The private box the Zen'in Agency kept at the U.A. Sports Festival sat high enough above the arena that the noise from the stands arrived a half second late, softened into something almost bearable. Three generations of the family occupied it now, spread across a row of seats that had cost more than most hero agencies made in a month, none of them sitting particularly close to each other.
Naobito had the middle seat, gourd resting against one knee, eyes on the screen more than the field itself. The broadcast had cut to a replay of the cavalry battle's final seconds, looping the same handful of frames while the commentary team filled the gap before the lunch break wrapped up.
Jinya sat one seat over, arms folded, eyes fixed on the screen.
"He can do what I can do," Jinya said, and there was nothing reluctant in it, something almost pleased in how readily it came out. "Sink into a shadow. Hide inside one. Store things in it that have no business fitting inside something that size. And there's more past that. More than even he knows yet."
Naobito's eyes flicked toward him. Jinya rarely showed this much interest in anything, let alone anyone. "You're paying closer attention than usual."
"Why wouldn't I? It's worth being proud of." Jinya's chin lifted slightly. "A quirk like that isn't luck. It's the difference between someone who's actually worth something to this family and someone who isn't."
Jin'ichi's expression went hard. "Careful."
"I'm not saying anything I haven't always said."
Jin'ichi's jaw tightened. "You said it to Toji's face for seventeen years. Called him worthless for it more times than I can count."
"And you agreed with me. Every time." Jinya didn't even look at him when he said it, which landed worse than if he had.
"And you had every advantage he didn't. A quirk. A father willing to actually train you instead of write you off." Jinya's gaze stayed on the screen, indifferent in a way that was its own kind of insult. "You still never got anywhere near strong enough to hold this family together on your own. So spare me the lecture."
Jin'ichi didn't answer that for a long moment. Whatever he wanted to say, he swallowed it instead, jaw working, eyes fixed somewhere past the screen entirely.
"I hate the way you're talking about him," he said finally, quiet. "I wanted that on record before we do whatever it is you're already planning to do about him."
"Noted," Jinya said, entirely unmoved, already looking back at the screen like the conversation had cost him nothing at all.
Naobito didn't step into it either direction, watching the exchange the way he watched most things, weighing what was useful in it rather than what was right.
"Twenty years," Jin'ichi said, mostly to himself, eyes on the boy's face on the screen rather than on either of them. "I haven't laid eyes on him in twenty years, and here's his son wearing half his expressions like he inherited them on purpose."
"You could go down there," Naobito said. "Introduce yourself."
"I could."
"You won't."
Jin'ichi didn't answer that, which was its own answer.
"I can't look at him for more than a few seconds at a time," he admitted finally, low enough that it barely carried across the box. "Not because of what he is. Because of who he looks like doing it."
Naobito let that sit without commenting on it.
Jinya, meanwhile, hadn't looked away from the screen once. Team Fushiguro's formation weathered another hit that should have broken it and didn't, and something in his expression sharpened rather than softened.
"That boy has more control at his age than anyone this family's produced in a generation," Jinya said, "and he did it without a single day of proper Zen'in training. Imagine what he could do given time."
"You're already imagining it," Naobito said. It wasn't an accusation. It was closer to approval.
"I've earned the right to." Something proprietary crept into Jinya's voice, a kind of ownership that hadn't been there a minute ago. "He's mine to claim an interest in. This family made him possible whether he knows it or not."
Naobito set his gourd down on the armrest, folding both hands over the head of it. "Which brings us to the only question that actually matters here. Whether he joins the agency."
"You've already decided that," Jin'ichi said.
"I've decided it's worth deciding. That's different." Naobito's gaze didn't leave the screen either. "Two figureheads for the next generation, one raised inside the clan and one built entirely outside it, standing at the front of the agency together. That's the best insurance this family's had in decades."
"You mean Naoya," Jinya said.
"I mean both of them." Naobito's tone stayed level, businesslike, the same register he used for everything that actually mattered to him. "Naoya's talented. He's also never had to work for a single thing he's been handed, and it shows more than he thinks it does. A little real competition for the seat he assumes is already his would be good for him. Might be the only thing that actually is."
