Chapter Summary: The Sports Festival finally arrives.

In between classes and training, the day of the Sports Festival arrived in seemingly no time at all. With all the months that Izuku spent training and cleaning out the beach prior to his enrollment at U.A., the past few weeks leading up to the Sports Festival felt like a blink in comparison to everything else and before he knew it, he was awoken to the sound of his alarm and his mother calling for him to come eat breakfast. The aches in his muscles made themselves known as he climbed up off his mattress and weighed the merit of making his bed before he left. He opted not to and stepped out of his room in time to see his mother setting his plate on the table, humming a song he recognized but didn't know the name of.

"Made your favorite!" she told him excitedly. His mother slipped into her seat across from him and smiled brightly. "I figured you could use a strong start to your big day!"

Despite his exhaustion, Izuku smiled back at her. "Thanks, Mom. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, of course I did!" she replied as he pulled his chair back and sat down. "Besides, it wasn't any trouble. I could hardly catch a wink last night, so I got up and figured I could make use of my extra time this morning."

"How long have you been up?" he asked, arching a brow. "Did you sleep at all?"

His mother waved a hand. "I've managed with far less– I barely slept when you were a newborn, so this is nothing." She picked up her chopsticks and gestured to his plate. "Now, eat up! You don't want your food to get cold."

Resisting the urge to playfully roll his eyes at her, Izuku scooped up a rolled omelet and plopped it into his mouth. The warmth spread through him and he closed his eyes with content. In the past few weeks, anytime he got up to eat breakfast, he had shoveled it into his mouth tiredly and barely registered the taste of it on his tongue while he chewed and swallowed. It was a welcome change to be able to savor it with the day he was about to have.

'All of my training has been leading up to this,' he thought, taking in another bite, 'now we'll see how far it takes me.'

It had been a process to try to get his timing down for One For All. Down at the abandoned sandlot, he had been making progress in clearing it out, but not without mistakes. On his second week of his new project, he attempted to leap from a rusted fridge to the top of an old clock and toppled into a pile of garbage. Needless to say, his mother hadn't been pleased to see him return home covered in slime and reeking of rotted trash.

"I know you want to do community work," she acknowledged as she stood with him outside by the garden hose, "but would you at least wear some gloves and a poncho? You could get an infection!"

An involuntary shiver ran down his spine as he recalled how she had to spray him down with the hose to get the mess off of him and he clenched his fork, which didn't go unnoticed by his mother. "Izuku? You feeling alright?"

"Om fahne," he said through a mouthful, only to quickly swallow and clear his throat, "Sorry. I'm fine. Just felt a chill, that's all."

She furrowed her brows. "Well, if you're not feeling well–"

"I'm not sick, Mom," he reassured her. Though, that wasn't true– his stomach wasn't exactly settled and he had a feeling it didn't have to do with his breakfast. "I guess it's just… nerves? I am gonna be competing today."

'In front of the entire world,' a voice whispered in his head, 'this will be their first look at seeing what you can do.'

Izuku shook his head. "I'm alright. I promise."

"If you're sure…" she replied. A hint of worry snuck into her tone, but he knew that couldn't be helped; she always worried. That's where he got it from, after all.

Silence carried on through their breakfast and before long, Izuku was full and his plate was clean. There was some part of him that wanted to ask for another helping, but with a quick glance up at the wall clock, it was replaced by a surge of panic.

"Oh, crap," he murmured. In a flash, he scooped up his utensils and plate, then rushed over to the sink. "I should get ready. Sensei Aizawa told us not to be late today for check-in. He wants to go over the procedures for today one more time so we'll be ready."

"My, U.A. takes their presentation seriously," she noted, gathering her own dishes to join him, "do they really care that much about how you enter the stadium?"

Izuku shrugged. "They're just being careful. They've been taking extra measures to make sure that we're secure since–"

He cut himself off, but it was too late. Tension seemed to fill the air like smoke and his breath caught in his throat. His dishes slipped out of his grasp and although they were only a couple inches from the stainless steel surface, their clatter seemed to echo within the small apartment. Izuku did not turn to look at his mother, yet even so, he could picture the look on her face clear as day. It was the same one he saw anytime there was any mention of the U.S.J. attack.

The silence continued.

With his lips pulled tight, Izuku inhaled sharply through his nose. "I should get dressed–"

"Izuku."

His eyes fell close and slowly, his shoulders started to slump. There it was– that soft, concerned tone that always gave him pause. He had known it since he was small and despite having grown so much, it still felt so heavy to him.

"Listen," his mother said, "I know that the Sports Festival is a big deal… And you've been training really hard for it…"

'Not today,' he thought, resisting the urge to shake his head, 'please, don't do this today.'

"But…" she began to say.

He heard her stop to swallow and he steeled himself for it; for the worry, for the pleas to reconsider, for him to ensure his safety over the potential of whatever success the competition would bring. He knew his mother and he knew that despite how supportive she was, deep-down, she was still scared for him. The attack on the U.S.J. had only solidified that as a fact for him and it would be foolish to ignore it. Yet, that didn't stop him from avoiding the conversation, to skirt around the topic and simply pretend it didn't happen, because that was so much easier than confronting it when he had so much else to worry about.

Finally, she exhaled. "I just want you to do your best today, alright?"

With a blink, he turned around to face her. His mother held his gaze, but her eyes were not teary– there was a resolve that didn't match the way her hands wrung together and yet, it was unshaking nonetheless. She gave him a nod.

"No matter what happens today," she went on, her voice becoming more clear as she spoke, "just do your best. You've been working hard to get here and I know–" She inhaled sharply and the corners of her mouth pulled up a bit. "You'll do an amazing job."

A swell of optimism hit Izuku deadcenter in his chest, but he was wary to let it spread. He searched her face for a hidden "but" behind her encouragement, yet he found nothing of the sort. Even as her hands continued to wring together, he could see that she was being genuine.

'No,' he realized, 'she's being brave… for me.'

