U.A.'s gates swung open, and Izuku stepped through. Alongside him came about two hundred other teenagers, not one among them like the other. He didn't bother leading the charge—unlike his peers, this was no longer his first time on campus, and his wonder and awe took a backseat. Instead of ogling the buildings and infrastructure, he hunkered down and focused on the incoming exam.
Each step felt hot, each movement electric. The first time, he'd been a bundle of frustration and nerves; but now? He moved with purpose, not tolerating any lapse in his judgment. Izuku studied the exams content, his application was exquisite, and everything he needed to know about the practical sat heavy and unforgettable in his pocket.
It was a strategy guide, more so than anything. What the test was. Where the robots were. How to take them down. The best way to optimize his score. And, most importantly—everything he could possibly need to know about the dreadful Zero Pointer.
How large it was. Where it came from. Weak-points in the armor. Firepower. The best way to avoid it. The sheer fear it induced, seeing it for the first time… Everything he'd need to know to make his statement.
There was a crowd forming around him before he realized he was being absorbed into a mob, but found he didn't mind. That was before someone tripped in front of him. Lurching forward, he went to grab for them—but found the rubber tips of his fingers merely grazing their skirt rather than his real arm making the save. Now off-balance, he barely managed to correct himself before something shoved into his back.
He would've stumbled over the half-tripped girl without the sudden activation of Blackwhip. Banjo's ability leapt from his neck in two strands, each saving their balances. Steadying the girl with his arm, he flicked his eyes to the crowd. Danger Sense whispered to him, and he found himself looking at the back of a red-headed boy's neck. A faded sense of Deja Vu overcame him before a voice pulled his attention away.
"Yo, you guys alright!?" A voice called out from behind them, boisterous and loud. Turning, Izuku realized it was another red-head—though his roots were black. Izuku nodded, turning back to the girl.
"Are we? And sorry about Blackwhip. I got shoved too."
The girl was a blushing mess, but she bowed and waved off his concerns.
"Oh, it's no problem. I'm not usually so clumsy, though! Hehe." She replied, glancing between Izuku and the new red-head. On a second glance, Izuku could see that while she was clearly a bit embarrassed, her cheeks were just a natural tint of pink, accented by her soft brown bangs. Her eyes trailed over his face, and Izuku felt odd as she locked onto his scar. Before it could turn awkward however, the red-head saved the day.
"I saw what that guy did, bro, and that was dirty. It's crazy how dudes like that wanna call themselves heroes. Not manly at all." The fake-redhead said, before sticking out a hand for them to shake. "'Names Kirishima. Eijiro Kirishima. I know our hairs' the same color, but I promise, no relation."
It was times like these that Izuku was glad he'd lost his left hand and not his right; neither student seemed to notice his stiff shoulder. He resisted the urge to adjust it—the failed catch had torn it out of place, and the joint was pinching against his underclothes. He offered his name, and the girl was quick to follow.
"Ochako Uraraka!" The brunette replied, giving the both of them a curtsy.
"Cool!" Kirishima replied, and Izuku's eyes widened. The young man's teeth were nearly as sharp as Setsuna's.
"Hey, Kirishima, can I ask if those are natural? I know a girl with the same thing, but it's not a part of her active quirk." Izuku said, pointing towards the boy's teeth. Uraraka also leaned in for his answer, but Kirishima's confidence popped like a bubble and he turned sheepish.
"Sorry bro. I carved them down with a nail file."
"You did WHAT with a WHAT?" Uraraka yelped, flinching away, before a gong sounded over campus and speakers surged to life. Filled with the electric crackle of decades-old technology, the distorted voice of Midnight spoke.
Midnight had fared well, but ultimately fell to Yoarashi. That was what Izuku had to compete with. No… it was what he had to exceed. Neither Uraraka nor Kirishima seemed to notice his mood switch, and Midnight made sure they never would.
"All applicants to your testing sites. I repeat. All applicants to your testing sites. And good luck!"
Uraraka threw one more glance in Kirishima's direction before throwing him another haphazard curtsy and Izuku a full blown bow.
"Thanks for the save, but we gotta go!" She said, before turning and running away with all the dignity of a chinchilla. Izuku and Kirishima glanced at each other, then back to the quickly-disappearing girl. They looked at one another one more time before breaking out after her.
[x]
"Were they serious?" Banjo asked, hovering in Izuku's peripheral as he settled into his seat, rethinking the exams. They'd been pitiful, and Izuku didn't know if that was a lowered standard or the power of preparation. For certain, they'd been quite a bit easier than the ones he took for 1Z. For god's sake, they didn't even have a substantial heroics test. What they offered in that regard represented, at best, a quarter of 1Z's challenge.
"I mean, in my day, I didn't exactly go to an academy, but I still expected something… more. I mean, that test could've been aced by just about anyone who dedicated a serious afternoon to studying the material. Let alone fuckin' hero hopefuls, who should be the best of the best."
"Banjo," Izuku whispered, turning away as someone approached his seat. "Could you even pass that test without me helping you now? It's been almost a century. Sure you haven't lost your touch? Now shush. I need focus."
When Izuku turned back to his seat-partner, he found himself nose-to-nose with—scratch that, nose-to-beak with a young man. Sporting a black plumage of feathers and an apathetic golden beak, the only hint of his personality were his uniform's clips: little silver skulls.
