Chapter Thirteen – The Tournament

"So, it's like… mind control?" Clay asked, settling himself on the ground with his back against the wall. His gaze flicked lazily to Kirishima and Sero, who stood nearby, each munching on snacks from the festival vendors. Clay was pretty sure he was concussed—his head throbbed, and he felt slightly off-kilter. The smart move would've been to find a quiet room and a medical professional, but... what's one more injury?

"As soon as you talked to him, you were like… gone," Kirishima said, his usual enthusiasm muted as he spoke around slow bites of food. "You sure you're okay? I didn't mean to knock you out."

Clay waved him off with a dismissive chuckle. "I'm fine. I hurt myself worse shaving. It was a good hit."

"Who is this guy, anyway?" Sero asked, glancing at Kirishima with a raised brow.

"Hitoshi Shinso," Kirishima replied. "Gen Ed."

"Gen Ed?" Clay repeated, his tone incredulous. He absentmindedly patted Skipper, who was curled up and napping on his lap, as if the little rodent were the only thing grounding him in the moment. "Quirk like that, he'd be a good hero."

"Didn't pass the entrance exam. Can't mind control robots," Kirishima explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

Clay frowned, his fingers stilling as they rested on Skipper's back. "That's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard," he muttered, his voice low and reflective. "We're just lucky he didn't snap and go the rogue-hero route… or worse, the villain route," he added, his eyes following a group of spectators passing by. A few of them slowed to gawk at the three contestants lounging casually, their gazes lingering with thinly veiled curiosity. "That's what happens when people with talent get passed up for stupid reasons."

"Why's he trying so hard?" Kirishima asked, his tone quiet but pointed.

"I heard someone from Gen Ed can transfer to the hero course if they do well enough," Sero said, leaning against the wall as he spoke. "But if that happens, someone in the hero course loses their spot. That's why he's pushing so hard."

Clay hummed thoughtfully. "He's smart," he said after a pause. "Stacked his team to handle just about anything. I'd say he deserves to be in the hero course more than I do." He gave a dry chuckle, his lips twitching into a faint, self-deprecating smile. "I'm just here 'cause I got into one too many fights."

Kirishima leaned forward, his usual easygoing expression replaced with a rare seriousness. "Don't sell yourself short, Clay. You earned your spot. Fighting's one thing, but how you handle yourself when the pressure's on—that's what counts. And you've proven you can step up."

Sero nodded in agreement. "Yeah, man. You've got instincts that most heroes would kill for. You read the room, adapt, and rally people around you without even trying. That's not something you can fake."

Clay raised an eyebrow, his fingers stilling on Skipper's fur. "You two tryin' to butter me up for somethin'? Sounds like you're about to ask me if you can date my mom."

Kirishima chuckled, slapping Clay on the shoulder—not too hard, mindful of his earlier injuries. "Nah, just telling it like it is. You've got what it takes. Shinso does too, but that doesn't mean you don't belong here."

Clay sighed, tipping his head forward slightly as the weight of the conversation settled over him. "Guess we'll see, won't we?" he muttered, though a faint glimmer of appreciation softened his tone. After a pause, he added, "He could take Koda's spot… or the Frenchie's spot. That frog never does anything."

"Easy there," Kirishima said with a good-natured shake of his head, though a smirk tugged at his lips. "Koda's just shy, and—"

"I'm surprised you found a frog you don't like!" Sero interjected, his booming laugh echoing off the walls as he clapped Clay on the shoulder.

Clay rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. "Don't go twisting my words, Tape Arms. Koda's fine—he's got a good heart… just needs to not think so much. But that French guy? What's his name? Aoyama? He spends more time posin' than fightin'."

"Talking about me, monsieur?" came a smooth, lightly accented voice from Clay's left.

Clay didn't bother turning his head. "Kick rocks, Froggie," he muttered, his tone dripping with dry indifference.