There was so much weight in that thought, so much understanding that Izuku couldn't even begin to fathom it all. To know his mother's fear hadn't dissipated but that she was trying to swallow it down for his sake spoke to a love that finally allowed him to let her words wash over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but when the words wouldn't come, his feet seemed to move forward of their own volition. His arms slipped around her and he held her, even when she was too stunned to hug him back right away. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, nor when his eyes began to sting, but he didn't pay it any mind.

"Okay," he told her, "I will."

His mother let out a breath and he felt the tension in her body dissipate. Her arms slipped around him in return and she squeezed him tight, like it was his first day of school all over again. Finally, she pulled back and she rested her hands on his biceps.

"You'll do great ," she assured him, and that time, he heard a tremor in her voice, "I know it."

Izuku smiled down at her. "Thanks, Mom."

She gave his arms a squeeze. "Now, how about you go and get dressed for your big day? Wouldn't want you to be late on the day of the festival."

It had been a great many years since Toshinori had woken up so early to go to the Sports Festival. Granted, it had been back when he was a student and actually competing in the games, not just spectating, but the point still stood. As a Pro, he wasn't held to the same time constraints and could enter as he pleased– that was one of the perks of being the Symbol of Peace, he supposed. However, that morning, he wasn't entering the stadium as the Symbol; he was entering as a teacher, and teachers had more than just the responsibility of showing up on their roster when it came to the Sports Festival. Fighting back the urge to sigh, he peeled back his covers and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. He shuffled his feet into a pair of slippers– they were a pair of bunny slippers that Tsukauchi had gifted him a couple years back –and tousled his messy hair.

'I wonder how busy it will be today,' he mused, wrapping one of his bangs around his index and middle finger. He twirled it idly until all the strands came together in a solid grouping and slipped his fingers over to the other side to repeat the process. 'Been a while since I last saw the festival up close and personal.'

As he pulled his arms up in a stretch, his torso went taut when the familiar ache of his injury made itself known. He let out a huff through his nose and dropped his arms. That was right– the last Sports Festival he had attended had been back before his injury, when he didn't have a time limit to worry about. He had made a special appearance at the ceremony for the third years in honor of their last year at U.A. and had delivered a speech at Nedzu's request, who he had spent weeks preparing it with. While he couldn't recall his words, he could still picture the way that the entire stadium was on its feet when he finished it and raised his fist to lead everyone in the school's infamous motto: "Plus Ultra!"

God, that felt so long ago after everything.

He shook his head and sighed. His feet shuffled tiredly over to the bathroom and he closed his eyes once he flipped the lights on– the fluorescents always gave him a headache. Bringing his hand up to shield his vision, he crept over to the counter and tried not to purse his lips at the clutter on his counter. Nearly a dozen bottles of medicine were grouped together in the corner, their miscellaneous colors and shapes sending down that same level of dread he felt in his gut every time he had to take his pills. Normally, he had the good sense to organize them into the pill container he kept in his medicine cabinet, but his schedule the past couple weeks left him unable to dedicate the time and energy to the menial task. With another sigh, he picked up a white bottle and inspected it.

'Vitamin C,' he thought, moving it to a clear area of the counter before picking up another, 'Vitamin D… Calcium… Folate… Iron supplement…'

It was hard to keep track of which he had to take more of: supplements or the prescriptions that his doctors had him take for the past half-decade. He managed to talk them down from taking B12 pills and settled on visiting the hospital every month to get a shot instead, which proved to be more timely for both him and his medical team. Monthly tests could be tiresome, but he ultimately knew their necessity. His blood test results were one of the biggest things he had to keep track of and, with only one kidney remaining, he couldn't afford to go longer between urine tests lest he run the risk of catching a potential failure too late.

'Could be worse,' he settled on silently. Taking a handful of his supplements, he tossed them back and fought back a grimace as he swallowed. While it had gotten easier to take it, it was never pleasant to feel them go down. He took a generous sip of water from the water bottle he kept by the sink and exhaled. 'Could also be a lot better, too.'

Next came the prescriptions, which he went through the same process of sorting through as he did with his supplements. The antibiotics were usually the worst ones to take due to their taste, but after having spent the past five years getting used to the taste of iron in his mouth, he had learned to live with it. An involuntary shudder ran down his back once the pills went down and he placed a hand over his throat to soothe the uncomfortable feeling. Once he was sure they had all gone down, Toshinori cracked his eyes open and dared to face his reflection.

Heavens, he was surely a sore sight. Shadows hung under his dark eyes, making him look more skeletal than usual. Some part of him thought about potentially using concealer to cover them up, but he brushed it aside quickly; there was no sense in trying to paint over such a shoddy canvas. It wouldn't change the overall picture.

After he strode out of the bathroom, he trailed over to the hanging rod beside his dresser, where both of his suits hung– his hero one and his work one. Toshinori reached over and touched the bright fabric of his hero suit, his thumb brushing across it idly. It had become just a part of his daily routine to slip it on underneath his work clothes in the event of an emergency, though he never hoped to have to need it. Ever since the U.S.J., however, he couldn't even think of leaving it behind; not when his colleagues were still recovering from their injuries.

'It's a wonder Recovery Girl hasn't forced Aizawa onto bed rest until further notice,' he thought. He stepped into his suit with the ease of practice and memory, the fabric both a comfort and a heavy reminder of the threats that lingered in the darkness. With subtle adjustment, it settled onto his form. 'I hope all the excitement around today doesn't make things worse for him.'

When Toshinori had been recovering from his extensive injuries after his battle with All For One, he had been granted only the shortest of reprieves. You could only go so long as the Symbol of Peace before people began to ask questions on your whereabouts and, despite Recovery Girl's many protests, he knew that it'd be foolish for him to show any sign of weakness. Blood in the water made the sharks come out to play and Toshinori couldn't afford to have another chunk taken out of him, not after everything he spent so long working towards had become reality. So, out in public he went, his smile as wide as ever and his chest puffed out despite how much his insides ached and burned. He had to pick and choose his battles, sure, but at the end of the day, All Might was not an identity born from self-fulfillment; it was for the public that he had sworn to protect and serve.

