Once the bracket was set, Midoriya murmured to himself in a low voice.
"So I’m in the first match of the first round. If I win and Todoroki wins too... But before that! Shinso—there’s no question..."
"You were the one, right? Midoriya Izuku."
Startled by the voice behind him, Midoriya stumbled back a few steps.
When he turned around, he saw the General Studies boy—the one who had boldly stormed Class A the previous day and declared war.
"First round. Take care of me," the boy said.
"Su..." Midoriya began, but before he could reply, a tail whipped out from behind and clamped over his mouth.
The soft brush of fur against his lips was hardly an appropriate distraction at a time like this, yet, for some reason, it felt oddly comforting.
He couldn’t linger on that sensation, so he turned his head and asked, "Ojiro, what’s wrong?"
"Don’t answer him," Ojiro replied.
Though Midoriya found Ojiro’s words puzzling, he obeyed without question—after all, Ojiro would never deliberately do him harm.
With a slight curl of his lips, Shinso quietly walked away.
Midoriya, led by Ojiro, also moved away from the arena.
Once they had disappeared, the recreational event began.
Most of the tournament participants skipped the fun, but Kirishima was content to watch from the stands.
While some strategized and others found a quiet corner to steady their nerves, Kirishima felt no need for either.
He had never been one to feel nervous before a match—not in this life, anyway.
As he waited in a relaxed manner, Cementoss put his quirk to work, assembling the arena before their eyes.
The square ring, raised slightly off the ground, was so impeccably constructed it was hard to believe it had been thrown together on the spot.
Present Mic, handling the broadcast, announced the start with unrestrained energy.
"Hey, guys! Are you ready?! We’ve tried everything, but at the end of the day, you’re here for the real showdown—where you rely on nothing but yourselves! Not just for heroes, but in life too! Mind, body, and spirit—plus wisdom and knowledge! Throw everything you have into it and rise to the challenge!"
His already thunderous voice boomed through the stadium and echoed down the passage leading to the arena.
Midoriya pressed a hand to his chest, letting the sound wash over him like a rousing soundtrack as he concentrated.
Then, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.
"Hey! It might be late, but you’re finally getting the hang of One For All."
"All Might! No, I’m still uneasy," Midoriya replied with a grave expression.
He was still far too unstable.
If it were a quirk as naturally explosive as Bakugo’s or as cool as Todoroki’s, perhaps he could have accepted it. But after watching Kirishima, satisfaction was out of the question.
Right now, Kirishima was, in every way, the perfect superior to him.
There was no doubt that One For All couldn’t be weaker than his own hardening ability—the issue lay entirely in the mastery of the quirk.
Unable to hide his frustration, Midoriya continued, "I keep trying to lock in the image of striking a villain—like warming something up in a microwave—but it’s so unstable that if I let my guard down for even a second, everything will collapse..."
As he admitted, Midoriya was still battling to control One For All.
It made perfect sense.
Someone who’d never had a tail couldn’t suddenly manipulate one with perfect finesse.
Sure, it was merely another body part, and if it moved naturally there’d be no issue. But Midoriya still felt every step was a conscious struggle to harness his quirk.
"And as you saw, with my current state even if I succeed, it might just give a slight boost in power..."
"Hmm. If I compare it to that zero-or-hundred output you mentioned before, what you’re producing now is barely a five," All Might observed.
"Five percent power! Hearing that makes me feel like I’ve been blessed by fate and luck..."
At the sound of that concrete number, Midoriya’s shoulders slumped.
Then All Might gave him a quick knock on the neck and the crown of his head with the side of his hand.
Midoriya flinched, and All Might’s booming voice rang out:
"At moments like these, when you’re scared and uncertain, you smile and charge forward! You’ve come so far already! Even if it means a little bluster, stand tall. Never forget, I’ve got my eye on you!"
Midoriya nodded, his expression hardening with renewed determination.
He was right. And it was a comforting truth.
Clenching both fists, Midoriya prepared himself.
Just then, the bell rang to signal the start of the match.
As Midoriya made his way toward the arena, Present Mic’s voice reverberated through the stadium:
"You audience punks! The final event you’ve been waiting for is about to begin! First round! What’s with that face—as if you’re already grading yourselves! Hero Course Midoriya Izuku!"
Stepping out of the dark tunnel into the dazzling light, he spotted Shinso walking toward him from the opposite side.
His expression remained inscrutable, but one thing was clear: Shinso had also come out with his resolve set.
