The stadium was buzzing with excitement, a sea of people waiting to watch the next generation of heroes prove their worth. But even among the throngs of heroes, fans, and media, Toshinori Yagi's skeletal form drew a few stares. He coughed up blood, grimacing as he wiped it away, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd.

"Where is that boy?" he muttered under his breath. Young Midoriya was supposed to have met him here already.

Then, a low rumble filled the air, and the crowd's chatter stilled. All eyes turned toward a sleek, black Rolls-Royce that glided to a stop near the stadium entrance. A chauffeur in a polished suit quickly stepped out, moving to the passenger side door. With a crisp motion, he opened it, and out stepped Izuku Gojo.

Izuku wasn't in his U.A. uniform, but in casual, pristine clothes that somehow made him look even more like the enigma he was rumored to be. Reporters, eager to snag the best shots and a few choice quotes, swarmed toward him like bees to honey. Microphones extended toward him, questions spilling out:

"UA student?! Are you excited for the festival?"

"Can we expect anything special this year?"

"Will you be aiming for the top?"

But despite the frantic swarm, none of them could actually reach him. His Infinity Barrier was activated, creating an invisible, impenetrable distance that kept everyone just out of reach. Izuku smirked as he answered a few questions with a mix of confidence and charm.

"I'm here to give you all a show," he said, his grin widening. "And don't worry—I plan on leaving everyone with a lasting impression."

Just then, he turned back to the car and reached in, pulling out a small, wide-eyed girl. Eri clung nervously to his side, clutching at his hand as she looked around at the crowd of unfamiliar faces.

"Right, everyone, if you'll excuse me," Izuku said, giving the reporters a friendly wave before guiding Eri through the buzzing crowd. He made his way toward the waiting All Might, who couldn't hide his exasperation.

"Young Midoriya," All Might sighed, eyeing him with a mix of amusement and annoyance, "you always have to make a dramatic entrance, don't you?"

Izuku chuckled. "I aim to please, All Might. Just thought I'd add a little extra charm to the festival."

"Charming the press is one thing," All Might muttered, casting a sympathetic glance at Eri. "You know you're running late?"

"Fashionably late," Izuku corrected with a wink. "But point taken."

All Might gave a small shake of his head, glancing toward the entrance where the students were supposed to gather. "Well, the assembly is about to begin. Go get changed into your U.A. gym uniform and meet your classmates on the field. And don't forget," he added, voice dropping to a more serious tone, "today's about showing them who you really are."

Izuku's grin softened, a glint of purpose in his eyes. "I know. It's going to be one for the history books."

He handed Eri over to All Might, who gave the little girl a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Eri. You'll be with me. And I'll make sure to keep you safe and comfortable."

With a final nod, Izuku turned and headed toward the changing area, throwing a carefree wave over his shoulder. Today, it wasn't just Izuku Gojo stepping onto that field. Today, Satoru Midoriya would finally make his debut.

Izuku strolled into the empty locker room, his footsteps echoing softly off the tiled walls. The calm silence was a stark contrast to the buzz outside in the stadium, the anticipation, and the restless crowd waiting for the festival to begin. He took a moment to soak it in, closing his eyes, letting the quiet seep in. This was his moment to breathe, a final calm before stepping out into the chaos of competition.

He tossed his casual clothes onto a nearby bench and unzipped the duffel bag he'd brought along, pulling out his U.A. gym uniform. It was simple, yet iconic, the blue fabric with the bold white "U.A." letters standing out across the chest. Sliding his arms into the sleeves, Izuku felt a rush of nostalgia mixed with the thrill of stepping into the spotlight under his true identity.

As he adjusted the collar and smoothed out a few wrinkles, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the metal door of the locker. His usual playful grin softened as he stared back at himself. The white hair, the confident smirk—all remnants of his life as Satoru Gojo. But there was something else now, a hint of resolve in his gaze.

"Time to show them what the name Midoriya means," he muttered, tugging on his gloves and adjusting the cuffs.

Satisfied with his look, Izuku ran his hand through his white hair one last time, taking a deep breath. The school had given him a chance, All Might had given him trust, and he was ready to show the world what he was made of.

As he turned to head out, he paused for a moment, glancing back at the empty room. With a quiet nod, he closed the door behind him, the echo of his steps fading as he made his way toward the arena, ready to step out as not only Izuku Gojo but also Satoru Midoriya.