Aoyama sauntered into view, his dazzling smile practically blinding as it caught the light. He placed a hand dramatically on his chest, his other arm stretched outward as if addressing an unseen audience. "Ah, such harsh words, mon ami! But I forgive you—for I am a shining beacon of light, and light holds no grudges."

"Yeah, yeah," Clay muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "Go sparkle somewhere else. Some of us are tryin' to figure out how to not die in the next round."

"Very well," Aoyama said with a flourish, twirling as he walked away. "But when my radiance saves the day, remember this moment, monsieur. Until then, au revoir!"

As Aoyama disappeared around the corner, Sero let out a snort of laughter. "You really know how to make friends, don't you?"

"Just sayin'," Clay said with a casual shrug. "The mind control guy would make a good hero." Skipper stirred from his nap and scurried up to perch on Clay's shoulder, chittering softly. "So, it's just a fightin' tournament now? I remember Midnight saying something about it on her podium, but I was still seein' stars."

"Yeah," Sero confirmed, leaning back against the wall. "The two winning teams from capture the flag moved on. But fourteen people don't split evenly, and Midnight called it an oversight. So, some people get to rest a bit longer after the first round."

"Any idea how they're decidin' who gets it?"

Sero shrugged, his casual grin returning. "Not a clue. Knowing Midnight, it'll probably be something wild. Maybe she'll flip a coin, or maybe it'll be based on who made the most dramatic entrance."

Clay groaned, tilting his head back against the wall. "If that's the case, the disco ball's probably already picked out his victory pose."

The rest between events was most welcome, but over all too soon. When Clay walked back to the stadium grounds, his head hurt a little less. He was able to get a good view of who made it to the final event. There was Shinso, Bakugo, Shoto, Sero, and the two other people who were apparently on his team, some big guy that looked like he had a bee hive on his head called Bondo, and some lady with little green vines for hair that kept muttering things that vaguely sounded like they came out of the Bible.

"Weird how we never seemed to notice class 1-B until today," Sero muttered.

"They didn't fight villians," Clay muttered. "They have more to prove than they did.

The other winning team consisted of Midoriya, Kirishima, the crazed pink-haired engineer that Clay knew as just Mei, Tokoyami, Kaminari, Momo, and, most glaringly, Aoyama.

"Odd team," Clay murmured, tilting his head. "I'd have liked to see how you pulled it off."

"Easy," Kirishima said with a grin, stepping forward as if eager to explain. His grin widened as he crossed his arms, his chest puffing up slightly. "Alright, so here's the deal. First, we put Tokoyami on defense with Dark Shadow. That thing's a beast—it covered the flag better than a guard dog. Anyone who came close either got smacked or ran off before they could even try to grab it."

Clay nodded, his expression intrigued. "Alright, solid start. What about the rest of you?"

"That's where it gets fun," Kirishima continued, his enthusiasm growing. "Me and Mei handled the offense. She's got all kinds of wild gadgets, so she'd distract the other teams with these traps and gadgets—exploding smoke bombs, net launchers, you name it. Meanwhile, I'd rush in, grab their flag, and haul it back to our base."

Clay raised an eyebrow. "And nobody stopped you?"

"They tried," Kirishima said with a chuckle, flexing his arm. "But once I went harden, they couldn't land a hit that mattered. I was basically a walking tank."

"Midoriya?" Clay asked, curious.

Kirishima nodded. "Yeah, he's a tough one to outsmart. But that's where Aoyama and Kaminari came in. Aoyama's flashy enough to draw attention away from the real fight, and Kaminari kept the other teams scattered with his electricity. Momo was our strategist, keeping everyone coordinated, so even when they tried to counter us, she had a backup plan ready."

"So, you kept 'em busy with distractions and brute force while Tokoyami held the fort," Clay summarized, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "Not bad, not bad at all."

"I'm sure Midoriya had no small part in the plannin'..." Clay muttered, his gaze fixed on the construction process unfolding before him.