"Tokoyami." The bird-boy said, not bothering to offer a handshake. "Was it that you were speaking to me, or yourself?"
"Midoriya. Izuku Midoriya." He replied, feeling heat sprinkle his cheeks. The back of his palm came away wet as he wiped his forehead. "And just… myself. Are you…?"
"Homeschooled. From what I've heard, it seems they grouped middle schoolers together for exams, but threw all of us in a pile. Greetings."
"Bonjour!" Came another voice from his opposite side, coy and joyful and… french? A young man with long blond hair and pronounced dimples gave him a wave. "Aoyoma here! Hello, row buddies!"
"..." And from the other side of Aoyama leant forward a person of odd appearances; but one he vaguely recognized. Rock shaped-skull and light skin brought his mind back a few years, but the memory was crisp and came to him easily.
"You're… a Koda, right? Family runs a pet store?" Izuku asked, and dang it if his heart didn't skip when the boy's eyes lit up.
"Pets?" Another asked, their voice a low drawl. Leaning forward in his seat, Izuku was just barely able to see the intrigued look on a purple-haired boy's face. The purple-haired boy paid him little mind, however, and looked straight through him to Koda. "Got any cats that need fostering?"
Before anyone could get another word in, however, the overhead lights dimmed. It seemed to catch his peers by surprise, but at this point, Izuku recognized it as the signature of a certain hero.
A light shot off into the center of the auditorium, revealing someone Izuku couldn't help but smile at.
"Greetings little listeners! How are we feeling today!?" Present Mic asked, holding his microphone out into the seats. Not a peep. Izuku wondered if he'd ever learn.
"...Well then, let's get moving! I hope you're feeling confident in our exams this year, because they're harder than ever! But enough paper and pen, it's time for action! Heroic stuff! It's time for…!"
The students leaned forward in unison, bar Izuku, who deigned to recall Mirio's recollection rather than Present Mic's monologue. Mirio had briefed him on almost everything; the city-setting, the point system, the robot weaknesses, everything except one thing… Izuku didn't know what it was that the boy was hiding, but he chose to accept it. The information was otherwise invaluable, and he wouldn't ignore it just because of a lacking detail.
"Your robo-battle royale! Let's set some rules!"
Whispers danced through the crowd, but Present Mic's boisterous presentation shut all chatter down. In the widescreen behind him, a 2x2 grid of silhouettes appeared.
"Three robots! The One-Pointer!" Present Mic said, gesturing to the first box as the silhouette lit itself. "The Two-Pointer! And the Three-Pointer! Destroy as many as you can, and the top forty scorers will make it!"
Even as Present Mic called out the parameters for the exam, Izuku felt a shiver go down his spine. He could almost hear the sheer fear and reverence Mirio had described the very last robot with. Present Mic's convenient skimming amplified his respect; like it was some surprise meant to sit under their nose.
In the end, it wasn't Izuku who brought attention to the Zero Pointer.
"Yo, what about the fourth one! How many points do I get when I break it!?" A voice called from the bottom row. The overhead light swiveled from Present Mic, highlighting the boy as he stood up. Izuku blinked. Sitting in the middle row, Izuku had the perfect angle to recall who exactly shoved him outside.
"Oh! Yoru Sashimi! Well, if Powerloader were here—" Present Mic snorted. "—I'm sure he'd love to give you the rundown on it! But for your information…"
Behind him, the robots worth actual points shrunk, allowing the Zero-Pointer room to shine. However, instead of just stopping once the Zero Pointer filled the screen top to bottom, they kept shrinking. And shrinking. And shrinking. At last, when they stopped, they couldn't have been taller than the length of a pencil. Beside them stood the unlit silhouette of the thirty-foot Zero Pointer.
"It's a natural disaster! A super villain! Thanatos risen from the depths of the earth! Around here, we call this one the Zero-Pointer, because in the real world, you can't beat it! You can only work around it."
Izuku blinked, confused—but not at the description. The red-headed boy's name. Yoru Sashimi. It was familiar.
"Whatever, man. If Powerloader made it, then it should be a piece of cake."
What little chatter remained in the room died out, hearing that declaration. Present Mic, on the other hand, could only laugh.
"Oh yes of course. Well, be my guest, but my personal advice to the rest of you? Steer clear of it! She's only there to slow you down! Now, are we excited to bust some robo-heads!?"
He cast the Mic out to the crowd one more time, but no bites. He sighed.
"Fine, fine. Get changed. Your practical location is on your sheet. Follow the signs."
Izuku was quick to pack up, but he made sure to give his "row-buddies" a bow.
"Good luck. I'll see you in class, I hope. You guys seemed nice."
"To you as well." Tokoyami said, slipping past.
"Bon voyage!" Aoyoma said, flipping his hair over his shoulder.
Koda gave him a nervous grin and nodded on his way out.
The purple-haired boy only grunted and wandered off, muttering to himself. He seemed upset over something—but Izuku paid it little attention. His mind was lingering on someone else.
Izuku soon followed after them, but only after throwing one more look at Yoru Sashimi. He only got a glance of him in the light, but even seeing him from the front didn't help things.
Yoru had a rather pointed face with slanted eyes and a constant scowl. His red hair was gelled out of his face, but the back of his head was wild and untamed. He might've had an underbite, but Izuku suspected it was just habit rather than a deformity—his lower lip remained curled at all times, even when no one was looking.