Below, the replay reset to the beginning once more, the boy's shadow stretching thin and dark across the arena floor as the timer ran out again, and all three of them sat with it a moment longer, each of them arriving at the same number from a completely different direction.
...
The cafeteria reserved for the first-year contestants was already crowded when the finalists arrived.
Students who'd failed to qualify occupied the far side of the room. Some replayed their mistakes with classmates. Others had moved on to eating as though the morning had been an inconvenience rather than the largest public competition of their lives.
Class 1-A got a section near the windows.
Kaminari recovered the moment he saw the food.
"Lunch."
Jiro stopped. "That fixed you?"
"I'm hungry."
"You were barely conscious five seconds ago."
"Food heals the mind."
"That is not medically accurate," Iida said.
"It feels accurate."
Bakugo took a tray and chose an empty table. Kirishima watched him from the serving line.
"Should we sit with him?"
Sero shook his head. "I value my life."
"He'll calm down."
Ashido looked toward Bakugo. "When?"
Kirishima considered the question. "Eventually."
"That isn't a time."
Megumi collected rice, grilled fish, vegetables, and tea before choosing a table near the window. Tokoyami sat across from him, Yaoyorozu beside Tokoyami. Kirishima arrived last with a tray piled higher than everyone else's combined.
Yaoyorozu looked at it. "You intend to eat all of that?"
"Hardening burns through energy."
Dark Shadow stretched toward the tray. "So do I."
Tokoyami pulled it away. "You do not possess a digestive system."
"You don't know everything about me."
"I know that."
Megumi began eating, eyes moving across the cafeteria. Team Todoroki sat two tables away, Iida and Jiro discussing Recipro Burst while Kaminari stared blankly at his rice. Todoroki hadn't touched his food. His right hand held his chopsticks. His left rested beneath the table.
Megumi remembered the final rush. His own hand closing over Todoroki's wrist, both of them refusing to let go, and the half second where something had flickered along Todoroki's left side before he crushed it back down. He hadn't said anything about it in the moment. There hadn't been time.
Megumi noticed Todoroki watching him back.
Then Todoroki stood.
"Fushiguro."
Nearby conversations quieted. Megumi looked up.
"Yes?"
"I need to speak with you."
Kirishima glanced between them. "Right now?"
"In private."
Todoroki turned toward the cafeteria exit without waiting for an answer. Megumi hesitated before standing.
"All right."
He followed Todoroki through the side door.
...
Megumi followed Todoroki through the stadium corridor. The noise of the cafeteria disappeared behind the closing door. The hallway ahead was empty, lit by fluorescent lights humming above the concrete floor.
Todoroki didn't speak until they reached a quiet section near the faculty and student entrance.
"So. What did you want to talk about?"
Todoroki turned. "I was overpowered."
"In the cavalry battle?"
"At the end." Todoroki looked down at his left hand. "I broke my pledge."
Megumi remembered the wrist grab, the half second neither of them had let go. "I felt it."
"I thought you might have." Todoroki raised his eyes. "Iida, Jiro, Kaminari. None of them felt anything like it. I was the only one."
"Felt what, exactly."
"The urge to use my left side. All the way, not the small slip that almost happened." Todoroki's jaw tightened. "I haven't come that close to breaking my own rule since I made it."
Megumi didn't have an obvious response to that, so he didn't force one.
"You don't know what that rule is," Todoroki said. "I'll tell you, since you're the reason it almost didn't hold."
He turned slightly, giving Megumi a clear view of the scar around his left eye.
"Endeavor is my father."
Megumi already knew. Almost everyone did. The resemblance, the quirk, Endeavor's presence in the stands all made the connection impossible to miss.
"He has been trapped beneath All Might for his entire career." There was no pride in Todoroki's voice, only contempt. "My old man has a strong desire to rise in the world. As a hero, he won a name for himself with crushing force. Because of that, the living legend, All Might, is a great eyesore to him." He looked toward his left hand. "Since he couldn't surpass All Might, he moved onto his next plan."
