Eight years earlier
Bakugo eyed the dilapidated building with a skeptical expression.
"Let me get this straight," he said. "Your daddy told us to go here fresh off the boat?"
Izuku nodded-though he looked plenty skeptical himself. It had taken them three hours after landing in the San Francisco airport to finally find the address Toshinori had given them-and half of that time had just been trying to find a taxi driver willing to actually take them there. The first few they'd tried had openly refused; one of them had asked, "What the fuck are you trying to go there for? There ain't anything worth your life in that part of town."
They'd managed it eventually-but, as Izuku looked at the building, he had no idea why Toshinori had told them to come. It was an old, rundown townhouse, practically falling apart at the seams; the whole street, in fact, had seen better days. Most of the windows Izuku could see had long since been boarded up. Nobody was visible on the sidewalks, and there were few cars. They were definitely on the rougher side of town.
Still, it wasn't like Izuku had anything better to do. With a shrug and a glance at Bakugo, he knocked on the door. After a few moments, he did it again.
At last, the door opened. A brown-haired girl Izuku and Bakugo's age stuck her head out, eyes narrowed.
"The fuck you want?" she demanded.
Izuku blinked, taken by surprise at the girl's aggressive tone. "Uh…" he began, glancing down at the envelope he was clutching in his hand. "We're looking for…Emiyo Uraraka?"
The girl's expression grew even more dangerous. "The fuck you want with the Sheriff?" she asked. "We don't care much for social calls here."
Izuku clutched the envelope tighter. "Look, we have some business with her, that's all," he said. "I have a message here from someone who says they know her."
He held up Toshinori's letter-the one he had given him before departing, then one he had been very clear that Izuku should not open or read for himself.
The girl's face still didn't change. Eventually, though, she opened the door wider, and stepped back, gesturing for them to follow her.
"You wanna talk to my grandma, fine," she said. "Just don't expect to walk out again if you waste her time."
Izuku and Bakugo followed her into a larger room that seemed to serve as a dining room, judging by the large table in the center. It currently had only a single occupant-a woman with coarse gray hair, a battered leather cowboy hat, and the same rose-tinted cheeks as the girl who left the room again as soon as Bakugo and Izuku were inside.
The woman looked up at them as they entered; her gaze was withering, with the sort of hard edge to it that only the truly dangerous could pull off. The smoldering cigar in her mouth twisted it into a hard-edged expression without even seeming to try.
"Who the hell are you two?" she asked, her voice just as harsh as her expression.
As he stepped forward, Izuku noticed the gun sitting on the table in front of the Sheriff; it was a revolver, just as weathered, beat-up, and deadly as the woman who clearly treated it like an old friend.
Swallowing down the kernel of worry in his stomach, he said, "My name is Izuku Midoriya, and this is Katsuki Bakugo. We just came from Japan-we're hoping to get into the mercenary business. We were told you could help us make some introductions."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Why'd you come to me, then?" she drawled in a voice like sandpaper. "I've been outta the game for longer than you two've been alive, I'd say."
Bakugo snorted. "That's what I wanna know, too," he agreed.
The old woman fixed him with a deadly warning look, which shut him up without her even having to say a word. Then, she turned her gaze onto Izuku, and he met it as firmly as he could; he was under no illusion that he could conceal anything from those wizened, cynical eyes, so he didn't even bother.
"Why are you here?" she demanded. "If you came to me, then someone who knows their shit is behind you two bumbling idiots."
"My father sent us," Izuku answered, withdrawing the letter Toshinori had written and setting it down on the table. "He said you could point us in the right direction to get started."
The Sheriff's expression changed the moment she saw the name on the letter. "You're Yagi's brat?" she hissed. "I didn't even know that fucker had a wife."
Izuku's grin tightened at the corners. He did not feel like explaining his parentage today, so he simply nodded.
Seeing that he wasn't going to say anything, the Sheriff reached for the letter. Drawing a wickedly sharp Bowie knife from a sheath on her leg, she slit the envelope and read the letter in total silence. When she was done, she took her cigar from her mouth, and jabbed the burning end onto the paper, setting it alight.
While the letter curled and crumbled into ash, the Sheriff took another drag on her cigar, letting the silence drag on and on until it was a living thing, stalking Izuku's thoughts. Then, at last, she looked at him with deadly eyes and asked, "Why are you runnin' so desperately, anyway? Seems to me you've got a pretty sweet gig back in Japan. Why're you out here, using your stepdaddy's name to get into shit that doesn't concern you?"
