Momo lifted her phone and made a quick call. She barely had time to lower it before the soft purr of an engine approached.
Only a few seconds later, a long black limousine eased up to the curb, its polished surface mirroring the streetlights and lantern glow like liquid glass.
Izuku blinked once.
Then again.
"Uh…" he said slowly, raising a brow as the uniformed driver stepped out and opened the rear door with practiced grace. "A limo?"
Momo laughed softly, a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of her neck.
She admitted. "I didn't think it would stand out this much."
The others, however, had zero complaints.
They climbed in one after another, sinking into the plush leather seats with hushed amazement. Mina immediately sprawled out, Toru exclaimed about legroom, and Ochako whispered something about feeling like a celebrity. The door closed with a gentle thump, and the car glided forward, smooth and silent.
The ride became quieter as the driver dropped them off one by one—waving goodbyes, doors opening and closing, laughter fading into the night.
Until eventually—
It was just Izuku and Momo Yaoyorozu.
The hum of the engine filled the space between them. Momo glanced sideways, trying to sound casual despite the faint tension in her shoulders.
"So… where do you live?"
Izuku tilted his head, amused.
"Didn't you check my school profile?" he teased. "As vice class captain, that's kinda important information, just in case."
Her cheeks flushed instantly.
"I-I was going to! I just—well—" She fidgeted with a strand of her hair. "I guess it slipped my mind."
He chuckled, the sound easy and warm.
"No worries. Just a quiet neighborhood in Musutafu. Not far from here."( Idk where tf he lives)
There was a brief pause before he added, more casually,
"So… how was today?"
Momo hesitated. Then, as if making up her mind, she stood and crossed the small space between them, sitting beside him.
The sudden closeness made Izuku blink in surprise, but she was already speaking—face pink, voice soft.
"I… I really enjoyed it," she admitted. "I mean, it wasn't as good as our date before, but it was still fun."
Izuku laughed quietly.
"I figured you'd say that."
The limo slowed as it turned into a calm residential street. Streetlights cast long shadows over neat houses and trimmed hedges. The car came to a gentle stop, and the driver stepped out to open the door.
Izuku got out—and paused when Momo followed him.
She walked with him to the front gate of his home, looking around thoughtfully. After a moment, she smiled to herself.
"You know," she said, "we don't live that far from each other. I could pick you up every morning, if you want?"
He shook his head, smiling.
"No. I'd rather pick you up. Let me get my license first—then we'll do that."
Her blush deepened.
"I-I could lend you my car," she said quickly. "My mom bought it for me when I was six. I've never actually driven it."
"Wow," he said with a laugh. "We'll… talk about that."
Then, without overthinking it, Izuku lifted a hand and gently patted her head. His fingers brushed through her soft hair, light and affectionate.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
Before she could respond, he turned and stepped inside, the door closing softly behind him.
Momo stood there for a moment, frozen—heart pounding, warmth spreading through her chest. She clasped her hands together, lips curling into a small, dreamy smile.
'I… really have fallen for him, haven't I?' she thought.
At last, she turned back toward the limo. The driver opened the door, and the car pulled away smoothly, carrying her toward the distant Yaoyorozu estate—while her thoughts stayed behind, thinking about Izuku.
.....
Two Weeks Later
Today was the day countless people across the country had been waiting for—
The U.A. Sports Festival.
Izuku woke up naturally, sunlight filtering through his curtains. He stretched, joints popping softly, then rolled out of bed with a quiet yawn. Unlike most mornings, there was no rush in his movements—no nerves, no frantic checklist running through his head.
After a quick bath, steam still clinging to his skin, he dressed calmly and headed downstairs.
The smell of toast and tea greeted him.
Inko sat at the table, hands wrapped tightly around her cup. She smiled when she saw him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her shoulders were stiff, posture tense.
Izuku took a seat and bit into his toast, chewing thoughtfully. He watched her over the rim of his plate for a moment before speaking.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently.
That was all it took.
