Chapters Ten – Sports

"So, we get a day off, and you spend all of it laying in bed?" Sero asked, his usual grin stretching across his face.

"A couple broken ribs'll do that," Clay replied with a shrug. "I'm more concerned with—"

"Oh yeah!" Kirishima interrupted, popping up from his desk to join the group. "I heard what you told Tsuyu! Spawned a few too many rats, huh?"

"So you heard…" Clay muttered, casting a quick glance at Mina, who was trying and failing to look nonchalant before looking back at Skipper. He raised an eyebrow, catching on. "Guess I know how word got out," he said with a dry, humorless chuckle.

Kirishima clapped Clay on the back, careful to avoid his ribs. "Hey, no shame, man! Everyone's been there at some point—especially Kaminari!" he laughed, jerking a thumb toward Kaminari, who was idily chattering with Mineta at his desk.

"A man's gotta be half-dead and doped up to get any slack around here…" he muttered, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced over at Mina, who quickly pretended to look interested in her phone.

"Hey, I'm sympathetic!" Kirishima said, putting on his best earnest face. "Sympathetic, and extremely curious! I mean, if you're gonna tell Tsuyu something like that, you should at least give her a proper follow-up!" He waggled his eyebrows, nudging Clay's arm.

Mina perked up at this, setting her phone down and leaning in with a grin. "Yeah! I mean, she did sit with you until the medics came. You might've won her over with that 'treat you so good' line. You should've seen her face!"

"So, she did tell you," Clay said with a raised eyebrow.

Mina laughed, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, it's not like she spilled her heart out, but she didn't not tell me either." She shrugged, still grinning. "You're lucky she's got a soft spot for people who try to take on villains twice their size."

"You know I can hear all of you, ribbit." She was sitting at her desk, still facing forward.

Clay froze. Out of habit, he plucked Skipper from his shoulder and started to pet him. "Anyway… I heard Aizawa got it worse than anybody. Who do you think's comin' in?"

"Stop talking and get ready for class," Iida barked. Normally, Clay would've found it annoying, but today he was relieved to have his friends off his back.

He'd never been all that good with the ladies, and he doubted a change of scenery would do much to fix that. Sharing a knowing glance with Skipper, he thought, Did you even try to stop me from talking? He was caught off guard when Skipper gave his thumb a quick nip in response. Moments like this had been happening more often lately, and he had to admit—the training was paying off faster than he'd expected. Non-verbal communication was so easy that he didn't even have to try.

"Good morning, class…" Aizawa stood at the door, his face and arms tightly bandaged, like some kind of walking mummy. His voice was even more drained than usual, and it wasn't hard to guess why.

"I'm glad to see you're okay, but shouldn't you be resting?" Midoriya asked respectfully.

"My well-being is irrelevant. What matters is that your fight is not over." A heavy silence settled over the room like a shroud, broken only by Aizawa's labored breath. "The U.A. Sports Festival is about to start."

Kirishima was the first to cheer, and Clay could see excitement lighting up his classmates' faces. "I'm hopin' someone will explain that to me…" he muttered under his breath. Listening in on the chatter, he picked up pieces of information—how hero agencies send scouts to the event. Clay hadn't thought that far ahead.

"So, wait," Clay said slowly, glancing over at Sero, who looked like he was already imagining the glory. "People watchin' us and cheerin' while we're puttin' ourselves through a meat grinder? Like a… county fair, but for heroes?"

"More like the Super Bowl," Sero laughed, his grin widening. "Except this is our chance to make an impression, to prove to pro heroes that we've got what it takes. You'll get it when you're out there."

Someone mentioned that the U.A. Sports Festival was watched worldwide, but Clay had never even heard of it. Judging by the way his classmates were acting—like their entire futures depended on it—the stakes seemed impossibly high. Clay didn't quite get it. In the U.S., if you wanted to be a hero, you just kept pummeling bad guys until the government decided to start paying you. No agency required. No license either, unless you got famous enough to need one.

"…so don't slack off on your training. Class dismissed," Aizawa finished.

The whole class trained hard, and so did Clay—mostly to blend in. He didn't feel a burning need to get noticed by any agencies, but he still ran a few miles on the track each day, keeping pace with his classmates as best he could. By the time the Sports Festival rolled around, he was still embarrassingly slow compared to the others.

