Five Days later ...
The five days between Monday's mental conditioning and Saturday's mandatory rest had been a blur of intensity that pushed every student in Class 1-A to their absolute limits.
Tuesday had been endurance optimization with Aizawa—exactly as brutal as promised. Izuku had maintained continuous quirk use for over an hour, cycling through techniques until his sand control felt like dragging weights through mud and his muscles screamed in protest. Aizawa had documented exactly when each technique started degrading, identifying Izuku's stamina thresholds with clinical precision. "You have forty-seven minutes of peak performance," Aizawa had said, reviewing his notes. "After that, your beam accuracy drops by fifteen percent and your transformation speed decreases by point-two seconds. Know your limits so you can pace yourself during multi-event competitions."
Wednesday had been the first mandatory rest day, and Izuku had struggled with it more than any training session. The Voice had been relentless—We should be training, we're wasting time, everyone else is probably cheating and training anyway—until Izuku had finally snapped back mentally that Aizawa had threatened to bench anyone caught training. Instead, he'd spent the day with his family, helping his mother with errands, listening to Shinji talk about trade school, reviewing his hero notebooks without actually practicing anything physical. It had been strange, almost uncomfortable, to be still when his body wanted to move. But by evening, he'd felt more recovered than he'd expected. Mental reset mattered.
Thursday had been decision-making under exhaustion again, but worse. Aizawa had run him through combat scenarios until Izuku could barely stand, then presented increasingly complex tactical problems. "You're in the tournament finals. You've used sixty percent of your stamina. Your opponent has used forty percent. Do you press the advantage now while you still have numerical superiority, or do you play defensive and try to make them waste their remaining energy?" The questions never had obvious answers, and Aizawa's explanations afterward always revealed layers Izuku hadn't considered. But his success rate had improved to fifty-eight percent—measurable progress.
Friday had been the mock combat scenarios with random class pairings, supervised by both All Might and Aizawa. Before the matches began, Aizawa had pulled Izuku aside with a firm instruction: "No Erosion Beam, no Cyclone Sphere, no transformation. You're keeping those hidden until the Festival. Use only basic sand manipulation—constructs, barriers, standard attacks. I want you practicing fundamentals and adaptation, not revealing your ace techniques to the entire class."
The walks to the station with Mina had been the constant throughout the week. Fifteen minutes each day where they didn't talk about training or pressure or the looming Sports Festival. Monday she'd complained about her acid control homework. Tuesday they'd debated whether the cafeteria's katsu or yakisoba was better. Wednesday she'd shown him photos of her parents' watch party setup—they were going all out with decorations and snacks for the family gathering. Thursday they'd played a word game that devolved into stupid puns. Friday she'd just talked about her childhood, stories about growing up as the only kid in an apartment complex who looked different, how she'd learned to turn the teasing into confidence.
Each conversation had been a lifeline. A reminder that the world existed beyond combat optimization and tactical analysis.
Now it was Saturday morning—the second mandatory rest day—and Izuku woke up to the smell of a full breakfast being cooked. Not the usual quick rice and miso soup before he rushed off to morning training. An actual family breakfast.
He rolled off the futon carefully, not wanting to wake Shinji who was still snoring softly beside him. The apartment was already active—voices from the kitchen, the sizzle of cooking, the smell of eggs and fish and something sweet.
When Izuku emerged from the bedroom in his pajamas, rubbing sleep from his eyes, he found the entire family gathered in their small living space. Akari was setting the table. Daichi was helping their mother cook. Yumeko was pouring tea. Shinji must have woken up behind him because he stumbled out moments later, equally confused.
"What's all this?" Izuku asked, taking in the spread. This was more food than they usually had for dinner, let alone breakfast.
"Family meeting," Kaito said from his position at the head of their low table. His construction worker's hands were clean for once, his expression serious but warm. "Sit. Both of you."
Izuku and Shinji exchanged glances but obeyed, settling onto cushions around the table. The family gathered—seven people in a space meant for four, but they'd never let that stop them.
"So," Himari said, setting down the last plate and sitting beside her husband. "The Sports Festival is in two days."
"I know, Mom," Izuku said carefully, not sure where this was going.
"And we—" Akari gestured to encompass all the siblings, "—have been planning."
"Planning what?"
"How to embarrass you with our cheering, obviously," Yumeko said with a slight smile. "We're making signs."
"Please don't," Izuku said immediately, though he couldn't quite suppress his own smile.
"Too late," Shinji said, suddenly pulling out what looked like a poster board from behind the couch. It read "MIDORIYA IZUKU: SLUMS REPRESENT" in aggressive neon lettering with hand-drawn sand swirls around the edges.
Izuku buried his face in his hands. "Oh my god."
"That's not even the best one," Daichi said, revealing another sign. "THAT'S OUR BROTHER" with an arrow and a terrible drawing that might have been Izuku or might have been a potato with bronze-gold hair.
"I hate all of you," Izuku muttered, but he was smiling.
"You love us," Akari corrected, ruffling his hair like he was still ten. "And you're stuck with us. We got tickets."
That made Izuku's head snap up. "You what?"
"Tickets," Kaito said, his gruff voice unusually soft. "To the Sports Festival. All of us. Even managed to get seats together, though they're in the upper sections. We'll be there. Watching. Cheering." He paused, his calloused hand reaching across to grip Izuku's shoulder. "Being proud. No matter what happens."
Izuku felt something catch in his throat. "Tickets are expensive. And you all have work—"
"We took the day off," Himari interrupted gently. "All of us. Called in favors, swapped shifts, did what we needed to do. This is our baby brother—our baby son—competing on national television at the most prestigious hero school in Japan. Did you really think we'd miss that?"