Izuku's eyes narrowed. For a moment, he hesitated, not sure what the Sheriff really wanted from him. Then, he sighed, and decided to just give her the truth.
"Because," he replied in a low voice, "I don't want to use my stepdad's name my whole life. I want to make my own name."
The Sheriff's expression hardened. For a moment, Izuku's bought she was going to refuse-or even reach for that gun still gleaming on the table. But then, instead, she leaned towards the door, and shouted, "Oi, brat! Get out here!"
A few moments later, the door opened to reveal the same girl who had opened the front door. She stepped inside, then closed the door again.
The Sheriff gestured to her. "This here is my granddaughter, Ochako," she said. "If I'm gonna help you, I've got one condition-that she comes along with you. She needs to get outta here more."
Ochako raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked. "You're pawning me off on the first pair of idiots who walk in the door?"
The Sheriff shot her a deadpan look. "You were the one who said you were tired of living in this shitty town," she shot back. "You want to see the world, dontcha? Well, this here is the son of Lord fuckin' Yagi. If anyone's gonna need somebody watchin' his back, it's this fucker."
Ochako's eyebrows shot up. "Lord Yagi?" she asked. "That the one you told me about? The one who-"
The Sheriff coughed meaningfully, and Ochako shut up. Then, her grandmother nodded.
Izuku watched the exchange thoughtfully; Bakugo, meanwhile, had other ideas. "Oi," he protested. "We aren't a charity, you old hag. I can watch his back just fine by myself."
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. Then, she simply turned to Ochako. "You got somethin' to say to that?" she asked. In response, Ochako simply grinned.
A second later, three loud bangs filled the room. Gunshots.
Izuku flinched, and lightning was flickering across his skin before he could even think. He bent his knees, about to attack, when-
"Fucking hell!" Bakugo swore, staring at the three tightly grouped bullet holes in the wall less than six inches from his head. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Izuku's head whipped back around to stare at the source of the gunshots-the gleaming pistol in Ochako's hand. The one he hadn't even seen her draw, let alone fire so accurately that the bullet holes nearly overlapped.
The girl smiled sweetly at the two of them: "If I wanted you dead, trust me, you'd be dead, asshole," she said.
Izuku and Bakugo exchanged a glance. Then, bizarrely, Bakugo grinned. "Y'know, I think I've changed my mind," he decided. "That seems like a good deal to me, Deku."
Izuku couldn't help but smile, too. "Yeah," he agreed. "Welcome to the team, Ochako."
Ochako beamed, slipping her pistol back into its concealed holster, while the Sheriff clapped her hands, looking as if she was on the verge of laughing at the whole scene.
"Alrighty then," she announced. "I'll go ahead and make a few introductions for y'all at Mercy's. After that, you can…"
Present day
"Get movin' already!"
Izuku opened his eyes blearily to find a very familiar brown-haired woman standing by his bedside, hands on her hips and a very impatient look on her face.
"Come on, you big fucker," Ochako Uraraka snapped. "The duel is today, or did you forget that you get to beat a shitty lordling into paste today?"
Izuku groaned, trying to chase the last vestiges of sleep from his brain and make sense of the fact that Ochako Uraraka was in his fucking bedroom at the same time.
"Why are you in my house again?" he croaked, turning his head to look at her.
She jabbed a finger at him. "Stop asking stupid questions."
Izuku sighed. You know what? He had bigger issues to deal with than his friends' love of breaking and entering. "Fine," he muttered, sitting up in bed. "Give me a minute, alright?"
As he stood, revealing his bare chest, Ochako's eyes passed over his left arm for a moment; her brow creased with dark memories, before her gaze shifted onto his chest and her expression became a knowing smirk.
"Damn, Deku," she said, using the term she'd picked up from Bakugo years ago. "Y'know, I think that that whole "searching for a wife" thing would go a lot faster if you find an excuse to take off your shirt during the duel today. All those repressed noblewomen would be thirsting for you."
Izuku glanced down at his bare chest; he certainly couldn't deny the fact that his physique was nearly Herculean, years of training with One For All having paid off with a body damn close to perfect. Still, he couldn't resist the urge to raise an eyebrow at Ochako's comments.
"What do you know about what women find attractive in men, anyway?" he asked. "It's not like you swing that way."
Ochako, for her part, remained utterly unrepentant as she grinned. "True, I may not know what women see in you," she agreed, "But I do consider myself something of an expert in seducing repressed noblewomen. And I gotta say, you're doing an excellent job on that front right now."
