The movie marathon at Ashido's place had been exactly what they needed. Terrible action films with worse physics, commentary that dissolved into arguments about quirk applications, pizza that arrived cold but nobody cared. For six hours, they'd been normal teenagers, and Arthur had almost forgotten the taste of blood in his mouth from three days prior.
Now, walking through U.A.'s gates on the first day back, Arthur felt the weight settle over his shoulders again. Security had tripled. Pro heroes patrolled the grounds in shifts. Every entrance had been reinforced, surveillance upgraded, protocols rewritten.
The school looked like a fortress preparing for siege.
Good, Arthur thought. They should be prepared. Next time won't be an isolated incident.
"Feels different, doesn't it?" Kirishima said, walking beside him. "Like the whole school is holding its breath."
"They're scared," Arthur replied quietly. "The villain's attack shattered the illusion of safety. Now everyone's waiting for the next shoe to drop."
"Always so cheerful," Kaminari muttered from behind them. "It's like you wake up and choose pessimism."
"It's called realism."
"It's called being a buzzkill."
Arthur allowed himself a slight smile. Kaminari's casual irreverence was almost refreshing. The boy refused to let weight crush him, chose humor over fear.
Different coping mechanisms, Arthur noted. Kirishima faces it head-on, determined to be stronger. Kaminari deflects with jokes. Both valid. Both necessary.
Class 1-A's homeroom felt subdued when they entered. Aizawa stood at the front, face still bandaged, arms wrapped in casts, looking like he'd fought a war and barely survived.
Which, Arthur supposed, he had.
"Morning," their teacher said flatly, as if his appearance was perfectly normal. "Glad to see you all made it back. I'd say take your seats, but you're already doing that, so good job."
The class remained silent, uncertain how to respond. Seeing their invincible teacher injured, vulnerable, was disorienting.
"I know you're all processing what happened at the USJ," Aizawa continued, his visible eye sweeping across them. "I know some of you are scared, some are angry, some are questioning whether you're cut out for this. That's normal. Expected, even."
He paused, and Arthur saw something shift in his expression.
"But you're all still here. That matters. You could have transferred, could have quit, could have decided hero work isn't worth dying for. But you came back."
Midoriya's hand shot up. "Sensei, we wouldn't, "
"Let me finish, Midoriya." Aizawa's tone was gentle, for him. "What I'm saying is, you all showed incredible courage at the USJ. Some of you fought villains directly. Some coordinated evacuations. Some made tactical decisions that saved lives. You acted like heroes when it mattered most."
Arthur felt eyes turn toward him, toward Midoriya, toward Todoroki and Bakugo. The ones who'd engaged the League directly.
"But," Aizawa said, and his voice hardened, "courage without growth is just repeated trauma. So we're going to keep training, keep pushing, keep preparing. Because next time, you need to be stronger."
"Next time?" Uraraka asked nervously.
"There will be a next time," Aizawa stated as fact. "The League of Villains targeted U.A. specifically. They'll try again, a different approach, Our job is to be ready."
"That said," Aizawa continued, pulling out a stack of papers, "life goes on. School events proceed. And since the villain attack has drawn massive media attention, the administration has decided to show the world that U.A. is not intimidated."
He wrote two words on the board: SPORTS FESTIVAL
The room exploded with reactions. Excitement from some, nervousness from others, calculation from Todoroki.
"Wait, wait!" Kaminari raised his hand frantically. "The Sports Festival? Like, THE Sports Festival? The one that's nationally televised and watched by every hero agency in Japan?"
"That's the one," Aizawa confirmed.
"And we're doing this... after we were just attacked by villains?" Ashido's voice pitched higher.
"Especially because we were attacked. The Sports Festival is U.A.'s way of announcing we're not afraid, we're not backing down, and our students are capable of handling anything thrown at them."
Arthur leaned back in his seat, mind already working through implications. The Sports Festival wasn't just a school event. It was recruitment, evaluation, and proving grounds. Every pro hero in the country would be watching, looking for talent to intern, to train, to mold.
And after the USJ coverage, everyone will be watching our class specifically, he realized. Looking to see if we're really as capable as the media claims.
"This is our chance!" Midoriya was practically vibrating with excitement. "To show everyone what we can do! To get noticed by top heroes!"
"It's also," Todoroki said quietly, and the room went still at his tone, "a chance to declare ourselves. To show the world exactly what we're capable of."
His heterochromatic eyes fixed on Arthur for a moment, then shifted to Midoriya, then to Bakugo. A challenge, unspoken but understood.
He wants to prove something, Arthur read in that gaze. Not just to the world, but to himself. To someone.
"The festival has three rounds," Aizawa explained. "All first-year classes participate. Round one eliminates most competitors. Round two narrows it further. Round three is tournament-style combat, one-on-one matches broadcast to the entire nation."
