The first days at the Summer Training Camp, as Pixie-Bob had described it – capital letters included – had only reaffirmed Izuku's suspicion that being a teacher at U.A. required a degree of clinically diagnosable sadism. Much to Mina's disappointment it was less a holiday and more of a boot camp, putting all of the students through their paces to improve their Quirks. Well – almost all of them, for obvious reasons. According to Aizawa the best way to improve the strength and control one had of a Quirk was to strain it, to exercise it: like a muscle, had been the comparison.
That the training seemed to double as torture was, presumably, only a happy coincidence.
Just as each Quirk was unique each training method was different, although they all had some similarities. Mina was generating as much acid as she could, pushing through the pain as it eventually burned her through her resistance to build up her speed of generation. Uraraka was levitating herself constantly, with only short breaks to vomit as the backlash of her Quirk became too much: Bakugo was exploding constantly, although that wasn't too dissimilar to his usual. And Izuku, who didn't have a Quirk? Izuku had been handed over to Tiger, for physical conditioning and combat training.
As a kick slammed into his raised guard and crunched him back into a tree Izuku silently added Tiger to The List again. Tiger posed briefly, dramatic, and then lunged in with a barrage of punches that kept Izuku pinned against the wood, arms raised. Izuku could feel the bruises rising on his right forearm already: he missed his costume. Tiger was fast, strong, his Quirk making him unnaturally agile for such a large man. More agile than Bruce? No, but that wasn't much of a consolation. He roared as he punched, raining blows down before he pulled back for a second, slipping into a spinning kick so smoothly that Izuku could barely see it, Izuku dropping his guard and sliding into a crouch, his foot slicing at Tiger's supporting leg. Tiger took the hit, went down, caught himself on one brawny arm and kicked twice from his handstand. Izuku threw himself away from the tree, avoiding the kicks, and rolled into a defensive crouch.
"No!" Tiger boomed, "You'll never learn how to take a punch like that! You can't dodge, you need to know how to take a punch! Give me fifty push-ups and we'll go again!"
Izuku should have gone vigilante.
Still, Tiger might know something Izuku didn't – there might actually be method in the madness – so Izuku tolerated it for now. If nothing else it was good practice in fighting someone larger, stronger and more skilled than he was, which wasn't something Izuku got to do often. He watched the horror dawn across the faces of the newly arrived Class 1-B members as Tiger went to menace them and started his push-ups. At least the 1-B members would take some of the attention away from Izuku.
He still wished he had his full equipment, though. There was a certain catharsis in waving a gun in someone's face, especially when they'd spent the last hour trying to break you down.
"That's fifty!" Tiger boomed once Izuku was done – Izuku noticed that both of the 1-B members were now performing stretches, and not doing the best job of it. Unusual stretches, it had to be said – they looked like something Dick would have done in preparation for some particularly ridiculous acrobatic feat, more than Izuku would usually do – but at least he was no longer suffering alone. He pushed himself back to his feet, listening as Tiger reeled off instructions for the next exercise they'd work through, and momentarily met the eyes of one of the 1-B students. Just a moment of shared suffering, joint commiseration before they started.
"Physical strength!" Tiger said, clenching a fist in front of his face, "There is no situation in which your physical strength will be a disadvantage! When you are arresting villains, being able to overpower them! When you are saving civilians, being able to carry them! When you are performing search and rescue duties, being able to move rubble! Any conscientious Hero must have superb physical conditioning, and that is what I will provide in….Tiger's! Marvellous! Muscle! Making!"
The enthusiasm was a bit much, but if it worked it worked. Izuku would probably never be quite as large as Bruce or Jason, but that didn't mean he couldn't try. Besides, it would be interesting to see a training regime from someone else: you could always learn more. Izuku, therefore, patiently bore the stretches, the repetitions, the exercises until Tiger finally called a halt. The Hero lined them up, looking over all three of them – Izuku and the two 1-B members.
"Alright," he said, "Not bad, for a start. No crying, or whining. That's good! The two of you, Sen and Nirengeki, your Quirks both rely on your physical abilities. The stronger you are, the more you can get out of them, so you'll be continuing your strength training! Midoriya, your Quirk…does not rely on your strength! Because you, uh, you haven't got one."
Tiger blinked. Izuku blinked. Sen and Nirengeki blinked.
"Sorry," Tiger said, "I'm used to giving this speech about how you can improve your Quirk by improving yourself. Force of habit, really sorry."
Izuku shrugged.
"These things happen, sir."
Tiger shook his head.
"Perhaps, but I still apologise! Now, Midoriya! You're a decent combatant," Tiger said, pointing at Izuku, "But you're too used to dodging. You dodge, you duck, you get out of there! That's been fine so far. But sometimes it won't be. Sometimes there might be someone behind you who you need to protect, sometimes there's no room to retreat. So you need to know how to take a punch and fight on. So, hands up! Let's see that Plus Ultra resilience!"
Oh boy.
Izuku got his hands up just before Tiger lunged across the open space, a spinning leap that ended in a savage kick. The kick hit Izuku's forearms, but the impact rattled every bone in his body, he pushed Tiger off, one step forwards, left jab, relying on Jason's boxing training. Guard up, short attacks, wait for an opening. Not Jason's favourite fighting style, but at least it was something.
Still, not his favourite method of rest and relaxation. Izuku couldn't help but hope that the rest of the week would be just a little less strenuous.
Yeah, right.
It wasn't all hard training, it turned out. Yes, it was mostly hard training – Izuku was pretty sure that his bruises had bruises, and Tiger was definitely back on The List for his enthusiasm in inflicting them – but there were some less serious times. Izuku had particularly enjoyed the Test of Courage, on the third night: walking through the forest at night while class 1-B tried to spook him and his partner? Fun. Loudly pointing out where they were hiding before they even began their scaring? Even more fun. Getting to be on the other end? Wonderful. Getting to be on the other end by creeping out of the forest and walking a single pace behind Monoma while he monologued, only to pat him on the shoulder and hear his screech of terror? Absolutely priceless. Still, Izuku would be glad to get home again. Training his combat skill and his stealth had been alright, but he couldn't help but feel he'd gotten less from the training camp than his compatriots. He didn't begrudge them, of course, but it would have been nice to work on his less combative skills.
"You're thinking too hard, Midori," Mina said cheerfully, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow, "We're nearly done! Boot-camp's nearly finished, and Mr Aizawa and Mr Kan have agreed to the Kwirkless Klash! Aren't you excited to show 1-B what you've got?"
"Eh," Izuku said, shrugging, "It could be fun, I suppose."
Mina, ever dramatic, fell to her knees.
"Fun," she said, pitched just shy of a shout, "Fun? This is class rivalry, Midori! A battle for justice! For honour!"
"For bragging rights," Izuku wryly added and Mina nodded sharply, punching at the air.
"For bragging rights!" she agreed loudly, "Do you want Monoma to be able to say we couldn't beat 1-B in a fair fight?"
"He'll probably say that anyway," Izuku commented, "But I told you, it does sound like fun. It'll be nice to spar with someone new."
"Told you," Tsu said, "He can't wait. You see that? That's enthusiasm, ribbit."
"We both know it isn't," Mina said, waving a hand, "But it's good enough, right? Ready to sweep the field, Midori?"