Present Mic continued his introduction:
"VS! Sorry, still no show-stopping moves! General Studies! Shinso Hitoshi! The rules are simple: Knock your opponent out of bounds or render them unable to fight. And if you can force them to say, 'I lost,' that’s a win too! Getting hurt is part of the game—after all, Recovery Girl is on standby! Leave your morals and ethics behind! And sure, if your life’s on the line, then so be it! Out there, heroes swing their fists to capture villains!"
"I lost, huh..."
While catching his breath after the explanation, Midoriya was addressed by Shinso in a calm, measured tone:
"This is a battle that tests the strength of your heart. If you have a future you’re truly fighting for, appearances don’t matter. That monkey bastard might have prattled on about pride, but really, isn’t it foolish to squander a chance?"
‘He’s not entirely wrong,’ Midoriya thought.
Even though Shinso’s voice was soft and coming from some distance, Kirishima, who listened intently, nodded in agreement.
Generally, you could only afford to preserve your pride if you had room to spare.
And yes, sometimes clinging to pride meant throwing away opportunity.
'But that’s not exactly the right philosophy either,' he mused.
Still, it was a short-sighted view. There would be two more chances after this anyway.
Besides, if you thought about it rationally, being a hero wasn’t the most pragmatic occupation. You risk your life, and while the pay can be good, the competition is brutal and the constraints are downright absurd.
To put it simply, if All Might were only after personal gain, his most logical move with that power would have been not to save people but to become a villain and rule Japan.
It wasn’t as if Shinso was spouting this without understanding the stakes.
Enraged by the differing viewpoints, Midoriya lunged at Shinso.
"How can you say something like that!" he shouted.
"I... win," Shinso replied coolly.
The moment his words ended, Midoriya froze in place.
Seeing this, Ojiro clutched his head and cried out in dismay, "Uwaaa! After all that advice too!"
"Hey! Hey! What’s wrong with you?! This is the crucial first match—get fired up!"
Despite the chorus of voices around him—Uraraka and Iida pleading in desperation—Midoriya remained unmoving, his gaze empty and distant.
"Midoriya! Right as the match starts, you’re completely frozen?! With that stupid look on your face—could it be Shinso’s quirk?"
The crowd grew restless.
Kirishima snorted in disbelief.
He had drilled into the kid over and over to stay calm during a fight, yet in his anger Midoriya had forfeited the initiative. It was maddening.
One could surmise that the mind-affecting quirk everyone mentioned, the one spoken of by Ojiro and that kind-hearted Class B kid who had withdrawn, was now at work.
It even seemed as if Ojiro had just explained what had happened to him.
Yet succumbing to it was nothing more than a loss of discipline.
"General Studies Shinso Hitoshi! He’s taken down Hero Course Midoriya Izuku! This is… the upset we never saw coming—a complete reversal!"
"That’s why I said the entrance exam wasn’t rational," someone added.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Present Mic, with a bewildered look on his face, echoed Aizawa’s quiet mutter from beside him.
Aizawa held up two sheets of paper bandaged around his hand.
"These are rough stats for the two of them. Since it’s a one-on-one match, I had them compile this for me. Shinso failed the Hero Course practical exam, and since he also took the General Studies exam, he must’ve anticipated this outcome from the start. His quirk is powerful, but the practical test involved simulated villain battles—favoring those with physical attack quirks. Shinso’s ability wouldn’t have scored much there."
As if in response, Shinso said in a measured yet dangerously calm tone, "You really are blessed, Midoriya Izuku. Turn around and walk straight out of bounds."
The instant his words fell, Midoriya obeyed.
He turned and began walking, each step measured, and Present Mic cried out in alarm, "Eh? Eh?! Aaaah! Midoriya! So obedient!"
"Deku, why?!"
"If you step out past the boundary line, you’ll lose the match!"
Uraraka and Iida shouted desperately, but Midoriya couldn’t hear them.
He simply continued walking in silence.
Watching him, Aizawa mused, ‘Judging by the physical test on the first day, Midoriya’s athletic ability was nearly top-tier among ordinary folks. Even in events where his quirk can’t be used, Shinso falls far behind. In a normal fight, Midoriya would win. If he can break through Shinso’s brainwashing… it’s all over in a flash.’
From Midoriya’s direction, All Might, hidden in the passage’s shadows, silently urged him not to come any closer—but it was useless.
Midoriya could only cling to his consciousness like someone trapped in a thick fog.
"No! My body is moving on its own! My head feels like it’s shrouded in fog! It won’t listen! Damn it... stop. Stop now!"
Ojiro’s earlier advice echoed in his mind—he couldn’t allow it to end like this.