He made quick work of his shirt buttons and ran his hand down the front to smooth out the fabric. As his fingers went down each button one by one to make sure that they were lined up correctly, he tucked the tails of his shirt into his pants and zipped them up. Toshinori tried not to frown when his waistband's fabric bunched up with a cinch of his belt. Should he invest in a more fitted suit? He was practically swimming in his own clothes, if not outright drowning.

'Been a bit since I've gone to a tailor,' he mused as he slipped his tie on. Once he tightened it, he fiddled with the woven fabric until it sat snugly around his neck. 'Perhaps Nedzu might know someone I can trust… He seems to know a great deal of people for any sort of task.'

That much had been made clear since their meeting all those weeks ago. When Toshinori accepted Nedzu's guidance on training his powerless form, he had been startled at just how quickly his associate took to making plans and getting right into the thick of it. One moment, they were discussing what kind of things he'd like to have in a potential costume or training attire, should he be interested, and the next, he was pulled into a room and being measured up and down by people he didn't know. It had been a whirlwind and all Toshinori could do was stand there like a deer in the headlights, not sure what else to do but follow their instructions to lift his arms and stand upright. He could still feel that same flutter of embarrassment when one of them had to grab a stepstool in order to reach the top of his head so they could accurately get his height.

"Doesn't this seem like… much?" he recalled asking.

Nedzu merely gave him that knowing smile he always did. "Oh, trust me, Yagi… if I were going overboard, then you'd know ."

Not sure he was in a place to argue, Toshinori had gone along with it. Despite having become a teacher himself, he supposed he was technically in the position of a student again, so it was his job to take the guidance given to him. Still, it didn't make it any less daunting; especially when he called in help from Toshinori's new coworkers at U.A.

Ectoplasm had been the first Nedzu called in for advice. At first, Toshinori thought this to be a strange choice, especially considering that Cementoss was the only member of the staff to actually know his true identity. However, once Ectoplasm strolled into the room, the realization dawned on him and just as quickly weighed heavy on his heart.

"I know what it's like to have to adapt to a disability," Ectoplasm had stated calmly. It was not spoken with sadness or even an inkling of being resigned; it was just a simple fact. The masked hero met Toshinori's gaze and offered him a nod. "I know that our conditions are not the same… but I trust that I can offer insight that might prove useful."

Perhaps if it had been years ago, back when his wounds were still fresh and his fragile pride had him in a vice grip, he might have taken offense. However, as he stood across from his associate in training clothes that still felt too big on him, Toshinori felt… acknowledged , in a sense. Ectoplasm did not regard his condition with disgust or pity, but rather, with an understanding that was born from experience. Although he was over a decade younger than Toshinori himself, Ectoplasm's journey to understanding his own limitations and his capabilities had started long before Toshinori's had.

He didn't quite know all the details that surrounded the incident that caused Ectoplasm to lose his legs from the knee down. All he knew was that it had been while in the line of duty and in a way, that had told him everything he needed to know. Whether it was at the hand of a villain or just by pure, unfortunate happenstance didn't matter– it didn't change the end result. Toshinori knew that all too well.

Still, training with his associate had proven to be quite the experience. He hadn't been granted the chance to see Ectoplasm's fighting style up close and personal until they began their sessions, and he had been struck by just how seamless he moved. With his arms tucked under his coat seemingly at all times, Ectoplasm's attacks depended on his prosthetics, which were capable of taking blow after blow without so much as showing a hint of damage. By throwing in the use of his clones, it only made him more of a hassle to deal with in close combat.

'He doesn't come to mess around, that's for sure,' he thought. Once he tugged his suit jacket on, he smoothed out the lapels and straightened up. 'But thankfully, I haven't been going up against him unarmed.'

His eyes trailed over to his bedside table and he smiled upon settling onto his new cane. The one that Recovery Girl had prescribed him after his battle at the U.S.J. had been a polished, oak wood that curved into a simple cane shape. However, this new model was a sleek black that was understated, yet still ornate due to the intricately shaped handle that was suited for Toshinori's large hands.

"Power Loader takes great pride in ensuring that all of his creations are suited for their users," Nedzu had told him after presenting him with it, "I think you'll find this is a more comfortable fit."

"Comfortable" didn't even begin to do it justice. Toshinori had almost immediately noticed a difference in how easily he carried himself with it, retroactively realizing the little things that had bothered him about his old cane. He didn't have to slouch as much, it was more lightweight, yet still durable, and all around, it just felt nicer to hold in his grasp. Some part of him dared to think it looked cool.

He had it in him to snort. 'Well, maybe that's just me…'

He picked up his cane and tossed it up a bit, catching it in the middle of the rod. His thumb ran along the dark surface almost reverently until it caught onto something small. Most people wouldn't think to look for it or even notice it upon inspection, let alone at first glance, but Toshinori had grown quite familiar with it in the past few weeks. With the corner of his lip pulling up into a small smile, he pressed down onto the disguised button. In an instant, the head of his cane unfolded into an intricate origami pattern and slipped inwards, making the top of the cane seem as though it had flattened out. While holding one end of the cane steady, he gripped the other end and pushed it inwards, causing it to collapse into itself seamlessly. By the time he was finished, it had taken on the shape of a small, four-inch rod. Toshinori slipped it into his pants pocket and patted it for good measure before turning to leave his room.

'Makes it easier to carry around whenever I'm having a good day,' he mused. There was a strange level of security, and dare he say, comfort by feeling the weight in his pocket as he walked. 'And should I need it, I can always just take it out.'

He slipped down the hall and into the living room, which seemed to serve more as decor than actual function. When he first got his apartment, it had been during the height of his career, so he had rarely spent time in it, even when he needed to rest. Most days, he usually slept in his office before adding a small side-room at Sasaki's insistence and having a bed put in there. Now, after his injury, he had begun to retire to his apartment, though had yet to fully indulge in its contents. At times, it felt more like a hotel room than a home.

Toshinori grabbed his keys from the dish by his front door and slipped his loafers from the day before on. Once he stepped out and locked the door behind him, he made his way down the hallway, passing by his neighbors' doors. The halls were usually this quiet in the morning and very rarely did he ever cross paths with the strangers in his building. The few times he did, they usually pretended he didn't exist.