Being the slowest in class was uncomfortable, sure, but the thought of not making a big impression at the festival didn't bother him. It didn't feel right to hog the spotlight when his classmates were the ones who really needed it.

On the morning of the Sports Festival, the stadium buzzed with the excited hum of a crowd that Clay could feel through the concrete floor. He followed his classmates down the tunnel leading to the field, the thud of his shoes echoing in an almost haunting melody. Skipper peeked out from his shoulder, twitching his nose as if to sniff out the mood.

"Alright, don't let the crowd freak you out, Clay," Kirishima said, clapping him on the back with an encouraging grin. "It's just like any other training day—except, you know, with thousands of people watching." His laugh was a little too nervous to be convincing, but it helped Clay relax a bit.

"Yeah, don't worry, I ain't sweatin' it," Clay said with a wry smile. "Not exactly my first rodeo."

Mina sidled up with a sly grin. "Just think of all the cute frogs who might be watching, too," she teased, casting a quick look at Tsuyu, who was stretching nearby.

"Har har…" Clay muttered, though he couldn't suppress a smile. "Keep laughin', you'll start findin' rat scat in your shoes."

Mina laughed, unfazed by the threat. "Fair enough. But don't blame me when Tsuyu finally takes you up on that whole 'treat you so good' business." She winked and skipped off to join the others.

Clay felt his face heat up, and he gave Skipper a small scratch as if to redirect the moment. "Hear that, buddy? We're public enemy number one for gossip."

Skipper gave a soft squeak of agreement, nestling further into Clay's collar.

Nearby, Tsuyu glanced over, her calm gaze settling on him before she offered a small nod. "Good luck out there, ribbit," she said, her voice steady with that quiet reassurance Clay had come to admire.

"Same to you," he replied, giving a casual wave. He caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips before she turned away. "Uh, Tsu…"

"Ribbit?"

"I was wonderin'... when we're done here, I was thinkin' about finding a good spot in town for ice cream. Any chance you could show me around?"

She was silent for a long, uncomfortable beat. "A date?"

"That's what Mina said…" he muttered, catching a flash of pink in the corner of his eye. Sure enough, Mina was making herself scarce with an all-too-innocent look, practically tiptoeing away with a grin.

Tsuyu blinked, her calm gaze never wavering, though a slight blush dusted her cheeks. "I suppose I could… show you around. If you're serious, ribbit."

"Y-yeah," Clay stammered, scratching the back of his neck. "Is the Pope catholic?"

Tsuyu tilted her head, her eyes thoughtful as she studied him. "Sure. It's a date, then," she said, her tone steady and straightforward, as if discussing the weather.

Clay felt his heart skip a beat, but before he could say anything else, Present Mic's booming voice echoed across the stadium, announcing the start of the obstacle course.

"Guess we better get this done, then," Tsuyu said with a slight smile.

With a slight bounce in his step, Clay joined the others as they gathered in front of the platform where Midnight stood, her presence as bold as ever. He couldn't help but wish that someone else might have been named the referee; Midnight had a certain... air about her that made him more than a little uneasy. The way she waved around a certain… punishment tool didn't help to settle his nerves.

"Japan's a weird place, Skipper," Clay muttered.

Skipper gave an amused chitter, as if wholeheartedly agreeing. Midnight's voice cut sharply through the excited buzz of the crowd. "Welcome, competitors! This year's first event will test your grit, speed, and survival instincts! Give it everything you've got, because only the best of you will advance! You are free to use your Quirks as needed—I won't be restraining you! Not here, anyway!"

Clay glanced around to see his classmates stretching, bouncing in place, each one visibly focused and ready. He tried to match their energy, rolling his shoulders and bouncing on his heels, though his usual smirk was replaced by a more serious expression. The crowd's collective energy pressed down on him, heavy and intense, like a weighted blanket that was more suffocating than reassuring.

"Our first event?" Midnight's voice boomed, her… punishment tool flashing toward the screen behind her. "A maze! The first forty-two to reach the center will move on to the next round! Now—go!" she commanded, swishing her… punishment tool in a sweeping arc toward the students.

Sero must have noticed the paleness creeping into Clay's face, because he leaned over with a sly grin as they walked toward the looming concrete walls, clearly set up by Cementoss. "Lookin' kinda pale there, Clay. Midnight got you feelin' a certain way?"

