To an outsider, Kirishima appeared to be a polite, considerate young man—someone who took excellent care of his friends. His grades were exemplary, and his strength far surpassed that of his peers. In many ways, he embodied the ideal citizen that society admired.
But those who truly knew him understood a different side. Kirishima was stubborn and fiercely self-centered, even more so with those closest to him. He always did exactly as he pleased and refused to engage in anything he found disagreeable, dismissing others’ advice as if it were nothing more than white noise. Of course, this obstinacy was reserved for the narrow sphere of his interests; otherwise, he behaved like any good son and friend. Had it been any other way, he would have long been labeled a misfit and isolated from his peers. Fortunately, only Ashido, Midoriya, and Bakugo were privy to his true nature—even his parents remained in the dark, for he always played the part of the reliable, well-behaved son when they were around.
Bakugo, one of the very few who knew him well, sensed that something was amiss. When Kirishima took the stage to swear his oath, Bakugo muttered in disbelief at the comment about the world's inherent unfairness. “That crazy bastard…” he grumbled under his breath.
Both Midoriya and Ashido sighed at his words. Meanwhile, the rest of the class, witnessing this new, unsettling side of Kirishima for the first time, watched in astonishment. With tears welling in her eyes, Ashido clenched her fist and cried out, "Seriously! How can you act like a model student on a daily basis and then turn into such a stubborn troublemaker at moments like these?!" Her exclamation was drowned out by the low murmur of the other students as Kirishima continued unabated.
“We live in a world that is anything but fair,” he declared. “It has always been so, is so now, and will remain so. No one chooses their parents or their Quirk at birth. Some are born into misery and suffer from the moment they take their first breath. Some inherit what people call a bad Quirk, and others are born without one at all.”
Despite the weight of his words, his voice remained calm—devoid of raw passion or venting anger. He merely presented the facts, without exaggeration or self-pity, which lent his message a stark, undeniable logic.
“I ranked first in the Hero Course entrance exam,” he continued. “I’m proud of what I achieved through hard work—but I won’t deny that I was lucky. I was fortunate enough to grow up with caring parents and to be born with a Quirk that I could develop. The opportunities to work hard and to grow are truly wonderful, and it is because of that exceptional environment that I am here today.”
Kirishima paused for a moment, catching his breath, as the room fell silent and every eye turned to him.
“But because life is inherently unfair, not everyone is granted that chance,” he went on. “Even putting upbringing aside, some have been crushed by a Quirk that just wasn’t meant for the entrance exam. There are those whose dreams have been shattered despite relentless effort. We stand here today, quite literally on the corpses of countless broken dreams.”
The students’ faces grew solemn as each processed his words in their own way. Among them, Todoroki’s brow furrowed, Shinso’s gaze dropped gloomily, Bakugo gritted his teeth, and Tetsutetsu’s activated Quirk shimmered silver without him even realizing it.
“This event before us is no different,” Kirishima announced. “There is no such thing as a fair rule in the reality we face. The only rules are that we may use our honed strength without limits and that our lives are not in danger. This place isn’t governed by orderly regulations—it’s a wild battleground for survival. We never speak of fairness in a place like this.”
Almost imperceptibly, Kirishima began to change. His eyes glowed red, his hair grew spiky, and as he raised his elbow, sharp horns emerged while his skin took on a vivid crimson hue.
“So instead of speaking of a comforting fairness, I’ll say this: Fight! Prove yourself! In the vast battleground of life, don’t be driven like a mute beast by circumstance. Struggle, and become the hero who conquers against all odds!”
Turning slightly, he leaned toward Midnight and said in a low voice, “Teacher, could I borrow your hand for a moment? This might get a little dangerous.”
“Huh?” replied Midnight, clearly puzzled. Without further ado, Kirishima grasped her hand firmly and then turned back to face the audience.
“Let your fangs show! Charge! Keep moving without stopping! Although we cannot choose the hand we are dealt, we can decide how we play the game!”
Deep within, he felt a surge of power rising, as if a volcano were spewing molten lava into the sky. With explosive force, he thrust his fist upward. The ensuing recoil sent a tremendous shockwave spreading outward like a tempest, and though it didn’t alter the weather the way All Might once could, it did punch a massive hole through the drifting clouds overhead.
Everyone who witnessed the scene stared dumbfounded at the overwhelming display.