"But the money—"
"Is spent and not up for discussion," Yumeko said firmly. "We're going. You're going to compete. We're going to embarrass you with signs and screaming. That's what's happening."
"I even made snacks for the trip," Himari added. "Your favorite onigiri, fruit, some sweets. Can't trust stadium food prices."
Izuku looked around the table at his family. Akari with her supportive big sister energy. Daichi with his quiet strength. Yumeko with her perceptive care disguised as practicality. Shinji with his competitive pride. His parents with their unconditional love and sacrifices he could never fully repay.
They'd all given up a day's wages to watch him compete. In a family that counted every yen, that was enormous.
"Thank you," Izuku managed, his voice rough. "I... thank you."
"Don't thank us yet," Shinji said with a grin. "Thank us after you win the whole thing and we can say we were there."
"Shinji," Himari chided gently.
"What? He's going to win. Look at him—he's been training like a possessed person. He's got this."
"I don't know about winning the whole thing," Izuku said honestly. "There are a lot of really strong students. Todoroki, Bakugou, even people from other classes—"
"But you're going to give it everything you have," Kaito said. Not a question. A statement of fact.
"Yes."
"Then that's all anyone can ask." His father's expression was serious now, the construction worker who'd taught Izuku about hard work and dignity in poverty. "You go out there, you fight with everything you've got, you show them that a kid from Shigaraki District belongs at UA just as much as any rich kid from the fancy neighborhoods. You make them remember your name."
"And if you lose?" Yumeko asked quietly, her analytical gaze studying Izuku's face.
"Then I lose having fought my hardest," Izuku said. "But I'm not planning to lose."
"That's my boy," Himari said, and there were tears in her eyes that she was trying to hide by serving breakfast. "Now eat. You're resting today but you need proper nutrition. I made all your favorites."
Breakfast was chaotic in the best way. Seven people talking over each other, sharing food, laughing at old stories and terrible jokes. Shinji demonstrated the ridiculous cheers he'd been practicing. Akari shared gossip from her hero agency about which pros would definitely be watching. Daichi promised to punch anyone who said anything bad about Izuku's performance. Yumeko kept sneaking concerned glances at him but didn't voice whatever she was thinking.
It was loud and cramped and perfect.
This is what you're fighting for, the Voice said quietly, without its usual edge. Not abstract concepts of success or proving yourself. This. These people who love you. This family that sacrificed their day's wages just to watch you compete.
"I know," Izuku thought back. "I know."
After breakfast, the family scattered to their various Saturday activities, but the warmth of the meal lingered. Izuku found himself on the building's rooftop—not to train, but just to think. To process.
Two days until the Sports Festival.
Izuku was in the middle of reviewing his hero notebooks—not training, just analysis as promised—when his phone buzzed with a text. He'd been sitting on his futon, surrounded by pages of quirk observations and match-up notes, trying to occupy his mind without physically exerting himself.
The message was from Mina.
Mina: heyyy so random question
Mina: you doing anything today?
Mina: i know we're supposed to be RESTING (aizawa's orders blah blah)
Mina: but im going crazy just sitting in my apartment
Mina: everyone else is busy with family stuff
Mina: uraraka's with her parents, iida's doing some family thing, tsuyu's with her siblings
Mina: kirishima's family dragged him to some relative's house
Mina: yaomomo is probably at some fancy family brunch idk
Mina: ANYWAY
Mina: wanna hang out? just like, walk around or get food or something?
Mina: no hero talk i PROMISE
Mina: just two people enjoying their day off before everything gets crazy
Izuku stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. His first instinct was to decline—he should be reviewing strategies, analyzing potential opponents, mentally preparing for the Festival. But then again, Aizawa had explicitly ordered rest. And the Voice had been surprisingly quiet all morning, almost like it was giving him space after the family breakfast.
Plus, he'd been cooped up in the apartment all day. The walls were starting to feel close.
Izuku: Sure. Where did you want to meet?
Mina: YES! okay um
Mina: theres a park near kohaku station? the one with the duck pond?
Mina: meet there in like 30 mins?
Izuku: Sounds good.
Mina: awesome! this is gonna be fun!
Mina: see you soon!
Izuku looked down at his pajamas and realized he should probably change. He grabbed his casual clothes—simple jeans and a hoodie, nothing fancy—and headed to the bathroom to make himself presentable.
"Going somewhere?" Yumeko asked from the kitchen where she was helping their mother prepare lunch.
"Meeting a friend," Izuku said, trying to sound casual. "Just going to hang out for a bit. That's still resting, right?"
"Depends on the friend," Yumeko said with a knowing look. "Is this the pink girl from your class? Mina?"
Izuku felt his face heat up slightly. "How did you—"
"You mention her a lot. 'Mina said this,' 'Mina thinks that,' 'I walked to the station with Mina today.'" Yumeko's smile was gentle but teasing. "It's sweet. You should go. Have fun. Be a teenager for a few hours."
"It's not like that," Izuku protested. "We're just friends."
"I didn't say it was like anything," Yumeko said innocently. "I just said have fun. Is that a problem?"
"No," Izuku muttered, grabbing his jacket. "I'll be back for dinner."
"Have fun on your not-date!" Shinji called from the living room, apparently having overheard everything.
"It's not a date!" Izuku called back, already heading for the door.
"Sure it's not!" Shinji's laughter followed him into the hallway.
The park was small but pleasant, with a walking path that circled a duck pond and scattered benches under cherry blossom trees that were just starting to bud. It was the kind of place locals came to relax, away from the busier commercial areas of the district.