Izuku rolled his eyes, determined to not think of Shoko. With one last chuckle, Ochako disappeared through the door, leaving Izuku to dress. He had a few hours; the duel wasn't until the afternoon.
Even so, he had other things to attend to. Once he was dressed, he went out to the lounge, where, sure enough, he found Katsuki waiting along with Ochako.
"You two ready to come along?" he asked.
His friends glanced at each other. "Let me get this straight," Ochako asked skeptically. "You're letting us within a hundred miles of a noble gathering? Willingly?"
Izuku snorted. "We both know you'd just sneak in if you wanted anyway," he pointed out. "Speaking of which, what were you doing the other night? I never did find you."
Ochako grinned. "What makes you think I'd tell you?" she shot back. "You're just gonna have to deal with it."
"Which is exactly why I'd prefer knowing exactly where you are," Izuku replied dryly. "Besides, if you guys want to surveil the nobles to notice if any are scheming, you won't get a much better vantage point than I'm giving you."
Ochako nodded at that. "We really think one of the other Houses was behind the train attack, then?" she asked, turning to Katuski.
Katsuki grunted in assent. "It makes the most sense to me," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Simplest solution first and all that shit."
"Regardless, keeping an eye on that stuff will be your job," Izuku said firmly. "I'll be the one beating the shit out of Lord Monoma."
That earned a laugh from his friends. "It's good to have you back, Deku," Ochako said fondly.
Izuku tried to take that as it was intended, and not as his heart wanted to-as a sign he was falling back into bad old habits.
He didn't do a very good job.
As the hour of the duel approached, Shoko arrived at the sprawling Monoma estates amongst a sea of other nobles, Momo already at her side.
The two of them cast their eyes over the sea of limousines filing into the dueling arena's entranceway; the structure was vast by the scale of such arenas, resembling a small football stadium more than anything, with seating for perhaps two thousand people. It would be full today.
"Quite the crowd," Momo observed, fingers holding onto her wide-brimmed red hat. She was wearing a dress-not anywhere near as elaborate as a ballroom gown, but still gorgeous nonetheless-of the same color.
Shoko snorted, hands on her hips. Rather than wear another dress, she'd opted for a more practical outfit of a dark blue pantsuit. Instead of a hat, her only protection from the elements was a pair of dark sunglasses with just the slightest hint of red tint to them. It made her look as if her eyes were portals to Hell itself. She loved those sunglasses. "It's the first duel between the heirs of two Great Houses in living memory," she pointed out. "You think anyone is going to miss it?"
Momo snorted, conceding the point. They split off from the stream of "lesser" nobles headed down into the stands-which were not bleachers or rows of hard metal seats, of course, but well-appointed viewing areas ringed around the actual dueling space far below. For the more important viewers, meanwhile, there were a dozen large, lavishly appointed boxes atop a dozen towers ringing the field. It was in one of these that the heiresses to House Todoroki and House Yaoyorozu intended to watch the duel.
Before they could reach it, however, they were accosted by the person Shoko least wanted to see.
A cough from behind them heralded his approach. "Lady Todoroki, Lady Yaoyorozu," said Neito Monoma himself. Beside him was Lady Itsuka, looking distinctly uneasy. "So good of you to come. Allow me to be the first to welcome you."
Shoko frowned, but she allowed Monoma to kiss her hand in greeting. He did the same to Momo a moment later, then stepped back to return to his wife's side. "Lord Neito," Shoko said flatly. "I would have expected you to be preparing for your duel."
Monoma chuckled. "I am grateful for your concern," he said, either ignoring or unaware that Shoko had very little concern for him. "But rest assured, I have been preparing extensively. I fear this will be a short bout; I doubt I'll have much difficulty with your pet commoner."
Shoko's eyes hardened. Beside her, Momo winced a little.
"Lord Midoriya is no pet of mine," Shoko said in a voice like the Arctic wind. "He means nothing to me."
Briefly, she wondered who she was trying to convince: Lord Monoma, or herself. The man simply chuckled. "I'll take your word for it, Lady Todoroki. In fact…Itsuka, would you be amenable to having Lady Todoroki and Lady Yaoyorozu in your box during the duel? I know you've had precious few opportunities to catch up lately."
Itsuka blinked. "I wouldn't mind," she said softly.