Familiar indeed—but beyond his… familiar expression, his face rang no bells in Izuku's mind. While Izuku was straining to get one more glance of the guy, however, their eyes met, and the immensity of the boy's glare was a clear indicator to cease his investigation. From then on, he put his nose to the ground and focused on the true task at hand.
When he slipped into the locker room, however, he found a new challenge: public nudity. Or at least partial nudity. Of course, he'd swapped gym clothes in elementary school… but that was then, and this was now.
Izuku was glad he dressed ahead. It only took a few seconds of unbuttoning his shirt and speeding through changing his pants for the whole process to be over; but the challenge came in staying subtle. He wore a compression suit under his button-up, which had kept him toasty, but comfortable. The true difficulty was trying to get the prosthesis comfortable in the sleeve.
If Izuku was honest, he had very little experience wearing tight clothing. The prosthetic had always made that a bit of a moot point; but he couldn't let it bother him today. He needed focus. Strength in the face of unwanted comments. A sharp edge.
A shoulder-slap brought him yelping out of his focus, Kirishima's square, brutish hand resting firmly on the awkward crook of his prosthetic. Yet—instead of knocking it loose… it seemed to shift it just perfectly into position. There was no click, no ping, no alert, but Izuku could feel it in the way his traps relaxed and his skin stopped itching. It'd never been more comfortable, and Kirishima didn't even seem to notice.
"Damn, dude! You're kinda buff! What's with the full body suit, though? Isn't it a little hot?"
Izuku smiled, taking a casual step away as he forced out a laugh—but the grin was real, and Kirishima seemed to notice that more so than anything. He tilted his chin to the side, looking across the rest of the locker room—most people finished changing, yet Kirishima stood before him bare chested and nonchalant as could be.
He couldn't blame the guy. The dude wore his muscles like a shirt anyways.
"Ah… w-well, I suppose, but my quirk keeps me warm regardless, so I hardly notice."
"Cool!" Kirishima replied, before pausing. His big, wide eyes narrowed as he leaned in, getting real close into Izuku's personal space. Before he even had the time to back away, however, Kirishima retreated, and pulled a finger down against his eyelid. Izuku balked, completely bepuzzled at this odd social interaction, before it clicked. The fake red-head had a miniscule, but dark scar across his right eye.
"That scar on your jaw looks pretty badass, man! I don't know how I didn't notice it before, but it's so manly! Mine is alright, but I ended up giving it to myself when my quirk came in, y'know? Hand went all jagged and sharp," Kirishima said, pausing to show Izuku the way his hand seemed to turn rock-solid, "and my eye itched, so… y'know. Not a badass story, but it happens, I guess. I'm just lucky I didn't poke my eye out."
There was a pit in Izuku's stomach; an awkward mix of pity and jealousy, but he smoothed it over with practiced ease and positive thoughts. The thing on his jaw—the square patch of skin where his jaw grinded against the bridge—wasn't exactly badass, but if it was the price for those lives… then sure. He'd give his other cheek, if prompted. He hoped those people were living their best life.
Still… if only his arm had a little scratch instead of just being… gone. He wondered how that life might've turned out, if it was any different at all. Maybe he would've beaten Eraserhead if he was still symmetrical.
The thought soured his focused goodwill, but he bit his teeth and pushed through it.
"Well… thanks, I guess." Izuku said, shifting his chest so that his prosthetic was out of sight. "My jaw-scar is kinda gross half the time… but I wouldn't trade it back for what I paid for."
"Nah, it's pretty cool—"
"Alright, it's time! Hurry out to Ground Beta! Five minutes!"
Kirishima blinked downwards, staring at his own nipples.
"I…"
"You should hurry up. G-good luck in your test."
"Yes sir! And you too!"
[x]
Ochako pressed her interlocked fingers outward, cracking every knuckle in her hand. From there, she clasped her hands overhead and began swiveling outwards from the hip, stretching and pulling her obliques in every direction possible. She couldn't quite touch her toes and hold them, but if she bounced a little her middle finger could brush her laces.
Stretching was the only thing she could manage, standing in front of the starting line. Her mind was like a hole, looking out into the faux streets of Ground Beta. U.A. had an entire city in their back freaking yard. Ochako didn't even have a front lawn! And she lived in the countryside! And what made it worse was that this wasn't the only one. From what she'd gathered by a little eavesdropping and checking other people's sheets, there were at least two other similar cities.
Not to mention they were about to be fighting robots. Robots. The little things that wheeled around fast food restaurants and took her order. But with guns. And tank tracks.
Her stomach gurgled, but she forced it down. Nerves were one thing. That anxiety in her chest was there to stay, she was sure; but she couldn't afford a stomach ache. Not yet at least.
There was a crowd around her—of whom she assumed were all the other Ground Beta testers. She was in her own little pocket for her stretches, but she wished she had someone to talk to. The guys were an obvious no—big, muscular, serious, no thanks—and the girls were scary. Ochako swore she saw the same girl in three different spots, all sporting the same nasty confidence and blonde haircut. City girls were something else.
She took a quick, hopeful peak into the crowd, not truly expecting anyone worth approaching—but was pleasantly surprised. A little bushel of green, a downward gaze, and a tilted posture slapped a smile onto her face.
Ochako slipped into the crowd, intent on reaching the boy who'd made the epic save on her dignity before. She'd already thanked him, of course, but another wouldn't hurt, would it? He'd seemed nice—as had that Kirishima guy—and she was in desperate need of a distraction before the big exam.