Cementoss worked methodically, his Quirk shaping the liquid concrete into a massive battle arena. The area stretched long and flat, the perfect stage for the upcoming chaos. Off to the side, a throne-like referee seat had been set up, where Midnight lounged with her legs crossed, her expression already bored despite the growing anticipation in the air.

The rhythmic scrape and slosh of Cementoss's work filled the air, the nearly finished arena coming into view as the students began filing back toward their section of the stands. The sight was enough to draw murmurs of excitement from the crowd above, a steady buzz that seemed to build with every step closer to the stage.

Clay trailed slightly behind his classmates, his hands shoved in his pockets and Skipper perched lazily on his shoulder. He kept his gaze fixed on the freshly built arena, the sharp smell of concrete dust lingering in the air. "They really went all out for this," he muttered, mostly to himself, though Skipper chittered softly in response. I wasn't even planning to get this far…

A faint voice behind him broke his train of thought.

"Clayton, right?"

Clay turned, his eyes landing on Shinso standing a few steps back. The purple-haired student looked as tired as ever, but there was a glint of curiosity in his otherwise dull expression.

"That's me," Clay replied, tilting his head slightly. He slowed his pace, falling into step with Shinso as they walked. "So you turned me and the rest of the blue team into zombies earlier? Pretty impressive."

Shinso's lips quirked into a faint, humorless smile. "Something like that," he said. "I didn't get a chance to say it earlier, but... your Quirk's impressive." Shinso shrugged, his gaze flicking briefly to the arena before settling back on Clay. "You know, I wasn't expecting you to break my hold. Not many people do."

"Had to have Skipper gnaw halfway through my ear," Clay said with a chuckle, absently rubbing at the still-sore spot. His tone shifted slightly, a hint of genuine curiosity creeping in. "Why didn't you go to another hero school? Be a cryin' shame if you didn't end up a hero."

Shinso hesitated, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his tired features. He turned his gaze toward the arena, watching Cementoss put the finishing touches on his creation. "It's not that simple," he said after a moment, his voice low, annoyance creeping in. "Most hero schools wouldn't even consider someone with my Quirk. They're looking for something flashy. Something that can destroy robots. I'm not as lucky to have a Quirk as yours. So, people like you could coast through, not having to work to get a spot in a decent hero school."

"You're right," Clay said plainly, his tone carrying no trace of defensiveness. "I'm only here because I got into too many fights." He shrugged, turning his head to scan the matchups displayed on the board. "Looks like we're fightin' together round one," he said, already knowing he'd be fine as long as he didn't stay too close to the edge of the arena. His rats would wake him up every time he was put under. "Do you think you got your spot already? Out of Gen Ed? Or do you need to win a round or two?"

Shinso let out a dry chuckle, his gaze shifting back to Clay. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"Who's laughin'?" Clay asked, his tone low and measured. He paused for a moment, glancing back at the arena before turning his gaze back to Shinso.

"I'll ask you again," he said, his voice firm but curious. "Do you think you'll get a spot if you beat me?"

Shinso's severe expression faltered for a split second, replaced by a look of mild surprise. He tilted his head, studying Clay with a mix of curiosity and caution. "If I beat you?" he echoed, as though turning the words over in his mind. "I think… if I beat anyone, it'll help my case. But beating you specifically?" He shrugged, leaning his weight on one foot. "Impossible. Your rats will break my hold on you as soon as I get you."

Clay paused, his gaze drifting to Skipper perched on his shoulder. "Don't wake me up. Tell the boys when I put them out," he muttered softly, his words meant only for his tiny companion.

Shifting his focus back to Shinso, Clay tilted his head slightly, a wry smirk tugging at his lips. "Here's how this'll go," he began. "We'll get into a fight. I'll hit you a few times, you'll hit me a few times. I'll even let you kick a rat or two."

He leaned forward just enough to meet Shinso's eyes, his tone turning almost conspiratorial. "Say somethin' about Tsuyu—I'll bite, and then you take hold of me and march my happy ass right off the stage."