"Tournament combat," Bakugo spoke for the first time, voice low and intense. "Finally. A real fight."
"With rules," Aizawa stressed. "This isn't the USJ. You're not fighting for your lives. Win conditions are clear, and safety measures are in place. But make no mistake, you will be pushed to your absolute limits."
Arthur felt Royal Core pulse in response, eager, hungry for challenge. The energy inside him had grown since the USJ, refined through actual combat, but it needed direction, needed purpose.
This is what I need, he realized. Not just training, but competition. Testing myself against peers, pushing Royal Core to unlock what's still dormant.
"You have two weeks," Aizawa said. "Two weeks to train, to refine your techniques, to prepare strategy. I suggest you use that time wisely."
As class continued with standard academic lessons, Arthur's mind was elsewhere, calculating, planning. His classmates were strong, each with unique quirks and approaches. Defeating them would require more than just power.
It would require understanding.
Lunch found Arthur on the roof, away from the cafeteria's chaos. He needed quiet to think, to process, to plan.
The door opened behind him. Todoroki.
"Mind if I join you?" the dual-quirked boy asked.
"Go ahead."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, eating without speaking. Finally, Todoroki broke it.
"You're analyzing everyone, aren't you? Figuring out their weaknesses, how to counter their quirks."
"Is that wrong?"
"No. Just interesting. Most people are celebrating the opportunity. You're already preparing for war."
Arthur considered his words carefully. "The Sports Festival is war, just with different rules. Every person in our class wants to win, wants to prove themselves. Underestimating that is foolish."
"And you never underestimate opponents."
"I can't afford to."
Todoroki was quiet for a moment. "At the USJ, you took command. Directed Bakugo, Midoriya, and me without hesitation. Like you'd done it a thousand times before."
Because I have, Arthur thought but didn't say. "Someone needed to coordinate. You were all about to charge in separately."
"Most people would have panicked. You got calmer."
"Fear is useless in combat. It clouds judgment, slows reaction time. You acknowledge it, then set it aside."
"How old are you, really?" Todoroki asked, and there was no humor in it, just genuine curiosity.
Arthur met his eyes. "Fifteen. Same as you."
"Then why do you talk like someone who's lived multiple lifetimes?"
"I read a lot," Arthur deflected. "Philosophy, strategy, history. It gives perspective."
"I'm going to win the Sports Festival." I need to prove something. To my father, to myself. To everyone."
"Prove what?"
"That I don't need his power. That I can be the best using only my ice."
Arthur heard the pain under those words, the weight of expectations and rebellion tangled together. He'd carried similar burdens once, trying to prove himself worthy of Excalibur, worthy of the crown.
"Power is power," Arthur said carefully. "Limiting yourself to prove a point just handicaps your potential."
"You don't understand."
"Maybe not. But I understand pride, and I understand how it can destroy you if you're not careful."
Todoroki's jaw clenched. "This isn't pride. This is, "
"Identity," Arthur finished. "You're defining yourself by rejecting half your power. By refusing to be like him, whoever he is."
The silence stretched taut.
"My father is Endeavor," Todoroki finally said. "The number two hero. He created me to surpass All Might, bred me like a weapon. My mother... he drove her to madness. I won't use his fire. I won't become his perfect creation."
Arthur absorbed this, fitting pieces together. The constant tension in Todoroki, the way he only used ice, the weight he carried.
A child turned into a weapon, Arthur thought with cold anger. How familiar.
"Then don't," Arthur said simply. "Use whatever power you choose. But make sure you're choosing for the right reasons. Because true freedom isn't rejecting what you have. It's choosing how to use it."
Todoroki looked at him sharply, then nodded slowly. "You're surprisingly wise for someone our age."
"I read a lot of philosophy," Arthur repeated, lips quirking slightly.
"Right. Philosophy." Todoroki stood, gathering his lunch. "I'll see you at the festival, Himura. When we face each other, I expect you to go all out."
"Wouldn't dream of anything less."
After Todoroki left, Arthur remained on the roof, thinking. The Sports Festival was two weeks away. Two weeks to train, to push Royal Core closer to manifesting Invisible Air, to refine his combat techniques.
But it's more than that, he realized. It's a chance to show this world what I've learned. Not just about combat, but about heroism.
His phone buzzed. Group chat again.
Ashido: "training session after school! who wants to join?"
Kirishima: "YES!! need to get stronger after USJ!"
Kaminari: "i guess we're doing this. fine. I'll bring snacks."
Sero: "snacks and training don't mix, dunce face"
Kaminari: "YOUR FACE doesn't mix"
Ashido: "...that doesn't even make sense"
Himura: "I'll join. What's the focus?"