As she got closer, however, she found her feet slowing to a halt a few feet away. Glancing to her left and right, she found that she was filling the last spot in a circumference beyond her understanding. There was a massive ring around Izuku, four meters in diameter, and he didn't seem to notice. She almost called out, but something deep down told her not to.
Biting her lip, she took another glance to the people not stepping closer to the boy, feeling an odd weight settle over her shoulders. Izuku was staring at his shoes, hand on elbow, face blank.
It was obvious how focused he was—but there was something else. A sadness, perhaps? There was something on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite taste it.
"One minute!" Present Mic called out, and a shiver ran through the crowd—except for Izuku. He was still as a stone statue, almost like he hadn't even heard.
As much as her instincts were fighting against her, she felt a resolution settle over her. She wouldn't want the boy to have a false start, just because he'd zoned out. That'd suck, and she couldn't just let that happen when he'd been as nice as to save her earlier.
But after taking a single step into that forbidden ring, she felt it. Like the wind gained a sudden chill, or a newfound strength that sent her bangs fluttering over her scalp. Without yet realizing it, her eyes blinked away newfound tears. Her stomach flipped, and her gut tugged in the opposite direction of the green-haired boy. Her fingers brushed against her leg—Zap! A static shock jumped from her finger tip onto her sweats, surprising her.
Before she could take another step, a hand on her shoulder pulled her back into the crowd. Instantly, there was a relief—a pressure behind her eyes she hadn't even noticed abated, and she was safe again according to her soul, but…
"Don't touch me!" She said, swatting away the hand that had saved her. It was skinny and veiny, with a veritable tan that she couldn't decipher as natural or not. For the duration of contact, however, a deep sense of disgust infused her. It was hot to the touch, too, and left a lingering warmth she wished would go away faster than it did.
"Tch." The hand's owner grunted, before it clicked. Red hair. Not quite ginger. Not quite scarlet. Mean ole' face. "You're welcome. Don't mess with that Izuku guy. As mean as he's actin' right now, he isn't up to snuff. You won't be seeing him after today. Ain't worth your time."
"...You're Yoru Sashimi, right?" Ochako asked, scrunching her eyebrows as she looked up into his face. "What the heck are you even going on about? Who are you to tell me anything about him?"
He huffed, turning away from her.
"Me? I'm the only guy who's gonna claw my way back into that damn class. You shoulda seen it—his recording. Pathetic shit for real. It was—y'know what, actually? Just steer clear of me, too. You'll see why soon enough, sweetheart."
"Yea, no thanks. Bye." She said, before turning away and making a purposeful walk towards Izuku. She gave Yoru no more mind, even as he muttered a string of curses in her wake. Without even thinking, she broke back through the crowd-barrier, heedless of the discomfort that wracked her frame. Even as her heart hammered in her chest and her gut was swirling like a witch's evil cauldron, she'd rather feel ill than spend another second talking to that jackass.
Before she could tap Izuku on the shoulder, however, a voice broke through her concentration.
"Alright, hopefuls! Begin!"
She whipped around, eyes scrambling to find Present Mic's shades. It didn't register what he said, at first, only that the extreme discomfort had vanished with his words. Others in the crowd shared her confusion, but it was Ochako who had the balls to call out the question.
"Begin? What do you mean!?" She yelled, her voice rising over the violent mutterings of the crowd. Present Mic jumped, waving his arms in the direction of Ground Beta.
"In the real world, there's no countdowns! Go on now and take your future by the horns! Like Mr. Yoru over here, or better yet, the green blur!" He yelled back, and Ochako choked, realizing that yes, Yoru was already running into the fray, shouting profanities and glowing a brilliant orange as he chased after an oddly green fog in the distance.
She twisted back, just to make sure Izuku had actually heard the man this time, but found herself alone but for a few green wisps between her sneakers.
A second passed.
Then two.
"Oh, crap!" She yelped, realizing she was the last in the crowd to begin their charge.
[x]
"Their joints are their weak spots, but the fastest way to disable them…" Izuku muttered to himself, before pulling Voidlimb back from the center of the Three Pointer's core. Sparks and metal shavings bounced off his face, but he blinked in accordance with Danger Sense. "Is to destroy their chest."
Far, far behind him, he was already picking up on the rumbling of shoes coming his way. In front was a street empty of human life—but one filled with robotic sentience.
Blackwhip burst from his shoulder blades, wrapping onto every surface they could find—window sills, lampposts, mailboxes, doorknobs, fake-cars, everything. In unison, he commanded all thirty whips to pull—and to pull hard.
Like fired from a cannon, he was flying down the street, clotheslining robots on his left and gunning robots down on his right. Voidlimb bisected anything that wasn't a three pointer, disconnecting One-and-Two Pointers' tops from their bottoms with enough force to send the top half flying. He found that, despite their bulky appearance, their steel was rather flimsy—as far as tanks went.
Even Three-Pointers fell under Blackwhip. When he couldn't cut straight through them with the blunt Blackwhip, he could always send two braided limbs to squeeze the core to death anyways. And when that wasn't time efficient, Voidlimb itself was enough to puncture straight through their heart.
Smokescreen was even more efficient, but the long-term effects of abusing it were less tolerable in a test like this. Sure, numbness would be a problem, but not being able to breathe? He needed every ounce of oxygen he could manage. So, he limited Smokescreen for otherwise awkward kill-shots and that alone—but that still meant he could've filled a dozen street blocks with what he utilized.