"What does that mean."
"You've heard of Quirk marriages, right?"
Megumi's expression didn't change, but something in his chest went still. The practice belonged to an uglier period of quirk history, families arranging marriages based entirely on inherited abilities, trying to breed stronger combinations into their children. Condemned now, at least officially. That didn't mean it had disappeared.
"He is a man with both accomplishments and money," Todoroki said. "He won over my mother's relatives and got a hold of my mother's Quirk." His right hand curled into a fist. "My siblings weren't what he wanted."
Megumi held still.
"Then I was born." Ice crept across the floor near Todoroki's shoe before he stopped it. "He is trying to fulfill his own desire by raising me to be a hero to surpass All Might. It's so annoying... I won't become the tool of scum like that."
Megumi didn't say anything right away. Something about it landed closer than he expected, a shape he half recognized from a conversation of his own, a hospital room, an old man with a red gourd explaining exactly how much interest a bloodline could generate once someone decided it was worth the investment. Not the same story. Close enough to the same bones that he didn't reach for anything comforting to say.
"My father trained me separately from the others. My mother tried to protect me from him." Todoroki's hand moved toward the scar. "In my memories, she was always crying." His voice stayed controlled. "She looked at my left side and saw him." A pause. "That is why she poured boiling water over it."
The corridor went quiet. Megumi looked at the scar again, understanding, distantly, why Todoroki had never explained it to anyone before now.
"My father put her in a hospital afterward. He continued training me."
"Todoroki-"
"I entered U.A. to reject him." His eyes hardened. "I'll become number one without using his fire. I'll prove that everything he did was worthless."
Megumi studied him for a moment. "That's a mistake."
Todoroki's eyes narrowed slightly. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Megumi held his gaze, no softness in it. "You want to beat me, fine. Earn it. But you don't get to fight me with one hand behind your back and call it a statement. I'm not going to hold anything back because you've decided your real fight is with your father instead of whoever's actually standing across from you. Go all out, or you don't stand a chance. It's that simple."
"That's not what this is about."
"It's exactly what this is about." Megumi didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "Out there, you're fighting me. Not him. Half of everything you've got wasn't enough today either. I still walked out beating you." He let that sit a second. "You keep doing this, and you're not going to prove anything to your father. You're just going to lose to me and call it a victory because you lost on your own terms. That's not rejecting him. That's still organizing your whole life around what he thinks matters."
Todoroki's jaw tightened. For a moment he didn't have an answer for that, which told Megumi more than any argument would have.
"You don't get to tell me what this is." Todoroki's voice came out sharper than anything Megumi had heard from him all day, the flat control cracking clean through. "You don't know what he did to me. You weren't there for any of it. Don't stand there and act like you understand what it costs to say that much out loud."
"I don't need the specifics." Megumi didn't raise his voice to match. He didn't need to. "I can see what you're doing to yourself well enough without them. You're not hurting him by losing to me on purpose. You're just losing to yourself."
Something raw broke through Todoroki's expression for half a second, gone almost as fast as it came. His hand curled at his side. "That's not-" He stopped, jaw working, visibly hauling himself back under control. When he spoke again his voice had leveled out, but it cost him something to get there. "You don't get to decide what counts as fighting him."
"Fine. Then decide it yourself before you walk into that arena." Megumi held his ground. "Fight your father. Fight me. Pick one. You don't get both at the same time and call it a plan."
Silence stretched between them, tighter than before.
"Everyone in this school has their own story," Megumi said, quieter now. "I'm not going to treat yours like it buys you a handicap in that arena."
Todoroki stared at him for a long moment, something in his eyes that could have been fury or could have been the closest thing to respect he was willing to hand anyone.
Then he turned and walked back into the cafeteria without another word.
Megumi stayed behind, looking at his own right hand.
...
