redshift: (n.) A shift in the lines of an object's spectrum toward the red end. Redshift indicates that an object is moving away from the observer. The larger the redshift, the faster the object is moving.
U.A. holds its annual Sports Festival.
Notes:
In honor of Nevada finally finishing their vote count, and to Pennsylvania and Georgia and Michigan and Arizona and to everyone who voted in this democratic election: here, have a very early chapter. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
I've been counting down the days, but the day of the Sports Festival still feels unreal.
Everyone I walk by on my way to class looks intent. Some look excited; others, like they're dreading the next twenty-four hours. The classroom for 1-A is basically empty as students leave their schoolbags and head towards the locker rooms instead.
Homeroom Teacher isn't here. I don't know why that disappoints me, but the emotion follows me as I head down. I'm not late, there's still at least half an hour left to go before the opening ceremony, but when I open the door to the boy's locker room it looks like all of the class is already here.
Four Arms waves me over where Bird Head is sitting down at the table, the two of them in quiet conversation with another 1-A student. I tilt my head in acknowledgement and move past them both. Thankfully no one has commented on the fact that I'm still changing in the stalls instead of in front of the lockers where everyone else already is, but the side-eyes don't change. They probably never will.
It's with that cheery thought that I change into the PE uniform. It's to level the playing field for everyone, ostensibly. I'm not sure how well it'll work. It's not realistic, either, since when heroes fight in the field they'll have all their armor and support items with them. On the Sports Festival field students will only have their own conditioning and their Quirks, which makes this an exhibition of how strong your ticket from the genetic lottery is and not based on real world application.
Well, there's nothing for it. I finish changing and head back into the general waiting room. We're still separated, guys and girls, and after two weeks it's almost disconcerting for there to be empty air at my elbow instead of Invisible Girl. I wonder, almost idly, if their waiting room has this same oppressive air. Maybe they do; maybe they don't.
Loud Guy comes in to get everyone moving to the ready position at the first year's gates. But before we go, Spiky yells, "Oi, Icyhot!"
It's a nickname that Spiky's been calling me for the last week or so, which is the only reason I recognize it. I pause, and Four Arms – and Bird Head, interestingly enough – pause with me. "What?"
"You're going down today," he says. He grins, showing off his sharp teeth. Four Arms makes a noise in the back of throat like he's offended, but it's fine, this isn't insulting. It's a genuine declaration from someone who wants to try his best.
"Good luck to you," I tell him, and smile on the way out to the field.
For some reason, the school thinks that Spiky is a good person to be the player representative during the opening ceremony, just because he took first place in the entrance examination. He doesn't look like he wants to be up there, which is fair; I know, and likely he knows, that this is all just for show.
Spiky says, true to form, "I pledge that I'll be number one," and the rest of the school practically riots.
Next to me, Invisible Girl is busy giggling under her breath, high pitched and breathy. Or maybe the breathy bit is because she's squeezing my elbow hard enough to leave bruises, and that, at least, is something I recognize in Fuyumi-nee. At least she's missing most of the bruises from last night's training in her panicked blind grab.
Spiky walks off the platform at a sedate pace, hands still in pockets, but his eyes are elsewhere. They're on the field, on the stands, on the VIP box, anywhere that's not the other students who are jeering and yelling insults at him.
His back is straight in a different manner than Father's, though they have the same brash and abrasive confidence, and I wonder what put it there. Was it a rivalry like Father's with All Might? Was it something else? Or was it desperation, because the entrance examination has already proven he has the capability?
When all you have is your drive, the words come back to me, and then Midnight is announcing the first event of the Sports Festival.
They dramatize it, of course. It wouldn't be a high school event broadcast all throughout the nation without that showman's flair and pizzaz. But in the end, the first event is just an obstacle course race. There's no lines, no delineation between class, no "these people go first" – just a free-for-all.