Izuku spotted Mina immediately—her pink skin and bright energy made her hard to miss. She was sitting on a bench near the pond, wearing casual clothes (ripped jeans and a bright yellow hoodie that somehow worked with her coloring) and waving enthusiastically when she saw him.
"You made it!" she said, bouncing up to greet him. "I was worried you might cancel and spend the whole day doing like, mental training exercises or something."
"I considered it," Izuku admitted with a small smile. "But Aizawa said rest, and technically this counts as rest."
"Exactly! We're being very obedient students." Mina gestured toward the walking path. "Come on, let's walk. I've been sitting all morning and I need to move or I'll vibrate out of my skin."
They started walking along the path, the afternoon sun warm but not uncomfortably so. A few other people were scattered throughout the park—elderly couples feeding ducks, parents with small children, the peaceful weekend atmosphere of a neighborhood at rest.
"So," Mina said after a moment of comfortable silence. "How are you feeling? Like, really feeling. Tomorrow's your last day of rest before the Sports Festival actually starts on Monday."
"Nervous," Izuku said honestly. "Excited. Terrified. All of it at once. My family told me this morning they're all coming to watch—they got tickets, took the day off work. It's... a lot."
"That's so sweet though!" Mina's expression was genuinely happy. "My parents are coming too. They're making a whole thing of it—got matching shirts made with my face on them. I'm going to die of embarrassment."
"Your parents sound fun," Izuku said, imagining it.
"They're ridiculous," Mina said affectionately. "But yeah, they're great. They've been so supportive about the hero thing, even though they were worried about the danger." She kicked at a pebble on the path. "My dad keeps sending me these old hero tournament clips from like twenty years ago trying to give me 'tactical advice.' It's sweet but also completely outdated."
"At least he's trying," Izuku said with a slight smile. "My dad just tells me to 'make them remember my name' and leaves it at that."
"Very dramatic. I like it." Mina grinned. "Are you nervous about them watching? Like, my stomach does this weird flip thing every time I think about my parents seeing me compete on national TV."
"Terrified," Izuku admitted. "But also... it makes it feel more real? Like, this isn't just training anymore. This is the actual thing we've been working toward."
They walked in silence for a moment, reaching a section of the path that ran right alongside the pond. Ducks paddled lazily in the water, occasionally quacking at each other. The scene was so peaceful it felt disconnected from the intensity of the upcoming Festival.
"Can I ask you something?" Mina said, her tone shifting to something more careful. "And you can totally tell me to mind my own business if it's too personal."
"Sure," Izuku said, though he felt a slight tension building.
"You've changed a lot since the beginning of the school year," Mina said, not looking at him, focusing on the path ahead. "Like, at first you were this analytical, kind of quiet guy who was clearly super smart about hero stuff. Then after the drug attack, you got more... intense. Focused. Kind of scary sometimes, honestly."
Izuku felt his stomach tighten. Where was she going with this?
"But these past couple weeks," Mina continued, "especially since we started walking to the station together, it's like you're finding some kind of balance. Like you're still intense and driven, but you're also remembering how to just... be a person. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Izuku said quietly. "It makes sense."
"So I guess my question is—" Mina finally looked at him, her expression open and genuine, "—are you okay? Like, actually okay? Because you can tell me if you're not. I won't judge or think you're weak or anything. I just want to make sure you're not drowning in all the pressure."
Izuku stopped walking, and Mina stopped with him. They stood by the pond, the afternoon sun reflecting off the water, and Izuku considered how to answer.
Be honest, the Voice said quietly. She's earned that much. And lying to someone who genuinely cares is... counterproductive.
"I'm okay," Izuku said slowly. "Not perfect. Definitely stressed. Sometimes I feel like I'm becoming someone I don't fully recognize—colder, more calculating, more focused on winning than anything else. But I'm managing. The walks to the station help. Days like this help. Having people who care enough to check in—that helps too."
Mina's smile was soft, understanding. "Good. Because you're allowed to be human, you know? Even when you're being all intimidating and tactical genius-y. Those things aren't mutually exclusive."
"You've said that before," Izuku noted.
"Because you need to hear it repeatedly until you believe it," Mina said firmly. "You're going to do amazing at the Sports Festival. But even if something goes wrong, even if you don't win, you're still Izuku. Still the guy who's nice to everyone, who analyzes quirks like it's a hobby, who makes terrible puns when he's tired. That doesn't change based on tournament results."
Izuku felt something tight in his chest loosen slightly. "Thanks, Mina. That... means a lot."
"You're welcome!" Her energy returned immediately, the serious moment passing naturally. "Now come on, I saw a crepe stand near the station and we're getting dessert because rest days should include treats. It's basically a rule."
"Is it though?" Izuku asked, but he was smiling as they started walking again.
"Yes! I just made it a rule right now. Mina's Rules of Rest Days: Rule number one, treats are mandatory."
"What's rule number two?"
"Still working on that one. Probably something about not thinking about training for at least three consecutive hours."
They found the crepe stand—a small cart operated by an elderly man who made them fresh while they waited. Mina got strawberry with whipped cream. Izuku got chocolate banana because he couldn't remember the last time he'd had something this indulgent.
They found another bench, this one overlooking a small playground where kids were playing. The crepes were good—really good—and for twenty minutes they just sat and ate and watched the world exist around them.
"This is nice," Izuku said eventually. "Just... existing. Not training or strategizing or preparing. Just being here."
"See? Rest days are important," Mina said, somehow already halfway through her crepe while Izuku was still working on his first few bites. "Your brain needs time to not be in combat mode."
"My brain doesn't really have an off switch," Izuku admitted.