When the lunch break ended, Present Mic called the first-year students back onto the field. The stadium had changed. The remnants of the cavalry battle were gone. Cementoss and the support staff had cleared the arena, leaving a broad open stretch of ground around the center of the stadium, waiting for whatever would fill it next.
Present Mic leaned over his microphone.
"NOW THAT LUNCH IS OVER, IT'S TIME TO REVEAL THE FINAL EVENT!"
The crowd answered with another wave of cheers.
"But first, good news for everyone who didn't reach the finals! This is still a Sports Festival, so we've got recreational events planned for the rest of the first years! Scavenger hunts, races, games, and more! Nobody gets to sit around feeling sorry for themselves!"
A group of Class 1-A girls entered the field wearing matching cheerleading uniforms.
Jiro's expression promised violence. Yaoyorozu hid part of her face behind one pom-pom. Ashido looked far less embarrassed than the others.
Present Mic stopped. "What is Class 1-A doing?"
Aizawa's voice, flat and unimpressed, carried over the broadcast. "I was about to ask the same thing."
Jiro pointed toward Kaminari and Mineta. "You lied to us!"
Kaminari took one careful step backward. "I don't remember anything."
"You were back to normal at lunch!"
"Whey?"
"You aren't fooling anyone!"
Earlier, while the finalists were entering the cafeteria, Kaminari and Mineta had intercepted Yaoyorozu and Jiro near the Class 1-A waiting room.
"Yaoyorozu," Kaminari had said. "Jiro."
Yaoyorozu stopped. "Did you need something?"
Mineta nodded with false seriousness. "I'm sure you already heard, since you're one of the top students, but Aizawa said Class 1-A has to wear cheer uniforms for an afternoon spirit competition."
Jiro stared at him. "I didn't hear anything about that."
"You don't have to believe us. We were only making sure you didn't forget."
Yaoyorozu frowned. "If this is an official class requirement, we should cooperate."
Jiro looked at her. "You believe them?"
"I see no reason they would fabricate something so easily disproven."
Mineta and Kaminari exchanged a glance. Yaoyorozu had already used Creation to produce enough uniforms for the girls before anyone checked the schedule.
Back on the field, Yaoyorozu lowered her pom-poms. "Why am I always deceived by Mineta's schemes?"
Jiro pointed at Kaminari. "You're responsible too."
Hagakure waved both pom-poms enthusiastically. "We already have the outfits. We might as well use them!"
Tsuyu looked toward the apparently empty uniform moving beside her. "You seem to be enjoying this, Toru."
"It's fun!"
Ashido began leading a cheer before Jiro could object again. Kaminari quietly moved behind Sero for protection.
Present Mic recovered. "ALL RIGHT! Class 1-A has apparently volunteered to provide entertainment!"
"They did not volunteer," Aizawa said.
"Details!"
The recreational events began. Most of the finalists chose to observe rather than participate. Kirishima watched a scavenger hunt from beside Megumi. Sato ran past them carrying a cardboard sign.
"Does anyone have a cat?"
Kaminari followed several seconds later. "I need a textbook!"
Sero held up a card of his own. "Can somebody lend me a bag?"
At the opposite side of the field, Monoma stared at his card. Kendo grabbed his wrist.
"Come with me."
"Why?"
She turned the card toward him.
AN ANNOYING PERSON
Monoma's expression flattened. "Kendo, I think you've misunderstood the assignment."
"It fits perfectly."
She dragged him across the finish line.
...
Once the recreational events ended, the sixteen finalists were called toward the central platform. Midnight waited beside a large electronic board.
"The final event is a one-on-one tournament!"
The stadium exploded with excitement.
Kirishima struck one fist into his palm. "I've watched this part every year."
Ashido, still in the cheer uniform. "Was it a normal tournament last year?"
Sero shook his head. "It's different every year, but there's a one-on-one competition every year. Last year, it was a sports chanbara match."
Midnight raised her whip. "You will draw lots to determine the bracket. Once your match begins, you may win by forcing your opponent out of bounds, rendering them unable to continue, or making them surrender."
Cementoss stood near the future arena site with his arms folded. "Teachers will intervene if an attack becomes life-threatening."
