record! What speed!"
"Sorry about that," Izuku apologized, twisting Monoma's arm to hold his hand beside his knee and trap it in its folded position. "I don't know your quirk. Couldn't think of much of a plan other than this."
The blond boy scoffed up at him through an oddly rejuvenated smile. "Really? I guess we're in the same boat then."
Then his body popped apart.
Izuku found himself pushed off the other boy by a pair of legs and segments of both his arms kicking and assaulting him from out of nowhere, leaving him little choice but to jump back with the hits and throw the hand still in his grip at the other boy's rising head, the only segment still connected to his upper body.
"Thought I'd give it a try, but I guess you're no good," the blond began to ramble, his body swirling back together to stand him back on his own two feet again. "I'll have to make do with two then."
Izuku kept his eyes on the blond as they began to circle each other in the ring, tuning out Mic's shouts of commentary to think. A bisection quirk, sprinkled with a hint of levitation? There went his attempts at a countdown to squeeze out a victory. He'd have to either knock him out — without too much violence to be disqualified — or get him to land out of bounds. He chided himself for giving back the hand he took.
He dived away from the fist that flew at his head, finding the sections of its respective arm twisting in the air like homing missiles. I can handle this, Izuku hyped himself internally, swatting away chucks of arm at a time as other pieces swarmed and jabbed into him like bees. They pushed him around and stumbled him on his feet, but he followed with it as it moved him to the side of the stage. All he had to do was catch on and shove it across the field's border and he'd win the match.
Once again, that plan flew out the window as all the pieces pulled back to swarm in a circle before him, almost blocking his vision from the blond boy rushing him. His arm reassembled, shooting back onto his bare shoulder, but not slowing his approach. But Izuku could work with that, too, and raised his fists ready for his next strike. If he could get another good blow in and—
Izuku barely had time to account for the blade that suddenly sprouted from Monoma's forearm and shallowly cut into his own arms.
"Sorry about that," Monoma apologized, though the smile on his face betrayed and remorse Izuku thought he would receive. "Not trying to kill ya. Just need to put you down."
"And Monoma switches up his tactics, from a distance-keeping barrage to a close-and-personal assault!" Present Mic commented above, all the while Izuku backpedaled from each of the blond's swinging arms. "Our previous number one is now on the backfoot trying to keep himself together! How will he work his way out of this one, folks?"
This wasn't his quirk, Izuku wondered as he ducked under another swinging blade. This was the other Class B boy's quirk. He'd just faced off against it in the cavalry battle, and the shape, size, color; it was all one-to-one with the other teen's. Were they brothers or something? Did the other boy have the same disassembling aspect of the quirk Monoma had?
"You're really trying to stall this out, huh?" the blond boy questioned him with a heavy breath. "I thought you Class A kids would have a bit more spine on you after the villain attack."
Izuku scoffed at the other teen, reeling his arms back from another swing and flinching as the shallow cuts he bore twisted. "And lose what's left of my perfectly good hair to you? I think I'll pass."
A genuine laugh left Monoma's lips, stepping back with his hands ready to swing forward again. "Kamikiri looks better with it."
"Same with his quirk," Izuku shot back. A bit of an underside tactic, but if they were related then maybe comparing between them could find a nerve he could exploit. "Suits him much better. Looks unnatural on you."
That had the opposite effect, sending the blond boy in a wider smile to Izuku's surprise. "You noticed? I guess you did face him last round, but I didn't have many options. We don't have many quirks that could hold that supposed strength of yours down. I had to think of a different plan for you. You can't be completely invulnerable to his quirk." As the blades retracted and his arms dissected once more, Izuku had a thought. Why both his powers were so different; why one of them belonged to his classmate; why Monoma called it Kamikiri's quirk, and not his own.
Izuku had never heard of the power to copy or imitate quirks before, but with the way he himself existed it wasn't completely out of the question. But how many could he have? Why wasn't he using them in unison; could he not combine them? How long could he copy them for, if his time was limited at all? A flying fist clipped him on the cheek, and as he cradled the small cut had another, more troubling question enter his mind: had Monoma tried to copy his power too?
His flying arms reassembled once more and returned to his shoulders, and the blond boy grumbled as he examined them. "Damn, I've taken too long," Izuku had barely heard him mumble; at least it meant his time limit assumption was right. Monoma gave him the same once over, his frown quipping with a huff. "Are you even tired?"