Clay rubbed the back of his neck, giving a sheepish chuckle. "Yeah… I'm havin' some impure thoughts," he admitted, half under his breath.

Sero burst out laughing, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Good luck out there," he said, giving Clay a polite wave before finding his spot by the entrance.

The maze Clay was walking into was massive, stretching so far that it seemed to swallow up the horizon. If Cementoss had built this, it was no wonder U.A. could create buildings as if budget were no issue. The maze was big enough to allow for multiple entrances, and its walls towered so high that they blocked out most of the sunlight, casting long, intimidating shadows across the ground. He saw his name printed on a sign by the entrance, along with nine others.

"Good luck out there, eh?" Clay felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a complete stranger—some random guy with blond hair and a punchable grin.

"Uh, yeah. You too," Clay muttered, glancing around. The other eight students at the entrance were strangers too… except for one: a pink-haired girl with a manic grin. The engineer.

"That costume working out for you? Do the rats have enough room?" she asked, not waiting for an answer.

"Mei," Clay muttered, giving her a nod. "Yes, they d—"

"I know! I designed it!" she cut him off proudly.

The sharp crack of Midnight's flogger snapped through the air like a gunshot. "BEGIN!"

Clay's plan was simple: send the rats ahead to scout out the maze's center. But before he could spawn a single one, he saw Mei, the engineer, launch forward like a bottle rocket. Not surprising. But then he spotted the blond-haired guy—his sleeves swarming with rats that darted ahead, scouting just as Clay had intended his own to do.

Several other students rushed past him as Clay watched, stunned. Someone else with a Quirk just like his? But something felt off. The blond guy's reaction to the rats spilling from his sleeves seemed wrong, almost like he was surprised by them himself.

"You… took my Quirk?" Clay demanded.

The stranger glanced over with a smirk. "Merely borrowed it. I wouldn't use it a second longer than I have to."

Clay's fists clenched. Somehow, he wanted to punch this guy even more.

"Aw, does that bother you?" the stranger sneered, letting the rats disperse through the maze as if it were the most natural thing in the world, save for the obvious discomfort he showed with the rats crawling down his arms. "It's only temporary. But I'd say your Quirk is surprisingly… useful." His smirk widened, an irritatingly smug expression that practically dared Clay to try something.

Without hesitation, Clay stepped forward, jaw clenched and fists tightening. "You got a lotta nerve, talkin' like that after stealin' somethin' personal. Hope you're ready to back it up," he growled.

The blond guy simply laughed, casually running a hand through his hair as he eyed Clay with a lazy disdain. "You wouldn't stand a chance, country boy. Stick to the maze; I'll be at the center long before you're done, anyway. Really, you should be thanking me, I—"

With a sudden intensity, Clay stepped forward, and he sent a fast haymaker, landing his fist right on the guy's temple, much to his delight. "Stay down, whoever you are." Clay extended his arms after shaking the pain out of his knuckles, flooding his own rats into the maze. He just needed one to find the right route.

Clay sat down, leaning on one of the many walls that surrounded him. He closed his eyes, shifting his gaze between his rats. Traps here, murderous robots there, all kinds of hazards were ahead of him. It took a while, but one of his rats found the center, decorated semi-ironically with some benches and chairs.

"Okay Skipper, let's go," he said, standing up and following Alert, who had been the one to find the fastest path. It was a complicated set of directions. A right, then another right, straight forward, left, another right, up the ladder, through the robots, another left, and so on. Following the directions wasn't the hard part. It was trying to make the decisions he made look natural so nobody would follow him that was tricky.

He couldn't risk drawing attention. If anyone caught on to how he was making such precise moves, they might follow him—or worse, use his strategy against him. Luckily, most of the competitors outside his class seemed clueless about his Quirk's capabilities. The only real exception was that loud, blond guy, but he was currently too dazed to be a problem. Seeing stars was a great equalizer.

Skipper shifted uneasily on his shoulder, his tail flicking. "Relax, Skip," Clay murmured under his breath, his lips barely moving. "We're ahead of most of 'em. Just gotta keep it that way."

Behind him, he could hear faint echoes—voices and hurried footsteps. One or two competitors must have gotten lucky and figured out part of the path, though Clay doubted they were fully on track. He fought the urge to glance back, knowing that any hesitation would only draw attention. Instead, he picked up his pace, weaving through the labyrinth with quiet precision.

But then, he happened upon the robots.