Shinso blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sheer audacity of Clay's suggestion. His tired gaze sharpened slightly, narrowing as if trying to gauge whether Clay was serious. "You're offering to let me win?" he asked, his voice skeptical. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Clay replied, his smirk unwavering. "Just figurin' who needs a win more." He gestured lazily toward the arena. "You win, you prove to everyone what your Quirk can do, make your case for the hero course."

Shinso's expression remained unreadable, but his posture shifted, the weight of Clay's words settling over him. "You're just doing me a favor out of the kindness of your heart?" he asked, his tone low, almost bitter.

"If that's how you want to put it," Clay said, shaking his head. "I'm givin' you an honest shake. What you do with it? That's on you. You'd be a good hero, and you were robbed by not havin' a spot in the hero course. Just promise me you won't go soft on me and give up your chance later."

The tension between them lingered for a moment before Shinso exhaled sharply, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smile. "You're either the most self-assured guy here, or you're completely insane."

"You wanna talk about insane? Talk about the idiots who stuck you in Gen Ed and expected you to thank them for it," Clay said with a crooked smile.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked toward the section where Class 1-A was seated. His steps were steady, his demeanor calm, but just before he reached his destination, he glanced back at Shinso, his expression unreadable.

Clay climbed the steps to Class 1-A's seating area, slipping into a spot between Sero and Kirishima. "Made a new friend, Clay?" Sero teased, his grin wide as he leaned back in his seat.

"Somethin' like that," Clay muttered, settling into his spot. Skipper scrambled down from his shoulder, curling up in his lap, and Clay absentmindedly scratched the rat's head. "Sometimes, you're just going to have to fall on your sword."

"Wait… You're going to let him win?!" Sero exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Clay shrugged, his tone calm but resolute. "Winnin' isn't everything," he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's about makin' sure the right people win."

"Deep thoughts from the rat wrangler," Mina chimed in, plopping down nearby with a sly grin. "Careful, Clay. People might start thinking you're secretly a softie."

Clay rolled his eyes, though his smirk didn't falter. "Think whatever you want, Pinky. You weren't even supposed to hear that."

Mina leaned in, her grin widening as she poked him playfully in the arm. "Oh, come on, cowboy! You can't just drop lines like that and expect me not to eavesdrop. Especially when they make you sound all noble and heroic."

"Noble and heroic? Tsu'll be thrilled," Clay said with a wry grin, leaning back into his seat. His attention shifted to the arena as the first round began, pitting Midoriya against the beehive-headed guy.

Clay raised a brow as the strange man spewed a glue-like substance straight out of his face, the arena quickly turning into a sticky battleground. "Japan's a weird place, Skipper," he muttered, giving the little rodent on his shoulder a scratch as he settled in to enjoy the show.

"You think he's got this?" Mina asked, leaning closer with her elbows on her knees, her eyes glued to the action. "I mean, that guy's literally turning the arena into a flytrap."

"Midoriya's got it," Kirishima said confidently, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "That dude from 1-B has a cool Quirk, but Deku's good at pulling off impossible stuff."

Just as he spoke, Midoriya used one of his trademark unpredictable maneuvers—leaping over a trail of sticky glue and launching a kick aimed squarely at the beehive guy's chest. The crowd erupted as the hit connected, sending the 1-B student sprawling backward and tumbling out of bounds.

"Called it!" Kirishima said, punching the air triumphantly.

Mina let out a low whistle. "He's a scrappy one, that's for sure. If I were fighting him, I'd probably just throw acid everywhere and hope for the best."

"Izuku Midoriya is the winner!" Midnight announced, her voice ringing across the arena as she raised her flogger high, its strands fluttering in the gentle breeze.

"Guess that's my cue…" Clay muttered, carefully placing Skipper back onto his shoulder.

Sero leaned closer, his brow furrowed. "Are you seriously gonna lose on purpose to that guy?"

Clay's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "You'll see soon enough."