"The most inflated egos are often the most fragile."
My vision was blurry. It was difficult to think; to speak; to breathe. The right side of my face felt strange, a weirdly blurred line between warm and cold. I knew that it was caked in almost-dried blood, some of which was still dripping down the edge of my face languidly. Every time I moved my face, I felt the blood that had already dried tug at my skin uncomfortably. The portion of my face above my cheek had yet to regain any feeling.
"Daichi, talk to me,"
My father sat on a chair in front of me, watching me intently despite my lack of movement. His dark grey eyes had been fixated on me since he had returned to Recovery Girl's office, which I had not left since finishing my second battle. I bit my lip, letting out a reluctant groan in spite of my determination to stay silent.
"I can clean up the blood, Eraserhead," I heard Recovery Girl say from the other side of the office. I heard the sound of shifting objects, in all likelihood she was sifting through products to clean me up with. "I can heal her more minor injuries… But… My Quirk can only go so far…" I heard my father give a solemn mumble of acknowledgement.
"I always tell you… I always tell my students to not overdo it…" he began again. I made no movements. "Daichi… Some of these injuries are, in all likelihood, permanent." I felt tears sting the corner of my left eye, but I still had no feeling in my right. "Daichi, I need you to tell me what happened out there."
For several long minutes I was silent, mulling over my father's words. I had not overdone it, that much I knew. All I could determine was that I had merely grown careless. I had allowed personal affairs to distract me, to create an opening, and that had been my undoing. I felt goosebumps break out across my neck and arms as a sudden chill swept through me as I replayed the events of my final fight quickly through my head. No, I had not overdone it. Or, at least, that was not the reason why I was in Recovery Girl's office, now.
"What happened…" I murmured finally, reaching up to touch the right side of my face. All my fingertips could feel was the crustiness of the blood that had dried there.
"Daichi-chan, don't touch that," I heard Recovery Girl instruct from somewhere in the distance. I bit my lip more roughly, suddenly feeling shame and regret swell deep within my stomach.
"What happened…" I repeated again, heeding Recovery Girl's instructions and removing my hand from my face. "... I wonder…"
Hours earlier…
I watched with mild disinterest as the other girls from class A came marching onto the field. Each of them were dressed head to toe in cheerleader outfits, pompoms waving frivolously through the air as they jumped through the dirt of the arena field. Among them was the girl from Hitoshi Shinso's class, the disagreeable girl whose name was far too difficult to pronounce correctly. I arched an eyebrow, my gaze falling on Mineta, who look positively thrilled.
"Why are you all dressed like that?" I asked tartly, glaring at Mineta over my shoulder all the while. "U.A. brought cheerleaders from America, I doubt we need any more cheerleaders on our end…"
"You!" Shinso's classmate shouted, waving her pompoms wildly in Mineta's direction. "You tricked me again!" Ochaco turned to me, her expression a mixture of apologetic and embarrassed.
"It appears Mineta used her to ride to victory during the obstacle course," she muttered below the girl's yells. "Yaoyorozu-san made these when Mineta told us these were Aizawa-sensei's instructions…"
"And you believed that?" I choked out, astonished. The girl — Yaoyorozu — rounded on me the minute she heard me speak.
"I finally made it to the battle elimination round, I wasn't about to disobey what I thought was a direct instruction from a Hero course instructor!" she growled. She threw her pompoms in the dirt, stomping over to me as though I had been the one who had tricked her. "I plan to use this opportunity to get into the hero course. You think I was going to let a little embarrassment get in my way?"
"I think you're misunderstanding," I said, still fighting back a laugh.
By this time Shinso had appeared by my side. His expression was unreadable, as usual, as he surveyed the scene before him. Kyoka was looking particularly annoyed, her headphone jacks jerking every which way like the tail of a frustrated cat. As the group of girls continued to talk amongst themselves, I directed my attention back to Shinso, who was glancing around the arena with a look of vague anticipation.
