Well would you look at that; time in my day to write and get this shit done.
It doesn't help that work has been putting me 40 hours a week again because we have bare minimum staff and even one person going on vacation means we gotta double down with who remains. I'd like to write more and throw out the thousands of words I manage a day, I just need to steal my evenings away from my family to do that. So a conflict of interest. My apologies on the wait.
The next chapter is the official end of the Sports Festival, a lot more set up for when we return next month (if shit gets together. I like sticking to my Sundays.) As I promised, there is another story to be worked on in the meantime, though as of now it's only being posted on AO3 because this site frustrates me and at least there I've to receive scam messages about my work and what people want to do with it and me. It'll be a short story, following Izuku's father, Hisashi, on a mission across the United States to discover and take down a mysterious organization making waves through America in the light of All For One's death, following my own canon set up in my long forgotten story A New Starting Point. That fic has been a struggle to return to and continue, and I think working on this side story for it will help me ease back into it and write more for it again. I'd like to. After it's done on AO3 I might just post it all on this site at once, instead of weekly. unsure about that, atm. But My Hero America will be updating for the coming weeks as chapter 28 is finished and posted next.
Thank you for being so patient with me and the confusing world that tries to twist my ankles. I want to do this, posting work and bettering my craft. Easing my own brain into working the stories I want to tell down the line at a level I'll still be proud of. I hope you all enjoy. (And I'm sorry Eri fans)
Togata took no hard feelings with his leave, and Toshinori was thankful for that. His predecessor the boy might be, but the only person of interest in this year's Sports Festival he was not. The lanky man was impressed with his protege's performance in using Permeation and One For All congruently, even if it brought him to accidentally phasing out of bounds in his first fight in the finals; his work in the ten-lap race and dodgeball in the first two events had demonstrated both his utility and teamwork enough to the world to ensure none of his teammates in the second round were knocked out of the competition. Even if he was still designated to intern under Nighteye's agency for the work study upcoming, the boy had done wonders in setting a new name for himself in the eyes of the heroes and sidekicks he would be officially working with by this time next year. Toshinori had nothing to worry about for the ninth wielder of his own master's quirk.
Two stadiums away, however, saw the world dangling on a string. Despite the eccentricities of the first-year students over the past month, the number one hero was keen on giving them the day off from his attention and presence - though he was designated as the medal-bestower for each year when their top three placements were decided, so they'd see him in costume soon anyways. But he had allowed the first two events to fly past him without so much as a word reaching his ears, so as to focus on the growth of his primary student. A foolish miscalculation on his part, he'd guess, when he came to find the winner of the first two events was the quirkless kid who'd just punched a steel-skinned boy into the earth by the time he had reached the first-year's stadium. It was not the news he expected to hear.
No ill-will towards Midoriya, but Toshinori knew the boy had made no progress in controlling his odd power outside of their in-class training exercises — Nedzu couldn't hold a secret to save a life — and even then he'd barely shown the same level of strength when holding his bat than he had in the entrance exam or the USJ. The blond man had faith the boy would at least have a chance in the first event to pass into the second, but at such a disadvantage with his student body the hero assumed it was more likely the kid would have been kicked out of the running then and there. He mentioned none of it to the lad when he finally found him in Recovery Girl's office, the two musing over his spontaneous use of power and its just-as-sudden disappearance thereafter; Midoriya didn't deserve to hear of the man's doubt when he had already gone and overshot expectations when he wasn't even looking. He had a promise to keep to the boy, and he wasn't going to fight his dream with his own pathetic excuses of disbelief in the face of what was proving him wrong.
He was quirkless once. It took the opportunity of a lifetime to allow him to pursue his dream. The boy deserved his own chance at the same.
He stayed in Chiyo's office to watch the boy's next fight on the television screen, playing tennis with the old woman's comments on his tenacity and both his and Todoroki's colorful bruises growing from their rocketing punches. Midoriya's strength was once more invisible, and the only note Toshinori could make was how much faster he powered through the pain of the fight than the dual-haired boy — a clear sign of the green-haired boy's unusual pain tolerance and energy that oddly seemed to work separate from his super strength. By the end of the fight, Toshinori was left only with Midoriya's victory on screen and, playing through his head as he took to ascend the stadium floors, the only words shouted loud enough for the microphones to pick up before the final blow.
"If you won't give it your all, then what's the point in being a hero?!"
Toshinori was happy he kept his trap shut and swallowed his doubts. Maybe he could convince Nighteye to extend an offer for the work study so the man could properly meet with the boy.
When the following fight had come to a quick end and its winner declared to the hero's dismayed ears, he had finally reached the teacher's booth and found himself greeted by the warm staff present.
"Glad to hear you're able to find your way around the mazes of this school this time, All-Might," Thirteen greeted him first, offering him a seat beside her and the armored-clad man clicking away on his laptop.
The lanky-formed man huffed a melancholic laugh and gave the woman a playful glare. "It helps that the hallways have maps this time around," he reasoned. "Does Nedzu request the school board to remove them or was I just not offered one for the testing grounds?"
"Unlucky," Power Loader summarized without looking away from his keyboard, which left him blind to the blank stare Toshinori gave him from over Thirteen's shoulders.
Drawing him away from the construction hero, the white-haired vampire seated in front of him turned around in his chair. "I thought you were watching the third-year's events? Did the students knock each other out in the second round?"
"No, but the boy who's been internshipping with my former sidekick Nighteye disqualified himself in the first match of the finals. And there's no one I can really extend an offer to in my current state for my own agency. Thought I should come on over after hearing how this year's events have been going." None of them knew the truth of his quirk or Togata's hold of it — not even Aizawa and Yamada were informed when they had last spoken — so he still had to keep that detail close to his chest. Though it wasn't the only power any of them had to keep a tight lip on.
"You mean Midoriya." Snipe took Toshinori's attention next, stretched over two chairs in his reclined position. The masked hero spun his hat on one finger, watching it lazily as he spoke. "Despite his odd powers barely n' rarely activatin', kid's been sweepin' the competition. Must've trained like hell to have that endurance and stamina on him, but one helluva dome to be this wild. Makes me proud I can beat you out in pull ups, Kan."
The white-haired hero seated before Toshinori rounded on the with a shout and an accusing finger. "We're differently built and you know it, Mingu! Gloat about it when you can match what I bench!"
Leaving the two men to devolve into a debate on their exercise plans, Toshinori turned his attention back to the spacesuit-wearing hero. "Yes, his performance thus far caught my interest, but I can't deny Eraser being in the announcer's booth caught my eye as well. I thought Mic and Vlad would co-host these events each year."
"Mic wanted his or Kayama's presence in the booth this year, but she was already designated to be the on-scene stage announcer," she explained. "And he's at least more indifferent about his students to Kan's than last year's Festival, so Nedzu tried to bribe him into the position." That sounded like the principal, Toshinori noted in the back of his head. "Though Mic keeps texting me that his husband's attitude is souring."
The blond man nodded silently and looked out the glass window displaying the empty field and the crowds between them. Given how the matches had gone thus far and who was slated for the final fight, the lanky man could feel his old wound twist in his anxiety. Midoriya and Bakugou; a fight they as a school had been preparing for the day it came around again. And as the final fight of the final event of the most-watched grade year of the Sports Festival? Not the ideal set of circumstances for it to be around.
"Social media has blown up for it," Power Loader butted in, tapping his screen lightly in the process. "Midoriya's been the star of the show people have been talking about since he won the obstacle course with no sign of using a quirk. No one's suspected quirklessness, or at least no one with traction for the theory to blow up, especially after his fight with Tetsutetsu finally revealing it. Everyone is greatly overestimating his capabilities due to this, and with how quickly Bakugou has dispatched his opposition, viewer count seems to be higher this year for the final match. The principal already requested that I turn off all the closest microphones as a prevention plan."