I walk myself over to the back, give Invisible Girl and Four Arms and Tail and Red a little finger-wave as they go pick their own spots, and when the event starts I set off at a steady jogging pace.
Everyone gets bottlenecked at the tunnel, of course. I'm surprised that the others haven't figured it out. And better, I think, to cull the herd here where I have the extra half-seconds to judge and aim and fine-tune the ice before I actually freeze people in place.
A one-two step, a little tap of toes against the ground, and I'm skidding up and on the tunnel walls and out, leaving behind a slew of feet-frozen students behind me and an ice wall at the exit. From the shouting, there are more right behind who either dodged or weren't caught up in that ice, but that's fine. Having to go up and over or around the wall will give me an extra second or two, and right now that's all the advantage I need. The bigger leads can come later.
Because most sports shoes that students are wearing might be made for traction, but the manufacturer's assuming the user is on gym flooring or earthen ground, not ice; and the same concept of car tires and hydroplaning tends to apply to shoes and ice. If people yell or curse as they slide, I don't hear them.
And then comes the first proper obstacle: robots. Some of the students seem to recognize them, but I've never seen them before. But, well, they're electronics.
There are more people that around than I would have preferred, especially for fire, so ice will have to do. Ah, well.
Exhibition match, I remember, and displace the heat to create a wave of subzero temperature air. I don't need them to be cold enough to fry the electronics; the unbalanced heavy forms – god, they have to be at least a ton or two each just by sheer size, if not more than that due to whatever weaponry they're carrying – will cause large cracks in the ground as they fall and potentially flatten students beneath them. Unless I shore them up, which I do.
It has the added benefit up kicking up a mist-fog that obscures the field as I run past, as well as turning this small section of the course into a frozen wasteland with jagged spikes that the robots are speared through on. It's less graphic than villains being nailed in the gut with one of them, maybe, but the very robotic frames of these Infernos will serve as further obstacles for the rest of crowd.
The most I can do is hope that Father will be satisfied with this one flashy move. The rest, I hope, I can handle the way I see fit.
The second obstacle takes a little more thinking to get through. A look over the edge has me backing off just as quickly, because that's deep and even if I had the time to throw down a rock and listen for the clatter I don't think it'll give me any height I want to risk falling from. Which brings up the question of, how does this school ensure that students won't die from a misstep here?
…probably something like Ectoplasm's ectoplasm, or a safety net that's just out of sight.
I head for the tightropes because that's an easy choice. The distance from platform to platform looks to be too big to jump without the aid of something, and skidding on thin ice is something I've practiced myself. I keep my lead, Spiky stays in the air overhead – sustained explosions to simulate rocket propulsion, nice, though how he's sweating that much to sustain it when he's in the air and the wind would dry it off is a concern, unless he built up that sweat before the Festival?
There's a support course girl who's catching up, who's – oh my god is that – those are support items, of course, that makes sense, if this is an exhibition match where the heroics course students have combat training then this is a demonstration for the support course – then what do the management students do? Or General Education? –
And then the support course girl is flying, and, oh, I want those. Not just that, I want to pick her brain.
But the rest of the course is up ahead, and I need to keep my head in the game.
Which is apparently a minefield.
…what even is this school's budget?
But, see, here's the thing about minefields, especially ones that are weight-activated: they depend on pressure, not force, not weight, to make the decision of whether or not the weight that's currently depressing it is something like a stick or a person. And for an equal weight, the quantified pressure decreases as the surface area increases.
I can't exactly increase my own surface area – but I can certainly increase the surface area of my effective weight. And with the fact that the school hadn't exactly been subtle with re-burying the mines, and the ground is discolored in very specific places…
I ice over the field again, this time as thin as is safe, and start skidding my way across. I have to build ice skates on the bottom of my shoes to do it, and they're shaky, but they hold.