"Feeling good?" I asked. As I spoke the rest of the students who had advanced to this round began to return to the arena. Among them was Shouto, whose gaze I resolutely avoided. "If I have to fight you, I apologize in advance for kicking your ass." Shinso chuckled.
"You already know how my Quirk works," Shinso replied, hands remaining firmly in his pockets. "If the bracket pits me against you, I may as well just forfeit." I folded my arms across my chest, nodding proudly.
"Damn right."
"Of course, maybe that little lover's quarrel of yours will distract you enough for me to have a fighting chance," he added, sneering over at me. I had never seen Shinso show so much emotion in his face.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked snarkily, still not looking in Shouto's direction. Shinso raised a single incredulous eyebrow.
"You and that half-and-half kid," he replied, nodding in Shouto's direction. Shouto seemed to notice Shinso's movement, glancing over his shoulder in response. Our eyes met for a brief moment before ripping away from one another, each determined to ignore the other. "You two get in some sort of fight?"
"Nope." I said sourly.
"Seems bad,"
"We didn't fight."
"I hope you guys can work it out,"
"I said, we didn't fight!" I shouted, at last losing my cool. Before Shinso could make some kind of sarcastic reply, Midnight's voice once again broke through the chit chat.
"It's the final event!" she declared loudly as a bracket appeared on the giant screen facing the audience. "From four teams, sixteen individuals have made it through — it's a tournament! And we're pitting them against each other in one-on-one combat!"
"Finally we're gonna get to appear on the stage that I see every year!" Eijiro exclaimed enthusiastically from up in front of Shinso and I. Mina stood next to him, still in her cheerleading costume.
"There was a tournament last year, too?" she asked, glancing around her for an answer.
"There's a one-on-one each year," I replied from my place behind her. "They're always the main event."
"Ah, that's right!" Mina replied, glancing over her shoulder to look at me. "You must've been to a lot of these things, huh, Daichi?" I gave her a small smile, noticing that Shouto was watching me out of the corner of his eyes.
"Long-time watcher, first-time competitor," I responded.
In the background of our conversation Midnight was explaining the method for determining the bracket. It was a simple lotto draw: all sixteen names were to be put into a box, which Midnight would draw from in order to determine our fighting pairs. She shook the box through the air as she explained, her face contorted in an expression of uncurtailed excitement. A hand raised from the crowd of students suddenly. It was Ojiro Mashirao's hand.
"Um, please excuse me…" he said, his tone serious. The surrounding students suddenly became very quiet. "I… I don't want to participate."
The confusion from Ojiro's sudden withdrawal from the tournament was resolved by accepting volunteers from teams outside of the top four into the tournament round. And so we waited, myself and the other students, in various rooms around the arena, to be called forward for the first rounds of matches. I waited alone in a corner, ignoring my classmates as I repeated my mantra over and over inside of my head. Control everything but the living.
Two matches passed before my own, including a match between Izuku and Shinso. Despite my curiosity, I opted to sit that one out, not fully knowing which person I was to route for in such a situation. I merely waited, motionless in my corner, jumping slightly every time that I heard the crowd cheer from outside in the arena. I did not move until I was informed that it was my turn, ignoring well wishes from my classmates as I exited the room.
"Hey."
I paused, realizing that Shinso had appeared in front of me. He looked disappointed, but not noticeably different from usual. I suspected I could only tell his mood because the two of us were familiar. He let out a sigh, removing his gaze from my own, a hint of embarrassment just noticeably in his eyes.
"Yeah, I lost..."
"That's alright," I replied, trying my best to be comforting. "Someone has to." Shinso chuckled.
"So you're up against Yaoyorozu, huh?" I shrugged. Shinso smirked. "Her Quirk's an interesting one. Creation. That's why I had her on my team."
"You didn't use your Quirk on her?"