Her face crumpled instantly.
"My baby is going to be on TV!" she wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched her face. "The whole country is going to see you—what if you get hurt—what if something goes wrong—what if—"
Izuku sighed, already bracing himself.
"You could come to the stadium, you know," he said calmly. "I think parents get free entry."
She shook her head violently.
"No! No, I don't want to distract you! What if you get performance anxiety? Your father had that, you know—especially in—"
"I get it, Mom," Izuku cut in quickly, raising a hand.
She paused… then smiled mischievously through her tears.
"I was going to say bowling," she teased. "What did you think I was about to say?"
Izuku frowned deeply.
That only made her laugh harder.
'…I can never win with this woman,' he thought, finishing his breakfast.
After a quick goodbye—and a very long hug—Izuku stepped outside, the morning air crisp against his skin. He headed toward U.A., hands in his pockets, mind steady.
By the time he arrived, the scale of it all hit him.
This wasn't just a school event.
The U.A. Sports Festival had long replaced the Olympics—an era-defining spectacle born in a world where quirks reshaped society. It was where future heroes were discovered, careers launched, and legends quietly began.
The stadium loomed massive and imposing, its stands packed to capacity. Every seat was filled. Thousands more watched from living rooms, cafés, restaurants, and offices across the country—screens flickering with anticipation, commentators hyping up names and quirks like seasoned athletes.
The roar of the crowd came in relentless waves, vibrating through concrete and steel, rattling the very bones of the arena.
Banners waved. Cameras hovered. Spotlights swept across the field.
And somewhere beneath it all, among the competitors preparing backstage—
Izuku Midoriya walked forward, calm and unshaken.
'Alright,' he thought quietly.
'Let's get this started.'
Izuku made his way down into the prep room beneath the stadium, the heavy door sealing shut behind him with a dull thunk. The roar of the crowd above became muffled, reduced to a distant, constant rumble—like thunder waiting to break.
Class 1-A was already there.
And for once… they were silent.
Izuku looked around and almost laughed. This was the loudest, most chaotic class in U.A., yet now they sat scattered across benches and lockers in an uneasy quiet. No bickering. No shouting. No explosions—verbal or otherwise.
He walked over and sat on a bench near the wall, leaning back until his shoulders rested against the cold metal lockers. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling, following the faint vibrations traveling through the concrete.
'Well,' he thought calmly, 'today's the day.'
His lips twitched.
'I don't plan on holding back at all.'
'Might as well show everyone what I can really do.'
'Let's hope they make it fun.'
Around him, though, the mood couldn't have been more different.
Every face told the same story—nerves wound tight, determination forged through weeks of brutal training, focus sharpened to a blade's edge.
Eijiro Kirishima stood a few lockers down, cracking his knuckles repeatedly, jaw clenched as he muttered to himself.
"Alright… today's the day. Gotta be manlier than ever."
Nearby, Ochaco Uraraka sat with her hands clasped together, eyes downcast. Her lips moved silently as she whispered under her breath,
"For Mom and Dad… I'll do my best."
Momo Yaoyorozu had her eyes closed, posture straight and composed. If anyone looked closely, they'd see her fingers twitching slightly as she mentally recited formulas, strategies, contingencies—planning for every possible event.
And in the far corner—
Katsuki Bakugo.
He stood rigid, fists clenched so tightly his arms trembled. The air around him felt tense, volatile—like a ticking bomb counting down the seconds until detonation. His eyes burned with rage and anticipation, fixed on nothing and everything at once.
Every single person in this room had pushed themselves to the brink during these past two weeks.
Broken limits. Fine-tuned quirks. Strategies sharpened through sweat and frustration.
To them, this wasn't just about winning a school event.
This was about being seen.
About staking a claim in the world of heroes—by the public, by pro scouts, by society itself.
Izuku let his gaze drift over them all.
Then he smirked faintly.
'Yup,' he thought. ' This is gonna be fun!'
TO BE CONTINUED