"Ready to give it a go."
"Alright," Aizawa said, once they were gathered around the raised earth arena that the Pussycats had put together, "Quirkless Tournament. Normally I'd trust you all to understand what that means, but Vlad tells me that you can't be trusted so I'll go over it: hand to hand only. No Quirks. You use your Quirk you're disqualified. In fact, if you don't have the discipline to not use your Quirks once you get pressed you should probably be expelled-"
"Eraserhead."
"Hmm," Aizawa said, narrow face judgemental, but he didn't continue. Instead he cleared his throat and sighed.
"Alright. You've all got gloves, wear them. Midoriya, pad your prosthetic properly. Other rules: you fall unconscious you're out. You leave the ring, you're out. You surrender, you're out. You get put in a position where the referee thinks you can't continue, you're out. You whine about decisions, you're out."
Silence. 1-B hadn't had as much exposure to Aizawa as Izuku would have liked, mostly for his own personal amusement, and they were now looking at the man like he was insane. Well, if it looked like a duck…
"Further rules, for a good clean fight," Aizawa continued, "No groin attacks. No eye gouging, Midoriya. No bone breaking, Midoriya. No organ damage, Midoriya. No biting, Midoriya."
"Sir!" Izuku protested, before finishing more quietly, "I don't bite."
Aizawa favoured him with a particularly jaundiced look.
"The same goes for the rest of you," he said, spectacularly failing to save Izuku's reputation, "And try to avoid kicking each other in the head. None of you can afford any brain damage. That's all. Now, everyone who wants to take part, put your name in the jar."
Ah yes, Izuku mused as he carefully wrapped his prosthetic in a thick layer of cloth that would simulate flesh and prevent him from using the hard metal-plastic combination as a club, the jar. The ultimate arbiter of fairness, so long as you trusted in the person drawing it.
Given that Aizawa was the one drawing from it, Izuku didn't trust the jar an inch. And, lo and behold, by hook or by crook, Izuku would be the very first fight of the tournament. And his destined foe was none other than Neito Monoma, whose swagger seemed just as casually confident as ever when he entered the arena.
"Ah, yes," Monoma said, "You. Class 1-A's Quirkless member! None of Class 1-B are Quirkless, of course, we're all too skilled for that."
Monoma's trash talk needed work – it sounded like he didn't believe it himself. Given that Izuku was on the other side that might have been a good thing: if Monoma had really been anti-Quirkless he wouldn't be walking away with all of his teeth. As it was it was just sort of funny.
"Are you implying that being Quirkless is a skill issue?" Izuku asked, morbidly curious. Monoma stuttered over his next words, pausing.
"Ye…es? Yes, I am! Everyone in Class 1-B uses their Quirk with the maximum skill, which is why Class 1-A needed to start their training earlier!"
"This is a Quirkless combat tournament, though," Izuku said, still fascinated by the depths of Monoma's delusions. Behind Monoma he saw Kendo put her head into her hands: Vlad King looked exhausted. Aizawa looked intrigued. Monoma opened and closed his mouth wordlessly a couple of times before he pointed a dramatic finger at Izuku.
"You're trying to throw me off my game!" he declared. Izuku pointed at himself.
"Me?"
"You, yes! A scurrilous, low, sneaking tactic, just what I would have expected from a member of Class 1-A! I should have expected no less, you knave!"
Someone had been reading old fashioned novels, apparently. Vlad King was starting to look genuinely embarrassed.
"Your shocking display of bad manners shall not stand!" Monoma declared, "For the honour of Class 1-B, and the good name of UA Academy, I shall defeat you!"
"Do it in the name of the moon!" Mina faintly heckled, but Monoma ignored her in favour of settling into a very dramatic rendition of a stance. Crane, if Izuku wasn't mistaken, right out of the movies. Great as a balance exercise, terrible for combat: either Monoma had a mastery of an exotic martial art that put him among the greats, or he was trying to lure Izuku in. Or he was stupid and thought the Crane stance was genuinely good: Izuku wasn't going to rule that out, but he didn't think it was the case. Monoma couldn't resist his bizarre complex towards 1-A, but he wasn't stupid. No-one who'd gotten into UA could be. Izuku shrugged, raising both his arms into a fairly standard boxing stance and curling his fists inside the fingerless gloves.
"Midoriya, ready?" Vlad King demanded. Izuku nodded.
"Ready."
"Monoma, ready?"
"Ready, Teacher!"
"Then, on the word begin. One! Two! Three! Begin!"
Monoma switched out of his stance with a speed that must have been practiced, his raised foot slamming down and launching him forwards, right hand coming back and curling into a fist. A devastating right hook, for all that it looked clumsy, as though he usually did something else: Izuku stepped in. Parry with a slap of the left hand, right palm to chin, Monoma's head snapping back, teeth rattling, convert the palm strike into an elbow to the chest, turn into Monoma, left hand to right wrist, right hand to right elbow, complete the turn, throw.
Monoma hit the ground with bone-rattling force, what little breath he had left whooshing out of him, and Izuku planted a foot on his chest.
"Hold!" Vlad King barked and Izuku looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Monoma groaned beneath Izuku's heel.
"Winner, Midoriya!"
"Ten seconds!" Mina screamed, somehow louder than the cheers from the rest of 1-A, "I told you! Ten seconds!"
"Something to be said for your mouth writing cheques your body can't cash," Vlad King said disapprovingly as Izuku helped Monoma to his feet and handed him off to Kendo, "Well done, Midoriya."
Izuku's wondering if the matches were rigged only lasted as long as the first round: second to last to step into the ring were Itsuka Kendo and Hagakure, dressed in a full body suit to counteract her invisibility. Kendo was almost certainly the most capable member of 1-B in this sort of fighting and while Hagakure was more skilled than might be expected the fight didn't last long: within half a minute Hagakure was thrown out of the ring onto the dirt.
"Damn," Mina said, punching her hand into her palm, "I hoped Tooru could do well! Kendo's good, right?"
"I'm pretty sure," Izuku agreed, "Karate. Ojiro said that he'd faced her in three competitions and lost every time, so she's better than he is."
"Better than you?" Mina asked. Izuku shrugged.
"Guess we'll find out, so long as we both make it through. Isn't it Kiri's match next?"
Mina went back to cheering for Kiri and Izuku folded his arms, thinking. Kendo's brief display hadn't revealed much of her skills, but Izuku expected her to reach the final round. Whether he also managed that remained to be seen, but he was cautiously optimistic. The question, then, was how much to show: how much to try and hide his skills, to catch his final opponent by surprise. Not all of the two classes was participating, although most of them were – thirty people in total, which would make the rounds slightly awkward. Fifteen matches in the first round, Class 1-A had a slight lead in victories but not too much, with the most notable result being Kirishima and Tetsutetsu repeating their Sports Festival result and knocking each other out by ring-out. Izuku thought that, in a serious competition, he might give it to Tetsutetsu: the 1-B boy landed on the ground an instant later, but this wasn't that sort of thing. Round Two, seven matches for fourteen participants.
First match: Izuku against Shoda Nirengeki.