"Nah," he replied airily. "She can be frustrating, but she's got a strong Quirk and a good head on her shoulders." I frowned, glancing at the ground. "You can beat her, though." he continued. I looked back up at him, our eyes meeting once more before he turned to enter the waiting room. "Just don't hesitate for too long." I nodded, continuing to watch him as he entered the waiting room. I began walking, but a moment later I was at the doorway again. Shinso glanced up at me, looking confused.
"Shinso," I said, a smile dancing across my features. He arched an eyebrow, the other students' eyes watching us curiously. Shouto looked mildly annoyed. "Thank you."
And then I was gone, jogging swiftly toward the entrance into the arena.
"For this round we have Yaoyoruzo Momo, from the General Department!" Midnight called from her place next to the fighting platform. My mouth became suddenly dry as I stared across the platform at Momo, who was looking at me in a manner that was as ferocious as it was calculating. "And from the Department of Heroics, the daughter of Eraserhead, Aizawa Daichi!"
"You may be some sort of pedigree to these people here," Momo called from her place across from me. "Even if I'm just from the general department, I'm going to give it my all!"
"I'll do the same," I muttered, bracing my legs as I concentrated on everything around me that was made of stone. "Control everything but the living…" I whispered to myself.
"Ready! Begin!"
I slapped my palm against the ground, lifting a slab of concrete away from the platform in the same instant. Momo had yet to move, and was instead focussing on her stomach, which she had undone her shirt to expose. I grimaced, remembering Shinso's information about her Quirk: I couldn't give her time to create anything too big.
A sudden explosion to my right shook me out of my thoughts. I was flung off of the ground by the force of the explosion, and I was forced to bring up a large slab of concrete to keep myself from flying out of bounds. I hit the concrete roughly, a gargle-like sound escaping my lips as the wind rushed out of my lungs.
"Is that really all you've got, hero?" Momo shouted. In her hands I spied two small black objects, and my eyes widened: grenades.
I stood up, ignoring the pain in my chest from having the wind knocked out of me. I dodged the second grenade, swiping my left hand upwards as I moved away from the spot where I had landed. Another chunk of concrete dislodged from the platform, and with a flippant wave of my hand I sent the grenade flying off of the platform away from me.
And then I was running, dodging grenade after grenade while simultaneously working to send each grenade out of bounds entirely so as to not be thrown off balance. Momo was beginning to look worried, her expression growing more desperate the closer I got to her. She threw another grenade, which I once again blocked and sent flying. There was barely any space left between us.
"You heroes," she grunted, trying her best to step out of my line of fire as I transitioned to hand-to-hand combat. "If… If it hadn't been for you, Aizawa, maybe I could have gotten in on recommendations —"
I ducked low, ignoring her remarks for the time being. Momo created a long pole from her stomach, jabbing in my direction in an attempt to keep me at a distance. I parried, darting behind her back, closer to the out of bounds line. I spun on one hand low to the ground, jutting out one leg to knock Momo's feet out from under her. She fell to the ground, coughing slightly. I did not give her time to recover, clambering over her body to her other side, away from the out of bounds line.
"Brace yourself," I muttered.
Momo gasped, murmuring weakly something that sounded like 'wait.' I paid her no mind. A second later I slapped my palm to the ground again, dislodging the concrete supporting her. My annoyance with her had gotten the better of me, resulting in Momo being jettisoned unceremoniously across the out of bounds marker on her tiny slab of concrete. She and the concrete hit the ground, jutting up against one another for a moment as Momo and the concrete barrelled through the air before sliding to a stop in the dirt several yards away from the concrete where I stood.
"My father almost wasn't able to get me in." I said, doing my best to keep my voice level. Momo was coughing, most likely having had the wind knocked out of her. But I could tell that she was listening. "Because I was homeschooled, he almost wasn't able to get me in on recommendations…"
"You almost ended up like me, then…" Momo interjected, her tone laced with frustrating. I scoffed.