Izuku landed into a roll, softened by a burst of Smokescreen. He spared one look behind him before turning the corner and instantly dismantling another Three-Pointer—there wasn't much worth seeing. Just the smoking robots and his smoking emissions mixed together. For a moment, he wondered whether he should gather up the remnants of Smokescreen—turn it into a weapon, but the decision came to him quickly. His emissions would be far too cumbersome to lug around for the rest of the test, and speed was definitely more important than power here.
He considered his feelings as he held out Voidlimb. A sizable forest-green orb came to life in its black, wriggling palm. Never stopping in his sprint, Voidlimb swung wildly as it coordinated the forest-green orb, guiding it through heart after heart of One-and-Two Pointers. It was large, but dense; containing enough Smoke to fill a cityblock. More so than making a smoke-bomb, he was telekinetically slinging a pound of bricks around with the force to knock a bus off its wheels. En would be proud.
It felt… cathartic. He couldn't deny the way his heart leapt with every destroyed robot, sang with every crunch of metal. There was a joy that cradled his heart, that hung off his shoulders like a grand cape. For once—for god-damn-once—he was the master of the situation. Here, schemes and sabotage and academic assassins were far out of reach.
He liked it more, he decided, than the colosseum. At least by measuring fun, this was far more exhilarating. Here, he didn't have to worry, didn't have to be afraid. Nobody did. Even if you weren't strong enough for the robots, they wouldn't crush you and your spirit, they wouldn't beat you senseless, they wouldn't take away your quirk and humiliate you. They wouldn't deny you your dreams, they wouldn't disrespect you, and best of all: When you hit them with your full strength, they stayed down.
Voidlimb ascended from the concrete with the full force of Izuku's body. It tore straight through the Three-Pointer's core and tunneled up its neck and through its robotic skull. From there, he unraveled his fist and extended the fingers outward, hooking onto five other robots and pulling them into the first.
With his real hand, he willed a neon green orb into his palm—and even though this one was smaller, it hovered with a shine far more polished that Voidlimb's forest green creation. Sticking his palm forward and under the armpit of Voidlimb, he let the neon bomb off.
The six robots fell to pieces at his knees, a hundred bullet-sized holes punctured straight through them.
Izuku's heart was in his throat, and he took this millisecond to calm himself and assess. His throat was a little sore, but his limit was still far off—Voidlimb took its toll, however. What little he could still feel on his shoulder consisted of pins and needles. The only reason he knew his prosthetic was still on at all was because of the slight weight tugging on his posture.
Voidlimb unraveled, then shrunk back into his body alongside any stray whips. His body was a polka-dot collage of numbness, but his muscles were still fluid and strong. Perhaps he should've filed a request for a water bottle.
Closing his eyes, he cast out Danger Sense. He needed to conserve his strength for the finale, but adding more points to the total wouldn't hurt—
Diving into some cover, a rubber bullet whizzed past his neck by a hair. He turned, already half-forming Voidlimb, but before he could retaliate, a candescent beam shot through the One Pointer's skull.
"Dos!" Yoru Sashimi called out, his hand smoking and eyes burning with a slight glow.
Izuku blinked, seeing his savior, before turning away and filing away the boy's quirk for later. He didn't bother to thank the boy—there were more important things to do. Before he could get far, however, Yoru's shout grinded his escape to a halt.
"Hey, stumpy! Quit stealing all the kills, you fucker! We both know the only person getting into 1Z is me, so just sit back and get out of my way!"
There were just under a billion things wrong with what this man just said to him. More so than anything, however, Izuku realized he only cared about one thing.
He'd tried his best, over and over again, to figure the boy's identity out, but to no avail.
"Who the hell are you!?"
The casual, viscous layer of indignation was wiped off the boy's face, leaving only surprise. Then it was back, and worse than ever as his already slanted gaze deepened.
"Who am I!? I'm the guy who went toe to toe with Powerloader! I'm—I-I'm…"
The rubble and discarded pieces of robots were beginning to shake. The crumpled metal sang an ugly song as it bounced and jumped under the shaking ground, and beside Izuku, Yoru was struggling to keep his balance. Dust and concrete powder was coming off all the buildings' walls in bursts, and Izuku was becoming very concerned if the buildings had rebar or not.
Boom!
"W-what is that?" Yoru whispered, almost falling over himself as a shockwave passed through the city. It threw even heaviest fake cars into the air for a moment. Izuku remained unfazed.
Boom! A second shockwave passed through the street, this one heavier than the last, This time, Yoru fell to a knee. Izuku, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile.
"An opportunity!" Izuku said, using Voidlimb to pull himself to the top of the nearest building. Smokescreen trailed behind him in a lime stream, pushing and guiding him as another whip sprouted and latched onto another building.
He swung across the city blocks as Yoru stumbled after him, yelling curses and profanities behind him. His swings required great focus, but it left him just enough brainpower to wonder how Yoru was keeping up. Faint in his ears however, Izuku could make out numerous accounts of Yoru yelling "Uno!"
It didn't take Izuku long to realize his mistake—Mirio's advice on where the Zero Pointer came from was for Ground Alpha, not Ground Beta, and his charge into the southern quadrant had been a waste. Luckily for him, however, the Zero Pointer was built to grapple Kaijus, and its dignified skull poked over the tallest skyscrapers Ground Beta offered.