Shoda Nirengeki. Quirk: Twin Impact, allowing him to cause any impact to repeat several times harder – he'd told that to Izuku during their strength training. It didn't really matter here, except that it was a Quirk that was largely used in hand to hand combat, meaning that Nirengeki did actually have useful training. This fight wouldn't be as easy as the first, Izuku thought, but was that really a bad thing? Sure, he'd like to win, but testing himself against fresh opponents was the real draw of the tournament.
"I hope you will find me a satisfactory opponent," Nirengeki said, soft spoken. Izuku inclined his head, watching as Nirengeki took on his stance.
"Likewise," he said. Vlad King raised an arm.
"Midoriya, ready?"
"Ready."
"Nirengeki, ready?"
"Ready."
"Then…One! Two! Three! Begin!"
Izuku went on the offensive. Nirengeki was an offensive fighter if he'd guessed right, his strategy being to land a barrage of blows and double the most powerful, so putting him on the back foot should disrupt his style. Take the initiative and never let go and Izuku's leaping knee forced Nirengeki to drop his hands from his jab to a block, Izuku following, a kick sneaking out to Nirengeki's left calf, the crowd screaming, left hook blocked, right jab blocked, grab the blocking wrist, lift a knee to block a knee, a second kick to the calf and swing for the chin with the left. Nirengeki bobbed his head, almost perfect form to dodge Izuku's punch, threw a short uppercut that Izuku barely avoided, twisted his left arm free, three left hand punches to the torso to force Izuku back and a breath, stances reset.
Nirengeki winced slightly as he put weight on his left leg. Good. Nirengeki knew his way around a fight but Izuku was faster, stronger, more skilled. He'd hoped to finish the fight with that punch Nirengeki had dodged, but this would do.
Nirengeki looked down at his leg – a bad habit, but not one Izuku took advantage of at the moment – and then back up at Izuku, his expression hardening. He raised his fists, fingers loosely curled, and took a deep breath. Of course. The longer the fight went on the harder it would be to keep up: his injured leg would only get worse. Finish the fight now, or yield.
Izuku didn't think any member of 1-A or 1-B would yield. A moment of silence, just a moment, and Nirengeki sprang. He covered the ground, not quite as quickly as he could have before, and Izuku met him halfway. Right straight, parry with the left hand, left hook, stop with the elbow, block into short uppercut that Nirengeki dodged by leaning back, his attention up and Izuku's foot caught him on the injured calf, Izuku throwing his own left straight, Nirengeki blocking with a raised forearm but the motion put weight on his leg and his breath came out in a gasp of pain as he staggered back, Izuku stepping away from the defensive backhand and waiting a moment. Nirengeki staggered to a halt, breath coming harsh, trying to keep his weight off his leg.
It would be cruel to draw it out.
Izuku closed the distance, feinting left, darting right, Nirengeki's attempt to spin and keep up foiled by his injury, his defensive punch too high. Izuku ducked under his arm, twisted around, kicked at the back of Nirengeki's knee so his leg gave out and then, as Nirengeki dropped to one knee, dipped his left arm under the chin, braced it against his right and pulled Nirengeki back into a standing choke. He didn't fully apply it, but all it would take was a quick pull: Nirengeki struggled for only a moment before he sagged in Izuku's hold, tapping two fingers on Izuku's arm.
"Winner, Midoriya!" Vlad King shouted as Izuku let Nirengeki go, shifting to hold him up as the other boy slumped.
"Need a hand to stand?" Izuku asked.
"If you would be so kind," Nirengeki said. Izuku crouched, wrapping an arm under Nirengeki's shoulders, and heaved him to his feet.
"Thank you," Nirengeki said as Izuku helped him across the arena towards his classmates, "I confess to disappointment at my loss, but that was very well fought. We knew that you were one the more dangerous members of your class, but I'd hoped it was exaggerated. If anything, I think I underestimated you."
"It does happen," Izuku said, "Your boxing was very good, though. Clean, quick. Precise."
"Kind of you to say, but I think I may need to broaden my training," Nirengeki said, "Perhaps, once we've gotten back to UA, you and your class would be amenable? Joint training sessions can only help."
"That could be fun," Izuku agreed, seeing Nirengeki smile from the corner of his eye. He reached a group of 1-B students, handing Nirengeki off to one of them, and turned to leave.
"Midoriya," Nirengeki said, drawing Izuku's attention back to him. Izuku turned back, cocking his head in interest.
"You're skilled," Nirengeki said, "I know that. But you won't beat Kendo. Fair warning."
Izuku suspected that members of his class would say the same thing about him. Maybe even Bakugo would. He probably should have said nothing or stayed humble, but he'd won two fights in a row, without too much trouble. He couldn't help but let some of Jason's casual cockiness slip through in his smile.
"I look forward to seeing her try," he said. Nirengeki didn't seem to take offence, just smiling, but several of 1-B bristled. Izuku nodded to them all and wandered away, silently wondering what was wrong with him. Of all the times to make enemies – not real enemies of course, but of all the things to say. He rejoined his own class, watching the rest of the rounds. He was mostly paying attention to the fighting styles that he'd seen: he already knew most of 1-A of course, but he had to wonder if they were holding back. It didn't take long to reach the final match of the second round, with Itsuka Kendo knocking out Bakugo. Bakugo took the defeat with surprising grace, perhaps because he recognised that he was disadvantaged without his Quirk, but Izuku saw him say almost the same thing to Kendo as Nirengeki had to Izuku: don't think Deku will be so easy. Heartwarming, in a way, but that was the second round done. On to the third.
The third round, eight combatants left. Iida against Izuku: Uraraka vs Mina: Ojiro against Juzo Honenuki and Kendo against Jurota Shishida: a slight advantage for 1-A, although Izuku was definitely not going to discount Kendo. He was reasonably sure that, so long as he could win his next two matches, he would be facing her in the finals: hopefully Ojiro could land some good blows against her. Given the confidence that Nirengeki had predicted Kendo's victory with, Izuku very much expected her to be skilled and her fights had been quick and decisive. But he would have to reach the final round to even have a chance of facing Kendo, which meant winning his next two matches.
Which left Iida. Iida, stepping into the ring, bowed formally to Izuku: Izuku decided to indulge his manners and returned the gesture. Iida straightened and lifted his chin: with his ramrod straight posture it was very clear how much taller he was than Izuku. Taller, considerable reach advantage, stronger. More skilled? Possibly.
"Midoriya," Iida said, clenching a fist in front of him, "I will not do you the disservice of lying. You will likely win, I know this. But I shall fight you with all of my strength, and all of my heart! As Vice President of Class 1-A, I cannot do less!"
Honestly, Izuku appreciated Iida's drama. Someone in the crowd groaned, but Izuku just smiled, settling into his stance.
"Come at me, then."
Kickboxing, he thought, to take advantage of the Engines. Time to see if his skills would close the gap.
"Begin!" Vlad King shouted and the fight was on. Iida leaped across the open ground, athletic even without his Quirk, and his right foot swung around in a wide arc that would have taken Izuku's head off if it had connected. Knee to the standing leg thigh, three punches to the stomach, the swinging leg came down and Iida closed his hands around Izuku's head, classic Muay Thai clinch, the knee coming into Izuku's blocking arm and rattling his stomach and Izuku swung his left, overhand punch, felt it connect and Iida staggered back, arms lifted to guard. Hadn't brought his head close enough to Izuku's: common mistake. Iida shook his head, visibly shaking off the impact, and Izuku drew a deep breath.