Izuku made his way down the hallway and stepped into the vast stadium, greeted by a roar of excitement from the crowd. Students from Classes A, B, C, D, and E gathered in clusters across the field, each wearing a mix of determined and tense expressions. This was the U.A. Sports Festival—a place where heroes in training from all departments could shine, and everyone from pros to scouts would be watching.

Izuku spotted his classmates, and as he joined them, he was met with a few huffs and crossed arms.

"About time you showed up, Gojo!" Kaminari grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, it'd be nice if the guy who's supposed to be representing us didn't waltz in like he owned the place," Jirou muttered, though her tone had a hint of humor.

Izuku just flashed them a carefree grin. "C'mon, guys, I wouldn't miss the chance to make a dramatic entrance, now would I?" He gave them a wink, earning both sighs and suppressed chuckles. But it didn't go unnoticed that students from other classes were watching Class A with irritation. The general vibe was clear—everyone else wanted a shot to knock them down from the top.

Up on stage, Midnight raised her mic, her voice cutting through the murmurs and crowd chatter. "Attention, everyone! It is a tradition of UA for the student with the exam to give an opening speech at the sports festival." she called out, a mischievous glint in her eye as she looked toward Izuku. "Since you scored the top spot in the entrance exam, Gojo, you're up for the opening speech!"

Izuku gave her a mock salute and strolled confidently up to the podium. The stadium quieted as he leaned into the mic, pausing to let the silence stretch out a moment longer than necessary. Every eye in the stadium was on him, and he knew it. Izuku loved the attention—it was almost his fuel. He flashed a disarming smile.

"Hey, everyone! I'm Izuku Gojo from Class 1-A," he began, his voice smooth and filled with an effortless charm. "I know some of you aren't exactly thrilled with us being Class A, right?" He threw a glance back at his classmates, some of whom snickered while others rolled their eyes.

The crowd grumbled, some outright booing, while students from the other classes glared at him. A boy from Class B muttered, "Look at him, acting all high and mighty."

"Who does he think he is?" a girl from Class C hissed, clenching her fists.

But Izuku didn't miss a beat. "Hey, I get it! Who wouldn't want the spotlight, right? This is the festival where we all get to shine, where you all get to show why you're here. But fair warning…" He let his words hang in the air, smirking. "I plan on standing out the most."

The crowd erupted, with annoyed groans and curses from the other first-year classes.

"Get over yourself, Gojo!" someone from Class D shouted.

Bakugou, arms crossed, grit his teeth and muttered, "Damn cocky bastard," while Shoto watched with narrowed eyes, wondering if there was more to this flashy personality than met the eye.

Izuku's smirk only grew wider. "But hey," he continued, looking out to the sea of spectators, many of whom were already whispering and pointing at him, intrigued. A group of girls in the stands swooned, while reporters who had heard about the USJ incident leaned in eagerly.

Izuku flashed a wink toward the stands, where a few fans had started cheering. "When I win—and I mean when, not if—I'll let you all in on a little secret I've been keeping. So, you're definitely going to want to pay attention."

He gave a little wave and stepped down from the podium, leaving a storm of mixed reactions in his wake. Students from the other classes muttered angrily among themselves, glaring daggers at him, while others scoffed openly.

"What a show-off," one of the Class B students sneered.

"That guy's got some nerve," another from Class C grumbled, clenching their fists.

But the audience was eating it up. Spectators clapped, laughed, and some cheered. Izuku was pulling all the attention—and he loved it.

From the teachers' area, Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. "Of course he'd pull something like this," he muttered under his breath, though there was a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes. "He's got guts. I'll give him that."

Present Mic leaned over to him, grinning. "Kid knows how to work a crowd, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," Aizawa replied, "but he's also painting a target on his back."

On the stage, Midnight chuckled, her own grin wide and a bit mischievous. "Well, Gojo certainly knows how to make an impression!" she announced, earning a few laughs from the audience and sending another wave of whispers through the crowd.

With that, she turned to the gathered first-years. "Alright, everyone! Now that we've got our little icebreaker done, let's get down to business." Midnight's tone turned playful but serious as she raised a hand to calm the excited crowd. "For those who don't know, the U.A. Sports Festival is one of the most prestigious events in Japan! It's a chance for you all to show off your quirks, your skills, and your drive! The pros are watching, and so is the world. So, make sure you give it your all!"

The students straightened, focusing on Midnight as she continued. "This year, we've got three stages lined up. The first stage…" she paused for effect, her grin widening. "...is an Obstacle Race! Every single one of you will participate, and it's a free-for-all across the stadium's track—filled with a few obstacles along the way."