Along his swinging path, he came across several other students, each battling and fending off various robots. As easy as it would've been to steal every point and squeeze every student dry, that wasn't his goal—however, he did destroy several with stray smoke bombs whenever he came across a student in a losing battle. Most notable of these kills came from when he swung over the purple-haired boy. He screamed curses at Izuku's back even as Yoru shoved him out of his way.
Honestly, Izuku didn't feel all that bad—Three Pointers wouldn't kill him, of course, but just because he was struggling against the Three didn't mean he hadn't taken out several Ones or Twos. Who knew—he seemed well-put-together, when last Izuku saw him. So, hopefully, taking out his opponent would actually free him up to take on more weaker opponents.
At last, Izuku swung onto the block where the Zero Pointer stood—and he couldn't wipe away the grin stretching his cheeks. Standing on the edge of a building's roof, he was eye level with the robotic monstrosity. This was it. His statement. His proof; his message to Nedzu that he couldn't encapsulate with mere words. This was—
Screams pierced his ears like a spearpoint through the heart—shocking and painful and clarifying. Danger Sense expanded without second thought, and he felt everyone's pain on the block for a single instant before the knowledge would crush him.
One was losing blood. Many were exhausted. Every single one of them was in danger of being crushed. But most distressing of all were the four broken bones—coming from a single source.
There were perhaps three dozen meters between the Zero Pointer's titanic feet and a pile of rubble; a single step, really. Danger Sense reached out again—but instead of touching everybody, he funneled into the direction of the Zero Pointer, or more specifically, the pile of rubble.
Far below, Yoru had caught up, running against the crowd as they ran away from the Zero Pointer like scared cattle.
Four broken bones; one cracked pelvis, two broken toes, and a battered tibia. He felt Uraraka's pain as his own for a mere moment, and assumed the growing pressure of her life's threat as his own. Already, he was in freefall, hurtling towards the ground with the full speed of terminal velocity.
Blackwhip and Voidlimb burst out, grabbing the buildings between himself and the Zero Pointer, angling his fall and pulling the whole momentum of his potential death into an upward swing. Uraraka was trapped in the rubble, but he blitzed past her, knowing the true threat. Gritting his teeth, he willed more and more whips to grow over Voidlimb, thickening and elongating the limb until it was as big as great oak.
In the last moment before contact, Izuku willed every whip into the tightest knot he could manage. With Voidlimb concentrated to a single point, he twisted it, forming it into a drill. But instead of blasting a hole through the building-sized robot, the bulky Voiddrill hit nothing but air.
"This is MY moment, stumpy! Cinco… Cannon!" Yoru screeched far below, slamming the bases of his palms together before Izuku's ears popped.
A red beam—a solar flare, a hyper-shine, something of immense, blinding energy—burst from the boy's connected palms. Cinco Cannon pierced the Zero Pointer's knee joint with the force of an orbital cannon.
The Zero Pointer stumbled, and fell into a kneel with the screech of destroyed metal. Danger Sense practically imploded his brain as the sheer impact of the machine's weight caused the rubble trapping Uraraka to shift, breaking a fifth bone—her femur.
Before the Zero Pointer could fall all the way over, however, Izuku redirected Voiddrill into a spider-like web, using the buildings as leverage to hold it steady. Leverage minimized the strength required, but it still took his physical body to the limit. His muscles were stretching far beyond their comfort, and the skin connected to Blackwhip and Voidlimb was on the edge of tearing clean off.
Far below, on his ass, Yoru was feeling around the ground. He wasn't moving. He wasn't running. He wasn't helping. With mere feet between himself and Uraraka, the Zero Pointer could crush them both if it fell.
Alarms began to blare across the false city—real alarms, the alarms their infographic sheets warned them of in case of emergency.
"Please evacuate the area. Zero Pointer has been critically damaged, and we no longer have any form of stopping it before someone gets hurt. Evacuate, Sashimi. Evacuate, Uraraka. Release the Zero Pointer, Midoriya! It will kill you." Nedzu's voice said, echoing around the city.
"Ahh!" Izuku screamed, feeling a Blackwhip snap; but he couldn't let go—not while there were people at risk. "Yoru! I don't care about whatever you have going on, just grab Uraraka and leave!"
"...I-I—" Yoru mumbled, still grasping at the ground around him. "—I can't! I can't see! Cinco Cannon takes my vision for a few minutes! I-I-I thought it would be enough!"
Another Blackwhip snapped, and Izuku's scream echoed even louder than the emergency alarm.
"Confirmed. Heroes are on their way. Confirmed. Heroes are on their way!" Nedzu's voice echoed, but brought Izuku no further comfort.
"Yoru, get over here!" Uraraka moaned, her voice filled with pain. "Follow my voice!"
Yoru tried, Izuku could tell, he really did damn try, but before he could even stumble halfway there, he tripped and landed on his elbow. Izuku could only whimper as he felt him break his arm through Danger Sense, and he could only dry-scream as another whip broke.
The Zero Pointer lurched forward several feet, and screams filled his ears—but they were lesser than the pounding blood in his skull, and he grit his teeth. Several more tethers burst from his body to wrap around the titan, and it fell no further. It was taking every ounce of his strength to merely hold it up, and it still wasn't enough. If only…
"Someone!" He screamed, feeling his senses waver, his brain going numb. "Someone help them! I can't… It's slipping!"