Izuku clenched his fists, hissing as it flexed his cuts. Looking at his arms, he was relieved to see the blood coating him barely covered one side each. "I can manage," he challenged back. He barely got in a few hits in since he first slammed him on the ground, a far cry from the hits and cuts he received in return. Monoma looked to his own hands angrily, but Izuku knew the blond could probably take advantage of his wounds and—
"I surrender."
Izuku blinked, staring at his opponent as he stood up straight and raised a hand towards Midnight. "I can't win," he announced to her. "No point in dragging this out and humiliating myself."
The heroine copied the green-haired teen's surprised reaction, but recovered faster than he did to crack her crop and a bright smile alongside it. "Monoma Neito concedes defeat! Midoriya Izuku moves on to the next round!"
Said winner watched his opponent, as he scanned over the heads in the stands and flexed his hands. Izuku could hear how much quieter everyone was for their ending than it was for the matches before them. "You can copy quirks," he chose to state over his confusion for forfeiting.
"You noticed quick," Monoma responded with a scowling smile. "Using Kamikiri's quirk was a mistake, it seems. Thought a bit of blood loss would slow you down."
"Probably would have if you kept trying," Izuku argued, flashing his bleeding arms to the other boy and nodding at Midnight's shout to visit Recovery Girl. "Not like I'm at my best like this. You could have taken advantage of this."
The blond boy looked at him with bafflement. "Are you serious? With that raw strength of yours? You're bleeding out your arms and you still hit like a cinder block. I'd have lost anyway."
What strength, Izuku wondered. He hadn't managed any real feat beyond some durability, and the current state of his arms could probably be considered under that bar too, but that was it. Of course everyone seemed to know of the entrance exam, so Monoma probably did too. And if he knew just how strong Izuku could be…
"You tried to copy me." Not a question, with how Monoma continued to look at his own hands.
"But of course."
"You couldn't use it."
"Boy, can't you point out the obvious?"
"What did it feel like?"
The blond boy quipped an eyebrow at the green teen. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't swing that way." He moved to walk past and leave the stage, but Izuku clapped a bloodied hand atop his shoulders, staring him down seriously. Monoma stared back, clearly annoyed with him, but soon the green-haired boy's urging had him cave with a sigh. "It didn't feel like anything. Lot of quirks I can copy and can't use. First time it felt like one was beyond my reach. And thanks for making me need a new jacket." He shoved off Izuku's hand, sending the winner of the round off with a glare back the way he came.
He felt like nothing at all, huh?
Mashirao watched the fight below for a moment, of Iida and Hatsume darting around the stage like a speedster rendition of The Nutcracker, before turning his attention to his green-haired friend beside him. "Are you sure he knows? He said he can't use some quirks; he could assume you have one."
Midoriya shook his head, frowning. "He said it felt like nothing," he responded in a whisper.
"That it was different from anyone else he's copied. He has to know."
The tailed boy dropped his head with a sigh. "Well, it wasn't like our sensei could be the only person in the world with a quirk capable of figuring this out. Think he's going to blabber about it?"
"No, but" — Midoriya side-eyed the wall to their left, sectioning their class off from the other hero course — "it's not like I know the fuckin' guy. Maybe he yaps off and tells everyone. Serves me right, not doing it myself."
An unfortunate match up, the blond noted. Midoriya had caught him up on his fight with Monoma — all the words they shared that no one could hear — and it didn't bring a smile to his face to know of the other boy's quirk. He'd never heard of a quirk that copied other quirks, but then again he'd never heard of a quirk that could negate other quirks, or the power of a strength-enhancement quirk not even belonging to a quirk at all, so this was just the year of startling new revelations, wasn't it?
"We'll deal with what happens," Mashirao promised him, tapping the tip of his tail into his friend's shoulder. "Told you, I'm not letting you go alone. This dumb shit included. We'll handle it."
"One way or another," Midoriya agreed, or resigned to, by the tone of his voice. "Couldn't be a worse place for it to spread now than this. Not exactly something to market to scouts looking for sidekicks and partners."
"After all you've done without one up to now, in front of their eyes, you still think that'll change everything?"
"You think they would dismiss it?"