Despite myself I let out a sigh of relief as I make my way across the minefield. Spiky is on track to have flown past me by the time I'm three-quarters of the way through the minefield, but he touches down and sends a blast my way as we go, and that costs him time. More importantly, that move – that invitation to engage – costs him his split-second could-have-been lead.
I duck, let him skid, and keep going to take it back. I don't need to pick a fight with him here; I just need to get over to the other side.
The ground rumbles and shakes as someone sets off an explosion in the back. The announcer – I think it's the English teacher – keeps yelling about Green Hair, so presumably it's him. But Spiky and I have too much of a lead, and when he lands in third we're still ahead as second and first.
The last so-called obstacle is another tunnel, on the way back into the stadium. Another culling of the herd, in case anyone wants to fight each other last minute in closed quarters. Green Hair tries to body-slam us both and use us as a springboard, which is clever and the right thing to do.
But Spiky has been slowing down ever so slightly as his reservoir of sweat depletes, and I've been training for stamina and speed since the Sports Festival had been announced. I slide into first, Green Hair takes second, and Spiky finishes third.
I slow down and set myself on a lap around the stadium as a proper cool down for that dead sprint I had to do last minute to keep the lead. I can't see Father from here with the stands this packed, but I can hear him talking to me even over the noise of the crowd. I can hear what he'd say.
You went too easy on them, he says. That should have been a clear win, not this close of a margin.
I almost don't hear the rest of the commentary on the first event because of him.
When I tune back in, Midnight is doing her Master of Ceremonies thing again. Only the top forty-two move on to the next round, which is a ridiculous cut. Both classes of heroics course students participate, which makes roughly forty; then General Education, another forty; and support course, the last forty. Taking only the best forty-two finish times for the obstacle course means that only the top one-third of each year get to continue.
But all of 1-A makes it. The rest, 1-B and support and General Education students, wave at their friends, glare at Spiky, and are led to the student section of the stands where they'll stay and watch the rest of the Festival.
The next round of the Festival is a cavalry battle – and it's a bounty system. Ah. Well, that certainly makes this a miniature society to test out a survival of the fittest-esque philosophy on.
Invisible Girl waves, catching my eye over the crowd, and I walk over to her. The crowd parts for me on my way there. I try not to let it bother me, but she must see something on my face because she immediately brings over Four Arms and Tail, too, and puts us in a circular formation to put our heads together.
The rest of those who'd passed divide themselves up into teams under an annoyed Midnight's commentary, including Red who looks over at us, grimaces, and gestures helplessly at a fuming Spiky. Invisible Girl's gym uniform arm waves back, then turns to us. "Alright alright alright!" she says under the bustle of the crowd. "We've got this!"
"Are you sure?" I ask Tail, who looks sheepish and a little concerned. "You don't have to join just because Hagakure called you over." As for me, I'm not too concerned. Invisible Girl has proven herself vicious in the practicals during class, and even if she'd placed low on the obstacle course I'm confident she'll carry her weight.
"No, no," Tail replies, almost cutting me off in his haste. "I'll stay. Besides, if we can keep just the headband, we'll all automatically move on."
Invisible Girl puts an elbow in his ribs, moderately gently, but Tail is right. "True," Four Arms says, tentacles up above our heads with ears and eyes on the ends of them. "The other teams will be specifically aiming for us, but if you can, hm, freeze? The headband in place?"
I nod. Invisible Girl claps her hands together in delight. "Then the rest of us can focus on stealing the headbands of other teams! Shouji-kun will be our spotter, and Ojiro-kun, do you think you can knock down the other teams with your Quirk?"
Between us, we quickly hash out a plan. Invisible Girl is tiny and also invisible, and putting her in the center where she can hunker down behind the backs of those carrying will throw off the rest of them. We put me in the front, as the one with the most versatile Quirk and fastest reflexes; Four Arms and Tail in back to maximize the space that their Quirks will have.