Darkness grew in his peripherals like black ink in a pool of water as the stress-induced blindness began to take over.
Yet, even through the pounding in his ears, the blindness in his eyes, the overtaxing of Danger Sense, and the smoke filling his nostrils, he noticed the tiny, purple-haired cat-lover bulldoze into the heart of the danger.
Even through all the fear, the frustration, and the pain, a smile slipped onto his lips. He flared his nostrils as he parted his lips and began to inhale…
[x]
Hitoshi Shinso was scared. He was pissed, frustrated, and hurt—but beyond that, he was terrified. Guns and robots and explosions wracking the city already had him on the edge of his nerve. His quirk, Brainwash, was useless in this robo-battle royal, and after almost fifteen minutes of searching, his first opponent was a Three Pointer! A god damn veritable tank, and all he could manage to do before that green bean had swooped in—literally swooped in!—and destroyed it was piss the machine off.
So, he was angry. Angry at the broccoli-headed tarzan, angry at the unfair test, and angry at his shoulder's terrible ache. The Three-Pointer had brutalized him before the green-bean arrived, and he was still feeling it.
Perhaps it was the anger that gave him the courage. When the emergency alarms had started going off, he found himself drawn into the action, rather than away. He knew some people had given him odd looks, seeing him jog towards the Zero Pointer rather than away from it—but why wouldn't he? Sure, it was an emergency, but no one could really die in these tests. And anyways, he wanted to see what constituted an emergency for U.A. Did a building collapse? Did someone break a finger? It was a posh school, so it could be anything for most of these rich, talented bastards.
But when he turned the corner, fear usurped the anger, and his courage faltered. Opposite from where he came, the Zero Pointer teetered dangerously, hovering over two bodies on the ground. The only thing saving them happened to be that viridescent monkey and his vines, holding the hulking monster back with his interlocked, web-like ropes—and he was screaming. Screaming so terribly that Hitoshi shuddered, screaming so painfully his stomach did a flip and his knees turned to jelly.
It was… incredible. The boy was in an obvious, unspeakable agony, but he was… doing it. Holding it up. Barely. Almost failing. But the Zero Pointer hadn't fallen yet, and the boy was still alive. Someone shoved into his shoulder as he stood there, blocking the way as a student ran in the opposite direction.
He couldn't bring himself to excuse them. Or even pay them any attention at all. No, his mind… it had frozen. Dialed in. Grasped an idea, and took hold of his ears as the demand—no, the request, rang through him like a gong.
Hitoshi glanced behind him. A crowd. He glanced at the Zero Pointer. Not a soul.
"Someone! Help them!" The boy screeched, and Hitoshi realized he was already halfway there.
He didn't know when he started running; only that he had, and that he didn't know how to feel about it—well, scratch that. He knew he was close to shitting himself.
His shoes kicked up rubble and dust like a madman as he tore across the street, finding himself queasy and sick as he stood under the Zero Pointer and the boy's immense web. His eyes locked onto the easiest target first—the jackass who'd shoved him not five minutes ago, and he realized the man wasn't actually unconscious.
"I can't see… I can't see… oh god I can't see and I'm going to die…" He muttered, but Hitoshi didn't bother to waste another second listening. He brought the boy to his feet and strung him along to the rubble-covered girl.
"I'm getting them!" He said, screaming upwards to the boy holding back the robot. Instantly, a rope snapped and the Zero Pointer snagged. "Just hold on a bit more!"
He and the blind asshole began tearing at the rubble as the girl muttered to herself.
"Pinned… ankle stuck… ack!" She yelped, feeling a rock shift as Hitoshi tossed one to the side. The pile shifted from where he dislodged a piece, and she screamed.
Whipping to the blind boy, he screamed over the loud creaking of the overhead robot.
"Hey, come on, help me out! Can't your quirk blast this pile away!?"
"I-I can't! I can't aim, and I'm low on—"
The asshole's face went slack even as Hitoshi's guilt almost crushed him.
"Blast away the rubble. I'll guide you." He said, grabbing the brainwashed boy's wrist and aiming it at the worst of the pile.
"Tres."
There was recoil, but his minion knew his body and subconsciously handled it far better than Hitoshi ever could. The blast was successful, but Hitoshi couldn't help but feel bad anyways, seeing the girl's state. Broken, awkward, and bloodied, she was an immobile mess.
Overhead, another rope of the boy's quirk snapped, and the Zero Pointer lurched forward again. Off in the distance, there was an odd rumbling noise, but he paid it no mind as he lifted the girl over his shoulders into a firefighter's carry. Glancing to the dickhead, he gave him one last command.
"Hold onto me and let's get the hell out of here!"
Their escape was a crawl, but in seconds they found themselves out of immediate danger. He gave one last glance over his shoulder, seeing several more of the green-haired boy's quirk snap. Hitoshi gave him one last call—though he had to scream his lungs out over the ever-growing rumble in the background. Was that… the sound of metal? Or an engine? Or an airgust? His hair was beginning to blow wildly with a sudden wind.
"I got them, man! Get out of there! We're safe—!?"
Two things silenced him at once. The boy's black ropes all snapped in unison, and an immense wall of green fog rushed over Hitoshi's head. It came from every block, every door, every window, and every alleyway on the southern side of the city. It was like a tsunami had impacted the street, and its wave had burst through every crevice the city had to offer.