“Climb up, and I’ll wait for you at the summit. That’s all.”
Midnight, who had staggered and nearly collapsed from the sheer force, quickly recovered with Kirishima’s help. Only then did the students regain their composure and look his way—without a single protest. Whatever he had done carried a power that silenced both the bold and the timid alike.
“Haha. Kirishima is incredible—like a madman,” someone remarked.
“There are days when I agree with you. That tall bastard truly is insane,” another added, their voices mingling as Midoriya and Bakugo shared a rare moment of accord. By the time he had returned to his normal appearance and stepped down from the podium, it was clear that his performance had left an indelible mark.
Watching his retreating back, Midnight steered the event along. “All right, everyone! That was a stunning oath, but let’s get focused. We’re starting the first event now!”
“U.A. really does do everything all at once,” murmured Uraraka. “It almost feels normal now—thanks to Kirishima...”
Her quiet comment was quickly overtaken by Midnight’s booming voice: “Every year, countless students end up swallowing tears here! Now, the fate of the first event—this year, it is…”
As she spoke, the scoreboard behind her lit up with the words “Obstacle Race.”
A friendly explanation followed: “There are eleven classes in total, and it’s a race in which everyone participates. The course follows the perimeter of this stadium—about four kilometers long! At our school, freedom is our hallmark! As long as you stick to the course, you can do whatever you want!”
The announcement drew cheers from the stands. Shou sighed and muttered, “Just as Kirishima said—a true wilderness.”
“Now, now! Get into your positions!” Midnight called out, urging the students to line up at the start as one by one, the green signal lights switched off.
With a burst of intensity, Kirishima activated his [Demon Form]. His transformation left the Class A students in stunned silence. Though he had given the Sports Festival a great deal of thought, in a contest like this one could win without maximum effort. Playing the part of the kind, reliable comrade while quietly racking up victories wasn’t a bad strategy. Yet, seeing the serious determination on his fellow students’ faces stirred something within him. Though youth games were not his primary interest, as someone who had, in his own way, helped nurture heroes like Midoriya and Bakugo, he cared deeply about their growth. After all, mentoring the world’s future geniuses was one of the greatest pleasures a teacher could have.
Determined to serve as their steadfast pillar, he believed that even the impossible taught valuable lessons. “Start!”
The final signal blinked out, and the starting buzzer resounded. With a burst, the students charged toward the narrow entrance.
“The start gate is way too narrow!” cried someone as a bottleneck formed at the entrance. Todoroki, breaking ahead of the pack, managed to freeze the ground beneath him—marking the first shake-off of the match.
“Sorry about that,” murmured one student.
“The floor’s frozen!”
“I can’t get my legs moving!”
Even as most students came to a standstill at the entrance, a few continued to shine. Aoyama shot lasers from his stomach while soaring through the air; Yaoyorozu used a long, graceful pole to leap far ahead; and Bakugo propelled himself forward with explosive bursts.
Amid all the chaos, Kirishima stood at the starting point, scratching his chin as he observed. “What’s going on, Kirishima? Are you confident, or just panicking? Why are you standing still?”
At the boisterous call, Kirishima clicked his tongue and began to move. He had no intention of getting caught up in the melee; if he wanted, he could have bulldozed through the crowd or even shattered the entrance wide open. But that wasn’t necessary. Instead, he waited until the entrance had cleared just enough, then slipped through and started running.
Four kilometers? If he ran in a straight line at full speed, he could cover that distance in less than thirty seconds. True to form, he quickly caught up with the leading group and reached the point where giant robots blocked the path.
“Kirishima?” someone called out.
“Tch—this is why I should have given us more of a head start. Damn tall bastard!” came the retort. Even as his classmates looked on in bewilderment, Kirishima effortlessly leapt over the towering obstacle. He could have crushed every one of them underfoot, but he wasn’t so ruthless as to trample on the potential of these young heroes.
“I’m going ahead. See you at the finish line,” he declared, and in an instant, he vanished from view.
“Ohhh! Kirishima—who gave that shocking oath! He truly has earned the right to speak like that! What incredible speed!”
With Present Mic’s voice echoing behind him, Kirishima swiftly reached the second gate—a precarious challenge set between towering pillars strung along the edge of a massive cliff. Without slowing down, he charged forward and leapt off the cliff without a moment’s hesitation. In his [Demon Form], a single bound was enough to traverse what would normally take kilometers to cross. Obstacles like these meant nothing to him.