"No way," I replied. I glanced into the crowd, my eyes spying the small room that held Present Mic and my father. "If my father hadn't been able to get me in, I would've taken that entrance exam…" My gaze softened, Shouto's face flashing through my mind for just a moment. Momo may have been right: not very much separated the two of us except for a few strokes of luck. But knowing what I knew now — who I knew, now — I would have given anything to make it through that exam.
"Oh, and Momo?" I continued as she was ushered out of the arena. My eyes fell briefly on a long cut that now decorated her arm, most likely from her collision with the concrete. I smiled.
"I would've kicked ass."
The day was dragging by: it seemed like it had been an eternity.
I had left the arena after my fight with Momo, electing not to watch the outrageousness that I was sure would ensue during the fight between Katsuki and Ochaco. While we may not have been very close, the idea of watching Ochaco getting ruthlessly pummeled by Katsuki made my stomach churn. I had instead elected to go outside of the arena to be alone with my thoughts, away from the palpable tenseness of those students still awaiting their first battles.
The first round of eliminations was nearly over, which had been signaled to me when Present Mic had announced the match between Izuku and Shouto some minutes earlier. I did my best to put Shouto and his fight far out of reach of my thoughts, not wanting to consider the possibility that I may end up fighting him should Izuku lose. My guess was that Izuku, being the bold spirit that he was, would put up one hell of a fight. However, I knew all too well that Shouto's power and experience with his Quirk far outstripped Izuku. Still, I had to wonder how Shouto's present mental instability would play into things.
I shook my head roughly, as though shaking it back and forth could somehow clear it of any distractions. In the distance I heard a variety of cheers, the typical "Ooo"s and "Aahhh"s of the crowd that I had come to be so familiar to me during my many years of attending the U.A. Sports Festival. I sighed heavily, thinking back on my fight with Momo.
Perhaps she was right. Had my life taken just the slightest different turn, I could be where she was right now: alone in the infirmary, nursing wounds that had been inflicted all too easily. As a member of the General Studies Department, she did not get the same opportunities to hone her Quirk as we did. I glanced down at my hand, prodding the fleshier parts of it with my other index finger. Despite my greater opportunities, I had way less control over my Quirk than people thought.
My thoughts danced suddenly to my mother. Her blonde hair, the color of ripe Shimizu*, dancing in some fantastical breeze created in my imaginary memories of her. In truth, I had very few memories of her… Perhaps I had none at all. I had been very young when she died, after all. All I really knew was her face. Part of me wondered if those memories I did sometimes think of were merely illusions, artistically manufactured in my imagination from just having seen pictures of her. Perhaps if I had just had a little more time with her, my Quirk would not be such a mystery.
"Heaven's Gate…" I muttered to myself softly. I had stopped prodding at my own hand, and instead gazed up at the blue sky above me. "I wonder… How much is my Quirk like yours?" I continued. I knew very well that if someone else had been around, I would have sounded quite strange. Thinking out loud was a bad habit of mine. "The 'What If' Quirk…"
"Hey, so who won?" Present Mic's voice broke through my solitary conversation, thankfully shaking me from my rapid devolvement into self-doubt. "Looks like Midoriya is out of the ring!"
A cheer erupted from the crowd, and my eyes widened as I realized that Shouto had won his match with Izuku. The noise from the audience was so loud I was in awe that the stadium itself was not shaking. Shakily, I took a breath, steadying myself as I made my way back into the tunnel that lead into the stadium.
In the middle of the dimly lit tunnel I came to a stop. Footsteps in the distance alerted me that I was not alone, and despite being in familiar territory, I could feel myself getting nervous. I strained my eyes, trying desperately to make out who it was that was coming toward me. I blinked, allowing my eyes time to adjust to the darkness as I continued to try and decipher their identity. A moment later, and the weakness in my knees and butterflies in my stomach answered the question before my eyes could.