'It's a good thing I got up early today,' Toshinori thought as the elevator brought him down to the ground floor. He adjusted his keys to find his car key in preparation for arriving at the parking garage and slipped it between his index and thumb. His eyes flitted up to watch the floor tracker count down one by one, silently praying no one else pressed the button and delayed his journey. 'Traffic shouldn't be too bad at this time of day.'

Then, the elevator came to a stop, having reached its destination. The doors slid open and, upon seeing the parking garage, Toshinori blinked with surprise. What was normally a quiet, uneventful space was now filled to the brim with revving car engines and a mixed amalgamation of rhythmic bass from various car stereos. A long line of cars snaked its way through the driveway and Toshinori tracked it all the way down to the entrance in the far distance.

"What the…?" he murmured. A loud, blaring honk caused him to wince and he put a hand to his ear. " Yeesh … What's going on today?"

"You don't know?" some unknown voice questioned. He turned to see a young man sitting in his parked car with the windows down and his phone in hand. "Today's the Sports Festival. Everyone is trying to get down there so they can get good seats."

Toshinori furrowed his brows. "I… didn't think everyone would be up this early."

The young man chuckled. "You and I both, pal. Guess that's on us, huh?"

Once the man turned his attention back to his phone screen, Toshinori brought his gaze back to the sea of cars and stared haplessly for a moment, not sure what to say. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and put his hand over his face. He was hoping he wouldn't have to do this after the last time had got him caught up in a couple of incidents on the way to work, but considering the line didn't seem to be moving all that fast and he had places to be, he didn't seem to have many options.

'Let's just hope Nedzu doesn't get onto me for it,' he prayed silently as he made his way over to the exit.

He slipped through the doorway and closed it behind him, his eyes darting back and forth once he made it into the alleyway. When he didn't see anyone within view, he allowed the familiar heat of One For All to spread through his limbs and felt his loose clothes practically become a second-skin to his muscled form. Hooking his keys onto his belt loop to keep from dropping them or accidentally crushing them in his grasp, he lowered himself down to the ground.

"So much for trying to beat traffic the normal way," he huffed as he readied his stance. Then, with a grand leap, he went flying into the air and over the roof of one of the neighboring buildings. Upon landing on top of it, he sprang again and brought up his watch to check the time. "Let's just see if luck is on my side today."

"Come on ," Katsuki's mother groaned, "just move already!"

It took an incredible amount of self control for Katsuki to bite his tongue, his eyes falling to a close in order to block the long line of cars that held in front of his view. He knew– he just knew that he should have taken the train like he did everyday, but the hag just had to insist that she drive him down. Were it not the day of the festival, he would have pushed back on it.

'I can't let her throw me off today,' he thought, his jaw clenching just a bit. Katsuki inhaled through his nose and exhaled quietly through his mouth to ease the tension, not wanting to let his agitation show in front of her. 'Today's not the day to get into it with her.'

In all the weeks that had passed since his homeroom teacher's announcement of the upcoming festival, Katsuki had been putting himself hard to work. There was no room for slacking off or goofing around when the entire world was going to be tuning in to watch what was sure to be an intensive introduction to what everyone in his year was capable of. Not that it mattered– he was going to beat all of them in the end, anyway.

The corner of his lip threatened to quirk up. 'Though I wonder what Dark Circles has in store for us today… Is there some bite behind that bark of his?'

If the hero course reject's words were to hold any weight, then it stood to reason that Dark Circles wasn't the only who was going to be gunning for Katsuki or his class. With their experience at the U.S.J. under their belts, anyone who was able to best them in the festival was sure to gain some praise and attention from the many scouts that were sure to be filling the stands. That was, if they actually managed to win.

'At least they'll be coming at us with their all,' he mused, trying not to grin, 'then when I come out on top, there won't be any question of who the best really is.'

"Finally!" his mother exclaimed, breaking him out of his thoughts. She let out a heavy sigh as she joined the cars in moving forward. "I wonder what was causing the jam."

"We're not the only ones going to U.A.," Katsuki commented. He had tried to tell her that before, but of course, she didn't listen. "People are gonna be lining up to try to get into the Sports Festival as soon as possible."

He judiciously decided to leave out the extras he saw trying to camp out the day before up until security swarmed them and told them to clear out. He didn't need his mother freaking out about potential safety issues on the day of.

"Well, people could at least be a bit more efficient about it," she replied, rolling her eyes a bit, "I swear, some people in this city don't know how to drive."

As if on cue, a loud honk resonated from behind their vehicle.

"We're moving, jackass!" Katsuki and his mother shouted in near perfect unison.

Once the noise subsided, his mother turned back to face the road ahead with a sigh. "Exhibit A…"

Despite himself, Katsuki snorted. "Maybe Auntie Inko was onto something by riding her bike instead of driving after all."

"Maybe," his mother responded, "though you'd still have to deal with idiots on the sidewalk. There's always some group of idiots who block the entire walkway."

"Yeah," Katsuki replied, "and they always walk super slow. And for what? "

She chuckled. "It's the worst ."

For a moment, silence hung in the car. With the cars moving in a steady formation down the road, Katsuki propped his elbow on the car door and rested his chin on his hand, his eyes watching as the familiar scenery that he typically saw on his walk down to the school passed him by. He wondered briefly if he would have run into Shitty Hair on the way there had he walked.

'We walk the same way when we go home,' Katsuki mused. His fingers subconsciously curled and his lips twitched downward for a fraction of a second. 'I wonder if he and the other extras are already at the school…'

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" his mother asked.

Katsuki shrugged. "Nothing."

She arched her brow. "You sure?"

"Yes," he responded, careful not to let an edge enter his tone. He wasn't annoyed, but if he sounded like he was, then she'd make it a problem. "Just lookin' out the window."

His mother let out a hum of thought. "You know, I hear a lot of people are going to be watching the first years this year… Are you nervous?"

"Why would I be nervous?" he questioned, turning to look at her. That time, he couldn't stop the beginnings of a frown from creeping across his face. "It's not like I'm gonna lose ."