Then the second event begins. Vines, tape, and Dark Shadow swings for us at the start of the fight, but they're a moment too late. Tail and Four Arms are strong enough to carry Invisible Girl on their own, and I bring up my hands, kick out a foot, and do two things at once.
Invisible Girl hisses as I freeze the headband to her head, but it's necessary. Vines hit the ice and miss, the tape is cut off by the spray of frosted dirt I kick up, and Dark Shadow screeches when Tail's tail whacks it in the face.
Technically, all we need to do is sit tight and hold onto our headband to win. But this class of students never do settle for technicalities and 'enough.'
When the first wave of attacks is over, I skid my shoe through the dirt and pull up four icicle spears in a circle around us. Invisible Girl ducks under the webbed arms on Four Arms's back during the distraction of bristling ice.
"What?!" someone is yelling, and the teams on the field with us are gawping, but I'm too busy setting us up for the next phase to care. I toss over a spear to Four Arms who catches it nonchalantly and break off the shortest tantou-length one for Invisible Girl. Tail takes his own, and when he leans down I don't hesitate to mount his shoulders.
"Are you allowed to do that?" Green Hair shouts, and in his direction Tail sends a sunny wave with spear in hand.
I find Midnight at the stage and catch her eye. "As long as the rider doesn't touch the ground we're still allowed to compete," I remind her. The exact wording of the rules she'd outlined, word for word.
Her jaw drops. I turn my attention to the field. Some teams are copying us and dropping their members to turn it into a grounded melee; others stay in their cavalry formation, probably concerned that splitting up like this is technically against the rules and thus grounds for disqualification.
Ah, well. We couldn't have fooled them all. Four Arms launches himself in an offensive maneuver, Invisible Girl and the headband tucked safely inside the cocoon. Split up like this, it's easy to defend the headband and take others while your mount is moving quickly – Invisible Girl and Four Arms – or forego subtlety and take them by force.
I leave a couple of cavalry teams frozen up to their necks; Tail winces, a flinch in his shoulders I can feel. "They'll be fine," I reassure him. "I'll melt it after the round is over if the teachers can't break 'em out of it."
Satisfied, he turns back to his blitz around the field, and I have to hand it to him: he's fast. Four Arms is fast at a dead run, but Tail makes it so that we're jumping over people's heads and getting me maximum coverage of the field.
Five minutes into this insane plan, the field is a proper free-for-all chaos. We regroup as planned just in front of Midnight's stage. Invisible Girl throws her a peace sign as we discard the icicle spears – more for show and distraction than a true weapon, really, given that none of the others have ever learned how to wield one – and settle back into the cavalry formation.
And then, also as planned, I put us under an ice dome for the rest of the competition. It's big enough that we won't run out of oxygen and suffocate and opaque so that the others can't target us based on where we're standing. There are some efforts to get in – mostly by people thumping on the ice like they hadn't expected it to be half a meter thick – but none them succeed.
The horn to end the second event is distorted through the ice, but when we hear it Four Arms puts up all his hands for a high-five.
He drops Invisible Girl in the process when the rest of us aren't ready to catch her, and Invisible Girl shrieks on the way down.
Four Arms – Shouji Mezou, I really can't call him Four Arms when he's being this contrite – is still apologizing as we walk into lunch.
Invisible Girl drags us to where the girls of the class are, and together they grab a table big enough for everyone. Big enough for the entire class, I realize as a majority of 1-A congregates here. But before I can sit down and eat, Green Hair grabs me by the arm.
"Todoroki-kun?" he says. His voice is loud over the din of the cafeteria. I would have thought he'd be quiet, but no. "Do you have a moment?"
I pause, confused. A glance over at Invisible Girl and Tail shows that they're deep in conversation with the group already, but Shouji tilts a tentacle-eyeball at me and blinks once. Acknowledgement.
"Sure," I tell him, and drop off my tray next to Shouji. "What is it?"
"I'd like to talk to you."