"Oh…" Shouto's voice was calm, and yet, I could hear it shaking. Not a scared sort of shaking, though. It was like he was invigorated. "It's you."
"No need to sound disappointed." I snapped, holding back a pout. I always thought that it was rather unfortunate that my defense mechanism for wounded pride was to be snarky. It never made me look very good. "I was just on my way to my next fight."
Despite the darkness I forced myself to look anywhere else but where Shouto was standing, suddenly noticing that half of his shirt was missing. How a freshman in high school ended up that toned, I was certain I would never understand. I heard a puff of air escape Shouto's lips. It almost sounded like a laugh, but not quite. I allowed myself a brief glance back at him, struggling to figure out his mood.
"Your fight with that girl was pretty good," he said, his eyes meeting mine. I felt myself blush, and mentally thanked the darkness for the camoflauge. "You can do better."
"Gee, thanks," I scoffed. I knew my enormous eye roll did not go unmissed by Shouto, despite the darkness. "I really appreciate the encouragement." For a moment it was silent between the two of us. "I guess you're not the one I'm fighting, then?" Shouto shook his head, and we fell silent again.
"I'm sorry." Shouto said suddenly. His eyes were locked with mine.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated firmly. "For what I said earlier."
I felt my heart skip, but I immediately forced myself to calm down. I knew that he would apologize — how could he not? We were friends, after all. But, for whatever reason, at that time I found myself thoroughly unable to give him the reply that I knew he wanted. I let out a heavy sigh, forcing my feet to move against my desire to stay with him, to tell him that I forgave him, to be close to him. I brushed past him, trying my very best not to linger as I brushed past his bare chest and arm. His eyes followed me; he looked puzzled.
"Daichi?" he muttered, his tone quizzical. I paused and looked over my shoulder. Our eyes met again.
"It doesn't change what you said." I murmured softly, averting my eyes and turning away from him fully. "It doesn't change what it meant just because you apologize. You still believe all of what you said."
"Daichi, I —"
"I need to go," I blurted, cutting him off. My face felt hot; my eyes felt hot; everything felt unbearably hot. "My match is about to start… I have to go."
Without another look back I started forward, forcing myself to ignore the gaze I felt following me until I faded from his view. I breathed in and out as steadily as I could, not wanting to seem flustered as I finally made it to the arena. I burst out of the end of the tunnel and into the light, loud cheers from the crowd greeting me and growing louder with every step that I took toward the center of the arena. My heart sank.
The person waiting for me in the arena was none other than Bakugo Katsuki.
"This is the last match of the quarter-final round!" Midnight shouted excitedly. Cementos was still firmly planted in his cement referee chair several yards away from the fighting platform. "You've seen three students advance to the semi-finals: Tokoyami, Iida, and Todoroki!" The crowd cheered even louder in response to her words, and I took my place on the platform opposite of Katsuki. "This is the last one to determine who continues on! Will it be the hothead from Heroics, Bakugo Katsuki? Or the rock-whisperer, Aizawa Daichi?"
I took a deep, steadying breath, taking the time to get a good look at the audience. Among them, if I looked very carefully, I could just make out a group of U.A. students. Their blue uniforms stood out in the crowd, and I smiled, choosing to believe that it was none other than Ochaco, Izuku, maybe even Shinso up there, watching me.
"Prepare yourself, mudface," Katsuki growled from his place across from me. "I'm gonna do to you what I did to that bitch who floats shit."
I smirked, removing my shirt with one hand as Midnight continued being our hype man. The air hit my back, cooling the sweat that seemed it had been stuck to me since the obstacle race. I knew that I had to do my very best to end this quickly so as not to lose control of my Quirk, or overheat. The black sports bra that i wore underneath grew cold as the sweat began to dry.
"Bring it on, torch hands." I retorted, bending my knees into a slight squat. "I'm gonna do to you what you did to Ochaco. Times a hundred." It was then that Midnight's shout echoed through my ears.