In through the mouth, out through the nose. Iida reached up to gingerly touch his jaw, nodding afterwards.
"A point to you, I think," he said, "But we shall see who gets the last!"
In through the mouth, out through the nose. Iida was tougher than either Monoma or Nirengeki, probably due to his larger size, but he wasn't tougher than Tsu or Kirishima. Wasn't tougher than a lot of other people Izuku had faced, but Izuku didn't really want to count Stain or Swordkil or Wolfram or Rappa or whoever else. There was a spice to fighting for your life, to taking the gloves off, that wasn't really appropriate for what was essentially a sparring match.
Put yourself in Iida's place, Izuku thought, what would you do? You opened with the big, dramatic attack and got it punished. You went for the close fighting, and got it punished. You're stronger, bigger, but you aren't as skilled, so find an advantage. The ring, of course. You don't have to win the fight if you can force me out of the ring, and I can't run away. Go through me. One of Bruce's favourites when he was facing someone fairly skilled but smaller: just overwhelm them. Fight through them, instead of around them. Iida was more than smart enough to realise that and when Izuku saw him take a deep breath, steel himself, he knew he'd predicted correctly. Now the question was: what could he do about it?
Iida burst forwards, coming in like a freight train, unstoppable. Izuku darted forwards to meet him, giving himself as much room as he could. Iida lunged, knee forwards and Izuku dodged right, out of the line of attack, hearing Iida terminate his lunge with a stamp, strike at the head with the right, blocked by a raised arm, at the body with the left, Iida countering with an elbow into a swinging right punch that Izuku leaned away from, feeling the wind of it on his cheek, grab the right wrist with his right hand, left punch into elbow to the ribs, kick the back of the knee, let Iida go and back up, away from Iida's attempt to lunge into him and drag him to the ground.
Reset.
Should have gone for the head with the punch and elbow, maybe, but this was supposed to be friendly: punching Iida in the temple wasn't really friendly. Not really safe, either, so Izuku had avoided it. Iida rose to his feet, rubbing at his side to squash away the pain. This, Izuku reckoned, was the approach to take. Stay mobile, strike and retreat, wear Iida down. It wasn't the most exciting method of fighting, but if it worked it worked – and if Izuku wanted to reach the finals, he'd be better off getting out of this with as little damage as possible.
Not easy. Iida's fighting style, leaning towards Muay Thai if not expert enough for Izuku to say for certain, had a lot of heavy blows in it: the knee strikes, the elbow strikes, the kicks. Taking even one of those attacks full-on would hurt. So don't get hit. Easy, right?
Time to find out.
Izuku went on the offensive, across the space, four punches onto Iida's raised arms, right foot swinging for the ankle, Iida raising his foot to dodge the trip and turning the motion into a rising knee that Izuku dodged away from, knee converted into a kick to take advantage of the reach, Izuku blocking with his raised right arm and snapping forwards, right arm slipping from defensive to flashing jab to the nose. Iida didn't see it coming, reeling back, his arms closing together to protect his face, three blows to the unprotected stomach, a knee, and Iida abandoned defence in favour of lurching forwards, his arms closing around Izuku in a bear hug. Izuku locked his arms to stop Iida from lacing his fingers together, preventing the hug from being completed, and drove his heel into the back of Iida's knee, sending his much taller classmate down to one knee but as Iida fell he shouted, twisting his body and throwing Izuku away. Izuku landed in a roll, coming to his feet with arms upraised as Iida bulled to his feet and charged, a knee hitting Izuku in the centre of his crossed arms and sending him lurching back, foot catching at the edge of the arena. Shouts, gasps, Iida roaring as he charged to throw a massive right handed punch, Izuku wobbling, and as Iida committed Izuku abandoned the pretence. Waving arms came back, stance steadied, the look of horrified realisation on Iida's face as Izuku stepped into him, the punch scraping along his cheek, and used all Iida's weight and momentum against him. Iida crashed home, outside of the ring, and Izuku stood tall as Vlad King announced his victory.
Mina whooped as Izuku stepped down from the arena, punching him in the shoulder and grinning.
"One more and you're in the Finals," she said, her grin turning wolfish, "And all those 1-B boyos who thought you'd go out early will be crying."
"No shame," Izuku accused, although mildly, "Besides, you might have to fight me in the semifinals. That'd be a conundrum, right?"
"Ugh," Mina said, after a moment of thought, "I hate having integrity."
"It's nothing but a disadvantage," Izuku agreed, deadpan. Mina squinted at him as though she wasn't sure if he was being serious or not before shaking her head.
"Look on the bright side!" she said, "If I'm facing you in the semis, that means I beat Uraraka and you don't have to face the scary lady!"
"I'll be cheering you on," Izuku immediately said.
"So dramatic," Mina muttered, cocking her head to the side as Vlad called up her and Uraraka.
"Well," she said, "Wish me luck, Midori!"
"Good luck," Izuku said, although Mina had bounded off before the words left his mouth. Izuku watched her leap up onto the arena and give two thumbs up to Uraraka, who grinned back: Izuku folded his arms and glanced to his right just as Kirishima walked up beside him.
"Hey, bro," Kirishima said, "Nicely done against Iida. Wasn't certain you'd manage it for a moment."
"He's tougher than he looks," Izuku said, "And he looks plenty tough already. Made up with Tetsutetsu?"
Kiri laughed, rubbing at the back of his head.
"Well, you know, if I had to get knocked out by anyone he's good enough," he said, "And a double knockout's something to talk about."
He jabbed a thumb towards the arena, where Mina and Uraraka were squaring off.
"What do you think?" he asked, "Who do you think'll win?"
Izuku wanted to say Mina – she was a closer friend than Uraraka, after all, and she was a skilled combatant. But Uraraka, Uraraka…
"Uraraka," he reluctantly said, keeping his voice low, "Mina hits harder than you'd think and her whole athletic fighting thing works well. If she gets a couple of good shots in then she can win. But Uraraka has skills, too, and she fights like she wants it."
Mindset was an underrated aspect, Izuku found. Mina was fighting because she was enjoying it. Uraraka might be enjoying it too, but she had something to prove. Izuku knew how that felt. Mina bounced on her toes, far more active than Uraraka's rock-solid stance. Izuku held his breath as Vlad King counted them down.
"Begin!"
Mina threw herself across the arena, opening with a leaping knee in an almost perfect mirror of the one Izuku had used earlier. Uraraka dodged to the side, out of the way, Mina stopping her jump with a stamping foot and using the force to push into a straight kick, following into a spinning kick with her other leg that Uraraka finally had to block, the impact harsh as Mina's shin met her forearm and Mina followed up again, an elegant twirl into a devastating roundhouse.
"No," Izuku hissed, taking half a step forwards without thinking, "Too soon."
That roundhouse would have worked on a lot of people. A lot. But Uraraka was part of their class: she'd seen Mina fight – she'd probably seen Mina sparring with him, Quirkless. She knew how much Mina liked to end fights with the roundhouse, and she knew how open it left Mina if it missed.