"Then we need to install one," Mina said decisively. "Midoriya Izuku Off Switch, coming right up. I'm thinking we start with terrible jokes until your brain short circuits from the sheer stupidity."
"Please don't."
"Too late! Okay, okay. Why did the hero bring a ladder to the Sports Festival?"
"I don't know, why?"
"Because they wanted to reach new heights!" Mina burst into laughter at her own joke, which was so infectious that Izuku found himself laughing too despite the terrible pun.
"That was awful," he said.
"I know! I have more! Why don't heroes ever get lost?"
"Why?"
"Because they always follow their moral compass!" More laughter from Mina, more reluctant smiling from Izuku.
They spent the next half hour like that—Mina telling increasingly terrible hero-related jokes, Izuku groaning but also laughing, the tension of the upcoming Festival fading into something manageable. The afternoon sun shifted lower, casting long shadows across the park.
Eventually, they started walking back toward the station, their steps slower than necessary, neither one quite ready to end the afternoon.
"Thank you for this," Izuku said as they neared the station entrance. "I didn't realize how much I needed a day like this until it was happening."
"That's what friends are for," Mina said, bumping his shoulder with hers. "Making sure you don't completely lose yourself in the serious stuff. Balance, remember?"
"Balance," Izuku repeated. "I'm working on it."
"You're doing better than you think," Mina assured him. "Seriously. The Izuku I hung out with today? That's the real you. The intense training guy is also you. You're both. And that's okay."
They reached the station platform, and Mina's train arrived first—heading toward Kohaku while Izuku would wait for the one going to Shigaraki.
"See you Monday," Mina said, giving him a quick wave. "And hey—you're going to be amazing. I know it. Everyone knows it. Just remember to breathe, okay?"
"Okay," Izuku agreed.
"And maybe smile at least once during the Festival! You've got a nice smile! People should see it!"
Before Izuku could respond, she'd boarded the train, visible through the window giving him an enthusiastic double thumbs up as the doors closed. Then the train pulled away, and she was gone.
Izuku stood on the platform alone, waiting for his own train, and found himself smiling despite everything. The afternoon had been good. Really good. A reminder that life existed beyond combat training and tactical preparation.
That was exactly what you needed, the Voice observed, surprisingly without criticism. Perspective. Grounding. A reminder of what you're fighting for beyond just winning.
"Yeah," Izuku agreed quietly. "It was."
His train arrived, and he boarded, finding a seat by the window. The ride back to Shigaraki District felt different than usual—lighter somehow. Less weight pressing down on his shoulders.
Two days until the Sports Festival.
His family would be there. His friends would be there. Mina would be there, probably with terrible jokes and encouraging smiles.
He wasn't fighting alone. He'd never been fighting alone.
The pressure was still there—it would always be there. But it felt more manageable now. More like motivation than suffocation.
As the train rumbled through the city, Izuku pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.
Izuku: Thanks for today. I needed that more than I realized.
The response came almost immediately.
Mina: anytime! literally anytime!
Mina: now go rest for real and i'll see you monday!
Mina: you're gonna be AMAZING!
Izuku smiled at his phone, pocketed it, and leaned back in his seat.
Two more days.
Then he'd show everyone what sand could do.
But he'd do it as himself—the whole self, not just the sharp edges. The analytical fighter and the teenager who laughed at terrible jokes. The tactical genius and the kid who ate crepes in the park with a friend.
All of it together.
That was the real strength Mina had been trying to show him.
Balance.
Being dangerous and being human, all at once.
The metamorphosis was complete.
Now it was time to see if the butterfly could fly
Monday Morning
The alarm went off at 5:00 AM—earlier than usual, but Izuku had been awake for the past twenty minutes anyway, staring at the ceiling while Shinji snored softly beside him on the futon. Sleep had come in fits and starts throughout the night, his mind cycling through strategies, match-ups, what-if scenarios that played on repeat.
Today was the day.
The Sports Festival.
Everything he'd been training for, everything his family had sacrificed for, everything that would determine his hero career trajectory—it all came down to today.
No pressure.
You're awake, the Voice observed unnecessarily. Nervous?
"Terrified," Izuku admitted quietly, careful not to wake his brother. "But also ready. I think."
You're ready. We're ready. Two refined techniques, transformation applications, complete fighting style. We've prepared for this.
Izuku carefully extracted himself from the futon, moving with practiced silence through the pre-dawn darkness of the apartment. The floor creaked slightly under his weight—familiar sounds of home. He grabbed his clothes and headed to the bathroom, closing the door before turning on the light.
His reflection stared back at him from the mirror. Bronze-gold hair messy from sleep, dark circles under his eyes from restless nights, but his expression was focused. Determined. This was the face that would be broadcast to the entire nation in a few hours.
Better make it presentable.
The shower was quick but thorough—hot water helping to wake his muscles, washing away the nervous energy that had been building since yesterday. He went through his routine mechanically: wash, rinse, dry off, brush teeth. Normal morning actions that felt surreal given what the day held.
When he emerged from the bathroom in his UA uniform, the apartment was starting to wake up. He could hear movement from his parents' room, the sounds of his father getting ready for—no, wait. His father had taken the day off. They all had. They'd be at the Sports Festival, watching.
That thought sent another spike of nervous energy through his chest.
Focus, the Voice said firmly. One step at a time. Breakfast first. Fuel the body before fueling the performance.
The kitchen was empty when Izuku entered, but his mother had clearly been up early preparing. There was a full breakfast laid out on the table—more elaborate than usual, with a covered dish that was still warm. A note sat beside it in his mother's careful handwriting:
"Izuku - Eat everything. You'll need your strength today. We're so proud of you, no matter what happens. Love, Mom."