"Ready! Begin!"
Before Katsuki could make a move I sprung to my left, anticipating his usual right handed blast. Katsuki was strong, that much was certain, but he was predictable. All you had to do was watch him in battle to know what his favorite moves were. He liked big; he liked flashy; he went for the kill. That, and he was right handed.
My bare feet skidded against the concrete, kicking up small particles of dust along with them. I bent my knees for a steadier position, swirling my hands through the air in a clockwise motion before pushing forward, sending the particles flying toward Katsuki's face. He dodged, tiny pops of flames shooting from his palms in an attempt to get rid of the cloud of dust now following him. It was like watching a giant take a swing at a swarm of gnats.
I took the opportunity, taking advantage of his distraction to pull up several larger chunks of concrete from the platform. Gaping craters remained in the platform as the chunks of cement hovered just above them. I stomped on the ground, pushing one hand steadily through the air to send one of the cement blocks hurling straight at Katsuki.
The resulting explosion gave me the cover that I needed to move. Smaller bits of cement rained through the air, mixed with smoke and embers which fell slowly from the air and returned to the cement below. Katsuki roared wildly from amidst the rubble, straining his eyes through the flames, trying to get a glimpse of where I was.
"This ain't gonna be a dodge and run game, here, sandbox!" he called through the smoke. "You can't run from me forever!"
"Who says I'm fuckin' running?" I snarled.
Katsuki froze, realizing too late that I was behind him on his right side. A solid punch to his lower back, made all the more forceful by the shards of concrete now coating my hands, sent him flying across the platform. A feral snarl broke from his lips as he skidded across the concrete, but he was not down for long. Not a moment later he was up again, charging straight at me, propelled forward by spurts of flames from his hands.
"You're gonna pay for that, you bitch!"
I barely had time to think. I had expected such a strong blow to keep him down for more time than that, but I had underestimated his stamina and tolerance for pain. I reacted instinctually, and suddenly I felt the shards of concrete the Katsuki had created by shielding himself from my attack press around me from all sides. I was shocked: I hadn't even moved my arms.
Katsuki rammed into me with more force than I could have imagined. I felt warmth spreading through the concrete that had suddenly become my armor, but it did not burn me. I grunted, grabbing his upper arm with my free hand while the other shielded my concrete covered chest from his flaming hand.
With a snarl I flung him to the ground, ignoring the crack that met my ears, which told me that I had broken something. With another grunt I ripped my arm from his grip, winding up to slam it directly into his gut.
"This is for Ochaco!" I yelled as I brought down my fist as hard as I could.
To my surprise my arm stopped just short of its target. With his free hand Katsuki had managed to get a grip on my arm, stopping me attack only centimeters away from his stomach. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, veins in his forehead standing out against his skin from the exertion of stopping my concrete reinforced blow.
"Like… Hell I'd… Let you… Do… That…" he choked. His voice was forced, strained, and I could tell that I was winning. "Go to hell!"
The explosion that ensued sent each of us careening in opposite directions. With the concrete still encasing me, I was able to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, though that did nothing to stop me from skating backwards several yards as a result of Katsuki's defensive explosion. I steadied myself, a soft rumbling feeling near my feet alerting me to the fact that the concrete armor on my arm had crumbled due to Katsuki's Quirk. My arm stung, but I ignored it. I could no longer see Katsuki.
"Fuckin' die, you pebble bitch!"
I gasped, realizing too late that Katsuki was now directly above me. With the concrete covering all of me, including my ears, I hadn't been able to hear his approach. I moved to attack, swinging up a single arm toward his stomach as he flew at me. I had not anticipated exactly what it was that he was aiming at. Then I felt it.
Searing, white hot pain. It was a more intense pain than I had ever felt in all my years of life. My vision popped and sparked, colors splattering across my eyes as Katsuki's flames scalded my eyes. Despite my best efforts, I screamed. For a moment, just for a moment, all I could see was a bright white light, the intensity of Katsuki's flames shocking my senses. I felt my cement armor crumble, and I felt a warm liquid slide down the right side of my face.
