Chapter 24: Cup of Coffee.
"ALRIGHT, LISTENERS! WE'VE REACHED THE PEAK!" Present Mic's voice echoed not just through the stadium, but through millions of televisions across Japan. "THE QUARTERFINALS ARE DONE! WE ARE TAKING A SHORT BREAK BEFORE THE SEMI-FINALS KICK OFF! GO GET SOME SNACKS, BECAUSE THE NEXT FIGHTS ARE GOING TO BE HISTORIC!"
The Sports Festival was no longer just a school event; it was a national holiday. In the crowded streets of Tokyo, giant screens displayed the highlights. In office break rooms, salarymen loosened their ties to debate the matches. The press box inside the stadium was a frenzy of typing and flashing cameras. The narrative was shifting from "promising students" to "future powerhouses."
In the VIP seating area, far above the noise of the common crowd, Soichiro Kuzan checked his platinum watch. He stood up, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on his Italian suit.
"I will return shortly," he told his assistant. His eyes were cold, focused. He wasn't going to the restroom. He was going to inspect his investment.
The Vending Machine Corner
Deep in the corridors, away from the screaming fans, Aokiji stood in front of a coffee machine. The hum of the machine was the only sound. He pressed the button for Black Coffee - Extra Bitter.
The cup filled with steaming dark liquid.
"Too much noise today," Aokiji muttered, picking up the paper cup. He took a sip. It was scalding hot, but against his lips, which were naturally colder than ice, it felt lukewarm.
He started walking down the hallway, slouching slightly, looking for a place where the air conditioning was stronger.
Meanwhile, in the bustling student spectator stands, a figure looked terribly out of place.
Sayuri Kuzan clutched the strap of her handbag tightly. She was dressed in a simple but undeniably expensive light blue summer dress, with a pristine white sun hat pulled low to shade her pale face. Her hair, a glossy shoulder-length black, framed a face that mirrored her brother's, but her eyes were different—they were crystalline, like fractured diamonds.
She navigated the crowd with trembling steps.
"Excuse me... pardon me..." she whispered, though no one heard her over the excitement.
She turned a corner and saw a group of students in blue gym uniforms.
"Hahaha! Look at Class A!" a blonde boy with a twisted expression was laughing maniacally. "Looking tired already? Is the pressure too much? Your students are killing eachother Hahahaha!!"
"Stop it, Monoma," a ginger-haired girl, Kendo, chopped him on the neck. "Sorry about him!"
Sayuri flinched, stepping back against the wall. Everyone is so loud... so intense. Where is big brother?
She felt dizzy. The social pressure of being surrounded by so many strangers was suffocating. She looked at the group of Class 1-A students who were chatting excitedly near the railing.
Ochaco Uraraka, who was stretching her sore arms, glanced over. She saw the girl in the white hat looking pale and distressed.
"Oh?" Uraraka blinked. She walked over, her face breaking into a warm smile. "Um, excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need a medic?"
Sayuri jumped. "N-No! I... ano... I am looking for someone."
"Oh! A student?" Ashido popped up behind Uraraka. "Is it a boyfriend? Ooooh!"
"No!" Sayuri waved her hands frantically, her face flushing red. "My... my brother. Kuzan Aokiji."
The air around the Class 1-A group froze for a second, then exploded.
"BROTHER?!" Kaminari shouted. "Kuzan has a sister?!"
"And she's so cute!" Mineta wept. "Why is life so unfair?! He's tall, strong, rich, and has a cute sister!"
"You definitely have the same hair," Momo Yaoyorozu noted politely. "Are you here to cheer for him?"
They surrounded her, bombarding her with questions and friendly smiles. For Sayuri, who had spent most of her life in a quiet estate with tutors, it was overwhelming. The world spun.
"An... ano... please..." she stammered, clutching her hat.
The Stairwell
Aokiji was slowly ascending the concrete stairs, coffee in hand, when he saw a familiar figure standing on the landing above.
Tenya Iida was staring at his phone. His expression was tight—a mix of confusion and creeping dread.