Toshinori raised an eyebrow at the mecha-esque hero. "Does he believe Young Bakugou will openly declare it?"
"Him or Midoriya. The boy's made it this far. He had an opportunity to announce it in his athlete's oath and has another now when everyone is paying attention. Until we fully understand the boy's strength, the principal wishes to keep that information to ourselves to steer clear of any confusion — or harassment — from the public. Nothing I can do about any audience members recording from the splash zones."
The number-one hero sighed and sulked in his seat. "A troubling affair to deal with. I do not think it is in the boy's nature to attempt throwing around Midoriya's 'quirklessness' for means of humiliating him in the eyes of others—"
"Did you believe he would attack Midoriya so violently in the battle trial?" Power Loader interrupted him. Toshinori hardened his gaze on the man, finding the dull blue eyes boring holes his way. "Bakugou is an aggressive student, that's why I made sure he and Midoriya were not seated in the same brackets before every other placement was decided. Hoped either of them would be knocked out along the way and we could save their squabble for a more controlled environment. Nearly got him to kill the kid the first time around; wasn't looking to make that same mistake again. Damn this school."
Toshinori's harsh stare lessened on the man as the excavating hero hunched over his laptop once more. Nedzu had brought him up to speed on the case of Bakugou's hero gear and how it had made its way into his possession, and he extended his sympathies to the Support Course's teacher upon learning the student who had brought such a commotion about. Another of their own mistakes as adults and as the men and women responsible for keeping him and the rest of the children safe that had them failing that exact promise.
"Did Nedzu permit you to control the match ups like that?" he asked the other man hesitantly.
"Once I gave him my own reasoning, yes. His idea was to ensure they fought right away."
"Then we are doomed to the hands of fate now. Let us hope these boys can settle this appropriately."
Denki wasn't an idiot.
Lax as he tried to be, not everything passed him by. That usually applied to poor-conditioned restaurants his father tried to take them to on big days of celebration, or when his grandmother gave him the same pair of socks three Christmases in a row; menial problems he could shove under the rug and remedy with a quick run to McDonalds. As of late, this problem encompassed his friends' behavior too.
He understood he was the odd man out in his inner circle; not like it was hard to tell. Everyone circled around Midoriya like he was the Sun of their solar system, and they all knew him before the Big Bang that was their first day of class. He was the Pluto in their friendship, and from his distance away he could still see how frequently they panicked over their green-haired friend.
"Has anyone seen Tenya?" Yaoyorozu asked around, peeking every which way for a sighting of the blue-haired boy. The nervous drum of her feet behind Denki's head has been beating on for the past few minutes, but what started as an annoying tick in the back of his ears had turned into the rhythm he hummed to while passing the time.
"He left," Ojiro answered as he returned, snacks in one hand and a Big Gulp in the other. Brushing past a dazed Todoroki sitting in the front row's end seat, he sat down close to Uraraka and placed the food between them — though it didn't remain there for long as the brunette swiped it from the empty seat and scarfed it down quickly. "Saw him in the concession hall, booking it to who knows where. I don't think he even saw me."
"Did you try texting him?" the electric boy proposed.
The tailed teen nodded. "Yeah, and he left me on read. I'd call him if I didn't think he was running over the speed limit."
"That's…unlike Iida," the tall girl commented mutedly. "To leave so abruptly and unannounced…Could his family have called him?"
Denki perked up at the thought, spinning in his seat to snap a thumb at the raven-haired girl. "Oh yeah! He's an heir to a hero family, isn't he? The Iidaten? Maybe his brother came running over for the award ceremony. Are his parents already here?"
"No," Ojiro shot it down. "He told us his family wasn't here. I don't think anyone's is; my mom complained about the tickets not being discounted for the parents and guardians of students."
Well damn, Denki thought to himself. He knew Iida was more stiff and formal out of their entire class, but he assumed the blue-haired teen would communicate better how he was going to his family or leaving prematurely. He made it to the top four finalists alongside Midoriya; why not stick around to celebrate that?
"One minute to showdown!" Present Mic announced overhead, enticing Denki to look around the stadium as heroes and sidekicks shuffled into their seats. "Get your butts in your seat, everyone! It's about time for the fight you've all been waiting for!" Denki knew plenty was wrong as he watched his friends continue to squirm in their seats beside him.
He wasn't all too excited for "the fight of the century," either. Midoriya making it all the way to the finals was both shocking and acceptable to him, because honestly the guy had been making mad-lad plans since the beginning; if anyone could find their way through any obstacle, it was gonna be him. Even knowing how strong a voltage he could muster, Denki wasn't confident he could've taken the guy down himself.
The Bakugou guy was another matter entirely. He remembered so little of him from the three or so days of class they had together, but he could tell there was something off with the guy. It was like he wore fear-inducing deodorant from Old Spice; Denki worried every second he was around the guy that he was gonna get caught up in a blast or two. Even then, he was expelled from their class very suddenly, and the electric teenager didn't think it was that deserved. Yeah, the guy made one mistake in the battle trial, but that didn't mean he had to be kicked from their class with a snap of their sensei's fingers. The school was not that strict on first-time offenses.
But apparently the explosive blond and the powerful greenette grew up together or something, and not for the better. Ojiro didn't have nice things to say about him, Iida didn't want to talk about him, Yaoyorozu hesitated to say anything, and even Uraraka thought lowly of him? What he first assumed was a rivalry during their first combat course morphed more and more into a toxic conflict every second he thought about it. And now the two of them had to fight on live television? Was this the right call for anyone to allow? Did their teachers not think it could happen, even if it required the solar system to align?
Denki joined his friends in their silent prayers that nothing would go wrong.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Present Mic's voice roared through the stadium. "This is the moment you've all been waiting for! Our students may have whittled down the competition to two, but only one can take victory today! Who will stand? Who will fall? Who's ready to begin?!"
Katsuki didn't spare a glance to the mind-numbed crowd filling the stadium seats around him. He knew they were riddled with heroes and scouts looking to spot students for a work study course, but frankly he couldn't care any less about them. Same went for the two heroes flanking either side of the battlefield, sat in a throne of stone or poised on her stage like statues for the mindless to gawk at. Nothing mattered more now than himself, and that held true even with Deku standing opposite him on the field's other end. Had it been anyone else, Katuski would have given them the benefit of the doubt that they could help him put on a good show. But not Deku.
"Representing the hero course: he stole first place in the obstacle course! He swiped it again in the cavalry battle! Will he manage to sneak it out once more? Give a hand to Class 1-A's Midoriya Izuku!"
Katsuki sneered as the crowd roared alive for the green-haired bastard — the damn liar. He'd convinced everyone he had a quirk without even saying a word or putting on a good show, and everyone just ate it up like cake. None of them knew the truth. And Deku had the gall to stand, tall and proud, in front of them all as if he wasn't playing them for fools. The glare the twerp tried to point at him had no effect, though; Katsuki wouldn't fall for this ruse. It was his job to set the record straight.
"And for the first time in fifteen years, representing the General Studies course" — the blond boy scoffed, as if any of them were worth congratulating in his place — "is the boy who's been hot on his opponent's trail since the beginning! He's secured second place for himself and his team in our first two events; can he turn the tide around and end Midoriya's winning streak once and for all? Cheer on Class 1-E's Bakugou Katsuki!"