According to Ojiro, a sudden jolt might break him free from the brainwashing. But how could he shock himself when he was already under its grip?
"Damn it! Damn it! Everyone’s counting on me!"
As Midoriya stubbornly battled between despair and resignation, a pair of bright eyes appeared through the static-blurred vision beyond a door—much like a broadcast on an old TV cutting out.
One, two, three… seven, eight.
Eight pairs of eyes locked with his.
In that instant, he felt as if something enormous surged through his entire body.
"W-what is this?"
"You may not understand, but even with a quirk like this, dreams are inevitable... Now, lose for me," Shinso declared.
The moment Shinso’s words faded and Midoriya’s foot stepped over the boundary line for the last time, a small storm erupted from his hand.
He panted harshly, thick dust swirling around him.
"W-what is this? Midoriya has stopped!"
"Midoriya!"
"Th-that’s a relief!"
The cheers roared, and even his closest friends joined in the exultation.
Kirishima snorted.
"Idiot. You could’ve just shut up, smashed him into submission, and then talked after winning. I told you—save the talking for later!"
But in that moment, Aizawa noticed something else.
Midoriya’s fingers had turned dark and swollen.
'Did he deliberately force a misfire? Hah.'
"What a reckless move..."
Shinso, glancing back at Midoriya with wide, furious eyes, stammered, "H-how?! Your body should have been seized by your quirk! What did you do?!"
Midoriya clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to steady the shuddering turmoil within him.
'I did try to force a misfire in my finger! But I didn’t move on purpose. What was that? I saw strangers for a moment, and then the fog in my head lifted. What on earth was that?!'
In that moment, a memory surged in his mind—the words All Might had spoken the day they first met, which had shattered all conventional wisdom about quirks.
'One For All. Like a sacred flame passed down through generations.'
'Inherited? The lingering presence of those who built this power? Did they save me? Is something like this even possible?'
"What did you do?!" Shinso roared, his fury mingled with disbelief.
It was the first time in his life that Midoriya had been so visibly shaken.
But he said nothing.
Clenching his teeth, Shinso seethed in his mind, 'He won’t say a word. Did he figure it out? No! He must have known from the start, from that monkey bastard! I’ll make him speak, one way or another!'
"Say something," he demanded.
Only then, with a voice that had finally calmed a bit, did Shinso add, "You can really get that kind of power just by moving your fingers? I’m jealous to death!"
Deep in his heart, Midoriya answered silently as he charged toward Shinso.
'I used to think that all the time, too!'
"Because of a quirk like this, I fell behind right from the start. Those blessed with true power wouldn’t understand!"
'I do understand! And yet, it’s true—I was blessed.'
One memory after another flashed through Midoriya’s mind: Kirishima’s reminder that lacking a quirk didn’t matter if you had the heart of a hero, All Might’s confident assurance that he could become one.
As he ran with clenched teeth, Shinso’s passionate voice echoed continuously:
"Those born with the perfect quirk! The ones who can go anywhere they please!"
'I was blessed by the bonds I’ve forged!'
His mother, who had always loved him above all else.
His friends whose eyes shone with nothing but genuine adoration.
Midoriya recalled what Kirishima had said earlier:
'We stand on the corpses of countless shattered dreams. That’s exactly what it is.'
At the very least, beneath the ground where he stood, the dreams of every boy who had once roared with passion would lie in ruin.
Still, he had to move forward.
For those who believed in him, and for countless others.
Midoriya sprinted, then slammed to a sudden stop right in front of Shinso.
Instinctively, he knocked aside Shinso’s outstretched arm with his left.
'The left hand is a shield—it deflects both the opponent’s guard and their spear.'
The movement, honed through countless repetitions, flowed flawlessly.
This was the weapon Midoriya had painstakingly forged, despite being born without a quirk.
'The right hand is the spear—pierce the gap the shield creates and strike down your foe!'
His hardened fist, carrying the sweat of innumerable hours of training, flew like lightning toward Shinso’s chin.
Shinso couldn’t react.
All he could do was grit his teeth and watch in wide-eyed terror as the fist descended.
At last, the collision occurred.
With a resounding impact, Shinso lost consciousness.
Midoriya caught his collapsing form and murmured, "I can’t explain it all, but believe me—I truly understand how you feel, Shinso. Right now, while you’re down, these are the only words I can offer. Someday, I hope we become close enough to share everything."
Midoriya Izuku advanced to the round of sixteen.
The first match—modest in appearance yet fierce in spirit—had come to an end.
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