Izuku felt something catch in his throat. He lifted the cover to find a complete meal: rice, grilled fish, miso soup, tamagoyaki (his favorite), pickled vegetables, and even some fruit. This was more food than they usually had for special occasions, let alone a Monday morning.
His family had pooled resources to make sure he was properly fueled for today.
Eat, the Voice said, gentler than usual. Honor the effort by taking care of yourself.
Izuku sat down and ate methodically, making sure to finish everything. The food was good—his mother's cooking always was—but he barely tasted it. His mind was already at the Sports Festival arena, running through scenarios and strategies.
"You're up early."
Izuku looked up to see Yumeko in the doorway, still in her pajamas, her perceptive eyes studying him carefully.
"Couldn't sleep much," Izuku admitted between bites of tamagoyaki.
"Nervous?" She moved into the kitchen, starting to prepare tea.
"Terrified," Izuku said honestly. "But ready. I think."
"You've said 'I think' twice now," Yumeko observed, pouring hot water into the teapot. "That sounds like doubt."
"It's not doubt. It's just..." Izuku struggled to find the words. "It's acknowledging that no matter how much I've prepared, there are variables I can't control. Anything could happen today."
"True." Yumeko set a cup of tea in front of him—green tea, his usual morning preference. "But you can control how you respond to those variables. That's what all that training was for, right? Not just technique development, but mental preparation. Adaptation."
"Yeah," Izuku said, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. "Aizawa spent a whole week drilling that into me."
"Then trust the preparation. Trust yourself." Yumeko sat across from him, her own tea in hand. "You're going to do amazing things today, little brother. I know it. We all know it."
"What if I don't?" Izuku asked quietly. "What if I lose early? What if I freeze up? What if—"
"Then you'll learn from it and try again," Yumeko interrupted firmly. "But Izuku? I've watched you train yourself into exhaustion every day for weeks. I've seen the focus, the dedication, the way you push yourself beyond what seems reasonable. You're not going to freeze up. That's not who you are anymore."
Anymore. The word hung in the air between them.
"I've changed," Izuku said. Not a question.
"You've evolved," Yumeko corrected. "There's a difference. Change implies losing something. Evolution implies growing into something more complete." She took a sip of her tea. "You're still you—the analytical, kind person who cares too much about everyone. But you're also stronger now. More confident. More capable of doing what needs to be done."
More dangerous, the Voice added silently. But she's too tactful to say that part out loud.
"I just hope that's enough," Izuku said.
"It will be." Yumeko's confidence was absolute. "Now finish your breakfast. You need to leave soon, and Mom will kill me if I let you go without eating everything she prepared."
The apartment gradually came to life as the rest of the family woke up. Akari emerged first, immediately fussing over whether Izuku had everything he needed. Shinji stumbled out with bedhead, immediately launching into enthusiastic predictions about how Izuku was going to "destroy everyone." Daichi gave him a solid pat on the shoulder and a gruff "make 'em work for it." His parents appeared last, both looking proud and worried in equal measure.
"You have everything?" Himari asked, checking his bag for the third time. "Your hero costume? Water bottle? Snacks in case you get hungry between events?"
"Mom, I have everything," Izuku assured her. "The support department handles the hero costumes. I just need to show up."
"I know, I know. I just want to make sure you're prepared." She cupped his face in her hands, looking at him with eyes that shimmered slightly. "My baby. Competing at the Sports Festival. I still can't believe it."
"Himari, you're going to make the boy late," Kaito said gently, but his own expression was emotional. "Come here, son."
His father pulled him into a brief, firm hug—the kind that said everything words couldn't. When they separated, Kaito gripped Izuku's shoulders, looking him directly in the eye.
"You remember what I said," Kaito's voice was rough but steady. "You go out there, you fight with everything you've got. You show them that Midoriya Izuku from Shigaraki District belongs at UA. You make them remember your name."
"I will, Dad."
"I know you will." Kaito released him, stepping back. "Now go. You'll be late for your own tournament."
The goodbye took longer than Izuku expected—everyone wanting to give last words of encouragement, last pieces of advice, last reminders that they were proud of him. Finally, Akari physically pushed him toward the door.
"Go! We'll see you at the arena! We'll be in section E, row 18! Look for the embarrassing signs!"
"Please don't have embarrassing signs," Izuku said, already knowing it was a lost cause.
"Too late! Now GO!"
The train to UA was more crowded than usual—tourists and families heading to the Sports Festival, students from other schools coming to watch, the usual Monday commuters mixed with festival attendees. Izuku found a spot near the door, holding the overhead strap as the train lurched into motion.
His phone buzzed with messages. He pulled it out to see the Class 1-A group chat exploding with activity.
Mina: SPORTS FESTIVAL DAY!
Kirishima: SO MANLY! I'M SO PUMPED!
Kaminari: i think im gonna throw up
Kaminari: is it normal to feel like throwing up
Mina: thats just nerves! you got this!
Uraraka: I couldn't eat breakfast
Iida: EVERYONE MUST EAT BREAKFAST! PROPER NUTRITION IS ESSENTIAL FOR PEAK PERFORMANCE!
Tsuyu: i had a very sensible breakfast, ribbit
Momo: Remember to stay hydrated everyone. The festival can last several hours.
Tokoyami: The darkness of competition awaits.
Kaminari: dude why are you like this
Sero: lol tokoyami's gonna narrate the entire festival in emo
Hagakure: I'M SO EXCITED I CAN'T STOP BOUNCING
Ojiro: That's great Hagakure but we can't actually see you bouncing
Hagakure: I KNOW BUT I'M DOING IT ANYWAY
Izuku smiled despite his nerves, typing out a response.