It was insulting how much quieter the applause was for him, the real epitome of the future of heroics, and how underhanded Present Mic's introduction of him was in comparison to Deku. The crowd didn't need to be reminded of his failures to stand taller than Deku in the first two events; it was well recent enough in their memories. At least the parakeet of a man knew it was his time to put the quirkless freak down once and for all; he wasn't going to disappoint there.
"Oi!" he called out across the field, watching Deku's head bounce up quietly in response. "You gonna try and walk out on me like you did with Half-n-Half, Deku?"
The green-haired bastard gave him a silent look, his hands flexing by his side like he was trying to be intimidating. "No," he called back, tone flat in assurance. "I'm not."
Good, Katuski celebrated internally, bringing his hands up to his sides to spark softly. Deku's little attempt at a stint last round would have been fine to humiliate the number two's kid with a handed win, but the blond wasn't going to accept that. The quirkless rat was high on his own ego and streak now, acting as if he could put up a fight against him. However, Katsuki did want the chance to put him down with his own hands, so Deku had better stay in the damn ring until he'd gotten what he deserved.
"You boys know the rules," Midnight shouted her way in, facing Katsuki the entire time she spoke. "A bit of roughhousing is all well and good but this is not a fight for your life. Take it too far and you'll be disqualified from the match. Do you understand?" Even though Deku nodded, the blond boy knew it was all meant for him to hear. He nodded his head just once to the old hag before keeping his eyes trained on Deku. He wasn't going to kill him, or get anywhere close to the sort; he could ragdoll him around the ring just fine until the punk admitted defeat and chose to be honest with everyone and himself. This wasn't his fight — this was Katsuki's win.
"Am I the only one whose heart is bumping in his ears? This is the spectacle of Yuei's Sports Festival! Let us delay you no longer! Ready! Set! Fight!"
Instead of launching forward with his quirk, Katsuki took to running across the field, bolting directly for the green-haired stain. Deku walked forward to meet him, taking his time like he was some stupid anime character looking to face him down; and what an ugly face it was. When he was only a few meters away, Katsuki closed the distance between them with a propelling explosion. He raised his right arm behind him, sparks dancing between his fingers, and launched it and an explosion right at Deku's stupid mug.
Only for a fist to meet his palm at the moment of eruption.
Izuku knew he would have no time to think — no time to stop and plan in the middle of his fight with Bakugou. If their last fight in the battle trial was anything to note, it was the blond's whole plan to go on an endless offensive and move with the flow of the fight. All Izuku could do under those circumstances was watch and react as fast as he could. But that's why he formulated a plan ahead of time. Bakugou's fights with his friends were no different than the fights they had for years; not a single aspect of the blond's style changed beyond a growth in fire power. Izuku knew exactly what he had to do to win, Hunter's voice echoing in his ears.
He just had to punch back harder.
With their first swings pressed together under columns of smoke, Bakugou launched his other hand forward, sweat popping into sparks of light that illuminated his palm. Izuku met it half way with his other fist, canceling the explosion short, and leaving them standing in a stalemate. He hissed at the feeling of coal on his knuckles, and Bakugou hissed back with a hungry glare. "You think you can win this fight, Deku?"
The green-haired teen forced his grimace up into a smirk, pressing his fists into the other boy's burning palms. "Does it look like I'm giving up already, Kaachan?" The space between their hands popped again, but Bakugou's fingers dug into Izuku's skin to keep them together. He kept his smile up, pushing forward to force the blond's hands back. He wasn't going to surrender that easily.
He raised a leg to block the oncoming kick that stumbled him off balance, and once his hands were freed he used his forearms to block the explosion that sent him rolling across the stadium. Bakugou followed, leaping into the air and launching explosion after explosion. The sleeves to Izuku's jacket tore and burned away as he protected his face from the heat.
"You look as pitiful as ever!" Bakugou shouted over his explosions, wailing on Izuku one blast after another. "How the hell do you think to win against me?"
Izuku jumped to the side of another explosion, planting his front foot down and shooting a fist right into Bakugou's face. He felt the strands of hair tickling his wrist as the blond ducked, and cried out as another explosion ripped into his side and sent him flying once more.
"Not with piss-slow speed like that, Deku!" the blond continued to shout as he chased him down. "You were faster last time! Where did all that energy go?!"
Izuku rolled to the side to dodge the explosion Bakugou released on the ground he laid prior, pushed himself onto his knees and quickly threw another punch at the blond's head. Fast as he tried to be, the explosive teen was still faster to swerve and swing again. The green-haired teen rolled with the blast to rise to his feet once more, and blocked the kick flying at his own head just in time.
"You tried harder in your other fights! What, d'you lose the strength to fight? Why even bother?!"
There was still no sign of his super strength to be felt, Izuku lamented as he fell back from the blow and continued to bob and weave what he could from the blond. There was something he was missing, that much he was sure of, but what that ingredient was refused to shine a light on itself. He didn't want to go when the going got tough, however; not until he figured it out in this fight. He held on long enough to pass against Monoma, finally found his powers again against Tetsutetsu, and though they were gone right after he still decided to fight Todoroki even when it made him look in an ugly mirror. He wouldn't have thought anything of it if he'd lost any of his fights going into the final event, and it had taken only an hour for that entire perspective to flip.
He couldn't bow out now, not against Bakugou. He had too much to prove; to him; to the oceans of people watching them; to himself. To prove what he truly was.
Blast after blast continued to burst in Izuku's ears, but all it took was one set off behind Bakugou to close the distance between them. The green-haired teen tried to move his arms to block another explosion, but the blond had changed tactics, opting instead to send his bare knuckles up into Izuku's face and send him falling backwards.
"Stay down, you quirkless freak," he heard Bakugou warn him — threaten him, his voice low and venomous. "You can't win this."
To prove what he wasn't anymore.
Izuku caught himself in the fall, arching his back just enough to plant his hand on the ground. He lowered just ever so slightly more, before springing himself back with his arm and swinging his fist in an arc to where Bakugou was. Again he was left trailing after the blond — his knuckles grazing the fabric of the other teen's jacket — but the explosive boy hadn't just dodged his attack; he'd jumped back several feet with an explosion that simply passed Izuku by.
"Stay down?" Izuku repeated, huffing his voice through long drawn takes of air. "Give up?" He leveled his eyes with Bakugou, matching the blond's intense glare with one of his own. "You think I've made it this far listening to you? Not a chance."
The blond spat at him, flexing his fingers as tiny sparks danced between them. "This is as far as you're going, Deku. This charade ends here."
He hadn't made it into Yuei by bowing his head. He didn't finally beat Bakugou in a fight by cowering beneath him. He didn't give his all to save lives by turning his cheek and walking away. He didn't spend two damn weeks training with Hunter, being with his friends, and looking to understand himself just to call quits against Bakugou, of all people.
"Yeah," Izuku agreed, raising his arms and clenching his fists before his face. "It does."
Grateful as she was for Ojiro buying her something to fill her stomach, Ochako second-guessed the speed at which she wolfed it down. The burning in her throat had slowly been replaced by a churning in her stomach, watching Midoriya appear and disappear in the clouds of burning smoke and debris kicked up by Bakugou.
"He is more of a grotesque combatant than I realized." The usually smooth and collected voice of Tokoyami wavered as he spoke. "His ferocity and lust for battle has grown tenfold from before. He looks a man possessed."
"I would've gone with scary," Ashido joined in, her cheery tone replaced by winces and hums, "but yeah. I can't believe Midoriya's still standing. Dude's tough."
"He's taken worse," Kendo came to the green-haired classmate's defense. Ochako didn't need to turn around to know she made a gesture to the side of her head where Midoriya's had been opened. "He'll be fine; I believe in him."
