The day after the short break, classes had already ended.
Uraraka shouted as she saw students crowding in front of Class A and blocking the passage.
"W-What is going on here?!"
"Do you all have some business with Class A?"
"We can’t even get outside. What exactly are you doing here?"
In response to Iida and Sho’s questions, Bakugo stood up.
With a fierce glare, he sneered,
"You idiots have come to scout the enemy camp."
Without a care for decorum, Bakugo barked one unpleasant remark after another.
It was Midoriya and Sho who appeared momentarily flustered by his words.
Midoriya, however, seemed more resigned—as if he had been expecting this all along.
Bakugo’s voice continued to carry over the crowd,
"We’re the ones who survived a Villain attack. They probably want to see if you’re all still worth the hype before the sports festival."
"Haha. Kacchan, that’s supposed to be neutral, right?"
Midoriya replied awkwardly, but Bakugo paid him no mind and turned his ire on the students blocking the way.
"Do all that bluffing—it won’t change a thing. Scram, you pathetic scum!"
"Stop calling someone you don’t even know 'scum' right off the bat!"
As Iida tried to rein Bakugo in, a cynical voice emerged from the crowd.
"We only came to see what the famous Class A was really like. You all sure do act high and mighty—are all Hero Course students like this?"
The owner of the voice soon pushed through the throng and stepped forward.
Tall with striking purple hair and dark circles under his eyes, the boy continued speaking in an infuriating tone,
"Seeing you like this makes me lose respect. There are plenty of kids in the general and other courses who ended up in the Hero Course after not making the cut originally—did you know that?"
Bakugo narrowed his eyes at the boy’s direct gaze.
In a cold, measured voice he replied,
"Even for us, the school isn’t completely shutting the door. Depending on your sports festival performance, they might even consider a transfer into the Hero Course. And they’re serious about it, too."
Kirishima listened quietly to the exchange.
There was nothing particularly new in what the boy said—if anything, it was simply the reality of the situation.
In fact, given how the entrance exam was heavily stacked against quirks that couldn’t exert physical force, even that explanation felt like an understatement.
After all, the Hero Course focused on combat training while the general course did not.
Of course, the gap would only widen over time, and the possibility of transferring would soon become nothing more than a pipe dream.
Perhaps being a first-year was the only real window for anyone wanting a transfer.
The first and final chance.
"Enemy camp scouting? At the very least, I’m here to warn the cocky Hero Course that if you keep acting high and mighty, I’ll gladly set you straight."
The students looked surprised by the bold declaration.
Kirishima couldn’t help but smile; the statement stirred memories of his own past.
He always appreciated those friends who never hesitated to speak their minds.
Those endlessly chattering companions were usually the most entertaining to be around—before a match, after a match, and especially when they kept on talking even after being knocked down. It was those so-called big mouths that Kirishima secretly admired.
Yet, this boy’s demeanor hinted that he might have come here with no escape in mind.
Even his reckless, almost juvenile boldness had a certain charm, and Kirishima found it endearing.
While Kirishima pondered this, Bakugo and the boy exchanged a steely glance.
In the ensuing silence, another rough voice boomed from behind,
"Hey! There’s a guy from B Class over here! I heard you’ve fought Villains, so I came to hear your story—but damn, look at that nose in the air! Hey!"
The boy with spiky silver hair and a rough demeanor shouted just as fiercely as he looked.
He clenched his fist and brought it up to his chest before continuing,
"If you keep flapping your gums like that, just wait until you get embarrassed on the main stage!"
"Puhahahaha!"
Kirishima clapped his hands and stepped forward.
Normally he would have steered clear of childish quarrels, but today was different.
There was something both amusing and admirable about the kids’ carefree banter.
"This is fun. So tell me, what are the names of the gutsy general course kid and the tough-looking B Class guy?"
Anyone who came face-to-face with Kirishima—standing almost two meters tall—was often overwhelmed.
These two, with their unyielding spirit, were no exception.
But they quickly composed themselves and replied in their characteristically blunt manner.
"Hitoshi Shinso."
"I’m Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu!"
"Really? Both are good names."
Before long, Kirishima found himself standing before the two boys.
Observing their determined expressions—as if they refused to back down—Kirishima’s lips twitched into a wry smile.
But his next words were anything but gentle.
"Listen up, guys: Save the talk of 'setting someone in their place' until after you win. I’ve seen enough fights to know that if you boast before a battle, at best you come off as a loud, obnoxious clown, and at worst, like a scared puppy barking."
"H-Huh!"
Midoriya even slapped his forehead in exasperation.
It wasn’t the first time Kirishima had said something harsh.
What was more maddening was that he was usually right.
In fact, his words had been the strongest—and arguably the most insulting—uttered that day.
Yet, as always, there was truth in them.
The interesting part was that Kirishima reserved such biting remarks only for those he cared about.
Anyone he felt no affinity for was met with cold indifference, and for his enemies, he preferred letting his fists do the talking.
In the end, his harsh critiques were simply tough love.