She blinked. "I never said you would."

Just as he felt the familiar heat of anger start to make its home in his chest, he just as quickly clamped his mouth shut. Not today. He couldn't do this with her today, not when he had so much on the line. He couldn't burn himself out before he even entered the arena. So, rather than indulge her, he turned back to the window and quietly took in a breath through his nose.

'Focus,' he thought, bringing his eyes to a close, 'you can't lose focus… Not when those extras and wanna-bes are out for you.'

Still, even though he could feel himself keeping the fire at bay, the air in the car felt thick like smoke and he couldn't ignore it. Gone was the levity of their conversation and in its stead was the uncomfortable, yet nonetheless familiar feeling of tension that always found its way into their shared company. He just prayed that she wouldn't say anything to fan the flames.

"Katsuki."

Even with his eyes closed, he could already see the look on her face as clear as day– it was that same look she got whenever she was going to say something that didn't need to be said. Something that he always wished he could unhear.

"I know that you've been training really hard for the Sports Festival," she went on, "and I know that you really want to win." Somehow, she had it in her to chuckle. "That's just who you are."

'Don't,' he thought, his fingers curling up into a fist at his side, 'whatever it is, don't. Not today.'

"But…" she continued.

And there it was; that one word that served as a warning for everything that came after. While he and his mother had gotten into their fair share of screaming matches over the years, the conversations that tended to stick the most always started with that little "but". Her tone would be so soft, so kind, but it was just sugar to sweeten the bitter medicine she thought would help, even if there was nothing ailing him. Yet, that never stopped her from trying to shove it down his throat, despite his protests and pleas.

"No matter what happens today," his mother resumed, "I just want you to do your best, okay?"

Katsuki's eyes snapped open and he turned to look at her. "What do you mean by 'no matter what happens'?"

She blinked. "Well, I mean that–"

"Do you think I'm gonna lose? " he snapped, unable to stop himself from raising his voice. He lifted his arm up from the door and turned towards her completely. "Are you serious? "

"I never said that I–" she began to say, stopping to sputter. Then, she shook her head and she groaned. "Katsuki, I'm just saying that if things don't go right for you–"

"Oh my God ," Katsuki exclaimed, "are you seriously going to do this today?"

Her lips pulled into a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You do think I'm gonna lose!" he snapped. His hand clenched into a fist at his side and he could feel his nails dig into his palms. Of course. Of course she did this. She could never let him get too comfortable, never let him have just a day without having to knock him down a peg, never just support him. To her, he would always be the brat that his teachers praised too much "for his own good." With a scoff, he turned away from her. "I can't believe this!"

"Katsuki, I'm not trying to talk down on you!" she shot back. Her eyes flitted away from him to focus back on the road as the cars continued moving forward and she pursed her lips while she took a hard right turn. Once she straightened the steering wheel out, she exhaled raggedly. "I'm just saying that since you'll be going up against other kids in your year–"

Almost instantly, Dark Circles' tired face popped into his head. "I'll beat them."

"How do you know that for sure?" she questioned, and oh, if the fire in his chest hadn't been hard to contain before, it certainly was then. He slowly turned towards her to see her peering through the windshield with furrowed brows. "I mean, I know you're tough , but so is everyone who gets into U.A. Don't tell me you're not the least bit worried."

The memory of Deku's steely-eyed resolve back in that first simulation all those weeks ago felt like someone had stuck an icicle right into the brimstone that burned within his heart. It lasted for only a short moment, but the sensation left him exhaling sharply.

"I said that I wasn't trying to compete with you," the nerd's voice echoed in his head, "but now…"

Even though he had been absolutely terrified, the nerd had stood his ground against Katsuki and even managed to pull one over on him by catching him off-guard. It was a mistake that Katsuki promised he wouldn't allow again, not when the sting of his defeat had left him more sore than his injuries had. It wasn't just that he had won, or that he had humiliated him in front of all their classmates, or even that he managed to win with a Quirk he inherited just months ago that haunted him; it was what he had said right before knocking Katsuki's lights out.

"I take back every bit of it!" Deku had screamed, his single finger emitting a force that knocked him all the way back to the wall. His world had been consumed by darkness shortly after and upon awakening, he found out that not only had he lost, he had missed the entire afternoon from the blow.

'And that was when he was scared,' Katsuki thought. He pressed his nails so deeply into his palms he thought he would draw blood. 'Now, he's got something to prove. That makes him unpredictable.'

"Katsuki?" his mother questioned. In a blink, he was back in the car with her and he finally processed the worried expression on her face. It made him sick .

"I'm not gonna lose today," he growled. Some part of him wondered if he was actually saying it to her or to himself, but he swiftly ignored it. "I'm gonna win and I don't care who I say it to because it's gonna happen." He faced straight ahead and managed to unclench his hand into a claw shape. "And everyone watching today is gonna see it."

She sighed and Katsuki's jaw clenched a bit harder. "I'm just saying that you should–"

Whatever she was going to say was very swiftly cut off by her viciously slamming on the brakes, sending Katsuki forward before his seatbelt pulled him back against his seat roughly. With a growl, he turned towards her.

"What the hell?! " he exclaimed. "Are you trying to give me whiplash?!"

His mother whipped around to face him and pointed out the windshield. "There's a bunch of cars blocking the road to the school! I didn't see them until just now!"

Blinking, Katsuki turned and quickly spotted the rows of cars that blocked the road leading up to U.A. Amongst the sea of vehicles were news vans and flashing lights from police cars, where officers stood with their arms poised to direct everyone. Beside him, his mother sighed and plopped back into her seat.

"Great," she groaned, "I guess this is going to take awhile."

Katsuki huffed. " Fuck no, it isn't."

Before she could reply, he unbuckled his seat belt and pulled the car door open, taking care not to slam it into a nearby car. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him, tugging on the collar of his blazer to allow for better airflow.

"Katsuki!" his mother shouted. He heard the window roll down behind him and pointedly didn't look back. "Katsuki, what are you doing?"

"I'm walking the rest of the way," he called back, "I'll see you when I get home."