Ochako wanted to — did — believe in him, too, but this was different than before. She remembered how the building they used for battle training nearly toppled after these two fought before. She remembered how Midoriya's arm peeled like snake skin to shed away the bruises and burns made from the explosions. And she remembered how he knew — just knew — Bakugou would target him and only him and kept her away because of it. And whatever strength he had found to save their lives and his own before was impossible to spot in his fight now.
Bakugou wasn't fighting harder; he was never really trying in the fights before.
Ojiro looked no better beside her, hands white and clenched together over his mouth as he spectated their friend in silence. Of their little friend group, it seemed he knew Midoriya the longest and quite possibly the best of them all, and the trouble on his face only reinforced the sickening feeling in her stomach.
"This isn't fair," she whispered to him, bringing her own hands together in her lap; to control herself or to pray, she didn't know. "Midoriya tried so hard to prove himself. He's done so much to get here, only to fight him. Bakugou won't care if he hurts him. And his powers aren't working either, even though he spent all that time trying to control it…"
"They are." Ojiro's voice was faint, but the sour anger in his voice was a kiloton on Ochako's ears. "His powers are working. Look." That was the one thing she wasn't sure she wanted to do anymore, but the brunette complied anyway, as Midoriya was thrown back by an explosion, caught himself in a roll, and then ran forward through the smoke to throw a punch that never landed. "He should be tired or dizzy or faint, and he's not. He's gotten faster. They're working, and they're still not enough. He's still losing."
She noticed it too, as Midoriya continued to go down but got back up faster every time. Bakugou's explosions sent him twirling and tumbling and turning but still Midoriya would close the distance and throw punch after punch, even if they never hit. No matter how many times he fell, Midoriya wouldn't stay down. His power was in effect, but it was nowhere near what he was capable of before with his bat. He was still outclassed by Bakugou, and the blond wasn't relenting on his own attacks either. How long could he keep this up?
"Come on, Midoriya."
Ochako looked to Ojiro again, finding his hands moved up his face but his eyes still dead set on watching their friend continue to fight outmatched. "Come on, Izuku," he continued to mumble. "Don't give up. You're better than this. You're better than him. Don't let him win. Beat him. You can do it."
Ochako had withheld herself from cheering on her classmates up until now, as most everyone was fighting each other and she did not want to hurt anyone by taking sides; even when they were fighting Bakugou before, she would wish them luck but stay silent during their matches. But she joined Ojiro, bringing her hands up to her face and pressing her forehead to her knuckles. "You can do this, Midoriya," she prayed in a mutter, hoping someone, somewhere heard her. "You're stronger than this. You can win. You've beaten him before.
"You can do it again."
Then it changed. One slip. One wrong explosion. One push.
Midoriya decked Bakugou across the face.
Katsuki saw it coming, the fist aimed at his face. He knew he should have been fast enough to dodge it — that he was supposed to be strong enough to take it and not feel a thing — but still the fist came, connecting with his jaw and following through to send his head spinning. He staggered back from the blow, cradling his chin and flexing his cheek when it felt like his jawbone had been dislocated. What the fuck?
He trained his glare back on Deku — or at least where he was. The bastard had already moved in again, throwing his other arm through the wind to clip Bakugou's nose when he tried to lean back and dodge. He raised his own arm, and though his muscles ached and screamed at him, he fired another blast between them to shoot himself away from the green-haired teen.
What was up with this bastard, Katsuki wondered as he brushed a thumb over his throbbing nose. Deku wasn't hard to put down in the slightest; he knew that truth remained evident when the steel-skinned extra had managed some real shots in their fight. The green-haired punk could fold like paper in their last fight, and that was weeks ago. Deku had the strength of an origami crane for years; how had almost four weeks gone and changed that?
"Something wrong, Bakugou?" the freak in question called out to him. The bastard fiddled with his own shirt, prodding the burnt holes and tears that riddled the fabric. His skin beneath barely looked redder than usual. "Your explosions were stronger just a moment ago. What, did you lose the strength left to fight?"
His tone, too; that was another difference that really pissed Katsuki off. Where the hell did his spine come from? Calling him his given name, mocking him with his own words. He was really asking for it now.
"I haven't lost shit to you, nerd!" Katsuki clapped his hands together, slid them apart like a deck of cards was between them, and ignited the spraying sweat into a chain of explosions between him and the green-haired teen. He launched himself over the clouds of smoke to where Deku still stood, and shot himself directly at the quirkless bastard with a palm sparking to life.
His hand never made contact with the nerd, slipping past as he swerved to the side, and Katsuki took another punch across the face.
But he wouldn't let it stop him. He slid along the ground on his shoes and skated on the concrete with bursting light behind him, arching around the stage until he came around Deku and threw an explosion at his back. Still the nerd remained unfazed, vaulting through the debris with another fist arced at the blond's head. Katsuki released another burst between them, finally shoving the bastard away from him as he skirted to a stop.
Instead of groaning and whining about the burns, Deku stood tall in his place, fiddling with the remains of his shirt around his neck the explosions hadn't blasted away. He looked like a completely different person from the boy Katsuki could see in his memories, thin and frail and dirty with pity. Now he looked like some ripped punk who got caught up with gang fights; it was every damn stereotype Katsuki heard the nobodies from middle school call him. He even looked down at his own arms as though they were alien to him. Katsuki was no longer certain this was the bastard that chased after him for so long or some copycat villain impersonating him.
"You're not Deku," he decided, much to the confusing expression that painted the nerd's face.
"I don't remember being someone else," the green-haired brat shot back. "But you're still the same Kacchan as always."
"Don't be cheeky with me!" Katsuki shouted back, hiding a wince behind the explosion he let off to punctuate himself. His arms were beginning to strain; if he couldn't put him down sooner, he'd dislocate his own arms trying to fire the same blasts. It shouldn't have been this hard to put the bastard down. "The hell is up with you?! Acting all tough, pretending like you weren't some pathetic crybaby! Like you weren't bowing your head out of a fight just a minute ago! You think acting like this is going to trick people from knowing what you really are? You think you've changed from the freak you always were?!"
"I know I've changed!" Deku shot back, ripping away the last of his shirt and shaking the same fist at the blond. "I know I've grown! I didn't have a choice: I couldn't be that anymore! But I haven't forgotten any of that — or anything between us! At least I'm trying to be better!"
"You? Better?!" The explosive teen barked a laugh, clenching his fists at his side. "You were scraps at the bottom of the barrel — the only direction you've ever known is up — but you know damn well it won't be for you! You never had what it takes to climb the wall and escape that horrid cesspool of maggots! What, you think a few lucky shots are gonna change anything; like you could stop me?!"
"Like you're any better! Saying you escaped when all you ever did was come back! I was the one thing you would never let go! Were you always this scared of me?!"
Katsuki could feel his own neck strain as he shouted, "I ain't afraid of you!" He honed in on the burning emerald eyes of the bastard trying to stand him down and blasted through the distance between them. With his arms angled to spin him around, Katsuki extended his right leg and flew into Deku with a kick to the bastard's face; a kick that landed with a deafening smack through the field.
But Deku did not move. He stood his ground, the top of Katsuki's foot planted directly on his forehead, and glared at the blond from the corner of his eye; unfazed for even a second.
Katsuki couldn't shake himself out of the shock before Deku had grabbed his leg and like a caveman yanked him through the aim to slam into the ground. A foot collided with his side while the blond felt himself drifting when his head met stone. His vision pulsed as he picked himself on the floor, glaring at the green-haired teen who walked slowly towards him. He heard Midnight shout to him, asking if he was okay, and he dismissed her with a bark as he pointed his glare at Deku. This wasn't real. This was all some sick fucking dream he was having to psyche himself out for the real event. Why the hell wasn't he waking up?
