A sudden tap on his shoulder snapped Izuku out of his thoughts.
He turned his head to find Todoroki standing over him, posture straight, eyes calm—but far from empty. His expression was unreadable, like a frozen lake hiding something dangerous beneath the surface.
"Sup," Izuku greeted casually, as if they were just classmates chatting before lunch.
"Nothing," Todoroki replied flatly. There was a brief pause. Then he spoke again, voice low and steady.
"I just want you to know—I will beat you." His gaze didn't waver. "You're strong, Midoriya. But I won't lose to you."
The words were controlled, measured—but there was fire behind them. Not loud like Bakugo's rage, not shaky like nerves. This was conviction. A promise Todoroki had already made to himself.
Izuku blinked once.
Then he tilted his head slightly, genuinely puzzled.
"…Umm, sure," he said. "Let's both try our best."
That was it. He turned away slowly, lips twitching as he fought back a laugh.
'Man… this is so middle-school coded,' he thought. 'Like, bro—did we almost do an anime rival speech in real life?'
Behind him, Todoroki stood there for a second longer, clearly unsure how to process that response.
Then—
A chair scraped violently against the floor.
Bakugo shot to his feet, pointing aggressively at both of them, veins bulging in his neck.
"Tch—don't act like I'm not here!" he barked. "I'm gonna blow both your asses straight outta the damn stadium! Got it, nerds?!"
The prep room tensed instantly.
Several students flinched. Others groaned. Kirishima muttered something about bad vibes. Momo opened her eyes slowly, already tired.
Izuku, however, just leaned back against the bench again and closed his eyes, completely unfazed.
'…I wonder what I'll make this loser do,' he thought lazily.
Above them, the crowd roared louder. The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. The first event was about to begin. And while everyone else burned with rivalry, pressure, and expectation—Izuku Midoriya was already bored.
Soon after, the doors ahead of them opened wide, and Class 1-A began to walk out together.
The moment they stepped into the stadium, the sound hit them.
A tidal wave of noise crashed over their senses—thousands upon thousands of voices roaring at once, a living wall of sound that vibrated through the ground and rattled their bones. The air itself seemed to tremble under the sheer force of the crowd.
Colorful banners rippled high above the stands. Names were screamed at the top of people's lungs. Camera drones hovered and zipped through the air, lenses locking onto every face, every reaction, broadcasting it all live to the nation.
Izuku felt it flood into him. The noise, the attention and more importantly, the pressure. Instead of overwhelming him, it fueled him.
His chest rose as adrenaline surged through his veins, his heartbeat quickening—not from fear, but exhilaration. This was a stage. A massive one. And for the first time, he didn't feel small standing on it.
'So this is what it feels like,' he thought.
'Yeah… I like this.'
At the commentator's booth, Present Mic leaned into his mic, his grin wide and feral as his Quirk-enhanced voice thundered across the arena. The stadium lights flashed and danced in sync with his tone, as if reacting to his energy.
"HELLLOOOOO EVERYBODY!" he boomed.
"TODAY IS THE DAY WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!"
The crowd roared back in response.
"THE U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL!" Present Mic continued. "EVERY YEAR, WE WATCH U.A.'S FLEDGLINGS BATTLE IT OUT, PUSH THEIR LIMITS, AND SHOW THE WORLD WHAT THE NEXT GENERATION OF HEROES IS MADE OF!"
He thrust a finger toward the field.
"AND NOW—LET'S INTRODUCE OUR CLASSES! FIRST UP—THE AWESOME RISING STARS… CLASS A!"
The stadium exploded.
"CLASS A! CLASS A! CLASS A!"
The chant rolled through the stands like thunder, echoing from wall to wall. Some students stiffened, others smiled nervously, a few looked like they might pass out on the spot.
"Woah… there's so many people," one student muttered under their breath, eyes wide.
"One day," another whispered dreamily, "I'll perform in front of this many people as a pro."
"…If I do really well," someone else murmured, "do you think I'll attract any girls?"
That earned him a few sharp looks—and one elbow to the ribs.
Then—
A darker voice cut through the noise.
"This is the perfect stage to kill that broccoli-headed Deku."
The air seemed to freeze.
Several heads snapped toward Katsuki Bakugo, who stood with his shoulders squared and teeth bared in a vicious grin. Sparks crackled and popped from his palms, tiny explosions snapping in protest.
"What the fuck are you looking at?!" he barked, voice so loud it made even the front rows flinch. "I'LL WIPE EVERY ONE OF YOU OFF THIS FIELD!"
Security glanced nervously in his direction.
Izuku, standing just a few steps away, kept his expression calm—though the corner of his mouth twitched.
'…Dude really is a hot head,' he thought, barely suppressing his amusement.
Soon, the students were arranged in neat lines, separated by class, the buzz of anticipation thick in the air. Then the spotlight shifted—and the temperature in the stadium seemed to rise a few degrees.
The R-Rated Hero, Midnight, strode confidently onto the stage.
Her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor, each step deliberate and unhurried. The leather whip at her side swayed with her movements, more accessory than threat—for now. She lifted the microphone, her sultry, commanding voice rolling smoothly across the stadium.
"Now it's time for the Athletes' Oath," she purred. "And this year, our student representative is…"
She paused just long enough to let the suspense stretch—
"…Izuku Midoriya!"
The reaction was instant.
The crowd erupted in cheers so loud they seemed to punch the air itself. Some spectators chanted his name, others clapped thunderously, and camera drones immediately swarmed to lock onto him.
Izuku exhaled once and stepped forward.
As he walked through the sea of students, the spotlight followed him, bathing him in white light. The cheers pressed down on his shoulders—not as a burden, but as fuel. His posture stayed relaxed, stride steady, heart pounding with excitement rather than fear.
He climbed the steps, stopped at the microphone, and looked out over the stadium.
Thousands of faces stared back at him.
"—Heil Hit—"
[A/N: 😐 Kiddingggggg]
"Good luck to everyone."
For a split second, the stadium went dead silent.
Then—
It exploded.
Shrill squeals, cheers, whistles—most of them coming unmistakably from the girls in the audience.
"He's so humble!" someone shouted.
"Even though he's the representative, he's wishing everyone luck—men like that are rare these days!" another voice said dreamily.
"I know what I'm writing on Wattpad tonight—!" someone yelled.
"Huh?! For real?" another whispered loudly. "Wait, what do you mean there are already stories about him?! And they're shipping him with Katsuki?!"
Laughter rippled through nearby sections of the crowd.
Izuku pretended he didn't hear any of it. He stepped down from the stage, slid back into line, and slipped his hands into his pockets, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
'…I wanted to say something cool,' he thought. 'But I couldn't think of anything.'
Midnight reclaimed the spotlight, twirling her whip once as her smirk widened.
"Such kind words from this year's Student Representative," she said smoothly. "Now then—without wasting any more time…"
She snapped the whip lightly, the sound cracking through the air.
"Let's begin! This is the qualifier—most of you will be going home in tears after this."
The crowd leaned forward.
"The first event is an… OBSTACLE COURSE RACE!"
The stadium roared.
Beneath the students' feet, the ground began to shift. Massive panels slid apart, machinery groaning as the arena transformed.
Towers rose, terrain warped, and the outline of a brutal, sprawling obstacle course took shape before their eyes.
Some students smirked with confidence. Others swallowed hard.
Izuku simply watched, eyes sharp, adrenaline humming in his veins.
'Alright,' he thought calmly.
'Time TO clear the course in one leap!'
TO BE CONTINUED