"What'cha talkin' about?" Both boys turned their heads around to find their purple-haired classmate with jacks drooping from the lobes of her ears and their bird-headed classmate beside her greeting their vision, sitting in the row behind them.
"How shit of a starter Pokemon Incineroar is," Midoriya was quick to answer, and Mashirao turned back on him in an instant.
"He's not bad. You not liking him does not make him bad."
"His design being bad makes him bad."
That distracting topic worked, as Jirou scoffed loudly and pointed one of her ear jacks at the green-haired teen. "That thing's still a beast in the competitive scene. He's still the best starter to use in tournaments."
"Yeah, when they make the mistake of re-adding him every few games."
"Have you ever considered he's brought back the second most because of his popular usage?"
"Have you ever considered he's fuck-ugly?"
Mashirao left the two color-haired teens to bicker over the fire cat Pokémon as he watched their other friends finish their quite passive match with a victory in Iida's favor. It probably wasn't a wonderful feeling for the blue-haired boy to watch Hatsume willingly step out of the ring, but at least he had another match to show his skills in later.
As the two of them left the field, two more of their classmates stepped out to take their place. Present Mic could hype up the match all he liked, but Mashirao wasn't betting any on Kirishima when Ibara was his opponent. That just wasn't a fair match up.
"I bet I could beat your water type team with three Incineroars," Jirou declared boisterously.
"You're on," Midoriya accepted her challenge, grasping her hand in a firm handshake. "I know a gaming center in Shizuoka we can settle this in. I used to go there all the time in elementary."
Tokoyami perked his eyebrows at the green-haired teen. "Do you live there too?" he asked, and when Midoriya gave him a surprised stare in response, he elaborated with a gesture to himself and the purple-haired girl. "We've both recently learned we have sprouted in that same prefecture, though hailing from different districts and schools."
Midoriya squinted his eyes, looking between the two other teenagers. "I'd remember if either of you guys went to my school. I take it neither of you were at Aldera?"
Jirou snickered and scoffed, leaning over the backs of their seats. "No, but I've heard about it from my old man. Not the best school in the area by a mile. My condolences, you had to sit through that place."
"Appreciated," Midoriya thanked her, all tone of competition gone between their voices.
"You've escaped such a perilous station in far better character than the rumors led me to believe," Tokoyami commented. "I was taught it was a breeding ground for ruffians and future yakuza characters, but beyond your appearance you have maintained a far more carefree aroma about you." Mashirao gave his pal a look of his own. He knew Bakugou had gone to the same school as Midoriya; had he really underplayed the people around him that bad, or were those rumors simply that and nothing more?
Instead of answering those unvoiced questions, Midoriya gave the bird-headed boy a blank stare. "I can't tell if that's an underhanded compliment or a gracious insult."
Before the other boy could elaborate on that, a shadowy, bird-like creature popped out from the collar of his shirt, took one look at Midoriya, and collapsed in a cackle of laughter and tears.
"Nevermind," Midoriya grumbled, curling into his chair. The match on the field had ended as expected, with Shiozaki tossing Kirishima off the stage after a good minute of his struggles. Yaoyorozu came out almost immediately as the vine-haired girl disappeared into her tunnel, with Kendo standing opposite her on the field, and the green-haired boy beside Mashirao flashed her a thumbs up before returning to his sulking.
"Pretty sure everyone here thinks you're a good guy," Jirou carried on, leaving them to ignore Tokoyami as he gripped and shook his quirk like a talking pug. "And I'm making assumptions again, but I take it Bakugou went to the same school as you?" The green-haired teen gave her a look — one Mashirao read between 'how could you tell' and 'was it that obvious' — while the tailed boy nodded in his place. "Thought so. Pretty sure everyone knows you two knew each other after All-Might's class. Especially after he was transferred."
"I think our sensei calls it 'expelled,'" Midoriya noted. "Our…mothers are both still good friends. It's the word she used."
The purple-haired girl chuckled. "Pretty sure my mom would pick a fight if someone attacked me like that. Couldn't imagine keeping close to someone that explosive."
That earned a snicker from Mashirao alongside his friend. "I've met her once," the tailed boy admitted. "She's a nice lady. Surprised someone like this is her kid."
"I am a saint. How fuckin' dare you."