Even as Midoriya, Bakugo, and Ashido exchanged uneasy glances at this unexpected side of the typically calm Kirishima, he smiled and added,
"Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying this out of spite. I just don’t want spirited, headstrong guys like you to waste your time on trivialities."
At his words, both Shinso and Tetsutetsu gritted their teeth in irritation.
They were clearly upset—and they knew exactly why.
That condescending tone, as if he were looking down on them while offering unsolicited advice, was infuriating.
Just as an indignant Tetsutetsu was about to retort, Kirishima fixed him with a look and said,
"And you’re Tetsutetsu, right? If you’re so curious about combat experience, wouldn’t it have been wiser to approach more carefully? I get that you’re still young, but even a little thought should tell you the score."
Tetsutetsu’s expression hardened, yet Kirishima pressed on undeterred,
"That day, we fought for our lives. Whether we retreated or charged forward, death was the only outcome. We clenched our teeth and fought on. I’m not proud of my injuries—I tore up my lungs and coughed up blood, Aizawa-sensei suffered compound fractures in both arms along with facial fractures, and Thirteen-sensei endured extensive lacerations along his back. I understand the curiosity about combat, it’s natural. But isn’t it a bit rude to barge in here expecting everyone to spill their guts? It shows a lack of respect for those who have faced real battles."
Neither Shinso nor Tetsutetsu could withstand the force of Kirishima’s words.
Kirishima had crossed countless battlefields—from his past life to the present—that had swung the balance between life and death. His presence exuded the unwavering aura of a veteran.
Along with that, there was the intense resolve of a man who had risen from the gutter to seize glory.
He patted the shoulders of the two boys, still too stunned to speak, and said,
"That’s all I’m saying. Just be more careful next time. I don’t know about others, but I get your determination for the sports festival. Your method might be off, but your spirit is undeniable. Now, could you step aside? We’ve got to head home."
As if nothing had happened, the mood shifted in an instant and a path opened through the throng blocking the classroom door.
Just as Kirishima was about to stride past, he suddenly looked back and said,
"Oh, Tetsutetsu?"
"Huh?"
With a dazed air on Tetsutetsu’s part, Kirishima smiled and added,
"Mind giving me your number?"
"What?"
"You said you were curious about real fight experiences. Don’t hassle everyone else—just ask me. Like I mentioned, I can tell you all about it. Once we graduate, we’ll all be working together anyway."
Before he knew it, Tetsutetsu had given Kirishima his number.
Kirishima quickly entered it and placed a call.
When Tetsutetsu absentmindedly retrieved the phone from his pocket, he heard Kirishima’s voice,
"Yeah, I got it down. Call me if you need anything. See you around."
Watching Kirishima walk away without a flicker of hesitation, Tetsutetsu muttered,
"What’s with that guy..."
Though he didn’t say it aloud, Shinso’s demeanor suggested he felt the same.
Bakugo clicked his tongue at the suddenly subdued atmosphere and followed Kirishima out of the classroom.
Ashido trailed after him.
As Midoriya watched them leave, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts.
This wasn’t a battle against a Villain.
There was no one he needed to protect.
So, he found it hard to summon the usual burst of motivation.
Yet, seeing others burn with determination stirred something deep inside him.
With a clenched fist, Midoriya stared ahead, trying to decipher that strange feeling.
And so, an eventful day drew to a close.
**
Over the following two weeks leading up to the sports festival, the students trained in their own ways with unwavering determination.
With every drop of sweat, time seemed to fly by.
Finally, on the morning of the festival, Midoriya tied his shoelaces while his mother bid him farewell.
"Izuku, be careful not to get hurt, okay? I’m recording this—recording in high definition!"
"Okay!"
"Do your best!"
Though he had once been hurt by her overzealous concern, he now understood that everything she did came from love.
From a certain point on, his mother had become his strongest supporter—if not without a single misstep, then at least pure and unwavering from the day he was born. Buoyed by her words, Midoriya replied cheerfully,
"I’m off!"
When he stepped out the front door, the brilliant sunlight greeted him.
It was a morning that felt unexpectedly promising.
With no hesitation, Midoriya made his way toward the school.
The school, opened for the festival, was teeming with people.
The annual event had drawn crowds chatting in their own excited ways, but the first-years were the ones stealing the spotlight.
Usually, the more experienced third-years would attract the attention, but this year, shortly after the Villain attack, all eyes were on the first-years.
Nowhere was this more evident than in the chaotic waiting area of Class A, which was at the center of it all.
Ashido grumbled to Ojiro—whom she’d grown close to thanks to Kirishima—
"Ugh, I really wanted to wear my costume!"
"For fairness’s sake, it isn’t allowed. Hero costumes often include various supportive functions, after all."
"Yeah, I know that."
Then Iida burst through the door and shouted,
"Everyone! Are you ready? We’re about to enter!"
At that, Midoriya took a deep breath as Todoroki approached him.
With a calm expression, Todoroki said,
"Midoriya."
"Todoroki—what’s up?"
Midoriya asked cautiously, surprised that someone he wasn’t particularly close with had called him over.
Todoroki met his gaze steadily and continued,
"Objectively speaking, I think my skills are above yours."