"What's this?" Midnight announced. Her voice for some reason sounded warbled, out of focus. "Did Bakugo find a weakness in Aizawa's cement armor?"
I blinked; it was the most painful blink I had ever performed. The vision in my left eye continued to slide in and out of focus, and I heard more than saw that Katsuki had repositioned himself several yards opposite of me. I felt my heart rate quicken in a sudden wash of panic: the vision in my right eye was not returning.
My body had been feeling feverish for the entirety of the fight, but it was only then that I really began to notice it. My skin prickled, itching as sweat began to bead out across my skin. I could feel my hands start to tremble as I struggled to focus on Katsuki, who I was sure was leering at me triumphantly from his place across from me.
"Oh, no…" I whispered.
I could feel it now; a chill was beginning to overtake me. I could hear that familiar, flat line sounding ring in my ears. My Quirk was coming for me.
"What's the matter, clay brain?" Katsuki jeered at me. I heard him take several steps toward me, a crackle meeting my ears as he activated his Quirk. "Not gonna give up on me now, are ya?"
That was when it really hit me. The incident back at the USJ danced across my memory for a moment as I felt the chills wash over me. This is what I had been fighting against for the entire sports festival; this was what my mantra was supposed to guard against. I felt my stomach begin to churn. I dug my nails into my palms, drawing blood; I wanted to slap myself, punch myself, anything to snap myself out of this before it could no longer be controlled.
But it was too late. My left eye, my one good eye, had begun to feel like it was rolling around in its socket. I knew this feeling; I remembered this feeling. My consciousness was disappearing.
"If you won't fight me, then get outta the damn ring!" Katsuki yelled, lunging for me at the same time.
I wanted to yell. I wanted to tell him to stop, to turn around, to stay away; but I had no control. My lips would not obey me, my tongue would not obey me. My body was too far gone. My Quirk could not risk any more destruction to its host.
"You wanna fight?" I heard myself roar. I felt myself start to panic even more: that was not my voice. "Bring it on, bastard!"
My hand caught Katsuki's, a thick layer of concrete guarding my palm from his flames. Before Katsuki could say anything, the blood from my face had lunged for him, wrapping around his ankle like a noose before yanking him away from me. I heard a grunt of pain as Katsuki slammed into the ground, the blood rope still holding his ankle in a death grip.
"What the hell —"
Katsuki's words were cut short, the blood tugging him back into the air and slamming him into the concrete for a second time. This time I heard a wet cough escape his mouth, and I could only guess at how much blood he had coughed up.
"You're going to regret that, Katsuki," I heard myself say.
My body tilted backwards as though my back were broken, my head rolling lazily on my neck as the blood continued to toss him into the air before slamming him again and again into the concrete. My body lurched forward, my legs somehow were the only things that had any control over themselves. My upper body kept rolling in different directions, my arms dancing limply at my sides with every step that I took.
"You think you're so~ strong, don't you?" My voice, just like back in the USJ, sounded almost foreign to me. I wanted to stop this, I had to stop this. I did not want to hurt Katsuki, not like this. "Lemme show ya what real strength looks like!"
The blood threw him through the air, releasing him and letting him fly like a ragdoll toward the end of the platform where he had injured me. A wall of concrete sprung up out of the platform, stopping his body before he could fly out of bounds. I heard another crack, mentally struggling against my own body as it turned itself around to face Katsuki.
Katsuki was bloody, beaten, bruised. I could hear a string of swears escaping his lips rapidly, small crackles and pops meeting my ears as he desperately attempted to escape the trails of blood which now restrained him. He was held in a spread eagle sort of manner, but suspended up in the air by ropes of blood and concrete. Off in the distance I thought that I heard Midnight shouting something, but I could not make out what it was. My body took a step closer.