Izuku: Good luck everyone. See you at the arena.
Mina: MIDORIYA! you're gonna be amazing!
Mina: remember to BREATHE
Mina: and maybe smile at least once!
Kirishima: yeah man you got this!
Bakugou: tch. don't lose to anyone except me
That was probably the closest thing to encouragement Bakugou was capable of.
The train continued its route, each stop bringing them closer to UA. Izuku could feel his heart rate increasing, adrenaline starting to build in his system. His quirk responded to his emotional state—he could feel sand particles wanting to form, his control itching to be used.
Soon, he told himself. Just a little longer.
When the train finally pulled into UA's station, the crowd surged toward the exits. Izuku let himself be carried along with the flow, emerging onto the platform into a scene of controlled chaos. Students in various school uniforms heading toward UA's stadium. Families with children excited to see real heroes. Media personnel with cameras and equipment. Security directing traffic flow.
The atmosphere was electric.
This is it, the Voice said, and for once there was no manipulation in its tone. Just acknowledgment. Everything we've worked for. Everything we've become. Today, we prove it.
Izuku took a deep breath, adjusted his bag, and started walking toward the stadium entrance.
The Sports Festival was about to begin.
UA Stadium
The path from the station to the stadium wound through UA's campus, following clearly marked signs for "SPORTS FESTIVAL - PARTICIPANTS" versus "SPORTS FESTIVAL - SPECTATORS." Izuku followed the participant route, joining streams of students from Class 1-A and other hero course classes. He could see Class 1-B students in their own group ahead—caught a glimpse of grey hair with gold streaks that had to be Iwao, though his cousin didn't look back.
The stadium loomed ahead, massive and imposing. Izuku had seen it from a distance during regular classes, but approaching it as a participant was different. This was where he'd fight. Where he'd prove himself. Where everything would be decided.
Security checkpoints filtered students through, verifying IDs and directing them to appropriate changing rooms. Izuku found himself swept along with other Class 1-A students, all heading toward their designated preparation area.
The changing room was surprisingly spacious—lockers lining the walls, benches in the center, a few bathroom stalls in the back. A digital display on one wall showed: "FIRST YEARS - CLASS 1-A" and beneath that, "EVENT START: 45 MINUTES."
Forty-five minutes until everything began.
Students were already changing into their gym uniforms—the standard UA training gear with "UA" printed on the front. Blue with white accents, simple and functional. No hero costumes for the Sports Festival; everyone competed on equal ground in standardized outfits.
"Midoriya!" Kirishima called from across the room, already half-changed. "You made it! How you feeling, man?"
"Nervous," Izuku admitted, moving to find an empty locker. "But ready."
"Same! My stomach is doing backflips!" Kirishima's sharp-toothed grin was bright despite his admitted nerves. "But this is what we've been training for! Time to show everyone what Class 1-A can do!"
The room gradually filled with the rest of their class. Uraraka looked pale but determined, her hands clenched into fists. Iida was already in uniform, doing stretches and muttering what sounded like a motivational speech to himself. Tsuyu seemed calm, her usual unflappable demeanor intact. Momo was reviewing notes—probably strategy observations.
Tokoyami stood in a corner, Dark Shadow manifesting slightly around him in what looked like nervous energy. Kaminari was indeed looking slightly green, like he might actually throw up. Sero was trying to lighten the mood with jokes that fell a bit flat given the tension.
And Bakugou—Bakugou sat on a bench in the corner, already in uniform, eyes closed but radiating intensity. Not nervous. Never nervous. Just focused, coiled, ready to explode into action the moment the Festival began.
Todoroki entered last, moving with his characteristic silence to claim a locker away from everyone else. His heterochromatic eyes swept the room once before he began changing, not engaging with any of the nervous energy around him.
You're all competing against each other, the Voice observed. Right now you're classmates, but in less than an hour, you'll be opponents. Everyone in this room is thinking the same thing: how do I beat everyone else here?
"Not everyone," Izuku thought back quietly as he changed into his gym uniform. "Some of us just want to do our best."
Naïve. Everyone wants to win. Even the ones claiming they're just "doing their best" are lying to themselves.
Maybe. But Izuku remembered Mina's encouragement, Uraraka's genuine friendship, Kirishima's enthusiastic support. They wanted to win, sure. But they also wanted each other to succeed. Those things weren't mutually exclusive.
Once everyone was changed, the room settled into an odd limbo. Too early to head to the stadium floor, too late to do any actual preparation. They existed in this strange in-between space, waiting for the announcement that would call them to the arena.
Mina plopped down on the bench next to Izuku, her usual energy dampened by visible nerves. "Okay, so, I know I said I was terrified, but now that we're actually HERE, I'm like... beyond terrified. Is there a word for that? Super-terrified? Mega-terrified?"
"Petrified?" Izuku suggested.
"Yes! That! I'm petrified!" She bounced her leg rapidly, that nervous energy needing an outlet. "What if I mess up immediately? What if I'm the first one eliminated? What if—"
"You're going to be fine," Izuku said, surprising himself with how steady his voice sounded. "You've trained hard. Your acid control is really good. Just trust your preparation."
"Look at you, giving pep talks," Mina said with a shaky smile. "Usually I'm the one doing that for you."
"Figured it was my turn."
"Well, thanks. It helps." She took a deep breath. "We're going to do this. We're going to go out there and show everyone what Class 1-A is made of."
"INDEED!" Iida's voice cut through the room as he stood up, his hand already chopping the air. "As members of Class 1-A, we carry not just our own aspirations but the reputation of our entire class! We must conduct ourselves with dignity and effort worthy of UA's hero course!"