Kirishima: "endurance! we need to last longer in fights!"
Kaminari: "phrasing, dude"
Ashido: "omg Kaminari NO"
Arthur smiled despite himself. They were processing trauma their own way, choosing to face it by training together, supporting each other.
That's what I need to learn, he thought. Not just individual strength, but how to be part of a team. How to support and be supported.
The rest of the school day passed in routine normalcy. Standard academics, hero theory, quirk ethics. But underneath it all, tension hummed. Everyone knew what was coming, what the Sports Festival meant.
After school, Arthur found himself in Gym Gamma with a mixed group from 1-A. Kirishima, Ashido, Kaminari, Sero, Tokoyami, Sato, and surprisingly, Bakugo, who sat alone in the corner but was clearly listening.
"Okay!" Ashido clapped her hands. "We all saw what happened at USJ. We weren't strong enough, weren't fast enough. So we're going to fix that!"
"Starting with endurance," Kirishima added. "Because even if we're strong, if we can't maintain it, we're useless in long fights."
They started with basics. Running, exercises, quirk usage drills. Arthur participated, but part of his mind remained analytical, watching how each classmate moved, how their quirks functioned.
Kirishima's hardening was impressive but had a time limit before he tired. Ashido's acid could melt almost anything but required careful control to avoid collateral damage. Kaminari had massive electrical output but overloading turned his brain to mush. Sero's tape was versatile but vulnerable to fire or cutting attacks.
Everyone had strengths. Everyone had weaknesses.
Including me, Arthur acknowledged. I'm strong, skilled, experienced. But my body is still fifteen. Still developing. I can't sustain prolonged combat at full power without Royal Core draining faster than it replenishes.
"Hey Himura," Kirishima called out during a water break. "At the USJ, you took down five guys in like, eight seconds. How'd you do that?"
Everyone turned to listen, genuinely curious.
"Efficiency," Arthur said simply. "Don't waste movement, don't overcommit to attacks, read your opponent's patterns and exploit weaknesses."
"That's it?" Kaminari sounded disappointed. "No secret technique?"
"The secret is there is no secret. Just training, experience, and tactical thinking."
"You make it sound so simple," Ashido said.
"It's simple to explain. Difficult to execute." Arthur manifested a small energy blade, let it hover over his palm. "Combat is about decisions. Every action you take opens you to counter-attack. The key is making decisions that minimize risk while maximizing effectiveness."
"Show us," Tokoyami said, his dark shadow stirring with interest.
Arthur considered, then nodded. "Sero, attack me with your tape. Try to bind me."
Sero blinked. "Uh, you sure? You're still recovering from, "
"I'm fine. Come at me seriously."
Sero shrugged and fired his tape. Fast, aimed to wrap around Arthur's arms.
Arthur sidestepped, minimal movement, and his energy blade cut through the tape before it could bind. Sero immediately fired again, multiple strips, trying to overwhelm through volume.
Arthur didn't cut this time. Instead, he moved forward, inside the attack's range, and tapped Sero's chest with his blade's flat edge.
"Dead," Arthur said calmly. "You committed to range, I closed distance. In real combat, that's a killing blow."
"Damn," Sero muttered. "That was fast."
"Again," Arthur said. "This time, account for me closing."
They drilled for an hour, Arthur demonstrating principles while his classmates practiced. How to read attacks, when to dodge versus block, importance of positioning. It wasn't flashy, wasn't dramatic, just fundamental combat awareness.
Bakugo watched from his corner, never participating, but Arthur saw him processing every lesson, filing it away.
He's learning even while pretending not to care, Arthur noted. Pride won't let him ask for help, but it won't stop him from learning either.
As the session ended, Kirishima approached Arthur, his expression serious.
"Thanks for this, man. I know you're preparing for the festival too, using your time to help us instead."
"Helping you helps me," Arthur replied. "Teaching forces me to articulate what I know instinctively. That clarifies my own understanding."
"Still. You didn't have to."
Arthur looked at his classmate, saw genuine gratitude, friendship offered without expectation of return.
"We're all trying to become heroes," Arthur said. "That means helping each other grow stronger. That's the point, isn't it?"
Kirishima's grin was brilliant. "Man, you really are wise for our age. It's kind of scary."
"I read a lot of philosophy."
"Yeah, you keep saying that. Starting to think you're secretly an old man in a teenager's body."
If only you knew.
Walking home Arthur started thinking. "The Sports Festival will be interesting.Everyone will be at their best. Todoroki wants to prove something. Bakugo wants redemption. Midoriya wants recognition. And me...
I want to see how far I've come. How much closer am I to being a hero instead of just a king?
Two weeks. Fourteen days to prepare.
Arthur intended to use every single one.
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