Shoko, unfortunately, knew for a fact that the box in question was the personal box of House Monoma, which would be filled with Monoma's sycophants, lackeys, and supporters. Watching a duel with those sorts of people was not how she intended to spend her day.
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," she said smoothly. "We have our own box. We wouldn't want to impose."
Itsuka's face fell, while Monoma simply sighed. "Very well," he replied. "Now, I had best be going. Farewell, my love."
He kissed Itsuka's hand-far more genuinely than he had Shoko's or Momo's-and vanished through the crowd, headed towards the dueling ground itself. Itsuka, meanwhile, froze when she saw the knowing, skeptical looks on Shoko and Momo's faces.
"My love?" Shoko asked dryly. Momo's attempt to hold back a giggle finally failed, and the sound mirrored the spread of a blush across Itsuka's cheeks.
Her expression hardened. "I don't recall it being your business what my husband says to me," Itsuka bit out.
Shoko only raised her eyebrow higher. "Oh, far be it from me to criticize," she said mildly. "I would just like to suggest that you recall that moment tonight. After all, I rather doubt Lord Monoma will be in any state to speak for some time after Lord Midoriya is done with him.
With that, she spun on her heel, and made her way towards House Todoroki's box. Momo didn't catch up with her until she was already inside.
"That was uncalled for," she said. "What did Lady Itsuka do to deserve that?"
Shoko shrugged. "It isn't a question of what's deserved," she said evenly. "I was simply stating the truth. Or do you really think Lord Midoriya isn't going to destroy Monoma?"
Momo frowned, but before she could answer, the door to the box opened, and a deep voice said, "I must say, I appreciate your confidence, Lady Shoko."
Shoko whirled to see Lord Izuku himself stepping inside, his usual grin stretching a little wider than usual. Instead of arriving with an entourage of lackeys and servants like his opponent, he had brought just two-a spiky-haired blonde man with a single fanglike earring, and a short brown-haired woman with bright yet unnervingly dangerous eyes. The two of them took up posts by the doorway, next to Shoko and Momo's own personal attendants.
Shoko found her mood instantly brightened by Izuku's presence. That was…odd. Nobody had ever had that effect on her before. She wasn't sure she liked it-or that she liked the way Momo's gaze drifted slowly between Shoko and Izuku, as if assessing something that personally amused her.
"Lord Izuku. Are you sure you should be taking this so…casually?" Shoko asked, looking him up and down. "You look better dressed for dinner than for a duel."
Sure enough, he was; Izuku wore a fine dark suit jacket, a hint of spotless white undershirt peeking out around the collar. He did clean up quite nicely; Shoko liked that in a man. Monoma, who had just stepped out onto the sand of the dueling arena, had, by contrast, changed into simple, form-fitting white clothing-traditional duel garb, more like a martial artist's outfit than anything.
Izuku raised an eyebrow. "Are we not having dinner afterwards?' he asked. "I would rather not waste time changing once we're done here."
Shoko blinked; there was a confidence in Izuku she wasn't quite used to seeing. He'd always carried himself with certainty, yes, but this…this was different. He seemed relaxed, loose, almost smiling-nothing like the stormcloud that had rendered Monoma nearly speechless with fear at his challenge.
Or perhaps he was just no longer out of his element.
From her perch in her own chair next to Shoko's, Momo turned to give Izuku her own once-over. Her gaze bore all the skepticism either of them needed.
"You shouldn't take Lord Neito so lightly, Lord Yagi," she said warningly. "The man is quite capable."
Izuku raised an eyebrow; his servants, now leaning most unprofessionally against the walls near the door, shared a look, then snickered.
"Really?" Izuku asked. "What makes you say that?"
Momo was nearly as adept at reading people as Shoko; she couldn't possibly have failed to pick up on the strange undercurrent in Izuku's voice. Nevertheless, she replied, "The Monomas have always employed the finest instructors in Japan to train their heirs. Lord Neito has been better-trained than anyone you ever fought as a mercenary."
Izuku was silent for a moment, but his servants were not; their snickers slowly escalated into full-blown laughter. Momo and Shoko shared a confused look; surely, the House of Yagi trained their heir's personal attendants better than this. At last, Izuku shot the two a warning look, and they finally fell silent.
Turning back to Shoko and Momo, Izuku smiled, baring teeth in a decidedly threatening way. "I see," he said. "Well, Lady Yaoyorozu, I don't doubt your word; I'm sure Lord Neito has been well-trained. But that does not make him capable."