"Iida, you're making it worse," Kaminari groaned from where he was slumped on a bench. "Can you not be so intense right now?"
"I am simply encouraging proper competitive spirit!"
"You're giving me an anxiety attack is what you're doing."
"Everyone shut up," Bakugou growled from his corner. "You're all being pathetic. It's a competition. You fight, you win, you move forward. Stop overthinking it."
"Easy for you to say," Sero muttered. "You're not scared of anything."
"Damn right I'm not." Bakugou's red eyes opened, sweeping across the room with predatory focus. "And none of you should be either. We're Class 1-A. We survived actual villain attacks. Some sports competition should be easy compared to that."
He had a point, Izuku had to admit. They'd faced the USJ attack, come out alive. This was just organized fighting with rules and medical staff on standby.
"Bakugou's right," Todoroki said quietly from his isolated corner, surprising everyone. "Fear is pointless here. Either you're prepared or you're not. Either you'll advance or you won't. Worrying changes nothing."
"That's very zen," Mina said. "Also kind of depressing."
"It's realistic," Todoroki corrected, his tone flat.
The digital display updated: "EVENT START: 30 MINUTES."
Thirty minutes.
The nervous energy in the room intensified. Some students started doing warm-up exercises. Others reviewed notes or muttered strategies to themselves. A few just sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
Izuku found himself doing breathing exercises Aizawa had taught him during mental conditioning. In for four counts, hold for four, out for four. Steady. Controlled. Centering his focus.
You're ready, the Voice said with certainty. Two techniques refined to peak efficiency. Transformation ability mastered. Complete fighting style. Mental conditioning for pressure. You've prepared for every variable you can control.
"And the ones I can't control?"
We adapt. That's what the training was for. Flexibility. Quick thinking. Responding to chaos. You'll be fine.
"You sound confident."
I am. We are. Because we've done the work. Now we just execute.
The display updated again: "EVENT START: 15 MINUTES. PROCEED TO STAGING AREA."
"Alright everyone!" A voice came through speakers in the room—Present Mic's unmistakable enthusiasm even through audio equipment. "First year hero course students, please make your way to the stadium staging area! It's time to show the world what you're made of! YEAH!"
The room stirred into motion. Students stood, did final stretches, made last adjustments to uniforms. The nervous energy transformed into something more focused. Battle-ready.
This is it, the Voice said.
"This is it," Izuku agreed quietly.
Class 1-A filed out of the changing room, following signs toward the staging area. The hallways were wide but felt narrow with forty-two first-year hero course students moving through them—Class 1-A and Class 1-B converging from different directions.
Izuku caught sight of Iwao in the Class 1-B group. Their eyes met briefly across the hallway. His cousin's expression was hard, competitive. A small nod—acknowledgment of the coming confrontation. Then the moment passed, both groups continuing forward.
The staging area was a large space just behind the main stadium entrance—both classes gathered together now, waiting for their cue to enter the arena. Through the closed gates ahead, Izuku could hear the crowd. Thousands of voices, a wall of sound that made his mental conditioning training feel inadequate.
"Can you hear that?" Uraraka whispered, her eyes wide. "That's... that's a lot of people."
"Approximately 50,000 seat capacity," Momo said, though her voice was slightly strained. "Likely filled to maximum given the Festival's popularity."
"50,000 people watching us," Kaminari said faintly. "I think I'm going to pass out."
"You will not pass out," Iida said firmly. "You will walk through those gates with pride and determination!"
"Easy for you to say..."
Izuku tried to apply his training. The crowd wasn't a threat. Just noise. Irrelevant data. Focus on what mattered: the competition, the opponents, the events themselves.
But damn, that was a lot of people.
"HEY!" Present Mic's voice boomed through the stadium, and even through the closed gates it was deafening. "ARE YOU READY TO SEE THE NEXT GENERATION OF HEROES?!"
The crowd roared in response—a sound so loud it vibrated through the ground.
"THEN LET'S WELCOME OUR FIRST YEAR HERO COURSE STUDENTS! THESE KIDS HAVE BEEN TRAINING THEIR HEARTS OUT FOR THIS MOMENT! LET'S GIVE THEM THE ENTRANCE THEY DESERVE!"
The gates began to open.
Light poured in from the stadium—bright, overwhelming. The crowd noise intensified, becoming a physical presence.
"CLASS 1-A! CLASS 1-B! COME ON OUT!"
Iida, as class representative, led Class 1-A forward. Izuku found himself in the middle of the group, surrounded by his classmates as they walked through the gates and into the stadium proper.
The sight that greeted them was overwhelming.
The stadium was massive—easily 50,000 people filling the stands in every direction. Cameras everywhere, capturing every angle. Massive screens showing their entrance from multiple perspectives. The arena floor itself was huge, flat and open, with what looked like various terrain features that could be deployed for different events.
And the noise—the crowd was deafening. Cheering, screaming, a wall of sound that made thinking difficult.
Focus, the Voice said firmly, cutting through the sensory chaos. Block it out. They're not important. The competition is what matters.
Izuku tried to narrow his focus like Aizawa had taught him. Acknowledge the crowd exists, then filter it as background. Threat assessment: what's actually dangerous versus what's just stimulation.
The students lined up in the center of the arena—Class 1-A and Class 1-B standing together, facing a raised platform where the teachers sat. Izuku could see Principal Nedzu, Aizawa looking characteristically exhausted, All Might in his hero form, Midnight in her hero costume, and various other faculty members.