"I'm not afraid of you either," Deku spoke, the shadow of his mohawk contrasting the sides of his face as he glared at Katsuki. "I didn't know if we'd be fighting today; I thought maybe we'd just never cross paths and move on. But we've been one big joke all our lives, I don't know why I ever did. And I got over that - accepted that this is just inevitable between us. And you act like you're surprised every damn time this happens."
"You don't have the spine to stand up for yourself," the blond spat back, flexing his arms even as they wailed for sleep. "You've been a crybaby your entire life. Pretending and lying to yourself that you could ever be a hero, and you've gone and webbed everyone up into thinking it too." He fought against his own muscles, pooling sweat and blood dripping from his face into his palms before cupping his hands together. "None of these bastards know what you really are, Deku! I know you inside and out!" Thrusting his hands forward, he ignited his quirk, and blew away the air in front of his green-haired target.
And Deku still would not move. He stood in the same place he was before the explosion went off, and despite the dirt and specks of blood painting his own face, his expression and demeanor held strong in the smoke. And it held disappointment. "I don't think you've ever really known me, Bakugou."
"GODDAMNIT!" Katsuki heard the threshold snap in his head, curling down on himself and releasing his anger with a shout. "To hell with this bullshit! You shouldn't be here! You should be nothing! Why the hell won't you stay down, you quirkless freak?!"
In response, the bastard dropped his stance, bringing his arms out to flex his fists in a manner completely mirrored to how Katsuki stood; mocking the blond with an added, crazed smile plastered over his disgusting and scarred face. "Why the hell would I bow to you?!" he shouted back, his voice ringing across the stadium after Katsuki's own screams. "You and your quirk aren't above me anymore!"
"This is quite the intense battle," the screen tried to describe the fight big brother was in against the loud, blond boy trying to hurt him. The volume that had previously stabbed Eri's ears had calmed, and with it the enthusiasm from before wasn't there from him. "Midoriya and Bakugou are trading blow for blow, shaking off each other's hits and charging back in for more. These two boys have been leading the charge in intensity and vigor, and even in the end they refuse to let up. In all my years as our announcer, I don't think we've had a one-on-one fight so…tense."
"He's following through on his promise," a second, deeper voice commented after him. "Midoriya declared he would stand in anyone's way to first place and wouldn't pull any punches. Bakugou has been fighting tooth and nail to make it this far, same as him. With the finish line in their sights, neither will give up for even a second. They both have too much at stake to give in and forfeit this fight."
Eri watched on with wide eyes, absorbing every punch, every recoil, every block, and jabbed Mister Pepper's mitts simultaneously to Izu's movements. The way he fought here wasn't like how she saw him before, and he didn't have the horn — the bat, her Papa called it — in his hands, and the smile that made her all fluttery now matched the blond boy's scary and rabid bare of teeth. The other boy had blown off his shirt, showing off purple and red blotches across his body, but her big brother didn't slow for a second and continued to fight and punch and kick the other boy away.
The scarier boy he fought looked so tired trying to beat Izu, too, and Eri smacked the screen with Mister Pepper's foot where the boy's head was hoping to knock him out. It didn't work, sadly, and the blond continued to attack, only for Izu to meet him in the middle and strike back just as hard. It scared Eri to watch him fight boy after boy, taking hits and showing blood; she didn't remember him fighting so scary before. Was this how all fighting was supposed to be?
Crashing glass erupted from the other side of her door, and the white-haired girl flinched deeper into her covers, pulling the laptop closer to fight the noise of her parents' shouts with the voices coming from the screen. And did fighting have to be so long too? Her Papa and Mama had been in the other room forever, and their voices grew every so often to remind her they were both still angry. She knew it was about her, hearing her name what must have been every time they said it. What did she do wrong?
With one bad punch, her big brother had pushed the angry blond boy back once more, and though faint Eri thought she could hear his roaring from the speakers. Even faintly, she could still hear his words. "Why the hell won't you stay down, you quirkless freak?!"
Eri knew that word, 'quirkless.' Her grandpappy told her stories about them; people who didn't have any special "meat abilities" or something like what her parents had, but were mostly forgotten people who weren't considered important or special in the world. Her grandpappy called them weak people, like dust and wind or something.
But there, in front of her eyes, was her big brother standing tall over the other boy who tried to attack him, smiling wide at the blond with some red and white teeth. "Why the hell would I bow to you?!" Izu shouted back. "You and your quirk aren't above me anymore!" Big brother was quirkless, and big brother was strong; her grandpappy was wrong. Could she be quirkless like him?
Before the bad fighting could continue on the screen, her door suddenly busted open, her Papa stomping into the room. Eri cried into the head of Mister Pepper as she saw the red dripping down his cheek and the long cut that it came from just below one of his eyes, and flinched as his darker red eyes stared down at her harshly.
"We're leaving," he stated flatly, reaching out to slam the laptop shut and rip it from her lap. "Grab your things. We're going now."
Eri hid behind her plushie as he moved across her room, ripping open her closet doors and digging through her clothes. "Papa?..."
"Suno!" Her Mama's voice ran into her room with a shout, before she entered too, her right eye surrounded by dark, swollen skin. Eri only stared at the dark color on her Mama's lighter skin with a silent shiver. Were the two of them scary-fighting too?
A bag flew across her vision, smashing into the pillow beside her and making her jump and scoot away as she once more found her Papa's creepy eyes. "Throw what you can in that. We're not staying here, Eri."
"Suno," her mama insisted, sighing deeply but staying stiff in the doorway. "Just stop. You're not taking Eri any—"
Her Papa rounded on her Mama so fast he kicked her bed and sent shakes through Eri as she tried to hide against her pillows. His eyes burned, just like the scary boy fighting her big brother on the computer. "Shut up. I'm not hearing another word out of you."
Eri looked between her Mama and Papa, holding Mister Pepper in front of her with his front paws raised. She could hear them both breathing heavily, and watched their hands curl into fists and break apart into claws. They were fighting just as bad as Izu was, but both of them looked scary. Her head ached badly, scratching below her hair like she had been cut. "Stop fighting…"
Her Mama looked down on her, and there was a glint in her eyes that Eri did not like. She felt like she was in danger, and pushed back in her bed when her Mama leaned forward and reached out to her. "C'mon, Eri. We should leave your father alone—"
Her Papa dived in between them, but instead of grabbing Mama's arm, he grabbed Eri, with an iron grip on her arm, yanked her across the bed, behind him. "Don't you fucking touch her!"
Eri clawed at his hand with her other arm, prying weakly at his fingers that dug into her skin. With her eyes clenched shut, she shouted back, "Stop fighting!" Her head exploded in pain, and the world around her went silent for a long time.
But soon she found the pain in her head gone, and pried her eyes open slowly. Standing in the doorway was her Mama, staring down at her with wide, empty eyes and a mouth that quivered open. Mister Pepper lied at her feet, face down on the covers with a small amount of fluff sticking out of his shoulder. From the upper edges of her sight, Eri could see her horn, longer and brighter than she remembered it last.
Her Papa was nowhere to be found.
Izuku could tell it was there. He still couldn't feel a thing; his body and his blood felt no different than how he knew it before. But as Bakugou went from a shooting star to swimming through concrete, the reality became clear; his powers were back. He was landing hits, dodging explosions, barely flinching from the lights and the heat that curved over him. He felt nothing at all yet he couldn't feel any more alive knowing it was there.
He still didn't know what he was missing that triggered it, but he could reflect on that another time. He could see his body clearly covered in scorches and streaks of blood — his and Bakugou's — and he could feel his left eye droop and fight to stay open. He hadn't won yet.