Uraraka ducked. Uraraka ducked and, as Mina's spin turned her back to her, Uraraka rose from her crouch and, with a war cry, grabbed Mina around the waist and threw her to the ground. Izuku and Kirishima winced in unison at the impact.
Mina rolled as she landed, legs spinning to keep Uraraka back just before she sprang to her feet, lunging with fist forwards, right at Uraraka. Uraraka, grinning that terrifying grin of hers, twisted to the side, one hand catching Mina's wrist and the other curling around Mina's bicep right before she stepped back, into line with Mina, tucked a foot into Mina's leg and pulled them both down. A scramble, a struggle, but Uraraka knew what she was doing and it didn't take long for her to convert her takedown into a hold, a rough but perfectly serviceable triangle choke. Izuku could have maybe broken out of it: Mina couldn't. She gave it a good go, struggling against Uraraka's hold, but Izuku saw the moment she accepted reality and relaxed.
"No!" Kirishima mourned, "She nearly had it."
Izuku took a moment to reconcile himself to having to face Uraraka, filed away that takedown into choke combo for further knowledge, and joined Kirishima in commiserating. Mina was still smiling when she climbed to her feet, but it wasn't quite as wide.
"Well," she said, coming back over to them, "I did better than I expected, right? All that practice was some good. Although now you have to fight Uraraka, Midori."
Izuku sagged where he stood, looking sadly at the ground.
"Maybe if I yield-"
"Izuku for the love of god-"
"You know he's doing it on purpose, right? Ribbit. He's not that scared of Uraraka."
"You greatly underestimate my mortal terror," Izuku grumbled as Tsu finally returned. She had chosen to sit the tournament out, citing that she couldn't really stop using her Quirk, and she'd been off watching with the others who'd chosen to sit out. Mina, barely an inch away from taking Izuku by the shoulders and shaking him until he either gained some sense or fell unconscious, was happily distracted.
"Tsu, finally," she said, "Much good gossip over where you were?"
"Not as much as you'd expect, ribbit," Tsu said, "They're mostly talking about who they think will win. You might be happy to know that you're the dark horse, Izuku."
"Really?" Mina said, turning dramatically, "He's the dark horse?"
Tsuyu nodded.
"Bets are split between Ojiro and Kendo, mostly. For 1-B at least. 1-A knows better."
Oh, God. Expectations. Izuku hated expectations, it was so much easier when nobody expected anything of you. It really was a shame that his class respected him and he stood and ruminated on that particular injustice as the two other matches went by. Izuku would have liked to say that there was a grand upset, that Kendo was knocked out by her classmate, but it wasn't to be: the semifinals would see Izuku facing Uraraka and Kendo against Ojiro. Izuku silently cheered Ojiro on: he had just enough class pride to want an all 1-A finals. He stood and waited, foot tapping, mind churning through plans to beat Uraraka, preferably without taking too much damage, and was only slightly surprised when Mina stepped in front of him and took him by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes. Just over Mina's shoulder Uraraka stepped into the arena, that terrifying grin still on her face.
"Stay with me, Midori," Mina said, "Midori. Uraraka's not that scary."
"You and I have very different definitions of scary," Izuku said, "Look at that smile. That's a crazy smile."
Mina shook her head, exasperated.
"The only crazy one here is you," she grumbled, before bringing her head back up and looking him in the eye.
"Midori, she defeated me. Defeated me, your pupil! Are you going to let that stand? Aren't you going to defend the honour of your beloved student?"
"You watch too much anime, Mina."
Mina sagged, still holding on to his shoulders so that she drooped like a collapsing plant.
"I bet you'd avenge Tsu's honour," she said, sniffing. Izuku stared down at her.
"Really, Mina?" he asked, slightly impressed by the sheer level of audacity in her manipulation. She looked up again.
"Is it working?"
"No," Izuku said, "But also I'm not going to give up, so you don't need to be so dramatic."
Mina immediately let go of his shoulders and bounced upright, beaming again.
"There we go!" she said, "Face your fears! And, you know, avenge my honour. I noticed that you didn't say it."
"And I'm not going to," Izuku said, steadfastly ignoring her grin.
"Are you embarrassed?"
"No," Izuku lied, and walked away towards the ring when he was called. Mina, behind him, shouted "Avenge me, Midori!" but he managed to ignore it. Any embarrassment he did feel quickly melted away, displaced by focus: for all that Uraraka was intimidating, she wasn't nearly as scary as, say, Lady Shiva on the warpath. He could concentrate on the fight, rather than the flight.
Yes, Izuku acknowledged that Lady Shiva on the warpath was a high goddamn bar of scary, but it was the first example that came to mind. Other examples: Harley, when she was still working for the Joker. Black Canary, when she was annoyed. Poison Ivy, all the time. Catwoman, when she was flirting with Bruce back when Jason was Robin, although that was more remembered embarrassment than intimidation factor. Uraraka wasn't scary in comparison. That didn't mean, however, that he should underestimate her.
Uraraka stepped into the ring, a fierce grin on her face. It added a distinct air of menace to her normally cherubic features, but Izuku had seen that before. Her fighting style, he knew, was Gunhead Martial Arts, a martial art created by and for the Pro Hero Gunhead, and she'd taken to it like a duck to water.
"Gunhead Martial Arts," he heard Kendo say behind him, "That's what she's using. It's a martial art made to compensate for a long-ranged Quirk, and it's primarily defensive."
All true. GMA, to use the abbreviation, was made to bring down opponents with the minimum of damage, befitting a truly Heroic mindset: as such, it relied mostly on grappling. The move Izuku had seen Uraraka use most often was a takedown, using the momentum of a charging enemy against them: designed to disarm and take down a knife user, it could be adapted for use against other attacks. Izuku thought he could probably escape it, but his ground grappling was the weakest part of his arsenal and he didn't want to test it. Caution, therefore, remained the name of the game.
"You know," Uraraka said, "Gunhead told me that there's no shame in defeat. That the best way to learn is to lose to a stronger opponent. So I hope you won't take it too hard when I tell you I hope to teach you something."
Jason had once heard an old adage: that your skill at grappling was directly proportional to the effort you put in to practicing it. Well, Izuku had done very little practicing: it didn't bode well. Nevertheless, he smiled at Uraraka.
"I hope you do, too," he said cheerfully, settling into his stance. Uraraka took on a low stance, crouched, hands outwards: with Quirks, it would put her in a good position to lay hands on her opponent, activate her Quirk. In this situation, it was good for grappling. An offensive stance, too. This should be fun.
"Begin!"
Uraraka slowly advanced, hands out and ready to grab, her stance low and well balanced. Izuku bounced on his toes, waiting. Waiting.
"They've both won matches by waiting for their opponent to make a move and then countering," Kendo said, just loud enough for Izuku to hear, "But I think Uraraka will make the first move. Midoriya can strike and stay away, but she needs to close in."
Astute enough. Izuku fully intended to wear Uraraka down, play the long game. Uraraka was tougher than she looked, a lot tougher, but if he could get her to overextend…the only question was how long Uraraka's patience would last.
Not long, it turned out.
"I'm pretty sure you're a better fighter," Uraraka said, jaw set in ferocious determination, "But let's make sure!"