Green Hair asks about my motivations, about my drive, about how "You keep taking first place! I don't get it! You come up with all these tactics – you've got such control over your ice – you approached absolute zero at USJ! And that's just one-half of your Quirk!"
Green Hair shouts, and I let him. It's not that different from letting Father monologue, but at least this is more interesting to listen to and not as painful, physically or emotionally. At the end of it, Green Hair is wheezing, leaning against his side of the tunnel like it's the only thing holding him up.
I resettle on my feet, move the weight from one side to the other, and consider him. Green Hair is short, and his Quirk is eerily like All Might's. We don't actually know All Might's identity. We don't know All Might's name. It could very well be that Green Hair is the descendant, or son, or nephew or whatever of the Number One Hero, and here he is, being stood up by the son of the Number Two.
I wonder if he has a similar weight on his shoulders as mine. Of living up to expectations, spoken and unspoken, public and private. I wonder if he feels it crushing him, like mine does me.
"Don't tell the others this, but. I've been home schooled since my Quirk manifested," I tell Green Hair, because this is safe territory. This is something that the public knows. Still, Green Hair's eyes widen like this is news to him, or maybe it's whatever expression I'm making. I don't know what my face is doing.
I continue: "I never went to public school. I never left the house, unless it was to do laps around the neighborhood or to go on ten kilometer runs. Every night Endeavor came home from work, he would train me until I couldn't stand. I did that for the last eight years of my life."
I wonder if Green Hair has ever been pushed like Fuyumi-nee says I shouldn't have been pushed. I doubt it; All Might seems too nice, too kind, too bright to be capable of it.
"I broke bones," I add, more quietly now. It still feels like it echoes in this tunnel-entrance to the stadium. "I broke ribs. Doctors were called to my house because the son of Endeavor couldn't be seen going to the hospital. After all that, Midoriya, you have to understand: there is no other option. The only reason I am going to this school is because Endeavor wants a hero son."
And that's all he's getting, I almost add, the words a mantra after the way I'd spitefully repeated it to Fuyumi-nee and Natsuo-nii time after time for year after year. But I don't. I don't know Green Hair, not really. We are classmates and nothing more.
"So, don't stress yourself out." I push myself off the wall, dare to take a step forward, then two. I put my hand on Green Hair's shoulder, because his eyes are wide and he's breathing quite fast and he looks like he needs it. "It's not fair to compare yourself to me. Just do your best. You came in second in the obstacle course, and your team moved onto the finals; that's no small feat."
I release him; turn around; start walking back towards the cafeteria. But a thought strikes me halfway there, and I make a half-circle to face Green Hair again, who is now standing at the tunnel entrance, his back to the sun, face cast in shadow.
"Why did you tell me?" Green Hair asks.
That's an easy answer. "Because you asked," I tell him. "And because I think you know what I mean when I say that legacies are heavy."
If Midoriya blanches, I don't know. I don't stick around to see.
Down the hallway:
"…well, shit."
I wish I had some lemon candy to focus on, but alas. Instead of shocking myself back into my body – staving off the bout of dissociation I can feel oncoming like a train – with acidic flavor, I cool my cup of water until it's almost freezing and then down it all at once.
The cold hurts my teeth but jars me back into my body. Neither Shouji nor Tail give me a second glance – I don't think Invisible Girl does either, even though I can't see where she's looking – but the rest of the class at the lunch table do, especially Green Hair who cautiously takes a seat with a look in my direction. I ignore them all.
They're pleasant to listen to, at least. They're all laughing with each other like they hadn't just gone head to head in the cavalry battle. Some of them are recounting their fights with big gestures, others are going back through their performance and dissecting them. Apparently Green Hair teamed up with one of the support class students along with Gravity Girl and Bird Head. No wonder Dark Shadow had gone after us first, then.
And then I realize that they'd partnered with the support course girl. "Uraraka," I say, hoping to grab her attention.