"If you're an angel, I expect your blessing to make it through my fight. Facing hell personified is going to give me an aneurysm." Midoriya hummed with a nod, eyes darting away from the battling gals in the stadium center to across the stands where the General Studies students sat. "Speaking of which, I'm up next."
Midoriya raised a fist, following Mashirao as he rose to stand, and looked up into his eyes with a cold fire. "Kick his ass," he encouraged the tailed boy, and the blond bumped the offered fist with a smile in return. Their classmates offered similar encouragement as he passed them by, and slipped into the stadium's labyrinth to find the stage's entrance.
There were too many people causing his friend trouble, and though there was little he could do about them all, he was determined to kick the ass of the first obstacle without remorse.
God was having a big fucking laugh up in his porcelin throne, Katsuki convinced himself. He had gone out of his way to avoid Deku during the kiddie-ass cavalry battle and simply knock out everyone else who tried to steal his points, and then half his team had gone and lost in their first fights. How Tape Arms and Rock Head got to stay in the hero course while they kicked him out was fucking baffling. At least Pinky had won her fight, but she was destined to lose against Two-Face anyways so wasn't that pointless? And not only had the icy bastard failed to knock Deku and his team out of the competition, that freckled shithead had kept his first place, won his first match by forfeit, and now Katsuki had to fight the tailed freak who acted as the nerd's friend.
Maybe he should have targeted Deku from the start, knock him out over the canyon and not have to deal with seeing his stupid face so goddamn often.
"And now it is time for our eighth and final round of the first wave!" the obnoxiously loud hero declared, his booming voice ringing through the hall surrounding Katsuki. "We've had long rounds, we've had short rounds! We've seen massive showcases of power and small-scaled bouts of tenacity and endurance! What will our final competitors put on display for us today?!
"First up is the boy representing the General Studies course on his back, blasting his way to the top of the top in your challenges so far; Class 1-E's Bakugou Katsuki!" The blond boy scoffed at his introduction; as if he was representing those losers. He was only here to represent himself and every reason he deserved to be a hero, simple as that.
Staring him down from the other end of the stage was the blond monkey Katsuki knew as Deku's friend, attempting to glare holes in the explosive teen's head like he was some kind of threat. "And facing him down may look like a plain boy with a tail, but we all saw how he soared through the air to steal ten million points from the jaws of defeat; Class 1-A's Ojiro Mashirao!" The named boy bent his knees and dropped into a fighting stance, and Katsuki did the same, chambering his palms behind his hips. This bastard was no example of a future hero, and nowhere near better than him. He'd finish this faster than the rest.
"You know the rules! You know the reward! Let's delay it no longer! BEGIN!"
Katsuki launched across the field with an eruption from his hands, zooming in on the still standing boy. He threw his right arm in front of him, snapping his palm into an eruption of light pointed at the other blond.
And found his hand kicked away and his head smacked sideways by something five times as big.
He rolled to the side, watching the world spin around him, before gray became green. But he caught himself, setting off another explosion as the vibrant grass reached his eyes — before it could reach his body — and shot himself back onto the stage. He was met with a thick tail spinning down towards his head, and though he stepped aside to dodge it, his quirk couldn't set off to stop the two feet that stomped on his chest and shot him back down the field.
"And we're off with an explosion of fists!" Present Mic roared as Katsuki shot himself away from the chasing monkey with another explosion. "Not a moment to breathe for Bakugou as Ojiro hunts him down! What a spectacular showing of martial arts!"
The explosive teen scoffed at his opponent, shooting himself into the air above and aiming his hands down at the other blond. "Think you're fast, huh?!" An explosion fell onto the tailed boy, though Katsuki saw him diving out of the way and hopping out of the smoke cloud. He didn't let that stop him from aiming his hands once more. "Then just try getting close!" He let off a chain of explosions down the other end of the stage, even as he landed on his own two feet, until smoke covered the opposite half of the field.
So the monkey had speed of his own; so what? Katsuki had the power and the range with his Explosion. So what if the extra got in a lucky hit or two? Now that he knew the bastard's speed, he knew how he needed to react and retaliate on time. That wasn't going to happen again, not on his watch.
The fruits of his labor began to show, as he spotted the shadow within the right side of his dust cloud. Then he saw another coming through on his left. They were the aftermath of his explosions; of course he knew how to work around them and use them to his advantage. "Good fucking try!" he shouted in mockery, spreading his arms and blasting both silhouettes without a second to spare.