"You know that I'm stronger than you, don't you?" my mouth asked Katsuki. "You get it now, right?"
"Fuck you!" A giggle was my mouth's reply.
"You'll never learn…" my mouth whispered back at him.
I felt my hand begin to lift, and I had never felt more terror than I had in that moment. I had no idea what my body was about to do to Katsuki. No… What I was about to do to Katsuki.
And that was when I saw him. Off in the distance, toward the opening to the arena, I caught a glimpse of my father. Still in bandages, my father was running toward me as quickly as he could. My heart fell, realizing that I had failed him in front of the entire hero world. I had promised him so wholeheartedly that I would not fail him, and I had betrayed him. I had betrayed him, just like my mother.
"I am not like my mother."
I froze. That had been me who had spoken. With a jolt, I realized that warmth had begun to return to my body. I felt my heartbeat in my ears instead of the flat line buzz, I could feel the pain in my right eye in perfect clarity. I felt myself begin to pant, a laugh of relief and astonishment escaping my lips as I felt my arm, which had been ready to deal the final blow, fall to my side. I grasped at my chest, my fingers clawing my skin; I could feel the pain.
I was back.
I gazed up at Katsuki, his bloodied face lolling against his shoulder from exhaustion. His eyes were open, glaring defiantly in my direction. He had ceased to struggle against the bloody ropes that held him, but his glare told me that he was far from finished with me. I straightened up, and I noticed that my father had stopped running.
"Give up." I ordered. My tone was more calm than I had expected, more commanding. Katsuki shot me a venomous glower.
"Bite me." he bit back, spitting blood at me. It landed on the cement a few yards away from me. "What the hell is with you?"
"Give up, Katsuki." I repeated again. He let out a snarl.
"Like I'd ever give, you fuckin' freak!"
I let the eyelid of my left eye slide shut, pondering his words, and our situation. The entire right side of my face stung and burned, and I could not tell if that eye was open or shut. I sighed heavily, lifting the arm I had dropped earlier up into the air again.
"Then take a nap, Katsuki." I muttered.
Katsuki made to make some sort of retort, but a moment later a hunk of cement flew up from the ground a bashed him solidly over the head. Katsuki's body jerked in response, and a second later he was out. His chin fell into his chest, no longer conscious. I lowered my arm again, bringing Katsuki's body down to the ground as I did so. The crowd was silent, save for murmurs that were too faint for me to hear. I let out another sigh, for the first time enjoying the feverish feeling that plagued my body.
"And… And the winner is Aizawa Daichi!" Midnight declared, stammering noticeably over her own words.
I turned my face toward my father, who was now standing at the edge of the fighting platform. I let my left eye fall back toward Katsuki one last time, surveying the damage that I had done. I had to remember this. I had to burn this image into my memory. This is what my Quirk, unchecked, could do to a person. I tore my eyes away at last, turning to face Midnight.
"No, she doesn't." I said solemnly. Midnight met my gaze. "I forfeit. Katsuki wins." Midnight stared at me blankly for several seconds, as if staring at me could reveal the nature of the confusing events that had just transpired. Then, she nodded.
"Nevermind!" she called loudly to the crowd. "Aizawa Daichi forfeits. Bakugo Katsuki advances to the next round!"
A clamor erupted from the crowd. Whether it was good or bad, I could not tell. I brushed past Katsuki's limp body, moving toward the edge of the platform to where my father was standing, waiting for me. He stretched out one heavily bandaged hand, helping me down from the platform before putting his arm around me.
"I'm so sorry…" I whispered, hot tears stinging my left eye for what seemed like the millionth time that day.
"I'm proud of you." he said softly as he ushered me toward the exit. My breath caught in my throat. "You did good. You didn't break your promise."
I did not stop sobbing until we reached Recovery Girl's office.
*Shimizu: A variety of white peach, most commonly produced in Okayama.
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