This half of the lunch table immediately shuts up to look in my direction. Gravity Girl stops herself mid-sentence to look over at me and – and smile, and ask, "Yes, Todoroki-kun?"
I don't understand. But I still want to pick that girl's brain. "Who was the support course student on your cavalry team?"
"Oh!" Gravity Girl's face falls a little bit, but she still smiles. "That was Hatsume Mei!"
"Her support items were impressive." I tap at the table with a finger, thinking. "Did she say she created all of them herself?"
"She did." Gravity Girl looks thoughtful now. "Why, Todoroki-kun?"
"Ooh," Invisible Girl says, caught up now. "Wait, if Todoroki-kun is interested in her, then that just means she's really just that good!"
"I just want to ask her a few questions," I tell Invisible Girl before she can get any ideas, but it seems to backfire because she goes on to chatter with Gravity Girl about Hatsumei's contact information and what Gravity Girl thought about the support items and wondering about the designs.
But Shouji hums and asks, "Why her?"
"She used the items during the obstacle course, and they were critical components of Midoriya's strategy during the cavalry battle." I tip my head to Green Hair, who hasn't stopped muttering or staring at me and Gravity Girl in turns. "Durability and flexibility for something that a first year support course student made. And they were light enough for her to use while running, which is something that some support companies forget they have to account for."
"That is true!" Loud Guy puts the webbing between his index finger and thumb under his chin, said fingers extended while the others are folded. "Lightweight hoversoles and grappling hooks strong enough to support the user and the equipment would be a great addition to any hero's fighting style!"
Tail tilts his head, flicking his own tail like a cat might. "Who would you recommend it for, Todoroki-kun? You wouldn't," he adds when I blink at him, "have mentioned it if you didn't already think through the applications."
Well, I had been thinking about picking her brain for adding it to my equipment, but I can't exactly say that. I think about it a little. "Anyone who doesn't already have great mobility, and who are expecting to work in the city instead of a suburban or rural area. Someone who would be an Aboveground hero instead of an Underground one. Uraraka, at the very least. Yaoyorozu should also learn how to make it, if possible."
Vice Class Rep looks stunned; Gravity Girl looks thoughtful again.
"Why those two?" That's Shouji, voice quiet and his mouth-ended tentacle at shoulder-height.
"Uraraka could lighten her equipment or the equipment of others, and the hoversoles would give her the advantage in any rescue situations that she might be involved in. Which isn't to say that you can't be a frontline fighter," I add, when Gravity Girl starts to look offended. "Just that your Quirk makes you well-suited for collapsed buildings, earthquakes, tsunamis, other natural disasters."
Gravity Girl sits back into her seat, pacified. Vice Class Rep clears her throat and shrugs. "I can see why learning how to make it would be beneficial, but it's a complicated piece of machinery. The molecular structure alone would be complicated, not to mention the circuitry that must be involved…"
I blink, not understanding. When has difficulty ever stopped you, I almost ask, but that's too familiar. Too aggressive. Instead I tell her, "It doesn't have to be immediately. You have three years to learn how to make more complex things. You have all of high school to do it, and to gain more experience with your Quirk."
Though why the heroics education institution only goes up to high school, I don't understand. Engineers and business people need to go to university as a rule of thumb, but heroes are set loose on the world as soon as they turn eighteen. The human brain doesn't even finish developing until the age of twenty-five.
The chatter devolves. Students tell each other what they'd do with such equipment, what other support items that the support course students brought with them into the Festival, and a hundred other topics that I lose the track of easily.
"Do you want another glass of water, Todoroki-san?" Shouji asks, standing up, and I nod and stand up with him.
There's a short break for other recreational activities before the third event of the Festival. It makes sense, it allows for a transition period and participation from the students who didn't make it through the first or second events.
Either way, it's an interesting seed for everyone. Green Hair versus Tape; Spiky versus Gravity Girl. I'm matched up with Purple, the guy from General Education who'd come to the 1-A classroom to throw down the gauntlet two weeks ago.