She burst forwards with explosive speed, her left hand reaching out, and Izuku moved to counter. Dodge to his right, right jab, Uraraka abandoned her grab to block, his fist on her forearm and Izuku twisted, brought his left leg around in a snapping kick that caught Uraraka across the front of her raised arms, right knee into the side, right uppercut into the side, Uraraka's gasp twisting into a snarl. Ungodly tough, the two blows to the side wouldn't be certain to put a normal person down but they would have hurt. Uraraka skipped right, twisting back to face Izuku, teeth bared. Ungodly tough – but Izuku had already known that. He'd known that since he'd seen Uraraka taking Bakugou's bombardment and not going down, since that draw at the Sports Festival. It would take more than two blows to put Uraraka down. If only Izuku wasn't the one facing her.
Stay on the offensive, he reminded himself, don't give her the chance to think. Well, then. Time to see how much damage Uraraka could really take.
Two punches onto Uraraka's blocking arms, three and Uraraka shouted and hurled herself forwards, her arms locking around Izuku's waist as she tried to take him down and Izuku grabbed her arms and twisted, stepping, one foot sticking out to trip and Uraraka chose to let go rather than go down, falling and rolling and coming up, arms crossed just in time to catch a leaping knee. She came back to her feet from the impact, retreating, Izuku lunging forwards with a left punch and Uraraka leaned back, barely out of the way, and Izuku saw a gleam of triumph in her eyes.
Uraraka dropped sideways, landing on one hand, one leg hooking behind Izuku's hamstring, the other behind the knee, leverage and the weight of her body and Izuku went down like a felled oak.
"Scissor throw!" Mina yelled – screamed, really, whose side was she on - the crowd shouting as Uraraka went for the mount. Izuku wasn't great at ground grappling, but once you had the proper position even an idiot knew what to do: punch. Punch your problem in the head until they stopped being a problem. Extremely unfortunate for Izuku, given that he was on the receiving end, but that was the way it went, right?
Like hell.
Right. Left. Right, punches raining down at his head, Izuku covering up despite how ineffectual it was, he had to do something and Uraraka reared back, fist raised. Izuku bucked and Uraraka lurched forwards, her free hand slapping down next to his head and Izuku twisted, flipped them both over and immediately pushed himself away, rolling clear. He could have perhaps converted the roll into his own grapple, taken the advantage, maybe he could have beaten Uraraka in the ground fight but he wasn't going to take the chance and he barely avoided the slamming elbow strike that Uraraka followed his roll with, coming to his feet with a sweeping kick to gain distance. It hit nothing but air and Uraraka rose to her feet, beaming.
"That was really good," she said happily, "Really good. Kinda embarrassing though, right?"
"If it was embarrassing you'd be blushing," Izuku said. Uraraka grinned, a feral expression, and he knew he'd been right: there was no time for embarrassment in the fight. He could see the disappointment in her eyes, however.
"That was her chance," Kendo said, again only just loud enough for Izuku to hear. Personally he agreed: that takedown had been extensively practiced, he thought, Uraraka willingly taking hits in order to land it. But that didn't mean it was over. Now that the takedown had failed – now what? What else did Uraraka have in her toolkit? She wasn't the type to surrender, even if she was out of options. Her grappling had failed, but so what? There was always a chance.
Uraraka, meeting Izuku's expectations, lifted her chin and her fists and bared her teeth at him again.
"Come on, then," she said, "I'm not done yet!"
Well, it was only polite to oblige.
Izuku lunged in, two punches and a kick onto Uraraka's arms, break the block with an upwards swipe, follow with an elbow to the stomach and a knee, Uraraka folding over and grabbing Izuku in a rudimentary clinch. Izuku grabbed her arms and pushed her hard back, getting her off him and forcing her back towards the edge of the arena.
Uraraka staggered back, her arms lifted defensively, close to her face. Izuku didn't close in this time, giving her a chance to catch her breath while he assessed her stance, her skill. Her determination remained, but her body couldn't carry on: she'd taken too much damage. If she had sense, she'd surrender: Izuku wasn't certain any of 1-A had much sense.
Uraraka came in swinging, just as he'd expected, fists flying in broad swipes at him. Izuku backpedalled, letting her wear herself out. It wasn't as dramatic as an exchange of blows but it was effective: he was barely halfway across the arena when Uraraka ran out of steam, staggering to a stop with her defence up again. It really wasn't that serious: it was a strong demonstration of her competitive spirit that Uraraka was still going, but Izuku thought that they'd reached the end now. Uraraka had one more good blow in her, he estimated, and then it would be done. He let her take her time, gather her strength: it was a show of respect that he wouldn't have afforded most people, but Uraraka deserved it.
Uraraka shouted one last time, launching herself forwards, all of her remaining strength poured into a single punch, directly at Izuku. It was one last, desperate move, one final defiance, one Heroic refusal to quit even at the end of her strength. Izuku almost regretted using it against her. He dodged to the left, out of the line of attack, right hand hooking her arm as he turned, kicking her leg to put her down onto her knees before his left hand came across and caught her shoulder, locking her in a rudimentary but effective elbow lock. Uraraka snarled through gritted teeth, but Izuku had her: if she bent her arm she'd be exposing her face to a knee, and if she didn't Izuku could break her arm with relative ease. Both technically against the rules of this competition, but the risk was enough. Uraraka tensed her arm, trying to break free, but she wasn't strong enough to overcome Izuku's grip or delusional enough to try: just moments later she relaxed, head tipping down.
"I give," she said, and Izuku had won.
Izuku would have liked to say that Ojiro losing to Kendo was unexpected, but he honestly couldn't. Ojiro was skilled, undoubtedly, but in his time at UA his fighting style had been changing to fully adapt to his Quirk, just as most people's did. Ojiro had a tendency to kick, spinning attacks that left him open so that his tail could spin around and finish things off: one of those instinctual moves had left him open in a way he couldn't recover from in time. So much for the dreams of a 1-A final: the pride of his class now rested uncomfortably upon Izuku's shoulders.
At least, that was what he interpreted Aizawa's flat stare before he walked into the arena to mean. It could have meant something different: Izuku wasn't entirely an expert on Aizawa's Aizawa-isms. He took his place in the ring and waited for Kendo to enter, watching the confidence in her walk.
"Nirengeki's western boxing," Kendo said, "Iida's kickboxing. Uraraka's Gunhead Martial Arts, a school with a focus on grappling. You defeated them all, using mixed martial arts: your grappling is passable but you remain on your feet, and you rely on striking when pressed. You are strong, but not invincible."
Izuku just nodded, not inclined to engage in drawn out banter. Instead he let Kendo analyse him aloud, preferring to do his strategizing in silence. Kendo was a karateka, her skill undeniable: Izuku had seen some judo in there too, employed only when absolutely required, but for the most part she was a striking specialist. Better than Izuku? Maybe. Probably not, but it was possible. She was slightly taller than Izuku, with a slightly longer reach, and she was strong: Izuku had seen her blows stagger Bakugo, who for all his faults was tough. But she hadn't seen everything he could do: take the fight slowly, he thought, feel out her style, and then strike. She was probably thinking the same thing, he thought wryly. At the very least, this would be interesting.
"Are you ready?" Vlad King asked. Izuku nodded, not taking his eyes off Kendo: he saw her do the same. The two classes fell silent, waiting, and Izuku heard Vlad sigh.