He tuned out the world around them; he knew what he had done. Izuku knew Bakugou's words about his quirk were loud enough for everyone to hear, because he couldn't think of another reason the crowd had become so loud right after Bakugou said it. But Bakugou didn't seem to care about it — he didn't bother to keep at it and try to rile up the crowd over it — so Izuku decided not to either. The truth — twisted and confusing as it was, but still exactly what the green-haired boy would call it — was out, and it couldn't have come at a better time. All that time wasted trying to hide it and ease the truth out slowly, and now it was known in a place where he needed to prove why he could still be a hero with it to his name. Inadvertently, Bakugou couldn't have given Izuku a better reason to keep fighting.
He could prove quirkless didn't mean weak anymore.
"Die, Deku!" Bakugou would scream at him, flailing his arms and his explosions in an effort for an overbearing flurry.
"Try harder!" Izuku would shout back, bracing the cinders and the smoke with his bare forearms, and punching back to scrape the blond's body with his knuckles.
The fight had gone too long for Bakugou to make use of his own time frame, and Izuku could tell it from a glance. Of course explosions would have a kickback like any firearm — the blond never needed to explain that to him when they were younger for him to see that. It's why Bakugou always preached the path of speed and swiftness of a hero, because it was when he was at his best. It's why they never fought for long before, because he could not show even a second of pain in his dominance. It's why in their fight now his swings became sloppy and his explosions lighter, because he could no longer handle his own quirk.
Yet through all the explosions and scrapes and burns and cuts, Izuku never felt more alive. He dodged faster, struck back harder, and shrugged off being thrown around this way and that easier every time. His power couldn't have been a quirk, not with such backwards effects on his body. Bakugou was quirked and Izuku was quirkless; and Izuku was winning.
Another good slip through the smoke and Izuku was in Bakugou's space once again, rocketing a fist into the blond's stomach and punching him back to gasp for air. Their fight had gone on long enough. "You can bow out now, Bakugou," he shouted to the blond teen. "I'm not going so far as to disqualify myself, and you're not beating me."
"Fuck" — Bakugou hacked up a wad of blood, spitting it on the ground as he struggled to move when his arms couldn't hoist him up — "you." With his two weaponized appendages hanging weakly at his side, the blond forced himself to sit up, and wasted even more of his energy pushing to stand with his legs alone. "I ain't bowin' out to some quirkless bastard like you. You can't win this."
Izuku threw his arms out to the side, flashing the other boy his frustrated look of disbelief. "What do you call this then? I've lost a shirt, you've lost the mobility of your arms. I don't think we're on even ground right now."
"You will always be beneath me!" Bakugou found the energy to shout, panting his breaths like a wild dog. "No quirkless bastard can be a hero! You have nothing to your name!"
"Haven't you noticed anything?!" Izuku shouted back, hearing the steam bursting from his ears. "I'm quirkless and I still have the power to beat you! I can outlast you, the great Bakugou Katsuki, and still stand on my own two feet! Can you not tell I'm not weak anymore? Are you that blind you haven't noticed?!"
With the words dying in the blond's throat as he simply stood there and breathed, the crowd around them became coherent, though their volume was overbearing. He could hear the shouts demanding for a surrender and to call and end the match now. For a moment he thought they understood, seeing Bakugou's hunched, heaving form in contrast to his more upright body. That was until he heard, "Disqualify him and give Bakugou the victory already!"
Izuku turned his head slowly, peering through the crowd to spot the one man — the one hero — who had shouted it. Jet Radio wasn't a massively popular hero, but the green-haired teen knew the design of the Gifu-centric headpiece anywhere. He heard the man shout it again, and the voices of several other heroes and sidekicks calling out in agreement. Was he dreaming? Were they actually cheering on Bakugou? He heard the cries of lies and confusion in full clarity; was being labeled quirkless all it took for them to cheer against him?
He saw one hero launch from their seats, leaping over the heads of other heroes in the stands, straight in the direction of their fight. That same hero fell like a log on his fellow spectators quickly, the yellow glow of his feet disappearing just as quickly. That had to be their homeroom teacher's doing, but were even heroes so against him that they would intervene to end the match?
Droves of Ectoplasm's clones came out to stand on the inner ring of the stands, acting as a second barrier between them and the ring, even as more heroes stood to shout and point at the many faces of the cloaked hero. What surprised Izuku more was Endeavor — the man who had met him privately and knew he had strength beyond that of someone quirkless — came to stand between his teacher's clones and stare down other heroes attempting to jump in. Staring at the fiery hero's back, Izuku wondered what he must have been thinking, and if letting his match continue was of good intention or not.
"Bakugou!" Midnight called out, standing at the edge of her podium closest to the blond boy. "Are you still able to fight?"
"I'm fucking fine!" he shouted over Izuku's negative answer for the heroine. Even though they twitched and shook, Bakugou still brought his hand up to chamber at his sides, and stomped slowly across the field towards the green-haired teen. "This fight doesn't end until I say so!"
"No it doesn't," Izuku dismissed his ego, squaring his shoulders more and standing his ground. "You'll knock yourself out before then."
"Shut up!" Once they were close enough together, Bakugou thrusted a hand forward and aimed for Izuku's face. But only specks of sweat splattered on the green teen's face, the hand flexing inches away from his nose. Given the surprise in his dark red eyes, Izuku guessed this too was the work of his homeroom teacher. Even they agreed the match was over and done with.
Izuku grabbed him by the wrist, staring the blond boy down but refused to strike back. He turned his head to the right, looking to their art history teacher as she already peeled away part of her uniform, purple smoke softly blowing from her skin. "You can call the match now—"
He was interrupted by an explosion, sudden and unexpected, ripping through the air in front of his face and blasting him into the ground. What pain he had pushed through before stabbed through the left side of his face with newfound bloodlust, and he withered and screamed as his hands slipped over his scar. He could taste the blood on his fingers brushing over his lips, and feel the reinforcement of his eyelid struggle to maintain its hold. Bakugou had blown his scar open; that bastard.
Another pair of hands were on him soon, gently taking hold of his shoulders and rolling him onto his back. Their voice was muffled and hazy in his ringing ears, but prying his other eye open gave him a view of the R-Rated hero hunched over him, hands prodding around his head and the points of his scar.
"Stay awake, kid," were the first words he was able to hear from here. "We're getting you to Recovery Girl now. Droids, hurry up!"
They were moving him off the field? He was out, just like that? Against her hands did he try to rise, pressing an arm into the ground to push himself up. "I can still stand," he stuttered out, biting his tongue for struggling to talk.
"No, you're not!" the heroine insisted, putting more force behind her hands to keep him down. "You're bleeding everywhere, Midoriya. Keep your head down and your hand where it is. Don't get up."
"I can still fight," he argued back in a long breath, struggling against his teacher's force. "I'm not forfeiting—"
"Midoriya, you won!" His teacher's shout managed to stop him for good, he hands doing the rest of the work to ease him back down as he stared at her in shock. "Bakugou's disqualified. You already won."
He curved his head even as Midnight pushed him down, spotting the blond boy curled inward across the field, cradling a hand that hung limp at the wrist while Cementoss saw to his safety. Before the wall of stone rose between them, Izuku caught one look of Bakugou's eyes, and the burning fury he was staring down just seconds before was gone in place of cold, frozen terror. He laid his head down on the ground completely at Midnight's behest, sneaking his other hand up to his face to hold over his scar, and complied with the motions of moving onto the gurney to be taken to the infirmary, Midnight rushing beside him.
He won the Sports Festival, Izuku repeated in his head. Bakugou had been disqualified from the tournament completely. He actually came in first place.
