Izuku, now fifteen, was in front of a crowd cheering for his team. After countless meetings and heated debates, the decision was final—Izuku would represent the soccer team in the inter-school tournament.

Many teams wanted him in their events as well, but the rule was simple: one student, one event. Probably designed to stop someone like him from sweeping the competition.

Izuku's years of training gave him an edge—what could have made him slow and unwieldy instead became an advantage. His long strides covered ground quickly, and his endurance let him outlast opponents. The fact that they were in Finals made it clear who the crowd's favorite was.

The cheers rolled over him, a deafening roar of excitement. Some might've been nervous under this pressure, but Izuku had trained for moments like these. This was just another stage—and the future pillar would not fall in any of them.

Winning this would mean national recognition for their school. Losing? Well, not an option.

Izuku took a deep breath, centering himself. The stadium was alive with energy, and his teammates looked to him, waiting.

In his team was Hitoshi, whom he 'convinced' to participate.

Hitoshi had grumbled, "What does soccer have to do with being a hero?" when Izuku roped him into the team weeks ago.

But Izuku had insisted—"It's good training, and hey, a little positive PR wouldn't hurt."

As such, he was here. The Hitoshi from five years ago would've refused, but he couldn't deny the thrill and anticipation surging through his veins as he stared at his opponents, waiting for the game to begin.

Not to mention that he wanted to test how much he improved, physically. He definitely grew larger and stronger, but it was almost impossible to compare himself to the genetic lottery that was Izuku and get a proper benchmark of his growth.

Hitoshi went to the goalposts as the team's keeper. While Izuku would be the striker.

Both the disguised Toshinori and Inko were there, cheering for Izuku. It boggled Hitoshi's mind how someone could so obviously be All Might yet remain completely unnoticed by everyone else. They even had a banner of "Good luck, son!~" with katsudon drawings.

'The girls probably took note of that...' Hitoshi thought before shaking his head. If his friend turned up with thirty katsudon at the cafeteria, he could blame his parents.

'On a more serious note...'

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes as he looked at the captain of the other team. It was someone with a cheetah Quirk. He also watched the other matches, seeing the explosive speed and agility of the guy.

Unlike Izuku, that guy couldn't just 'turn off' his Quirk, so superhuman stats were expected.

Izuku and the guy faced each other for the kick off.

The referee whistled, signaling the beginning of the match.

'On paper, we should be at a disadvantage.'

The sound of shoes hitting the ball echoed across the field as it sailed through the air in a graceful arc before hitting, to most people's surprise, Izuku's chest, catching his own kick.

Shuffling with grace, Izuku went past each defender, spreading panic towards the opposition. Then BAM! Izuku kicked the ball to the goalpost, scoring a goal before the keeper even registered what happened.

Silence fell over the audience for several seconds as they tried to process what had just happened. But then the cheers erupted like wildfire through dry brush, consuming everything in its path.

The commentator was stammering out words that were barely audible over the excited yelling of spectators at the display of absolute dominance. The other commentator made a remark of it being natural. Even at the disadvantage, Izuku was just as overwhelming as he would become as a hero.

All eyes that weren't on him before were focused squarely on him now.

The cheetah-captain's eyes narrowed as he studied Izuku's movements. Unlike his frustrated teammates, a calm calculation had replaced his initial shock. In a flash of acceleration that left grass torn from the field, he intercepted a passing lane Izuku had just opened—the first time anyone had anticipated one of his plays correctly.

For a brief second, the ball was his. His muscles tensed as he prepared to launch a counter that had won them three previous matches. The maneuver required perfect timing, superhuman speed, and years of practice—all of which he possessed.

But Izuku was already there, having predicted not just the interception but the counter that would follow. Before the cheetah-captain could execute his signature move, Izuku had reclaimed possession with such finesse that it almost looked like the captain had intentionally passed to him.

The cheetah-captain glared at his defenders. "Tighten up!" he snapped, pointing at Izuku. "Don't let him get space!"

But in doing so, they made a mistake. Everyone's attention locked onto Izuku. Even the commentators and audience couldn't look away.

Izuku shuffled, his usual fluidity replaced by apparent struggle. He frowned, scanning for an opening—convincing everyone that he was stuck.

Even boxed in, Izuku's footwork didn't falter. His legs moved in a blur—too quick for the eye to follow. To anyone watching, it seemed like he was still struggling, locked in by the defense.

But in reality, the ball had already left his feet.

The stadium erupted as the commentator's excited voice cut through the tension. "The ball is flying through the air—wait, what?! GOOOAL!"

Looking back, nobody realized that Izuku passed the ball to Hitoshi, who kicked the ball to the other goal.

In the instant before anyone could react, Izuku had slipped a perfect pass to Hitoshi, who took the shot before the keeper even registered it. Nobody expected the goalkeeper of the offense to make a goal.

Even if someone did, they were too late to react. And even then, they were blocked by his teammates.

The opposing team's captain growled in frustration. Whether they focused on defense or risked giving away another goal if Shinsou caught the ball, they were screwed. A true catch-22.