"Yeah..."
Midoriya didn’t deny it.
Todoroki looked him straight in the eye and added,
"You’re favored by All Might, aren’t you? I’m not going to harp on it, but I’m determined to beat you."
At this sudden declaration, Kaminari looked utterly dumbfounded.
"The top of our class just declared war out of nowhere?"
"Why are you doing this? Don’t start a war right before the competition."
Sho stepped up to Todoroki to calm him down, but the latter brushed his arm aside coolly,
"This isn’t child’s play. What I do is none of your business."
It was Midoriya’s voice that halted Todoroki, who turned away with an unusually tense expression.
"I don’t know what you’re up to, Todoroki, when you say you’re going to beat me, but yeah, you’re better than me. I’m not exactly strong by any means."
"Midoriya, you should try to avoid that kind of defeatist attitude."
"But!"
Midoriya interrupted Sho’s attempt to soothe him.
There was unmistakable determination in his voice as he declared,
"Everyone—even those from other departments—is genuinely aiming for the top! I can’t afford to lag behind. I’m going to give it everything I’ve got!"
"Right."
Watching Todoroki’s composed response, Kirishima tilted his head in mild confusion.
No matter how he looked at it, shouldn’t he be the one delivering that speech instead of Todoroki?
He couldn’t understand why someone other than the strongest guy would be on the receiving end of such a declaration.
'Ah, is he trying to work his way up gradually? Like ranking number ten declaring war on number nine? In any case, it’s a good sign that he’s starting to think about the top tier, but...'
Regardless of what was happening in the waiting room, the festival outside continued as scheduled.
In moments like these, Present Mic’s booming voice reverberated throughout the stadium.
"Hey! Feast your eyes, audience! Crowd in, mass media! This year, get ready for the high school youth rampage you love! The U.A. Sports Festival has begun! Everybody, are you ready? Here come the first-years!"
He continued, firing up the cheering crowd even more,
"The U.A. Sports Festival! The once-a-year grand battle where the most promising Hero prodigies clash in fierce combat! Isn’t that what you came to see? Miracle heroes who rose above a Villain attack with iron wills! The Hero Course! First-Year Class A!"
Kirishima strode across the electrified stadium as if returning to his hometown.
Every time he stepped into the ring, that same uproar accompanied him.
Praises, cheers, curses, and criticisms—every noise exploded like fireworks, and in that cacophonous battlefield, Kirishima was always the victor.
Feeling an inexplicable surge of exhilaration, he grinned.
Midoriya, however, seemed overwhelmed,
"S-So many people..."
"Can you really perform your best with such a huge audience watching? This is part of what it means to be a Hero!"
After Iida’s explanation and Present Mic’s introduction,
"Though we might not have as much buzz, this side boasts some real talent too! The Hero Course! First-Year Class B!"
Led by Tetsutetsu, the students marched out with confidence.
Kirishima spotted a familiar face and smiled.
Shiozaki—whom he hadn’t seen much of amid the post-enrollment chaos—was making her entrance.
Just as he thought of greeting her later, Present Mic continued,
"And now the general course! Classes C, D, and E! The Support Course! F, G, and H are here too!"
Among the students who followed, many faces looked familiar—Shinso, whom he’d seen just two weeks ago, and Hatsume, whose remarkable personality was impossible to forget after one encounter, among others.
"And the Management Course! I, J, and K! All of U.A.'s first-years are gathered here!"
Once all the first-years had assembled, a woman in what looked like ultra-skintight tights stepped forward, cracked a whip, and shouted,
"Athletes, take your oath!"
The crowd erupted in admiration at her appearance.
"This year’s first-year referee is the R-rated Hero Midnight!"
"What about the principal?"
"The principal handles the third-year stage every year."
The students responded enthusiastically.
Kaminari blushed and commented,
"As expected, the R-rated Hero..."
"Is it even okay for an R-rated Hero to be in high school?"
"Quiet! Athlete representative! Class 1-A, Kirishima Eijiro!"
Midoriya, startled, said,
"Huh? Kirishima-chan?"
"He topped the entrance exam,"
With Sero’s explanation in the background, a general course student a few steps away snorted,
"You mean the Hero Course entrance exam."
Regardless, Kirishima strode confidently up to the podium.
Standing before the microphone and taking in the sea of competitors, he had planned a brief, exemplary speech before stepping down.
"I swear that on this auspicious festival, we will act fairly and honorably... hm."
Suddenly, his words halted.
He cocked his head, surveyed the audience, and allowed a small, knowing smile to play on his lips.
Midoriya, Bakugo, and Ashido exchanged uneasy looks as they sensed that something outrageous was about to happen.
"Fair and honorable? Give me a break. The world isn’t fundamentally fair or honorable."
That lightning-bolt of a statement rippled through the stadium, striking the ears of everyone there—and even those watching on TV.
Kirishima ran a hand through his hair as he regarded the stunned crowd.
His red eyes, handsome yet exuding a dangerous edge, sparkled.
A storm summoned by a single man had descended upon the tournament.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register