Momo raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Then what does?" she demanded.
Izuku chuckled, a deep, low rumble in his chest like an earthquake. "I suppose I'll just have to demonstrate the difference between a man who trains, and a man who fights," he replied.
Just then, a voice filled the arena, amplified by hidden speakers. It was the judge for the duel, a distinguished-looking older man whose body bore the telltale signs of a hardened physique gone to seed.
"Lord Monoma stands ready for the duel," he announced, his voice formal and rigid. "Will the challenger, Lord Yagi, please enter the arena now?"
Izuku rose, striding towards the balcony's railing, which looked directly over onto the sandy arena floor below. Just before reaching it, he turned back to Shoko.
"I will admit, Lady Todoroki, you have a point," he said. "It wouldn't do to get dirt on my jacket just before our dinner."
Shoko fought back her increasing confusion, and managed to keep her mask perfectly even. "I'm glad to see we agree," she said evenly. "Unfortunately, it seems that it's a little late for a change of clothes."
Izuku shrugged. "Oh, there's no need for all that," he answered. "Here, do you mind holding onto this for me?"
Shoko blinked, confused, but before she could ask what he was talking about, Izuku shrugged off his suit jacket, and tossed it to her. She caught it without thinking-but before she could even react to it, her mouth went dry as Izuku rolled up the sleeves of his white undershirt, and, finally, removed his long white gloves.
"Holy fuck," her brain declared. Shoko wasn't inclined to disagree, now that she'd seen what those gloves had been concealing all this time.
Izuku's immensely muscular arms were utterly covered with scars. Slash marks, layers and layers of them, jagged lines like lightning bolts, huge patches of discolored and damaged skin-he had them all. But what drew Shoko's attention the most was the burns.
They covered both his arms, but the one she couldn't look away from was on his left arm. It almost was his left arm; the region of pink, molten-looking skin flowed up and across his forearm, covered his elbow, and spread across his upper arm and nearly onto his shoulder. Her own scar throbbed just from the sight of it; Shoko couldn't even begin to imagine the sort of pain it must have come from. In a sudden flash, she understood why he had always worn such long gloves, even while eating; that scar was impossible to look away from.
Once more, Izuku grinned, and there was a bloody promise behind his lips, in the light of his eyes. Shoko found herself mirroring it with her own smile, her fingers tightening on the fabric of his jacket.
"My," she said, somehow finding it in herself to be witty when all she really wanted to do was drool, "You really are a man of action, it seems."
Izuku chuckled. "For a woman who claims to have me figured out, it sure took you a while to realize that," he said.
Before Shoko could respond, he flexed his knees, and vanished in a bolt of lightning.
It was all she could do to turn her dash to the balcony to watch the fireworks into a dignified stroll.
This was going to be fun.
Izuku landed on the sand like a meteor in green and black, kicking up such a dust storm that it took a few moments before he could make out Monoma, standing on the opposite side of the arena.
To the man's credit, he didn't look intimidated; either that, or he was quite a good actor. Izuku found he didn't care much either way.
He felt an icy calm come over him; it was the kind he always felt during a battle, no matter the size or danger. It was the cold, calculating face he had worn as Titan; perhaps wearing it for an arrogant lordling was cheapening it, but then, he'd never particularly cared for cheapening anything. Besides, it had been a while since he'd really gotten to let loose; if Monoma hadn't pissed him off, he might have felt a little bad about what he was about to do.
But as it was, he was just looking forward to it.
Seeing that Monoma was still wearing that same arrogant look, Izuku decided to have a bit of fun. He slowly rolled his neck from side to side, met Monoma's eyes-and then let his tight control of One For All slip, just a little.
An uneasy murmur went up from the audience that steadily grew in volume as lightning poured from Izuku's body. It crackled wildly, growing stronger and brighter with every second. A hum filled the air, almost drowning out the sounds of fear from the audience. In a second, Izuku had vanished behind a ball of pure energy, but his eyes were still locked on Monoma's. He pushed the lightning further, summoned more and more power-and then he saw Monoma's mask slip, just for a fraction of a second.
He snapped off the stream of power immediately, and the lightning flickered once and died, as if it had never been there. He grinned as Monoma rushed to rearrange his features back into that arrogant mask. And only then did he finally step forwards.
Monoma sneered at him as Izuku stepped into position. "Could you really not afford even basic dueling gear, you up-jumped peasant?" he called out.