"Very well. Then…Three! Two! One! Begin!"
The classes roared, every muscle in Izuku's body tensed in preparation, and neither of the two combatants moved. Kendo was a defensive fighter, striking like a viper in the counter-attack, and Izuku had no intention of making it easy for her. But she must know that he knew that she was a defensive fighter, and as such…
A single harsh exhalation was the only warning before Kendo sprang across the arena, fist coming right at his face. Parry with the left, punch up at her chin, his own hand parried, his left kick blocked by her raised foot, bring the foot back down, counter her own kick with his other leg, back a step, parry with his elbow, left forearm vertical to take a punch, back a step, catch her spinning kick on both forearms, grab her leg, sweep her supporting leg with his right and Kendo used his grip against him, twisting her body in an attempt to bring her free knee towards his face and Izuku pushed her hard away and leaned back, away from her attack. Athletic, he noted, more than she'd shown before. Kendo landed in a crouch, arms lifted defensively, and rose to her full height. She offered him a nod.
"Good," she said, "Your turn to attack, I presume?"
"God save me from polite Heroes," Aizawa grumbled, just loud enough that everyone could hear: from the corner of his eye Izuku saw Vlad King shoot Aizawa a reproving look. Usually Izuku wouldn't have obliged, but this was supposed to be a friendly competition. Kendo, he reminded himself, preferred to strike with her hands: that was what he'd need to watch, but he couldn't discount a kick either. He hadn't shown all his skills, perhaps she hadn't either? Time to find out.
Izuku wasn't subtle: he went in with an attack pattern almost the same as he'd used against Uraraka, testing. Two punches, parried, a kick blocked, parry Kendo's responding punch with his left forearm and extend his arm at the elbow to punch at her chin, Kendo rolling her head to the side to avoid it, her knee coming up to his stomach. Izuku weathered the blow with a hiss and locked his right arm under her knee, trapping it between his arm and his body, and pushed hard.
Kendo went down but Izuku didn't follow, instead backing away. In a real fight he'd probably have immediately started stamping on her: in a real fight he'd hopefully be wearing armour, and the fight would already be over. Kendo landed hard on her back but she kicked her legs at empty space as Izuku retreated, hurling herself back upright in a single motion. In stark testament to her prior training Kendo didn't hesitate, instead launching herself at him with a dizzying array of attacks. Perhaps because she felt slighted by his throw, perhaps because she'd decided he was too dangerous to be given a chance: either way Izuku was put on the back foot, retreating around the ring under a barrage of blows. Palm strikes, punches, karate chops mixed in where Kendo thought she could land one, it was a withering assault. No kicks, but she hardly needed them: her advance was uncompromising, a wall of strikes. Izuku parried what he could and blocked the rest, waiting for his moment, his chance: he just needed one.
The tiniest drop in the speed of Kendo's attacks was all the time he needed: a moment of reduced strength, an indication that she'd run through her initial energy. For a moment Kendo sacrificed speed for weight of attack, her left hand closing around his blocking right forearm and ripping his arm aside, opening him up for a devastating right punch. Izuku leaned back, back as she punched, throwing himself back and down, both hands hitting the ground and feet coming up. A near perfect replication of the move he'd used on Swordkil not long ago, both his feet caught Kendo in the stomach and knocked her reeling back, Izuku continuing his hand-stand spring back to his feet. A leaping left punch that was backstepped into a rising right knee, Kendo dropping both arms to block his knee and opening herself up for the first real blow landed in the match, a flashing right jab that caught her across the cheek. 1-A howling in his ears Izuku threw his weight into a shoulder-charge that Kendo met with an upraised elbow, his shoulder hitting her arm painfully but it drove her further back and a single hop into a snapping side-kick could have ended the match if Kendo hadn't reacted so quickly. She took the kick with a gasp but her left arm wrapped around his shin, hand hitting under his knee so his leg folded and she could close in, his leg trapped between the two of them. Izuku stamped his foot down to keep his footing, right hand coming over to prevent a swinging left from her, saw Kendo draw back her right and inwardly braced himself, trading blow for blow.
Kendo's palm thrust hammered into his side, just below his ribs, pain bursting through him like water rippling from a stone tossed into a pond, breath torn from his lungs, but Izuku's own strike landed just as well: a series of lightning jabs with two fingers of his left hand. A direct attack would have been blocked, but this? This made it through. Five strikes in a single breath Izuku instinctively turned his nerve-strike into a backhand towards the mouth that Kendo leapt away from, backpedalling across half the arena with her left hand hanging limp. Izuku crushed the urge to clutch at his side, heaving in a harsh breath, and grinned. Not out of tricks yet.
Kendo was skilled, Izuku would admit that without any pressure, but with only one arm? Izuku couldn't see this fight lasting much longer. And that was why he'd saved pressure point techniques until now, until his strongest opponent. It had been worth it: Izuku had landed those almost perfectly and now Kendo was down one arm. And fighting with only one arm, as Izuku could attest - from his own experience rather than Jason's, for once – was a bitch.
"Pressure point attacks," Kendo panted, falling back with her working fist held level in front of her, "I'd heard but-"
"Sorry," Izuku said, cutting her off by the simple expedient of grabbing her blocking arm with both hands to wrench her guard aside and give him an opening to drive his knee into her stomach, "But it won't last forever, so I can't let you stall."
Kendo wobbled back, her working arm raised defensively across her chest and face and Izuku followed. Break her down, he thought, do enough damage that even if she recovered she'd be too hurt to win. His foot caught her calf, his elbow swinging at her chest, her right hand blocking and he struck with his left, aiming to disable her right arm at the wrist. Kendo twisted her arm just enough that he didn't hit the nerve but he heard the hiss of pain from her as she skipped back and away, suddenly digging in one foot and throwing a vicious roundhouse that he leaned away from. He saw her bare her teeth, frustration flashing and she abruptly went on the offensive herself, punches, stamps, Izuku stepping away from the second and parrying the first, replying with sneaking blows where he could. One to the ribs, two, a counter to the chin narrowly dodged and Kendo countering his counter with a leaping knee, her left arm hanging limp. Too limp. Izuku's paranoia reared its head: he knew his attack had connected, but had it connected perfectly? Or just well?
It would take ferocious discipline to continue taking blows like Kendo was, just to keep your trump card hidden, but karate was a disciplined art. And Kendo, thus far, seemed disciplined. Izuku slapped away an attempted chop and punched at Kendo's shoulder and saw the faintest twitch in her hand, as though she'd almost raised it.
It was that twitch, that tiniest twitch of Kendo's left arm that was his saving grace. He had been sure that the pressure point strike had worked but she'd played it well, right until the end. Drawing him in. Izuku could admire that strategy, but now that he'd seen it he could use it. He backed off, gaining distance, giving Kendo her chance.
Kendo darted in, right hand punching and Izuku parried with his left, twisting his arm around to grab her elbow, his right hand drawing back and Kendo struck like lightning, her left arm not really crippled. If he hadn't seen that twitch the punch would have landed perfectly. But he had seen the punch and so he knocked her left arm off with his right, feeling the wind of it past his cheek, grabbing her other elbow and he saw her eyes widen seconds before he threw his body into the headbutt. Kendo reeled, nose not broken but spraying blood and his knee came up into her stomach, the impact bending her over.