"What?" she blurted out. "Katsuki, don't you walk away from me! Get back here!"

He peered over his shoulder to face her. "I'm not gonna be late to the Sports Festival! I don't want my teacher getting on my ass!"

His mother groaned. "The cars are packed like sardines! How are you even going to get to the sidewalk?"

"I'll manage!" he barked back. Turning on heel, he began making his trek through the cars. "The festival starts in about an hour– try not to miss it!"

"Katsuki!" she shouted. "Katsuki, c'mon! How am I supposed to get out of here?"

He shrugged. "Don't know! Good luck with that!"

Even as he drew further away, he could hear her growl with frustration. "You little brat! Don't be such a smartass!"

Despite himself, he had it in him to snort. "Love you, too, Mom!"

After that, her complaints seemed to cease and he silently thanked whatever deity above that granted him that small grace. He adjusted the strap to his bag and slid in between the honking cars. Had he not turned his back towards his mother, he might have seen her fall back into her seat and quietly reply, "I love you, too, Katsuki."

The mornings were usually the hardest part of the day for Shoto. While some of his peers always seemed to have an issue with being excited when they drudged into the classroom in the morning, Shoto was one of the few who welcomed the change in atmosphere. One might have assumed it was due to his studious nature or his dedication towards training to be a hero, but his reasons were not so virtuous. At the end of the day, he just simply preferred not to be home.

'Especially when my old man is still there,' he thought as he shrugged on his gym uniform top. His fingers slid down until they reached the end of the garment, where the bottom of his zipper rested. He idly fiddled with it until it latched into place. 'The house always feels suffocating when he's around…'

Thankfully, he had been granted a reprieve when he awoke to see his father had already departed– apparently something down at his agency required his attention and he left the house in a hurry, if what Fuyumi told him was true (and he had no reason to believe she would lie). Still, that did little to assuage him, since he knew that his father would surely be in attendance at the Sports Festival.

'He'll want to see how his masterpiece performs…' Shoto mused, trying to keep his expression passive. He zipped up his shirt and straightened up. 'Well, I sure hope I don't leave him disappointed.'

Some part of him wondered if his mother would be watching; he tried not to dwell on it too much.

Shoto's eyes trailed across the room, where each of his peers were spread out and talking amongst each other. Some were still lingering near the lockers where their belongings rested while others were already seated at the tables provided for them, either sitting in silence or clustered into small groups. At one table, some of the members of the Public Relations Committee were seated with one another and chatting animatedly. The only one not speaking was Bakugou, whose face was fixed into an eerily calm picture of contemplation. While Shoto did not know Bakugou personally (or cared enough to want to), it still felt uncharacteristic to see him so silent. His eyes barely flitted upwards to acknowledge something Kirshima said to Kaminari, who laughed loudly and bumped into Sero's shoulder.

"I wonder what they have in store for us," Sato commented. Sweat was apparent on his brow even from where Shoto stood and his voice seemed less relaxed than usual. "The first round is usually the one that weeds the most people out."

Across from him, Tokoyami nodded and closed his eyes. "No matter what they have prepared for us, we must persevere… Opportunities like this are rare here at U.A."

"Right," Shoji agreed, nodding along. His arms looked especially big in his modified gym uniform; Shoto wondered if they weighed his torso down on harder days. "And as first years, this will be our first impression with the public. We have to make it count."

It didn't pass Shoto's notice when Koda ducked his head down just a bit at that. During the course of their short time with one another, he couldn't recall having ever heard the boy let out a single sound so much as one time. If Shoto were to guess, he seemed to stand at about Shoji's height, but the way he carried himself made him appear almost as small as Asui.

'He slouches like Sensei Yagi,' he noted silently. His teacher had to have been at least in the middle of the six-foot range, yet his posture left him just barely taller than their homeroom teacher. Shoto closed his eyes. 'That shyness won't do him any good in a competition like this…'

Then, the door to the room opened, causing him to open his eyes to see who entered. Standing in the doorway was Iida, dressed in his uniform the same as his peers, his face fixed with a fierce determination.

"Everyone!" he announced, his voice crisp. "Get your game faces on! We're entering the arena soon!"

A quiet murmur spread across the room and Shoto's eyes trailed across his peers. Towards the back, he spotted the rest of Iida's fellow officers congregating with one another. While Yaoyorozu quietly got up to join her deputy rep at the door, Uraraka reached over and placed a hand on Asui's forearm in silent reassurance, though her own expression betrayed her nervousness. However, his true focus lied on who was standing beside them; Midoriya. With his eyes closed and a shaking hand placed over his heart, Midoriya sucked in air through his nose deeply and held it for a brief moment before letting it out through his mouth. It reminded Shoto of how nervous he looked before going into the Heroes vs. Villains simulation all those weeks ago.

'He set the tone for the rest of the battles,' Shoto thought, his mind circling back to how he managed to best Bakugou. Even in the present, he had been struck by how much power was able to come out with just a flick of his finger. His eyes narrowed involuntarily as he stepped forward. 'We'll just have to see how he fares in a real competition.'

"Midoriya," Shoto stated calmly once he drew closer.

With a blink, Midoriya turned to regard him. "Oh… Hey, Todoroki. What is it?"

Already, Shoto could feel his classmates' eyes trail over to them, but he paid them no mind. Their thoughts didn't matter to him; not as much as what he had to say did.

"From an objective standpoint," Shoto went on, holding Midoriya's gaze, "I think it's fairly clear that I'm stronger than you."

The surprise on Midoriya's face lasted for only a brief moment before it became more resigned. "Um… I-I guess if we want to compare experience and technique, then… I suppose I can't argue with that."

Behind him, Uraraka pursed her lips. "That's kind of a mean thing to say out of nowhere."

"Yeah," Asui concurred, tilting her head curiously, "I kinda expected something like from Bakugou , to be honest."

"Huh?" Bakugou barked. He turned around in his seat, his lips pulled into a scowl. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Kirishima slipped a hand onto his shoulder. "Dude, chill out ."

Shoto's eyes remained locked onto Midoriya. "However… Despite that, you've managed to gain the attention of All Might. Haven't you?"