Izuku raised an eyebrow. "Dueling gear?" he repeated scathingly. "You've never so much as seen a battlefield, and you're telling me what to wear?"
Monoma snorted. "Like you've seen one," he replied. "I'm sure you spent all your time overseas drinking and whoring, not fighting. A peasant like you wouldn't know the first thing about how to fight!"
Well, now Izuku didn't even need to pretend to feel bad for what he was about to do. He would enjoy teaching Monoma just how wrong he was.
"By agreement of the parties, this duel will be to yield or incapacitation. A party may surrender at any time; if they are unable to, the duel will be declared a victory for their opponent. Use of lethal force will result in immediate disqualification," the judge intoned. "Duelists, bow to your opponent."
Monoma bowed just low enough to not be immediately insulting; which, of course, was an insult in and of itself. Izuku didn't bother; as Monoma raised his head, Izuku held his gaze evenly, waiting until the deliberate pause was obvious to every single member of the audience, and then giving the slightest of bows-barely more than a nod.
"I'm done playing by these stupid fucking rules," Izuku thought to himself as the judge raised his hand, seemingly having expected such disinterest. "Sorry, Father, but I've been on my best behavior for weeks now. I feel like I've earned a bit of fun. It's time to teach these fuckers just who they've been messing with."
The judge's hand fell. "Begin!" he called.
Monoma grinned, wide and vicious, as he raised his hand. Izuku raised an eyebrow as sparks filled his opponent's palms.
And then the whole arena was filled with fire.
Izuku's eyes went wide, but the enormous wave of flame had already borne down on him; in the blink of an eye, the audience totally lost sight of him.
There were screams and cries of shock; it seemed that nobody had expected Monoma to attack so ferociously so quickly.
Izuku rolled his eyes, and snapped his fingers.
Instantly, a hurricane of pure force erupted outwards in all directions, shattering the fireball and scattering it, tongues of flame twisting aimlessly before flickering out. The jet of flame Monoma had unleashed was cleaved in two, an arrow with Izuku at the tip left totally unscathed by the searing heat.
When the flame and smoke cleared, the gasp from the audience was plainly audible; they had apparently expected Izuku to be burned to ash by such a ferocious attack.
"Shows what they know," Izuku thought, darkly amused. "Not a single person here has ever seen actual combat; they all think big, flashy attacks are what win fights."
"But if they want flashy, I'll give them flashy. Time to give them a show."
Monoma's eyes were wide as Izuku casually strolled forwards, showing no effects from Monoma's attack at all, save brushing some stray soot from one shoulder; meanwhile, the arrogant lordling was panting, sweat visibly beading on his face as he tried to cool himself down with… ice?
"Shoko's quirk," Izuku realized, his face darkening. Monoma must have touched her before the duel-it seemed he'd been planning this. He'd probably chuckled to himself, thinking he'd beat Izuku with Lady Todoroki's quirk. Little bastard.
Izuku put away his anger, wrestled it down and packed it away beneath his icy calm. He had two simple goals here: humiliate Neito Monoma, and give these pampered aristocrats a show they'd never forget.
He'd teach them what happened to people who fucked with his family, or insulted his friends.
"Out of the goodness of my heart, I'll give you another opportunity to surrender, Lord Neito," Izuku called as he strode forwards. "All you have to do is say so, and I'll make this quick."
Monoma wiped the look of shock off his face with impressive speed. "And if I refuse?" he asked.
Izuku grinned, a deadly, vicious thing that sent a visible shudder down Monoma's spine. "I'm glad you asked," Izuku said, lighting suddenly wreathing his body. "Allow me to demonstrate."
Monoma raised his hand again to unleash a wave of fire, but it was far too slow; by the time Monoma attacked, Izuku was already on top of him, having moved too fast for the eye to follow.
He grabbed Monoma by the wrist, yanking it upwards so that the torrent of flame spewed harmlessly into the air; it cast the arena in shadow and light with a roar, flickering darkness revealing the abrupt terror on Monoma's face at Izuku's sudden attack.
With his other hand, Izuku grabbed Monoma's elbow, and snapped the man's arm like a twig; it twisted backwards with a horrible sound, and Monoma screamed.
Just as quickly, Izuku disengaged, leaping backwards and landing exactly where he had been before attacking; to those too slow to follow, it might have seemed as though he'd never moved at all.
Monoma staggered, trying to keep his feet; his broken arm dangled uselessly at his side, still smoking from his useless attack.
"In a real fight, that'd have been your neck," Izuku said dryly. "Consider yourself lucky this isn't to the death."