That'll be interesting.
Sparky pulls me aside in the hallway when I make to leave. For once, he's serious. "Todoroki-kun."
I pause. Sparky's shoulders are slumped, one hand at the back of his neck, he's – smiling? – but he's looking down. "Yes?"
He nods to himself like he's making a decision. "Be careful out there. Your opponent – Shinsou – I was on his cavalry team last event. I don't remember any of it."
Don't remember any of it?
"I really should have listened to the rumors." Sparky laughs a little, but it's breathy, more wheezing, a lot of regret. "I thought they were – were exagerratin', you know? This is U.A. Surely people were just bein' – bein' biased, or somethin'. But, no. The rumors are true."
He shakes his head, short and jerky, and grabs at my arm. "Be careful, Todoroki-kun. That Shinsou guy – his Quirk is Brainwashing."
While the rest of the crowd is entertained by the recreational events, I go look for a quiet place to take a nap. It'll have to be outside, I think. Staying in the stadium is just asking for run-ins with other people. There'd been a particularly promising place I'd spotted where Green Hair had asked for that conversation –
Father says, "That was a cowardly thing to do, during the cavalry battle."
Oh, shit. I can't help myself: I freeze.
Father notices. Of course he notices. And of course he's upset about it, no, he's pissed, of course, he's trained me not to freeze, to always be aware and on my toes and ready to fight, but I'm frozen and there is no air in my lungs and there is only me and him.
His steps echo in my ears, steady, uncompromising, unrelenting. I shift into parade rest, hands behind back, feet shoulder width apart. It takes habit and all of my willpower to not turn around where I can feel his eyes on me like a knife at the back of the neck.
"I'm disappointed with you, Shouto." Father walks up to my back, pauses, and then moves around to face me from the front. I don't dare breathe. "I wish you would be done with this rebellious stage already. Your control over ice is the only thing that they've seen.
"With it," he allows, in the tone someone might take with a dog, "you've come this far. But you need to crush your opponents, Shouto."
He leaves a pause. The height difference is such that I'm staring into the fire flickering over his heart. I don't respond.
"I expect you to use your fire," Father says. "Give me a better performance in the individual fights."
I don't answer him. He's learned not to expect one, after all these years. But still, he pauses as though he is, and when all I do is keep my eyes forward and not meet his, he leaves.
I stay there standing, eyes unseeing, for a long time.
Yoarashi texts and the chime of my phone wakes me up. Congratulations! He says. It was really exhilarating watching you come this far in the tournament!! I know you can do it!!
And then, like an afterthought: I hope I'm not distracting you!! Have a great rest of the tournament!! I'm rooting for you!!
I don't think I've ever met anyone who is as guileless as him. Even Red with his straightforwardness is caught up in his 'manliness' interpretation of the world, but Yoarashi?
I think he would have enjoyed this tournament, and for the first time, I'm a little disappointed that he'd chosen to attend Shiketsu instead.
Notes:
Yoarashi: Yeah, it takes Todoroki-kun a while to text back sometimes, but we still talk!! He's been doing so well at the Festival!! I hope he has a good time during the last event!!
Shouto never felt the need to challenge the guy who keeps breaking his bones in the locker room here, so Katsuki doesn't target him as harshly during the minefield. Izuku slides into third place because the ones in first and second didn't slow down for those precious handful of seconds to let him catch up.
Izuku's and Katsuki's cavalry teams are the same as they were in canon; Shouto's, on the other hand, took Ojiro, so Denki ended up with Hitoshi.
The modern term of "emceeing" an event, or hosting an event, started as an acronym for Master of Ceremonies ("MC-ing"). Shouto's dissociation episodes are based on my own experiences with dissociation; hopefully I'm being clear enough about his perspective/experience while having one.
In the next chapter, we take the implications of Shouto's quirk to their inevitable conclusion.