Greens of every hue and tint flung past like a kaleidoscope—neon and lime and forest and, at its core, swamp-green—and Hitoshi was mesmerized. Debris flew with the fog too—rubble and Two Pointers and half-crunched cars—and they were coming for the green-haired boy who was currently falling to his death. Even if he survived the fall, the collapsing Zero Pointer would crush him—
Hitoshi startled forward on instinct, not sure if he was trying to avoid the green fog or rushing to catch the falling boy, but the action still resulted in jerking the girl's broken leg. In the end, however, it didn't matter. The green smoke rushed around them like Moses and the Red Sea, not disturbing them.
The green haired boy, however, seemed unbothered while falling, even as metric tones of fog were converging on his location. Hitoshi's jaw could only hang so low, watching the scene.
"Izuku… Midoriya…" the girl whispered on his shoulders, and suddenly knowing the boy's name made everything seem so much more real—like a dream brought to reality.
Before Izuku hit the ground, he exploded into a burst of green smoke. It cushioned his fall, allowing him to land feet-first. The black ropes around his odd-looking arm braided themselves into a metal-as-hell black limb—but he didn't use the rope-arm to block the converging fog.
Every ounce of the green gas gathered over the arm, surrounding it in layer after layer of condensed smoke. He seemed almost unperturbed as he stood directly under the path of the falling Zero Pointer, an entire cloud's worth of smoke gathering onto his arm. Hitoshi couldn't see for certain how fast the moment passed, but the way the gas scraped at the surrounding buildings told him everything. Its speed shattered windows, tore paint from walls, and even pulled doors off hinges. Every of debris followed the gas, and it all gathered around his black—now viridian—arm.
In one second, it was a bit larger than the length of a normal limb. Then it was the size of a tree trunk. Then a car. And suddenly no more gas was passing by Hitoshi overhead or by his sides, and everything was condensed into a fist the size of a semi-truck—and Izuku reared back that fist…
"Smash!"
And plunged it straight through the heart of the falling titan. The sheer impact halted the monster's fall for a half-second before it shattered into a thousand pieces and more.
Hitoshi only had a second to realize the shrapnel that Izuku had blasted off the Zero Pointer was flying towards him before he was floating some fifty feet off the ground, the blind asshole clinging to his leg and the girl's vomit on his shoulder.
[x]
When Izuku came to, it occurred to him that he was alone. The second thing he realized was that he had blacked out in the first place, and that not much time had passed since he'd destroyed the Zero Pointer. He glanced down, noting that the left side of his body-suit was torn away, alongside his prosthetic. Blinking, he noticed it was between his legs; twisted and crushed by the stress of Voidlimb.
He was in a crater—or rather, Zero Pointer's guts surrounded him like one. There were shouts coming from above and to the side, but beyond everything, he realized he had a choice.
"Y'know," Five said, appearing beside him. "It won't be long until they find out anyway. You should rip the band aid off now."
Izuku rolled his eyes, stumbling to his feet. He tried to brush the dust from his pants, but his real arm was basically useless from the strain of holding up the Zero Pointer. There were at least three torn muscles in his shoulder—and he suspected one in his oblique—but that didn't matter right now.
He didn't will Voidlimb to life—he was too tired for that—so he asked Five to handle it.
It came to life a little wimpy and sad, but it was there and would pass as a real arm if any other students saw.
"Maybe, Five. But... I don't know... This just feels easier."
The phantom to his side shrugged, and puffed on his ghost cigar.
"Fair enough. Though maybe drop the act once you get to a hospital anyways."
Izuku nodded, and let himself fall onto his back. He watched the clouds through the hole he'd punched through the Zero Pointer's spine. Around it, a handful of faces peaked over the circumference. Izuku didn't bother to hide his smile at the most concerned face in the quartet.
Eraserhead—despite Izuku's gripes with the man, had a look of complete and utter relief on his face, seeing Izuku. As for Midnight, she was swooning over herself—and him, he supposed—and her smile lit the Zero Pointer's guts up more than the sun hovering behind her head. This was the closest he'd ever been to her, and he couldn't help but feel comforted. Sure, she was gorgeous, but now, seeing her up close, he could tell she was kind, too. Setsuna would be so jealous.
Vlad King had the most dynamic expression of them all—shock and surprise and shame—but it was a melting pot, and the result reminded him of gratitude. He thought back to the man's words at the colosseum, and wondered what was going through his mind.
But the first one to jump down and help him was who he was most happy to see.
"Hey, Mic. You wanna get some ice cream after this?"
[x]
AN: And here's my favorite chapter thus far, I think. At least in the last fifteen or so. Last few chapters were severely disappointing, due to all the negativity, but its like like a rotten apple, but in reverse. It only takes one very sweet one to make it worth it. That's true for reviews, and also chapters-because I quite like this one. It's fun, its cool, and Izuku kicks ass. Next chapter is also quite good... though I'm a bit worried. Some of y'all are picky, so I'm thinking I'm gonna have to tweak one little number... but it'll be good, too.
Chapter 40 is the next one to look out for big time, but I think 41 is be fun too. I haven't gotten around to 42, but that'll be a bit more chill, I think. A moment to relax... or will it? Bahahaha
Review! Praise me! This chapter bangs, and I will not be lied to. I almost feel bad for the people who bailed last chapter (but not really, because some of their reasons were quite, quite, quiet strange lol)