"F-fuck you," Monoma stammered, tears streaming from his eyes. With one arm useless, he resorted to attacking with the other half of Shoko's quirk; with a stomp of his foot, a glacier suddenly erupted into being, spikes of ice filling the whole arena and racing straight for Izuku.
He rolled his eyes again. Seriously? Did he only have one plan?
Another flick of Izuku's fingers utterly annihilated the glacier, sending a shockwave through the arena and a ripple of disbelief through their audience. Monoma staggered under the force of it, but attacked again; this glacier met the same fate as the first.
Several more times, Monoma desperately summoned waves of ice; Izuku strolled casually through each one, aiming lazy finger flicks at the oncoming glaciers and shattering them into millions of pieces. He gained ground each time, walking towards Monoma at a steady, unhurried pace; no matter how frantic Monoma's attacks became, they didn't so much as scratch Izuku.
At last, Izuku reached Monoma. He snorted at the look of utter shock in the man's eyes-and then kicked him directly in the knee with a sparking, lightning-wreathed foot.
Monoma's kneecap shattered like glass, and then his leg bent backwards, the twisted, broken leg bone beneath equally destroyed. He crumpled like a doll, screaming in pain; Izuku ignored him, kneeling down beside his prone, writhing form.
"You know nothing about me, Neito Monoma," he said quietly. "Not about what I've seen, or what I've done. I have fought men a thousand times greater than you. I have killed men a thousand times greater than you. Remember that, the next time you think about insulting me and mine."
With that, Izuku rose to his feet once more, a little disappointed; Monoma had proved too brittle to be much fun to play with. Why did he always end up breaking his toys so quickly?
He got three steps away before Monoma raised his head.
"And you call me arrogant," the lord chuckled.
Izuku whirled, caught off guard. What he saw should have been impossible-Monoma was standing.
The answer to Izuku's first question became apparent even as he watched; Monoma's knee bent back the right way, his shattered kneecap knitting itself back together. His arm followed, twisting in its socket as it re-set itself.
Monoma hissed in discomfort, but it soon passed. Looking up at Izuku, he grinned. "What?" he asked mockingly. "Do you really think I'd go into a duel without a healing quirk on call? Or without a plan?"
Izuku's eyes narrowed. "And what kind of plan is that?" he asked evenly, while cursing himself a little. He shouldn't have been quite so casual about this, not when his opponent could copy Quirks-
Fuck. His opponent could copy Quirks.
A second later, Izuku's fears were confirmed when Monoma's fist began to spark with lightning- very familiar lightning.
"That is one hell of a Quirk you've got there," Monoma said, eyes wide and a little crazy, his voice gloating. "Let's see how you like being on the receiving end of it."
Izuku's eyes went wide, and he fell into a defensive stance-not that it would do him much good, as Monoma crossed the space between them in the blink of an eye, lunging forwards and landing his thunder-filled fist directly on Izuku's chest-
And doing absolutely nothing.
The lightning surrounding Monoma's body seemed to fizzle and pop uselessly as his fist bounced off of Izuku's chest like he'd struck solid stone. For a single impossible moment, Izuku and Monoma stared at each other in disbelief, the audience equally dumbstruck.
Monoma tried again, summoning Izuku's quirk and striking a blow with all his might-which amounted to just about nothing against Izuku's densely muscled chest. No shockwave, no unimaginable force of One For All, nothing-just the ineffective, weak punches of a pampered lordling.
"W-what?" Monoma said shakily. "How-what- what the hell is going on?"
Izuku was wondering the same thing. Finally, it came to him.
"One For All is the ability to stockpile power," he realized. "Not the actual stockpiled power itself. Monoma doesn't have any stored strength in his version of One For All-he's like a new First Wielder."
"In other words…absolutely useless."
He grinned. Monoma was still whaling ineffectively on his chest, seemingly totally shocked by the failure to copy Izuku's quirk. Finally, tiring of the game, Izuku grabbed Monoma by the wrist.
Monoma didn't even seem angry, just shocked. He looked up at Izuku, and asked, "What the fuck are you?"
Izuku couldn't help but chuckle. For the common-born boy he'd always be, this moment was sweet, sweet like honey. The fear in Monoma's eyes as Izuku's whole body lit up with One For All, lightning answering his call in the way it had refused to for his opponent…it was delicious.