Students exchanged glances, some looking confident, others visibly nervous. Izuku's grin only widened, eyes glinting with anticipation.

"The top forty-two will advance from this stage," Midnight continued. "The rest? Sorry, but you're out!"

The whispers grew louder as everyone sized each other up. Izuku could feel the heated glares from the other classes.

"Oh, don't worry," he muttered, half to himself and half to the crowd. "I'm not going anywhere."

Midnight went on, her voice laced with excitement. "The second stage is a Cavalry Battle! You'll form teams and work together. Points will be awarded based on each team's performance, and only the best will make it through to the final round."

Classmates glanced around, already sizing up potential teammates and wondering who they could rely on for such a challenge.

"And finally…" Midnight raised her hand, and the crowd hushed in anticipation. "...the final stage is a one-on-one Tournament!"

The audience erupted, cheering as the students braced themselves, realizing that if they wanted to make it all the way, they'd have to be at their best. The tournament stage was where the real fights happened, where quirks and strategy could clash openly in the spotlight. Izuku's smile turned into a full grin as he imagined the thrill of facing off against his peers.

Midnight looked over the first-year students, smirking. "So, get ready! This is your chance to show the world what you're made of!"

O—O—O

In a dimly lit room far from the stadium, Tomura Shigaraki sat hunched on a battered couch, his red-rimmed eyes locked onto the flickering television screen. On it, the U.A. Sports Festival was playing live, the crowd's cheers echoing through the speakers. His fingers twitched with irritation as he watched that white-haired brat, Izuku Gojo, step up to the podium with that damn cocky grin on his face. Every smug word that left Izuku's mouth made Shigaraki's blood boil.

"That little... arrogant…!" he muttered, his nails digging into the couch's worn fabric. The thought of that boy standing there, confident and untouchable, made him want to reach through the screen and tear the smile off his face.

Kurogiri stood beside him, watching Shigaraki carefully, a concerned glint in his yellow eyes. "Tomura," he said softly, "remember, patience. Acting recklessly will only backfire. Now is not the time."

But Shigaraki barely heard him. His attention was fixated solely on Izuku, his mind boiling over with plans of violence and destruction. He wanted to rip that boy apart, to show him that his so-called power was nothing in the face of true hatred. He would make him fear, he'd make everyone at U.A. tremble.

Then, just as his anger reached a fever pitch, a deep, ancient voice stirred within him, echoing in his mind. It was dark, sinister, and filled with an otherworldly malice that made even Shigaraki pause.

"You want to break him, don't you?" the voice murmured, cold and sly. "I can help you do it. But there are... conditions."

For a split second, Shigaraki felt a shiver run down his spine. The voice was all too familiar—a voice he'd heard in his dreams, lurking at the edge of his consciousness. It was a power older than he could comprehend, something he didn't fully understand. But he was too lost in his rage to care.

"Shut up," he hissed, brushing the voice off as though it were a mere annoyance. "I'm just… seeing things. Thinking too much."

But the voice persisted, its presence growing stronger, more insistent. "Do not ignore me, Tomura. I can give you the strength to destroy him. To tear that smug expression from his face. All I ask is your acceptance of the path I will lead you down."

Shigaraki shook his head, gritting his teeth as he turned up the volume to drown out the voice. He didn't need any conditions, didn't need help from some ghost in his head. He would do this himself, on his own terms.

Kurogiri glanced at him with concern, sensing his master's growing agitation. "Tomura… perhaps we should focus on our plans. There will be other chances to confront U.A. directly. For now, patience—"

"Patience?!" Shigaraki snapped, his voice venomous. "I'm sick of waiting. That brat is out there laughing, thinking he's untouchable. I'll show him what real power is."

But as he glared back at the screen, the voice in his mind only laughed, low and ominous, as if amused by his defiance. It lingered in the corners of his mind, whispering promises of unimaginable power, of domination beyond his wildest dreams. All he had to do… was listen.

Yet, for now, Shigaraki pushed it away. He wasn't ready to trust it, not yet. Not while he still had his own plans to carry out. And as the camera zoomed in on Izuku's grinning face, Shigaraki's scowl deepened, his hands itching with the urge to destroy.

"I don't need your help," he muttered to the voice, both a promise and a challenge. "Whatever you are…"

O—O—O

Author Note:

One more chapter and we'll kiss canon goodbye. Can't wait for that, haha!

Thanks for sticking around, folks. Stay tuned for more.

Till next time!