Recovery Girl waited near the medical entrance.
Midnight smiled. "Injuries are expected. Fatalities are not."
The finalists approached the drawing box in the order their teams had placed.
Team Fushiguro went first.
Megumi drew the number five. Kirishima drew eleven. Yaoyorozu drew eight. Tokoyami drew seven.
Next came Team Todoroki.
Todoroki drew three. Iida drew thirteen. Jiro drew six. Kaminari drew fifteen.
Bakugo's team followed.
Bakugo drew nine. Sato drew twelve. Sero drew four. Ashido drew sixteen.
Team Shinso drew last.
Shinso reached into the box and pulled out number one. Midoriya drew two. Uraraka drew ten. Hatsume drew fourteen.
The complete bracket appeared on the stadium screen.
The screen went dark for a beat before the first two names slammed into place, white text flashing hard enough that a few students actually flinched.
HITOSHI SHINSO VS. IZUKU MIDORIYA
The stadium roared. Somewhere in the crowd, someone was already shouting odds.
Midoriya stared up at his own name like it might rearrange itself if he looked hard enough.
Across the field, Shinso didn't look surprised at all, only faintly amused at the pairing, like it confirmed something he'd already worked out for himself. Midoriya's stomach dropped a little watching that expression settle into place, the specific dread of realizing an opponent had already been thinking three steps past you.
The screen flickered again, and the second pairing burned into place.
SHOTO TODOROKI VS. HANTA SERO
Sero's shoulders dropped the second he read it, the specific resignation of a man who already knew exactly how this was going to go. Todoroki didn't react at all, which somehow made it worse for him.
A third flash lit the board, and this time the crowd's noise dropped into something quieter, more attentive, like they could feel the shape of what was building.
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO VS. KYOKA JIRO
Jiro's gaze found him across the field, and whatever composure she'd been holding onto through the rest of the reveal slipped for just a second. Of everyone left in the bracket, she'd drawn the one name most of the stadium had already stopped betting against. Her jaw set, the kind of forced calm that came from deciding to be afraid later instead of right now.
Megumi barely registered it. His attention had already jumped past her, tracing the shape of the bracket itself, the way her name sat two slots up from his own, the way Todoroki's sat further down the same column. Whatever happened with Jiro, win or lose for her, this side of the tree eventually funneled down to the two of them. That was the fight that actually mattered today, and everything before it was just the walk there.
The board lit again, and the crowd's noise climbed back up with it.
MOMO YAOYOROZU VS. FUMIKAGE TOKOYAMI
Dark Shadow rose off Tokoyami's shoulder, wings spreading wide, and there was nothing uncertain in the way it held itself. A real opponent, someone who'd spent the whole cavalry battle standing close enough to know exactly what they were capable of, and neither of them looked like that bothered them in the slightest. If anything, Tokoyami's posture had gone straighter.
Across the field, Yaoyorozu was already turning something over behind her eyes, less startled than calculating. She'd watched Dark Shadow work all through the cavalry battle from a few feet away, close enough to have opinions now about how to counter it instead of just admire it. This was the first match all day that was entirely hers to win or lose on her own, and something in the set of her shoulders said she intended to make it count.
KATSUKI BAKUGO VS. OCHACO URARAKA
"Huh? Uraraka?" Bakugo said it out loud, not even bothering to lower his voice, more confused than anything else.
Uraraka's face fell.
EIJIRO KIRISHIMA VS. RIKIDO SATO
Kirishima's grin split wide open, already cracking his knuckles like the match had started the second his name appeared. Sato's own grin answered it a second later, just as eager, both of them clearly picturing the exact same thing: a straight, honest, no-tricks brawl, two guys just seeing who could take more of a hit.
TENYA IIDA VS. MEI HATSUME
"Are you Iida?" Hatsume asked, already crossing the field toward him.
"Hm? Indeed, I am Iida."
"Oh good! Actually..."
The final two names slammed into the last empty slot, and the whole board lit up at once, all eight matches burning bright across the stadium screen simultaneously.