“Wow! He cleared the cliff in one leap! As expected of a first-place finisher! But can he handle the next challenge as easily? The wrathful Afghanistan, laden with land mines on all sides—the power may not be extraordinary, but the effects are spectacular!”
Kirishima smirked, channeling raw power into his legs. Even now, his speed exceeded what the average human could track. While the spectators blinked in disbelief at his explosive burst, he had already raced past the minefield. The mines, triggered slightly late by his swift movement, erupted in a dazzling farewell display.
In a matter of moments, he had overcome every obstacle and crossed the finish line. Less than a minute after the race began, he secured first place, and cheers erupted throughout the stadium.
“Eraser Head! That kid’s amazing! What kind of training did you put him through?!”
In response to Present Mic’s exuberant reaction, Aizawa replied calmly, “I didn’t do anything special. The same goes for everyone else—except that with him, there was nothing I could do.”
Having finally deactivated his [Demon Form], Kirishima relaxed and waited for the next competitor to catch up. Meanwhile, business and support students watching from the stands began a spirited discussion.
“What do you think?”
“If you’re not an idiot, whoever’s in charge of him could pretty much get away with anything.”
“Exactly. He’s handsome enough—even if he’s a bit too tall—and his skills? Honestly, with that level of talent, he could probably sell cola while doing a handstand.”
“No, come on. That’s just too far-fetched.”
“I’m just saying! You rigid bastard!”
While there was little merit in competing in the Sports Festival from a marketing perspective, no one could deny the appeal of his dazzling performance. His radiant figure, shining like a red diamond, was impossible not to admire. Even if he sometimes disliked the attention, the public would undoubtedly choose him.
On TV and the internet, viewers were going wild:
- “I’m watching the U.A. Sports Festival right now—and this first-year is insane!”
- “I thought he was just a madman when he swore on the podium, lol.”
- “Turns out he’s a qualified madman.”
- “Is that even possible? Did he take something? No matter how outrageous his Quirk is…”
- “Outrageous Quirk? Just laugh it off, lol.”
- “LOLLOLLOLLOL!”
- “Am I the only one who finds him intimidating? With that transformed look, if I ran into him on a dark street, I’d probably hand over my wallet without thinking twice.”
- “LOL, I agree. I’ve never seen anyone like that—I’d get PTSD for sure.”
- “Just by looking at him, he seems like a total Villain. Even villains would probably beg for mercy if they saw him.”
Amid all the varied reactions, among the most exuberant supporters cheering for Kirishima were his own parents. His mother, watching the race on TV with his father—who had taken a rare day off—clapped and shouted, “Honey! Our Eijiro! Eijiro’s in first place!”
“Yeah, I’m watching,” replied his father, “but he’s only won the first event. Let’s stay calm.”
“Didn’t you see what he did earlier? Eijiro is definitely gonna win!”
Suddenly, his mother’s eyes welled with tears.
“Our boy… Ever since he was little, when he started training so hard, I kept wondering if I should hold him back. I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to stop him from going off track because I was just a novice mother. But look at him now—he’s grown so well.”
“Of course he has. He’s our son. He’s done well so far, and he’ll only get better. So don’t cry,” reassured his father, wrapping an arm around her, his own eyes glistening.
He, too, had been worried about how Eijiro willingly pushed himself through training regimes that bordered on the brutal. Eijiro claimed he was managing his recovery and not pushing too hard, but from the sidelines it looked like he was piling one strain on top of another every day. Still, watching him grow strong and now stand tall at the finish line—outpacing so many formidable opponents—filled their hearts with pride.
Unaware of his parents’ inner emotions, Kirishima scratched his chin and wondered who might be the next to catch up. “Hmm. The kids are too slow. I trained them—shouldn’t they be able to cover four kilometers in five minutes? I guess I’ll have to push them harder. They can’t hope to survive as heroes in this harsh world if they’re this weak.”
Grumbling about the delay, he ignored the obstacles entirely. A cool breeze rustled through his hair as he stood there, lost in thought. And thus, Kirishima’s first step—one that would eventually be criticized as the wall of lamentation by those who sought to bring him down—ended in a rather anticlimactic fashion.
He had kept his word.
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