The crowd was much quieter now.
"NO! NO! THIS IS BULLSHIT! You goddamn pest! You weren't supposed to fucking win! You had one job, you mindless bot, and that was to fucking kill him! Goddamn liars! That little shit isn't quirkless! Steal our goddamn Nomu and lie to the fucking world?! Are you mindless drones falling for this shit?! FUCK!"
All For One did not share his disciple's reaction. He did not shout, he did not lash out, he did not cuss; he didn't even speak. He listened to Tomura's cries, to the crowd that could not decide between celebrating their champion or booing the outcast, and to the steadily spoken vocal hero announcing the quirkless boy's victory to the audiences at home.
And he could not stop the smile that stretched his face.
"The kid didn't even denounce the accusation," his doctor reaffirmed, watching the video feed from behind him. "A hero child taking pride without a quirk. How odd."
"How exciting," the deformed man corrected his partner, reaching out to the monitor and tapping where he believed the child was centered.
A shame his sight was taken from him almost six years ago. His quirks could make ends meet, telegraphing the land to him and providing a sensory picture of his surroundings, but what he would give to see this child in the flesh before him. He could not name this feeling in his chest, or why his body felt so light, nor why his throat breathed a laugh he could not contain. The heroes had permitted a quirkless child into their school; dropped right into the heroic program from the very beginning.
A quirkless boy who could fight his Nomu, and meet the force of his punches with equal or even greater strength.
Could he have One For All? Unlikely, given the blond boy his apprentice and Kurogiri informed him had fought shoulder-to-shoulder beside All-Might and parroted many familiar signature moves. And his brother's quirk could never settle in two bodies at a time; after one transferral, it would leave the previous holder unmarked by its existence.
Could he be the sole inheritor? Again, unlikely that the last inheritor of his brother's quirk he fought would permit his next of 'kin' to spread such misinformation after ushering him into a century plus long family feud. Even if the bloke of a man thought their fight was over, his image wouldn't allow for such a crass successor.
Could he have a quirk of his own? Highly improbable against Yuei's integrity to maintain its public appearance to allow even Present Mic to spread the lie verbally to the world, or to suggest his personal medical practitioner would dare hide a quirk from the man or make a mistake in his examinations. Garaki notified him of every worthwhile quirk that passed his office, and no child with super strength would have been ignored or hidden without him knowing
The most probable conclusion All For One could agree with was that the boy's quirklessness was true. Yet, at the same time, his show of power weeks ago could not have been fabricated, which meant his super strength and durability was true too. Two opposing truths coexisting in a single child.
Oh, this was elation in his heart. Intrigue he hadn't felt in a long time.
His excitement had reached heights finding Tomura never did.
"Garaki," he called his doctor. "Get me files on each of the school's children. I believe a plan is in order to accommodate our new friend in this fight."
"Eraserhead!" a reporter shouted, running up to him with a microphone for a hand and a cameraman behind her. "Finalist student Bakugou Katsuki claims that decided victor Midoriya Izuku does not have a quirk, and the young boy corroborated the statement himself. Can Yuei support these claims?"
"Go away," Shouta dismissed them, storming past and continuing down the hall.
Another reporter came up his other side, thrusting forward a mic of his own the underground hero swerved around without slowing down. "Midoriya has clearly shown signs of superhuman strength and endurance in the events, though. Will Yuei clarify the lies and reprimand the boys for spreading them?"
Shouta grunted without giving a verbal answer, shoving his way past spectating heroes and reporting vultures calling out to him for answers. He didn't have time for any of these people, nor the headache explaining this concept to them would bring him. He had heard them during the match shouting their confusions and for the match to be handed to Bakugou, or to just redo the event because Midoriya had "tainted" the integrity of the Sports Festival. Shouta did not have the best level of patience at the moment to humor any of these saps with answers, so he trekked on with a crowd around him, heading for the one bastard he wanted to lay his frustrations into; Nedzu.
This mess was the rat's fault to begin with. Fumbling the conversation with Midoriya about his power that conflicted with his medical records, excusing the behavior of Bakugou and allowing him a chance — even as small as the odds were — to fight Midoriya again, and encouraging the green-haired kid down an educational path of self-discovery about his powers that led him to keeping the name quirkless despite his capabilities; the principal had brought Shouta numerous headaches before but this was definitely a migraine to top all migraines. And despite Shouta's efforts to pause Bakugou's quirk in the end, he'd kept his eyes open too long stopping heroes in the stands from jumping into the ring; Nedzu had nearly gotten the boy's face blown open a second time.
He was gonna rip that bastard's fur off strand by strand.
"Is Yuei going to be complicit in allowing these boys' lies to spread uncontested?" another reporter shouted across the crowd. "Will Yuei revoke the victory from Midoriya for his cheating and properly bestow the medal to Bakugou?"
Shouta stopped short of the elevator, turning on heel to stare dead at the crowd behind him. "Was Midoriya knocked unconscious?" he asked them all.
For a moment they all sputtered and stuttered in confusion, before one brave soul finally answered him with a , "No, but-"
"Was Midoriya knocked out of bounds?" he pressed again.
"No, but he doesn't—"
"Did Bakugou manage to immobilize Midoriya and force him to surrender?" When not even the same lady returned to answer him, he continued, "Then Midoriya has broken no rules. Bakugou was disqualified from the match for putting another student's life in mortal danger and will therefore not be awarded any medal. Second and third place will be awarded to semifinalists Todoroki and Iida determined by our board based on their performances in their fights. If you're looking for any front-page stories or photos, the award ceremony is being held in the stadium grounds in ten minutes. You should hurry before you lose a good shot."
He didn't bother talking to them any more than that as the elevator opened up for him, and one glare with the aid of his quirk shook the crowd back long enough to leave him alone in the box as it brought him down.
Were these people serious, he sighed. Was the thought of Midoriya being quirkless enough of a reason to disqualify him from the event or dismissing his efforts to achieve first place? The kid put up more of a fight than any of them would have in the ring, even the few with animalistic mutant quirks that likely enhanced their bodies' lowest level of strength, and they had watched the fights take place; did one word make them all forget every other moment of the festival? He was thankful Yamada remained in the announcer's booth for the closing ceremony, or else Shouta wouldn't have been fast enough to stop him from picking a fight.
There wasn't much the two men could say during the fight between the boys — even Yamada's enthusiasm drained away completely when Bakugou's words were picked up by the microphones. Shouta spent most of his time after that glaring down people in the stand who stood up and even the few that tried to move forward in some vain attempt to intervene in the fight for whatever reasons they had. And when Ectoplasm and surprisingly Endeavor stepped in to stop more for him, he spent the rest of his time in an aggravating call with Nedzu until Kayama declared Bakugou disqualified for reopening Midoriya's wound. The rat didn't think the revelation for the audience was enough to call the match to a halt, and was the very reason Shouta was prepared to strangle his boss.
As the elevator brought him to the lowest floor, his phone beeped, and he took one look at the message on its screen before diverting his path.
— Nedzu's in the first-year stadium. Waiting Room 3. Don't put us out of business.
Shouta ignored Ectoplasm's plea at the end and stomped his way through the hall, shoving past some of the confused heroes they had hired as temporary bodyguards alongside their cloning staff member until he found the right hall, and then the right room. He shoved the door open without hesitation, immediately spotting the short, well-dressed rodent seated at a table. "Do you care to explain—"
Whatever flourishing language he had prepared for the principal died in his throat as he saw the blond-haired boy from Kan's class seated opposite Nedzu on the table. Monoma stared up at him with wide eyes, and the rat greeted him with his ever-present grin.