Monoma tried to summon some durability quirk-his skin rippled and transformed into stone. It wouldn't matter. He wasn't fast enough. Izuku looked him in the eyes, and he knew it was over.
"Something greater than you'll ever be, Lord Neito," he said, laughing. "Now…would you like me to show you how it's done?"
With that, Izuku reared back, fist filled with thunder, and landed a One Hundred Percent punch directly on Monoma's solar plexus.
He all but vanished instantly, every rib cracking under the force of the blow, his stone skin shattered entirely; Izuku felt it crack in the fraction of a fraction of a second before the sheer force sent Monoma plowing into the reinforced wall of the arena. He didn't get up this time; whatever healing quirk he'd had was clearly no match for that.
Izuku shook his head as he turned his back on Monoma's limp form; that had been unacceptably sloppy. He really was out of practice.
He looked up at the judge, who was just as stunned and speechless as the entire audience; sighing, Izuku said, "I believe this match is over, judge."
The man shook his head to clear it, then nodded, once he saw how absolutely annihilated Monoma was. He raised his hand. "The challenger, Lord Yagi, is the victor!" he declared. "Lord Monoma will fulfill the terms of the duel agreement, as stipulated!"
Izuku turned to the crowd of assembled nobility. In front of him was every single person of consequence in Japan-all the power, all the wealth, all those who could control the fates of millions of people, right in front of him. And they were staring. There was no applause, just absolute, utter shock from every member of the audience. Izuku could feel their eyes on him-but not in the dismissive, amused way they had been at that first ball, all those weeks ago. No, now there were all sorts of looks in those eyes; a few were appraising, a few more cautious, even more hungry. But most? Most of those lords and ladies were looking at him with complete and utter fear in their eyes.
He couldn't help but smile to himself. It was good to be the best at what he did.
Now, time to get his jacket back. He bent his knees, looked at the box emblazoned on the side with the crest of House Todoroki, and jumped.
When Izuku returned to the booth in a flash of green light, Shoko barely even noticed him; she was too busy trying to make sense of what the fuck she'd just seen.
She'd known Izuku was strong, and dangerous; she'd seen it on his face the first day they'd met. But that strong? That dangerous?
That vicious? That hadn't been a fight-it had been a disassembly. Izuku had taken Lord Neito apart, piece by piece; it was so plainly obvious that Monoma hadn't stood a chance, Shoko expected that some of the audience would be declaring it rigged by the end of the day. Even more terrifying…it was equally obvious to Shoko-and, she presumed, to the other scions of the Great Houses, all of whom had just as much martial training as she did-how much Izuku had been holding back. In a real fight, Monoma would have been dead two seconds in, and Izuku would have simply strolled away.
Much like he was doing now, in fact; he rose from the kneeling position he had landed in with the same catlike grace he had displayed so effortlessly on the battlefield, wearing the same smile on his lips he had not ten minutes earlier.
"Lady Todoroki," he said warmly-but the undercurrent of menace was still there…or maybe it had always been there, and Shoko simply couldn't ignore it anymore. "Thank you for holding my coat for me. I hope I didn't take too long."
Blinking, Shoko looked down to realize that she was still holding said coat-in fact, her fists were tightly knotted in the fabric, and she was practically hugging it to herself. Awkwardly, she coughed as she stood, offering it to him. "Er, of course, Lord Yagi," she said, forcing herself to focus. It wouldn't do to make it too obvious how shaken watching him brutally destroy a man in single combat had made her.
Or-God forbid-how hot she had found it.
Izuku took his coat back with a smile, and for once, it was an expression Shoko couldn't read. He shrugged it back on with ease, fastening the buttons with nimble, scarred fingers. Then, he sighed, and headed for the door. Shoko turned to watch him go.
Just before vanishing, he turned, and said, "I'll see you at dinner tonight, Lady Todoroki."
She nodded, and for once, the smile that came to her face was genuine. "I look forward to it," she replied.
As soon as Izuku vanished through the door, Momo seemed to awaken from her dumbfounded stupor.
"What…what the fuck was that?" she whispered hoarsely, staring down into the arena, where medics were clustered around Monoma's prone form. Amongst the crowd of onlookers, a head of bright orange hair was just barely visible, leaning over Monoma's body.
"That," Shoko replied, walking over to the balcony and leaning heavily against it, not trusting her legs at that moment, "Was me learning something new about myself."
Momo blinked. "And what is that?" she asked.
"As it turns out," Shoko mused. "It is, in fact, possible for me to get aroused by watching a man put on clothes."