They had never used this play in a previous match, mostly because it was something that would only work a few times. The numbers game might not work on Izuku, but it could certainly overwhelm his teammates. But organizing a counter mid-match—figuring out a way to break through their strategy—wasn't something you'd expect from a high school captain, Quirked or not.

"Wow! What an amazing play! Yagi just scored with his teammate's help."

"We can't dismiss the goalkeeper—err, Shinsou Hitoshi, was it? That was an incredible kick and pinpoint accuracy!"

"Well, this is going to be exciting! Let's see how Yagi's team will handle the defense."

Hitoshi noticed the cheetah-captain's agitated gestures as he barked orders at his teammates. Their formation was shifting—abandoning their usual offensive strategy for something more defensive.

From his position at the goal, Hitoshi could see the opposing coach frantically redrawing plays on his clipboard, occasionally shooting glares at their sideline. The opposing goalkeeper was bouncing nervously on his toes now, none of the casual confidence he'd displayed during warm-ups.

But a quick glance at Izuku, grinning, was all he needed to know. 'He's not gonna do that, is he?'

As the ball was kicked off, Izuku changed to sprinter's stance. And with incredible speed matching even those with speed-related Quirks, he dashed to the guy with the ball.

The boy, panicked, sprinted forward and broke formation. Their captain, shocked at what just happened, barked for the other guys to follow suit. "Break formation! Don't give him a chance to get the ball!"

A rushed pass. A misstep. A teammate hesitating for half a second before realizing too late—Izuku was already there.

They passed the ball around, with Izuku anticipating the next player while giving commands to his teammates. "Hiroto, to the left! Defend against number 12. Araki, to position #3!"

'Yep, he's doing that,' Hitoshi sighed. He always knew they'd win, but it seemed like Izuku never intended the other team to even get a highlight.

With each instruction, the other players got matched with Izuku's team with one advantage over them or the other, whether by positioning someone in an awkward spot, or forcing a particular move.

Every pass, every shift, every call—each move tightened the noose. It was like a chess match between a grandmaster and a novice where every move had been planned ahead of time and the other captain didn't even know what kind of pieces he was dealing with.

On top of that, they were losing their cool, making it completely impossible to create a counter-play. They were being led around into a force checkmate in 34 moves.

One of the defenders lunged too early, completely missing his mark. Another, trying to compensate, tripped over his own teammate. It was chaos.

The opposing captain's fists clenched. He gritted his teeth, barking orders that no one could follow. Every move they made only dug them deeper into Yagi's web.

With one desperate attempt, putting all their hope in their captain who dashed forward, they tried to score a goal, only to be met with Hitoshi's save.

"What a save from Shinsou! This goalkeeper isn't just defending—he's locking the goal shut!"

The crowd erupts, but half of them are groaning, realizing their last hope just got snuffed out.

Someone in the stands mutters, "That was their best shot and it still failed?"

What followed was less a competition than a demonstration. With the opposing team's strategy in shambles, Izuku methodically ensured each teammate had their moment. Hiroto scored with a header from a perfectly placed corner kick. Araki, typically defensive-minded, found himself with an open shot after a series of passes that left the defense disoriented. Even the most hesitant players on the team found themselves celebrating goals, guided by Izuku's playmaking.

As the final whistle blows, he smirked at Izuku.

"You really made it unfair, huh?"

Izuku just grinned and shrugged.

The result was an overwhelming 11-0.

Parents and students from the losing school were completely silent—they didn't even know how to react anymore.

Meanwhile, Izuku's side was having the time of their lives. One student waved a sign with "ALL MIGHT JR." written on it.

His parents were obviously proud, Toshinori wiped a tear while Inko took pictures.

The captain, looking blankly at the scoreboard, collapsed onto the grassy field. They came to this game thinking they could compete, but instead they were never even a player.

A shadow loomed over him. He glanced up to see Izuku offering his hand with a broad smile on his face. "You didn't give up, even when things got rough. That's not something everyone can do." He said encouragingly, patting his shoulder after pulling him up from the ground.

He let out a slow breath, his pride warring with exhaustion. Then, finally, he shook his head. "It's fine. We lost, fair and square. I...we greatly underestimated you. It's been an honor to witness your talent and skill today."

"Don't beat yourself up. You really did surprise me for a second near the beginning," he chuckled.

"Shuryou Hou," the captain offered his hand with a tired but determined grin. "Someday, when you're a Hero, I'd like to play with you guys again."

"O-KAY!" he said in English while giving him a big smile and a thumbs up. "Whenever you're ready, just say the word!"

The two teams shook hands before going back to their locker rooms for a well-earned rest.

Thanks for reading the chapter!

A bit of a lighthearted chapter because I want a little palatte-cleanser.

There was a plan for another 13-year-old chapter Izuku chapter showing more of his school life before UA, but I feel it'd drag the tone down too much, especially after the last two chapters. It's a balancing act so I might reuse it as a flashback/intermission in the future instead.

Next up, we'll see how Izuku readies for UA.