Stun. Cripple. Now the finish. Izuku let go of her left arm, stepped behind her, pulled her right arm back and up and hooked his foot around hers, stepped, took her to the ground with her arm locked behind her. The first lock Bruce had ever taught Jason: it only seemed fitting to use it now. Kendo fought, there was no way she wouldn't, but with her face in the dirt and Izuku sat on her back, applying steadily increasing pressure to her arm, there was nowhere to go. No way out, and she knew it. A breath, a heartbeat, a moment of struggle and then she relaxed and her free hand tapped slowly, deliberately on the ground. One. Two. Three.
"I yield," she said, and a moment later.
"Winner! Izuku Midoriya!"
Izuku let her go, rose to his feet, and a second later Class 1-A swept him off his feet, cheering, yelling, pounding him on the back: Kirishima and Sato lifted him into the air, shouting, and Izuku couldn't help but laugh.
"I underestimated him," he just managed to hear Kendo say, seeing her standing from the corner of his eye, Bakugo next to her.
"I told you," Bakugo said unsympathetically, "Deku might be a nerd, a twerp and a dweeb, but he knows how to fight."
A compliment, from Bakugo? This really was a day of miracles.
When Izuku and Aizawa made their way to the Principal's office, after the Summer Camp was over, the school was deserted. Or almost deserted: in the final corridor they came across a woman and two men. They were all dressed similarly, in crisp black suits that had the tell-tale bulges of hidden weapons. Both of the men, enormously broad across the shoulders and tall, wore dark sunglasses: the woman wore an ice-cold expression. Izuku, instinctively, shrank slightly and half-hid himself behind Aizawa. Look harmless: old reliable. Aizawa didn't offer so much as a nod to the three people, and didn't receive one: Izuku peered back once they'd passed and saw one of the men watching.
"They're watching us," he whispered, barely above a breath. He got nothing more than a grumble in return, but at least he knew Aizawa was aware. Crisp suits, armed, sunglasses…they couldn't have declared themselves bodyguards better if they'd worn a sign. The woman hadn't had the physical bulk of Amanda Waller, but Izuku wasn't going to discount anyone. When they walked into Nedzu's office the Principal looked up sharply: there was the slightest ruffle in the hair between his ears, as though he'd been bristling in outrage.
"Ah, Aizawa. And Mr Midoriya."
"Saw the HSPC outside," Aizawa said, slumping down into a seat, "Trouble?"
Nedzu smiled thinly.
"Aren't they always? With the recent attacks on Hero Agencies they're trying to step up, get ahead of the game, so to speak. I think they do truly mean well. They do truly want what is best. They're simply flawed in how they go about it."
Nedzu paused, his fur settling back down, before he continued.
"No," he said, steepling his paws together, "Nothing for you to worry about, at the moment. The HSPC does sometimes forget that their authority is not total – they've heard rumours of a Villain plant in the school. They were trying to persuade me to allow them to launch an investigation."
"Did you say yes?" Izuku asked cautiously. Nedzu smiled, still much thinner than usual.
"Of course not. Such an investigation requires subtlety, patience, an ability to look past your own preconceptions. I don't doubt that the HSPC has their own secret operations wing that would know that, but they will not be terrorising my students so long as I have a say in the matter."
Izuku wondered what Nedzu would say if he asked him about Lady Nagant, and his suspicions that Nagant must have a successor – or multiple. Nagant had gone rogue in the end, but before that she'd worked just fine, hadn't she? Nedzu paused to take a sip of his tea, holding it delicately in his claws before plinking the cup gently back down.
"But that is a concern for another time," he said, and Izuku pushed his questions back for the moment, "Now we must speak of the MLA."
"Yes, sir," Izuku said, "There's been attacks on Hero agencies, haven't there?"
"At least three, all of them attributed to the League of Villains," Nedzu agreed, nodding, "My own analysis is that Overhaul and the League are working together: all three of the Agencies were affiliated with the MLA, from my own investigations. The MLA are sniffing around here, too, looking for Akatani Mikumo."
Ah. Well, it had been a welcome break, but time waited for no man. Izuku nodded, but Nedzu continued before he could speak.
"We still have the option to step away, Mr Midoriya. Say the word and Akatani Mikumo will vanish just as Eri has vanished, just a little more completely. This will not be an infiltration of a Neo-MLA cell comprised of poorly skilled fanatics, this will be the true MLA. It could be dangerous, very dangerous. No-one would judge you for refusing."
Izuku met his Principal's cool, dark gaze and shook his head.
"I assume you have a plan to re-infiltrate me, sir?"
Nedzu tapped a claw against his tea-cup, keratin ringing on porcelain, and nodded again.
"I do, yes," he said, not doing Izuku the disservice of arguing with him, "It might even be an advantage. After all, Akatani Mikumo was shot by a Quirk erasing bullet: it certainly smooths out some awkward questions. Additionally, as an orphaned student, Mikumo is essentially a ward of UA at the moment. Living on campus might not be what a normal student would want, but I think it's perfect in this case, yes?"
"Yes," Izuku agreed, "A reason to come back to the school so I can continue as myself. If they've been waiting, then it should be easy to make contact."
"Correct," Nedzu said, "They've had agents watching the school for weeks now. If you go out in your disguise, alone, they should approach you. Or kidnap you, that is also a distinct possibility."
Well, it had been a few weeks since Izuku had last been kidnapped. He was feeling a little nostalgic.
It was raining when Akatani Mikumo finally left the gates of UA, his hair poking around the corners of his raised hood. A breath of fresh air, finally: even if it was just a trip to get some shopping, finally being alone was a relief. And yet he was still worried, still nervous: it showed in the look he gave the gates of UA, half longing and half resentful. It showed in the way he walked, half hunched over as though to present a smaller target, walking quickly with his head down. It showed in the way he glanced around, as though looking for threats. It was, in Izuku's opinion, some of his finest acting: it clearly worked, given that he'd been followed since leaving UA. Aizawa was lurking somewhere nearby, but Izuku didn't want to call him in unless he was desperate. He ducked into a shop, walking down the quiet aisles until he heard soft footsteps behind him.
"Akatani Mikumo?"
Izuku turned with a slight hop, like a jump, and the man raised his hands.
"Whoa, whoa! I'm not gonna hurt you, kid."
The man was about average height, slender without being scrawny – like a runner, Izuku thought. He had a dark beard, cropped close to his skin, and dark hair. He wore jeans and a leather jacket that might have been nice once, but was now sadly battered.
"You are Akatani, right?" the man asked. Izuku nodded, slowly, and the man smiled in relief.
"Kid, I'm so glad to see you. We thought you'd never leave UA again. Ah, I forgot – my name's Kenji, kid. Miss Chitose sent me to rescue you, if you ever left UA. Real glad that I didn't have to try to storm the place."
"Miss Chitose sent you?" Izuku asked, leaving the lightest hint of doubt in his voice, and the man nodded. He looked around, but the shop was empty – still, he leaned in and spoke softly.
"The MLA doesn't abandon its own, Akatani. Miss Chitose wants to speak to you, maybe even make you a hero. You did good, kid."
Yeah, Izuku thought as he nodded up at Kenji, he had. Time to see where this went.