The shirtless tailed boy shot at him front and center, bursting through the smoke before him, and clobbered Katsuki across the jaw before he could bring his hands forward again. "Thanks."
He was too goddamn fast, Katsuki grumbled, swinging a hand forward to finally land an explosion on the tailed boy's bare chest. Both of them flew apart, and the explosive teen cradled his jaw with a groan. And too goddamn strong for his own good. His quirk was a damn joke for an animal; how the hell was he so nimble with that strength behind his blows?
The tailed boy tentatively touched the skin of his chest, hissing slightly where smoke rose from. Katsuki hadn't burned him any but he knew his explosions still stung like a bitch to take. Yet the monkey powered through it, puffing out his chest and spreading his feet into a fighting stance once more.
Katsuki scoffed, cupping his hands before his waist to pool his sweat in the wrinkles of his palms. "Oi, ape," he called out across the field, "mind explaining what the hell you're doing defending that fucking Deku? Doubt he has anything of value to bribe you with unless you're that poor."
The other blond boy glared at him, raising his fists higher between them. "I'm Izuku's friend, you fucker," he spat back. "I don't need anything from him."
"You'd taint your name with something that weak?"
The monkey had the gall to bark a laugh back at his face. "He can be a dumbass sometimes but there's nothing weak about it. He beat you, didn't he?"
Katsuki could feel his forehead morph a tick mark as he snarled through his teeth. And he was too goddamn snarky for some invisible extra. "That freak didn't beat shit!" He launched off his feet once more, running at his opponent instead of his flight-based approach, and bared his fangs in a smile when the other boy flinched in response. "And neither can you!" He tossed his hands forward, splashing the air between them with a bigger explosion than before, and shouted a laugh and the bigger plume of smoke that overtook his vision.
Deku was a worthless piece of shit and anyone who associated him was too, allowing themselves to stand up for someone like him. He had only gotten so far on luck and the pity of those around him. If those same extras wanted to stand in his way, then fine, Katsuki would beat them down without problem. If they couldn't let Deku down the easy way, then he would do it himself, the way he always had, school staff be damned. He wasn't going to kill him, but he was going to give a damn convincing show of their mistake in thinking he could handle himself against real fighters. If villains wouldn't convince them, then he would.
Shooting out from the top of the smoke sprang the tailed boy, spinning in the air in an arc that curved his way. Katsuki flexed his hands, ready to blast the teen away again, but faltered as his arms flared and his fingers flinched in a sudden shock of pain. He hissed against the sudden feeling of recoil, but could not step away as the other teen fell upon him. "Maybe I can!" And slammed his tail down on Katsuki's head.
The world went black. The roaring in his ears was gone. The feeling of his quirk slipped away. The only sense he still had was the blood from the tongue he bit into. His own blood. His feet shook and slid apart. His body was failing him. Katsuki was losing.
But a 'maybe' wasn't enough.
With a roar, everything came rushing back into his head, and his hands bloomed alive by his side, pointed at the tailed teen still falling in front of him, before the eruption tore them apart.
"Ojiro Mashirao is out of bounds!" he heard the scandalous heroine announced as Katsuki tumbled on his back. "Bakugou Katsuki wins!"
"And wasn't that the fastest and most brutal match yet!" Present Mic's voice followed behind her, drowning out the stadium with his volume. "Our nimble martial artist gave a spectacular show with his powerful hits and non-stop assault, but the size and strength of those explosions ended up dwarfing him in the end! Bakugou Katsuki will be advancing into the next round, and we'll start the next wave of battles here soon folks! Stay tuned!"
Katsuki picked himself up slowly, panting and spitting out blood pooling beneath his cheeks. As the smoke began to clear he could spot the other blond in the grass at the furthest corner of the stadium, struggling to stand as medical bots came to assist him. The explosive boy gave him a pointed huff the tailed boy never saw before he turned away and stomped off the stage, shouldering away the cheers and shouts of the stupid crowd of heroes and sidekicks wasting their time at this show.
'Trying' wasn't going to be enough to stop him. An attempt was nothing to a victory. No matter how good these extras could have been, Deku was holding them back.
He would show them what it meant to truly succeed.
In the week ahead for Pro Hero: Metal Bat:
worlds turn, into each other.