Aokiji paused, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "You look like you swallowed a lemon, Iida."
Iida jumped, hiding his phone behind his back. "Ah! Kuzan-kun! No, I am... fine. Just preparing mentally."
Aokiji walked up the steps until he was level with the class representative. "Liar. You're checking your phone every three seconds. Waiting for a call?"
Iida's shoulders slumped. "My brother... Ingenium. I called him to tell him about my match, but he isn't answering. It's unlike him. He usually sends a message before a patrol."
"You said you're from the Ingenium family," Aokiji noted, looking at the ceiling. "Pro Heroes are busy people. Especially the good ones. He's probably chasing a villain in a tunnel somewhere where there's no signal."
"That... yes," Iida adjusted his glasses, forcing a smile. "That is the logical conclusion. I should trust in his capability."
"Exactly," Aokiji said, continuing his climb. "Don't stress. It ruins your aerodynamics."
"Kuzan-kun," Iida called out.
Aokiji stopped.
"Your fight against Todoroki-kun is next, isn't it?"
Aokiji let out a long, dramatic groan. "Yeah. Don't remind me. Fire and Ice. It's going to be annoying. I was hoping for a quiet afternoon, but I guess I have to deal with a natural disaster."
He took another sip of coffee and waved his hand. "Anyway see you later, hope your brother is doing well."
After few steps, Aokiji reached the landing where his class was gathered. He heard the commotion before he saw it.
"Hey! Back off," Aokiji said, his voice cutting through the chatter. "You're sucking up all the oxygen."
The class turned.
"Kuzan!" Kirishima grinned. "Dude! You didn't tell us your sister was here!"
"She's so pretty!" Ashido cheered.
Aokiji sighed, walking through the crowd. He stood next to Sayuri, placing a hand on her head. She instantly leaned into him, exhaling a breath she had been holding for five minutes.
"Don't swarm her," Aokiji said to the class. "Sayuri has social anxiety. You guys are too loud for her."
"Oh!" Midoriya gasped, looking guilty. "I'm so sorry! We didn't know!"
"Sorry!" Uraraka bowed.
"It... It is okay," Sayuri whispered, peeking out from under her hat. "You are all... very kind. I don't mind."
The class softened, cooing at her politeness.
Clip. Clop. Clip.
The sound of heavy, expensive dress shoes echoing on the concrete floor cut through the laughter like a knife. The rhythm was authoritative. Cold.
"I found you," a deep voice said. "Finally."
The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop, but this time, it wasn't Aokiji's quirk.
The students turned. Standing there was Soichiro Kuzan. He wore a charcoal suit that cost more than most people's cars. His posture was rigid, his eyes sweeping over the group with blatant disinterest before locking onto his children.
"There are fifty thousand people in this stadium," Soichiro stated. "Locating you was an inefficient use of my time."
"Father..." Sayuri whispered, her grip on Aokiji's shirt tightening.
"Dad," Aokiji said flatly, taking a sip of his coffee.
The class went silent. Dad? This intimidating guy?
"Why are you here, Sayuri?" Soichiro asked, ignoring Aokiji for the moment.
"She's here to watch her big brother. Of course." Aokiji replied.
"I didn't ask you, clumsy failure," Soichiro snapped at Aokiji. He looked back at Sayuri. "You are the antithesis of him. You are the genius of the family. The heir to the company. Making you spend time with a slacker like him will only infect your mind with laziness and stupidity."
The students of Class 1-A stared in shock. Failure? Slacker? After he fought the Nomu?
"Come, Sayuri," Soichiro commanded, extending a hand.
"But..." Sayuri's eyes filled with tears. "Brother looks cool today, Father. He won..."
Soichiro sighed, a sound of deep, disappointed fatigue. "Seriously, Sayuri? Are you defending him? Look around him." He gestured vaguely at Midoriya, Uraraka, and the others. "I placed him in the elite class hoping the pressure would forge him into a weapon. Instead? He has become... soft. A noble pacifist."
Soichiro took a step closer to Aokiji.