"I hope you're here to join us, Shouta," Nedzu began, gesturing a paw to the student among them. "Young Monoma has provided me with yet another slice of information regarding Midoriya's situation."
He was sewing this rat into a winter scarf.
Standing on the podium was supposed to be a surreal and exciting experience Izuku dreamed of for years growing up. Hero rankings, the Olympics, past Sports Festivals; he dreamed of the day he would ever stand on one, to feel at the center of attention.
He hated how it felt.
He stood in the podium's center, its highest spot, with only Todoroki standing beside him in second. Third place's stand remained empty, and beside it stood a hero or sidekick Izuku didn't recognize at a glance. Midnight stood on the opposite side of Todoroki, gathering herself and giving them both a quick look before she began.
Izuku peered behind them, to the sea of his schoolmates gathered in the field even though they won no awards. Through the glares painting so many faces, he could still see his friends standing awkwardly among their confused and unamused classmates. He apologized to them as best he could for leaving them amidst the confusion of his confession; he would have to handle that conversation with them all himself when this was all over.
"It's time for the award ceremony!" Midnight finally announced with her usual composure on full display while she twirled a fan in her other hand, replacing her crop from earlier. "Do give a hand to our students for a job well done!"
Though the volume and excitement from earlier was gone, there were still plenty of applause and cheers from the stadium seats around them to fill the space. Izuku didn't know how many were truly for him but the cries for his placement had quieted down to whispers that couldn't reach him anymore.
"In third place we do have Iida Tenya from his semifinal match against Bakugou Katsuki," Midnight explained, gesturing to the empty podium beside Izuku, "but due to a family emergency he had to leave early; Slide Show from the Ingenium agency is here to accept the medal on his behalf. We hope you all understand and give him your support."
Izuku stared solemnly at the empty space to his left with his one eye not covered in bandages. He hadn't heard anything from his friends or their blue-haired friend about what exactly happened, so he was left only to his imagination until he could call his friend and get an answer out of him; he didn't want it to be something big enough that he'd have to check the news about it.
"Presenting our kiddies with their medals — you all know and love him!" A faint glint in the sky caught Izuku's eye, and though he was pretty sure he heard the man's voice while Recovery Girl was bandaging his half-awake self in the infirmary, he could see his iconic cape flapping behind the approaching figure. "Please welcome All-Might to the stage!"
The number one hero landed in front of them, clad in his hero uniform flowing in the wind instead of the yellow striped suit he wore in his other form. "I am here," the hero shouted as he stood up, thrusting out a hand with three medallions hanging from it, "to bestow the medals!"
Izuku didn't listen to the hero as he passed the bronze medal to the Ingenium representative for Iida's placement, or when the man passed him by to award Todoroki with his silver medal and share a few words. The green-teen instead spent his time watching the heroes in the stands applaud for the other two positions and give to him a variety of glares that overwhelmed the applause before All-Might finally turned to him.
"You followed through on your promise from the start," All-Might opened, standing in front of the podium but still standing face-to-face with the green-haired teen. "You've let the world know who you are."
Izuku met the man's eyes, finding the glowing blue orbs staring back at him softly. "I did," he acknowledged. Despite the world of eyes on him — or maybe because of them — he was struggling to find the right words in this throat. "Not…exactly what I meant. Kinda a spur of the moment."
"Given it wasn't your own voice that started it, I know." The hero's massive hands posed before Izuku's chest, displaying the gold medal in one hand and pinching the band in his other. "May I?"
Izuku nodded wordlessly, leaving his head bowed so the man could hand the medal around his neck. He took his time examining the engraved logo of the school on its front, and the scratchings of the year along the medallion's edge. "I get to keep this?"
"You do. Nedzu finds the rewards fruitless if returned to the school. And you deserve to keep yours." The tall man placed a hand on Izuku's shoulder, softening his ever-present smile to the green-haired boy. "I understand that from me, it may sound empty and unbelievable, but I am proud of what you've accomplished today. You placed first in every event, made progress with this strange power of yours and wore your identity on your sleeve with pride. I apologize on behalf of the school that we allowed Bakugou to take the fight as far as he did and not protect you sooner—"
"It's Bakugou's fault," Izuku interrupted him, looking away mournfully. "You wanted to believe he could change. I'm sorry he didn't. It's because of my teachers I got here, though — Nedzu and Aizawa. And you." It had been a while since Izuku really looked to the hero who had turned his back on him; the man he once wanted to be, and once wanted to be nowhere near. "Thank you for taking me in despite it all. And I'm sorry about this mess."
He moved to gesture to the stadium around them but All-Might stopped his arm short. "This isn't yours, either. That information was bound to spread eventually. Had we known the people — even professional heroes — would act like this, we would have done more to prevent this target on your back."
The green-haired teen groaned dismissively. "Don't think it ever went away to begin with. I wanted this; I can live with it until I can change it."
"Is that your plan?"
Before Izuku knew of his invisible power, he knew being quirkless would be a target anyone would aim for as a means of dismissing him in the industry; it was a worry he prepared himself for. Even after discovering his strength he never thought it'd really go away, and now that he was all but certain his quirkless genes and his superpower were intertwined? Getting the world to believe that would be a fight if ever he knew one. "It is." It was a fight he was willing to lead.
It was a pregnant pause that sat between him and the hero, before Izuku gave the man another look. His eyebrows knitted together gently at the man's truly encouraging smile; his presence and understanding of the teenager's thoughts and situation bringing comfort to the green-haired boy. "I know this might be weird to ask," he opened lightly, "but can I hug you?"
The hero flinched out of his stupor for a moment, before the ease and welcoming aura flew from him and onto Izuku like a blanket as his arms wrapped around the teen. "I would be honored," he responded softly. "I am sorry for the discouragement I've given you, and the lack of faith I chose to have. You continue to prove me wrong tenfold, and I could not be happier about that. Thank you for giving me a chance to try."
With his arms unable to wrap around the hero in return, Izuku simply placed his hands on the man's shoulders and took in the embrace. "Thank you for trying."
All-Might pulled away only a few seconds later, leaving one hand on Izuku's shoulder as the other clapped gently onto Todoroki's, the man giving the dual-haired teen a pleased smile and a thankful nod to Ingenium's sidekick. When he turned away to the crowd, the man's arms came to splay out at his sides, body twisting into a showgirl pose that rippled the muscles under his uniform.
"These are your winners, folks!" All-Might announced loudly, and Izuku tacked on, "whether you like it or not," silently in his head as he looked up with him. "But that does nothing to discredit the hard work and effort all these kids put in today! Everyone tried their hardest to win; no matter how far they ended up, they put their hearts into their actions! To stand out from the crowd, to overcome their shortcomings, to prove themselves; they lived up to our alma mater, and I know you all know it by heart!"
With one eye wrapped away in bandages and his strength on low thanks to Recovery Girl's quirk, Izuku pressed his feet into the ground to stand upright. His life was an absolute mess of information built to work against him; to confuse, demean and torture him. A machine of jokes and riddles and out-of-reach hopes that taunted him at every possible chance. He was going to tear that machine to pieces, beat it within an inch of its life and rebuild it all into something else. Untraceable as his powers might be, he would have to take accountability for them one day. Strong as he could be, his quirkless upbringing had to be acknowledged. Rocky as they were, his relationships with the people around him had to be for good.
He could do it all in one. Tackle the mystery head on and answer it with everything he already knew, be the people understanding or not. He would grow stronger. He would accept his quirklessness with pride. He would be by the heroes' side whether they wanted him or not. He had people to fight for.
His Plus Ultra.
Next time, the horizon looms. Danger lies ahead, challenge afoot, and conflict abound. For now, they can only prepare.