A collective hush fell over the group once the words left his mouth. Everyone's gaze shifted over to Midoriya, who had gone incredibly still beneath the increased attention. His already large, green eyes looked like saucers and Shoto couldn't deny the way his hands had begun to shake. In the past couple of weeks, he had contemplated the likelihood of Asui's speculation back in the lunchroom and couldn't tell for certain if there was truth to them. However, the reaction before him seemed to be enough confirmation.

"Judging from your silence, I'd argue that I'm right," he continued, causing Midoriya to flinch, "I'm not here to pry into whatever is going on between you two, but just know… I will beat you."

"N-Now wait just a minute!" Midoriya stammered out. He brought his hands up and waved them frantically. "I-I don't know where you got that idea from, but it's not like that, Todoroki, I swear!"

Before Shoto could respond, he felt a hand land on his shoulder. "Seriously, man, what's the deal? Why're you pickin' a fight all of a sudden?"

He just barely registered the hand as belonging to Kirishima before jerking his shoulder away. "We're not here to be each other's friends." His eyes settled onto Kirishima, who wilted beneath his gaze. "We're all in competition with one another; at the end of the day, only one of us can win."

"You're not serious , are you?" interjected a gruff voice. Shoto turned to see Bakugou getting up from his seat, his eyes smoldering. "Your brain overheating or something, Icy Hot?"

"Now, now," Iida reprimanded, stepping forward, "there's no need to–"

" Can it, Glasses," Bakugou snapped, not even turning to look at him. "So, what? You think just because the nerd was brave down at the U.S.J. that he managed to get All Might's attention? Is that it, then?" He rolled his shoulders back with a scoff. "Get fuckin' real , dude."

Shoto frowned. "Your input on the matter isn't important. It doesn't change my position."

"Dude, c'mon ," Kirishima urged, stepping between Shoto and Bakugou's shared gaze as the latter prepared to speak, "we're about to go into the stadium. Is now really the time for you to be tossing down the gauntlet?"

"I think the real question you should be askin' is why he's throwing it down to Deku ," Bakugou snarled. He pushed Kirishima aside and stepped forward. "If you think he's your biggest competition here, then you're ever dumber than you look. Don't know how you made it on recommendations with brains like that ."

A crisp whistle brought everyone's attention to the doorway, where Yaoyorozu stood. "Alright, that's enough of that! If you wanted to talk down to one another, you could have done it at any other time!" She pointed downwards, her lips pulled into a frown. "I'm not going to have any of you squabbling like children when we're about to enter the field. We're heroes in training , for goodness' sakes– act like it."

Iida nodded in affirmation. "She's right. None of us made it into this school by entertaining schoolyard taunts–" His eyes cut over to Bakugou briefly, who grimaced. Then, his gaze flitted back to Shoto. "– or by tearing our peers down."

Shoto held Iida's piercing gaze for a moment. He had been a part of the very conversation that tipped Shoto off to the connection that Midoriya shared with the Symbol of Peace– why wasn't he regarding him with the slightest bit of competition? Despite clearly being inept at using his power and keeping it under control, Shoto was not a fool; if someone like All Might could see the potential in him, then that made Midoriya a threat .

'He has heart and passion, there's no denying that,' he thought, thinking back to how he talked back to their homeroom teacher on their first day. His eyes narrowed when he recalled the look of pure astonishment on his face after delivering his finishing blow to Bakugou back at the Heroes vs. Villains simulation. 'But that alone won't earn him a win.'

"Now wait just a minute, Todoroki," Midoriya chimed in, breaking Shoto out of his thoughts. When Shoto turned to regard him, his classmate's brows were furrowed. "I-I don't know why you want to single me out of everyone here… And I definitely don't understand why you think All Might is interested in me, but…"

For a moment, Midoriya didn't speak, his lips pursed tightly as he peered down at the floor. He swallowed thickly and clenched his fists, which had begun to shake.

"I'll admit, I probably don't measure up to you," he said quietly, and some part of Shoto was struck by the sincerity in his voice, "I mean… You all saw me on our first day when I came in last place during the Quirk Assessment." He closed his eyes. "I know where I stand on the pecking order here."

"Deku," Uraraka breathed out, her voice gentle.

Kirishima's expression softened. "Hey, dude, c'mon… Don't you think you're being a bit hard on your–"

"No," Midoriya cut in, causing him to blink, "I already know that I'm behind the curve when it comes to my Quirk. And while I've made progress, I know that doesn't guarantee me anything." He clenched his fists just a bit tighter. "Just doing well isn't enough ."

The itch of familiarity scratched at the back of Shoto's mind upon hearing those words, though the reason was lost on him. Behind Midoriya, Uraraka's eyes shone with a quiet understanding; Shoto wondered what she knew that he didn't.

"But even so…" Midoriya went on, "I know that everyone is going to be gunning for our class today… And that means all of us are going to have to fight. So if you want to make me your target, then go ahead. But just know…" Slowly, he lifted his head up and opened his eyes, unveiling that fire Shoto saw all those weeks ago when he stood against Bakugou. He straightened his posture and squared his shoulders. "I didn't come to U.A. just to be someone's punching bag again."

Before Shoto could even formulate a response, a loud, resounding toll rang above their heads from the intercom system. His eyes flitted over to the doorway just in time to see Yaoyorozu prop it open and he watched as everyone got up from their seats to join her. He could feel some of his classmates staring into his back; he paid them no mind. Not wanting to hang back with Midoriya and his fellow officers, he stepped forward to join the rest of the group, doing well not to meet Yaoyorozu and Iida's disapproving gazes. He knew as fellow children of Pros, their pride was likely wounded by the thought that he didn't view them as competitors within his league, but that wasn't the case. His true battle was not with any of his classmates– it lied with the man whose wounded pride brought about his very existence.

'The trials ahead are sure to test me,' he admitted silently to himself as he made his trek down the hall with his peers. Then, almost subconsciously, his right hand slipped over to his left, his thumb trailing across his palm. 'But I will persevere… And it will be without his power.'

'He knows.'