DENKI KAMINARI VS. MINA ASHIDO
Kaminari looked up at the board and actually relaxed a little. "Hey, could be worse. At least it's not Fushiguro, or Bakugo, or Todoroki."
Ashido raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Wow. Thanks for the confidence boost."
"I meant it as a compliment to me, not an insult to you."
"Sure you did." She cracked her knuckles, still grinning. "Enjoy that confidence while it lasts."
...
The bracket remained on the screen.
Megumi studied the path ahead. If he got past Jiro, his quarterfinal opponent would be whoever came out of the match between Tokoyami and Yaoyorozu. Beyond that, the semifinal on his side of the bracket would come down to whoever survived Midoriya against Shinso, then Todoroki against Sero.
The other half of the bracket ran through Bakugo, Uraraka, Kirishima, Sato, Iida, and Hatsume, funneling down toward a single name at the bottom of that column. If the two halves collapsed the way the seeding suggested they would, the final wouldn't be a mystery to anyone watching.
Bakugo had reached the same conclusion. His grin returned.
"Don't lose before you reach me."
Megumi stepped between their lines of sight. "Don't get it twisted. You're the challenger here."
Bakugo's grin sharpened. "Damn bastard!"
Midnight cracked her whip. "The first match will begin once Cementoss finishes constructing the arena!"
The sixteen finalists separated. Some headed for the waiting rooms to rest before their matches. Others climbed toward the stands to watch the upcoming fights alongside everyone else.
Concrete surged from the ground as the teacher raised both arms. A large, elevated square platform rose directly in the center of the stadium ground, stone walls forming around its base before lowering into a broad boundary line. White lines went down across the concrete surface next, marking out the active combat zone within the stage itself.
...
In another waiting corridor, Midoriya stood alone, holding his right hand in front of his face.
The sensation of One For All remained unstable. He could picture the power spreading through his body, but maintaining it without focusing still felt like holding together a machine with loose pieces.
Footsteps approached. All Might entered the corridor in his thin form.
"Hey! Sorry I'm late, but... You figured out One For All, right?"
"All Might... " Midoriya lowered his hand. "No, I'm still worried... I can see it in my head by imagining the microwave, but it still feels unsteady if I don't focus, like it'll fall apart... Besides, as you saw, with my current body, even if I succeed, I just end up with a little more power..."
All Might nodded. "Yes, if we talk in terms of the zero or 100% from before, what your body can release right now is about a five."
Midoriya stared. "Five percent of my power?! Hearing that, I really feel like I've been blessed with friends and luck."
All Might's expression tightened. "You should just say, "I'll do my best, damn it," you prince of nonsense! Is the image of the hero you're trying to be that flimsy?"
Then he transformed into his muscular form, and the corridor suddenly felt much smaller.
"Listen, it's the times when you're scared or worried that you should deal with smiling!"
Midoriya jumped. "Wh-What?"
"You've made it this far. It's fine if it's a bluff. Stand proud!"All Might placed both hands on his hips.
"Don't forget that I've got high hopes for you!"
Midoriya closed his hand into a fist. "Yes."
...
The stadium lights dimmed. Cementoss stepped away from the completed platform.
"It is ready."
Present Mic rose from his seat.
"AUDIENCE! THE FINALS YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR ARE ABOUT TO BEGIN!"
The crowd answered with a deafening roar.
"The teams are gone! The headbands are gone! From this point onward, every contestant stands alone!"
The screen changed. Two names appeared.
HITOSHI SHINSO
IZUKU MIDORIYA
Shinso waited inside the western tunnel with his hands in his pockets. Midoriya stood in the eastern entrance, flexing his fingers once before letting his arms fall to his sides.
Present Mic's voice rolled through both corridors.
"Our first match brings together the mysterious general-studies contender and the second-place finisher from the obstacle race! These two were teammates just this morning, carrying each other all the way to fourth place in the cavalry battle. Now they're enemies!"
Midoriya stepped toward the light.
The final round had begun.
...
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