"He refuses to hurt a boy who breaks his own fingers," Soichiro sneered, glancing at Midoriya, who flinched. "He refuses to scratch an invisible girl even though she was punching him. He treats this war like a playground."
Nearby, on the stairs, a floating pair of gloves froze. Tooru Hagakure had just been walking up. She pressed herself against the wall, listening.
"That's not true..." Sayuri whispered.
"Sayuri," Soichiro's voice dropped an octave. "Do not make me repeat myself. From today onward, you are forbidden from speaking to him, even at home. I cannot allow the trash of the family to pollute the genius."
Crack.
A sharp sound echoed.
In Aokiji's hand, the paper coffee cup didn't crush. The liquid inside didn't spill.
It froze.
In an instant, the hot black coffee turned into a solid, dark block of ice. And from the cup, thick, jagged tendrils of coffee-colored ice shot out sideways, forming a barrier between Soichiro and the angry students of Class 1-A, who had started to step forward to defend their friend.
"Ice?" Kaminari gasped. "It's brown... coffee ice?"
Aokiji lowered the frozen cup. His expression was hidden behind his sunglasses, but his jaw was set tight.
"Don't worry about it, guys," Aokiji said, his voice surprisingly calm. "He's been like this since I was five. It's his way of... motivating me. I guess."
He turned to Sayuri. He gently removed her hand from his shirt.
"Go, Sayuri," he said softly.
"But, Brother..."
"Don't make him wait," Aokiji said. "It's annoying when he yells."
Sayuri looked at him, heartbreak in her eyes. She slumped her shoulders and walked toward her father.
Soichiro didn't look at Aokiji. He put a hand on Sayuri's shoulder and turned to walk away.
"Whether I win or lose today," Aokiji called out to his father's retreating back.
Soichiro paused.
"Don't expect me to follow your ridiculous rules," Aokiji said, tossing the frozen coffee block into a trash can with a heavy thud. "I'll talk to my sister whenever I want."
Soichiro didn't turn around. He simply resumed walking. On the stairs, he passed the floating UA sport uniform, the invisible girl near the wall, he didn't even glance at the clothes or at her. To him, she was truly invisible—unworthy of notice.
He's scary, Hagakure thought, trembling. Poor Kuzan-kun...
As the corporate figure disappeared around the corner, the tension broke.
"Kuzan!" Kirishima grabbed his shoulder. "That was... messed up!"
"Your dad is a jerk!" Ashido yelled.
"Are you okay?" Midoriya asked, his eyes filled with concern.
Aokiji adjusted his sunglasses. He looked exhausted.
"I'm fine," he lied. "Like I said... it's normal."
KRRRZZZTT.
The speakers crackled to life.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! ARE YOU READY?! THE BREAK IS OVER! THE SEMI-FINALS ARE HERE!"
Aokiji sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
"I gotta go," he muttered.
He walked away from his concerned classmates, descending the stairs into the darkness of the athlete's tunnel.
In the waiting room on the other side of the stadium, Shoto Todoroki stood up.
He stared at his left hand. Memories of his own childhood—of crying, of his mother's fear, of his father's abuse—flashed through his mind. His eyes narrowed. They were filled with a cold, hateful resolve.
I will reject him, Todoroki thought. I will crush the ice user with my own ice. I will prove him wrong.
"AND NOW!" Present Mic's voice reached a fever pitch. "THE MATCH WE HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! THE BATTLE OF THE ELEMENTS!"
The giant screen lit up. The portraits of the two fighters appeared, looming over the stadium.
SEMIFINALS MATCH 1:
KUZAN AOKIJI vs. SHOTO TODOROKI
"THE SON OF ENDEAVOR! VERSUS! THE UNBEATEN ICE HERO! WHICH ONE IS THE TRUE KING OF THE COLD?! LET'S FIND OUT!"
The crowd roared, a sound like thunder.
Aokiji stepped out of the tunnel. Todoroki stepped out of his.
Across the expanse of concrete, their eyes locked. There was no laziness in Aokiji's stance now. There was no hesitation in Todoroki's.
.
.
.