"WHAT A TURNOUT!" Present Mic continued his commentary from somewhere—probably a commentary booth high above the stadium. "LOOK AT THESE KIDS! THEY SURVIVED A VILLAIN ATTACK AT THE USJ! THEY'VE BEEN TRAINING LIKE CRAZY! AND NOW THEY'RE HERE TO SHOW YOU WHAT UA'S HERO COURSE IS ALL ABOUT!"
The crowd roared again. Izuku's hands clenched slightly at his sides, controlling the urge to manifest sand. Not yet. Soon.
"AND NOW," Present Mic announced, "THE STUDENT PLEDGE! REPRESENTING THE FIRST YEAR STUDENTS—THE WINNER OF THE ENTRANCE EXAM—KATSUKI BAKUGOU FROM CLASS 1-A!"
Wait, what?
Bakugou was the entrance exam winner? Izuku had scored 82 points, which had felt like a lot, but apparently Bakugou had scored even higher.
Makes sense, the Voice observed. His quirk is perfect for the entrance exam format. Explosive power, wide area damage, mobility. He was built for racking up points quickly.
Bakugou walked up to the platform with aggressive confidence, not even slightly intimidated by the 50,000 people watching. He grabbed the microphone, his expression somewhere between a smirk and a scowl.
"I just wanna say," Bakugou's voice echoed through the stadium, "I'm gonna win."
The crowd's reaction was mixed—some cheering the confidence, others booing the arrogance. The other first-year students had various reactions too. Some looked annoyed (Iida, Momo), others amused (Sero, Kaminari), most just unsurprised because that was extremely on-brand for Bakugou.
"WELL THEN!" Present Mic recovered quickly from the anticlimactic pledge. "THAT'S CERTAINLY DIRECT! I LIKE THE CONFIDENCE!"
Bakugou returned to the student lineup, looking completely unbothered by the mixed reaction. If anything, he looked pleased with himself.
"AND NOW, LET'S HEAR FROM OUR CHIEF UMPIRE! THE R-RATED HERO—MIDNIGHT!"
Midnight stepped forward on the platform, her hero costume drawing attention as always. Her whip cracked once for dramatic effect, and the crowd settled into anticipatory silence.
"Welcome to the UA Sports Festival!" Midnight's voice carried across the stadium without needing a microphone. "You first-year students have come here today to prove yourselves! To show pro heroes, agencies, and the world what you're capable of! The competition will be fierce! The challenges will be demanding! But remember—this is your moment to shine!"
The crowd cheered, and Izuku felt his heart rate increase. This was really happening. No more preparation, no more training. Just the actual event.
"The Sports Festival consists of THREE EVENTS!" Midnight continued. "Each event will progressively narrow down competitors until only the strongest remain for the final tournament! And now, without further delay, let me announce the FIRST EVENT!"
A massive screen behind her lit up, displaying what looked like... an obstacle course? The image showed a complex path winding around the stadium, with various challenges marked along the route.
"THE FIRST EVENT IS—THE OBSTACLE RACE!"
The screen showed the full course layout. It started at the stadium entrance, wound through a complex path that wrapped around the entire arena using the stadium's infrastructure, and finished back at the center of the arena floor.
"THE RULES ARE SIMPLE!" Midnight explained. "All forty-two first-year students will race the four-kilometer course simultaneously! Any quirk use is allowed! The first twenty students to cross the finish line will advance to the second event! The rest will be eliminated!"
Forty-two students. Twenty advance. Twenty-two eliminated in the first event alone.
More than half the competitors would be out after this single race.
"THE COURSE INCLUDES THREE MAJOR OBSTACLES!" Midnight's whip cracked again. "But I won't spoil the surprises! You'll discover them as you go! Adaptability and quick thinking will be just as important as raw speed!"
The students around Izuku were already analyzing, strategizing. Whispered conversations about quirk applications, movement techniques, how to handle unknown obstacles.
"STUDENTS, TAKE YOUR POSITIONS AT THE STARTING GATE!"
The group moved toward the indicated area—a wide tunnel entrance at one end of the stadium. Izuku found himself in the middle of the pack again, surrounded by Class 1-A students with Class 1-B mixed throughout.
The starting gate was deliberately narrow—designed to create a chokepoint, forcing students to either fight through the initial bottleneck or find creative ways around it. Classic Sports Festival tactics.
This is it, the Voice said. Four kilometers. Three unknown obstacles. Forty-two competitors. Twenty advance. Everything we've prepared for comes down to this.
Izuku took a deep breath, feeling sand particles wanting to form around him. Not yet. Wait for the signal. Conserve energy for when it matters.
He could see Todoroki ahead and to the left. Bakugou further right, already crackling with small explosions. Iida doing last-second leg stretches. Uraraka looking nervous but determined. Momo reviewing her internal strategy. Tokoyami with Dark Shadow partially manifested.
And somewhere in the crowd—he couldn't see them but knew they were there—his family. Watching. Hoping. Believing in him.
Forty-five minutes ago he'd been in the changing room. Now he stood at the starting line of the event that would determine his entire hero career trajectory.
"RACERS!" Midnight's voice echoed through the stadium. "ON YOUR MARKS!"
The crowd noise peaked, becoming almost painful in its intensity.
Izuku's quirk hummed beneath his skin, ready. His mind ran through the tactical approach: survive the initial bottleneck, assess the first obstacle, adapt as needed. Don't waste energy early. Pace yourself. Think strategically.
"GET SET!"
His heart pounded. Every muscle tensed. Every sense sharpened. This was it. Everything came down to what happened next.
The starting signal light appeared above the gate—red, holding them in place.
Focus, the Voice said. Block out everything except the course ahead. The crowd doesn't matter. The cameras don't matter. Just the race. Just winning.
The red light held.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The stadium held its breath.
Then—
The light turned green.
"GO!