It was all Izuku could think while walking with the rest of his class. He tried his best to keep his expression neutral, to not shrink down to avoid being seen, to keep his mouth glued shut so he wouldn't mumble up a storm, but with each step, it only grew harder. His strides may have been measured and even, but his mind was racing a mile a minute, cycling through all the possibilities. This wasn't right , this wasn't how it was supposed to go .

'How could he have possibly found out?' he thought, his lips drawn into a thin line. 'Is it because of the attack back at the U.S.J.? Is that where he started to suspect it?' Izuku combed over his public interactions with his mentor rapidly, trying to find some sort of clue that could have possibly hinted to the truth. 'How much does he know? '

Worse yet, what did his classmates think? Surely they thought the very idea was asinine, like Kacchan did? Or did some of them believe that Todoroki's suspicions had merit to them? It wasn't as though he were the type to make such baseless claims without having some sort of proof to back it up– he was too smart for that, too calculated . So what did his classmates think? And just how close were they to uncovering the truth?

He took in a deep breath through his nose and held it in his chest. As familiar as the sensation of panicking was, he couldn't allow it to pull him under, not when he hadn't even entered the first round. There was too much at stake for him to drown within his own thoughts.

"Deku?" murmured a familiar voice. He turned to see Uraraka at his side and briefly wondered when she joined him. "You alright?"

Despite his swarming thoughts, he put on a shaky smile. "Y-Yeah… Just a bit nervous, I guess…"

Her brows creased together. "Don't let what Todoroki said get to you, alright? You can't let him get in your head."

"I know," he replied, though he wasn't sure how much he believed it. Izuku took in another deep breath and straightened up his posture. "It's just… this whole thing has a lot of pressure, y'know?"

Uraraka offered him a reassuring smile. "I know how you feel. But so long as we do our best, we'll be fine." Then, she bumped her shoulder into his. "So get that worried look off your face."

His cheeks warmed up at the sudden contact– he was still getting used to friendly touch. "R-Right…"

"Oh, come on!" she laughed. Her brows raised knowingly. "You're not gonna let your egg get cooked this early on, are you?"

That time, his smile was more genuine and he chuckled. "You're never going to let me live that down, huh?"

"Hey, it's your metaphor," she retorted playfully.

Just as he was about to respond, however, a low rumble nearly gave him pause. He looked around the hallway before it registered that what he was hearing was actually applause and just like that, his anxiety resumed its work. Just how many people were in the stadium? And just how many of them were Pros?

His lips pressed together and he inhaled deeply through his nose once again. 'It'll be fine… Don't let it get to you, like Uraraka said.'

"Alright, everyone," Yaoyorozu announced, bringing his attention back to the front, "once Present Mic gives us our cue, we'll be walking into the stadium. Remember, everyone's going to be watching us."

"That means no lewd hand gestures!" Iida ordered, bringing his hand down in a vicious chop. "You're representing our school not just to all of Japan, but the entire world! So make sure you act right!"

Izuku swallowed. 'Way to add on the pressure…'

Still, he knew that it would do him no good to back out. This was a rare opportunity that he couldn't take lightly and he'd be a fool to fumble it. He had to do well– he had to.

'Sensei is going to be watching me,' he thought. Then, the corner of his lips quirked upwards. 'And so is Mom.'

"You'll do an amazing job," her voice echoed in his head. The memory of her earnestness brought a lightness to his chest and his smile grew. She had been brave for him that morning; the least he could do was be brave for her, too.

"What's got you smiling like that?" Uraraka questioned beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Heat spread across his cheeks, though his smile didn't fade. "J-Just thinking about my mom… She's going to be watching the Sports Festival at home today."

(Some part of him thought he felt the room get colder after he said that. He figured it was his mind playing tricks on him.)

Her eyes softened. "Aww… It's sweet you're thinking about her." She smiled, her eyes drifting off to the side. "My parents said they were going to be watching with everyone at work today, too. I hope I don't worry them."

Before Izuku could respond, he heard the familiar crackle of the intercom. He turned with Uraraka and the rest of his classmates as Present Mic's voice occupied the air.

"Welcome back to the U.A. Sports Festival!" he proclaimed. "Where up and coming heroes leave everything on the field as they fight to achieve worldwide fame and celebrity!"

At the front of the group, Yaoyorozu nodded. "That's our cue. Let's go."

With one final glance to Uraraka, Izuku followed the rest of his classmates out of the tunnel and into the field. He tried to make out the rest of Present Mic's announcement as he drew closer to the sunlight, but with each step, the roar of the crowd grew louder. He blinked at the sudden change in light and brought a hand to shield his eyes.

"Whoa," Uraraka breathed from beside him, her voice nearly drowned out by the sound, "there's so many people ."

Once his vision adjusted, Izuku braved bringing his hand down and thought his heart would stop. The stands were filled to the brim with people, making them look like a moving patchwork quilt. He could hardly register what Present Mic was saying over the increased beat of his heart and the ever growing cheers that surrounded him at all sides. He knew that logistically there would be a high turn-out, but seeing so many people in the stands felt so surreal, if not terrifying. In his experience, it was usually the third years who had the highest turn-out in audience numbers; what changed this year?

"Did he really have to bring up the attack on the U.S.J…?" Kaminari murmured beside him. "Seems like a bit of a downer to bring up during the festival."

Izuku tried not to frown. 'That's right… I guess everyone's curious to see how we'll do because of that.'

The image of Shinsou from Class 1-C flashed across his mind and he clenched his fists. Even with most of the supposed League of Villains in custody, it seemed that Izuku and his classmates couldn't escape being targeted one way or another. However, unlike the U.S.J., he knew about this oncoming threat and worked hard to prepare for it. He just hoped that he would be able to stand up to them in a competition.

A/N: (meanwhile, up in the staff section of the stadium)

Toshinori: (sneezes)

Ectoplasm: Bless you.

Vlad King: You gettin' sick, newbie?

Toshinori: No... Though... I can't shake this strange feeling I have...

Vlad King: Sounds like you're getting sick.

Thirteen: That's what most weird feelings are.

And so the gauntlet has officially been thrown. Until next time~!