Day eight of training, and Arthur's body was starting to protest.
Not from injury, But from the constant, relentless pushing. Five AM wake-ups, personal training until seven, school until three, group training until five, personal training again until eight. Sleep, repeat.
His father had pulled him aside that morning, observed his training in silence, then spoken with quiet authority.
"You're going to burn out."
"I'm fine."
"You're compensating." His father sat on the porch steps, gestured for Arthur to join him. "I've seen it before. Someone experiences real combat, real danger, and they throw themselves into training like they can prepare for every possible scenario. But you can't. Control is an illusion."
Arthur remained standing, "Then what's the point of training?"
"Training isn't about control. It's about capability. About being ready to adapt when control fails." His father looked at him with understanding that came from experience. "You can't prevent bad things from happening. You can only prepare to handle them when they do."
"That's not good enough."
"It has to be. Because the alternative is destroying yourself trying to achieve the impossible."
Arthur wanted to argue, wanted to insist that he could be strong enough, fast enough, skilled enough to protect everyone. But he knew his father was right deep down.
He'd tried to be perfect once. It had killed him and everyone he loved.
"One rest day," his father said. "Tomorrow. No training, no preparation. Just recovery."
"The Sports Festival is in six days."
"And you'll perform better rested than exhausted. Trust me."
Arthur sat down, finally, letting the morning cold seep into his overheated body. "How do you know when you're ready?"
"You never are. Not fully. But you reach a point where more training gives diminishing returns, where your body needs rest to consolidate what you've learned." His father smiled slightly. "Besides, you're already the strongest student in your class. What are you trying to prove?"
That I won't fail again. That this time, I'll be strong enough when it matters.
But he didn't say that. "Just want to do my best."
"Your best includes rest. Remember that."
School that day was tense with anticipation. The Sports Festival dominated every conversation, every thought. Classes were distracted, and even the teachers seemed to be counting down hours rather than teaching.
During hero training, All Might had them work on crowd control scenarios. How to manage large groups, keep civilians safe during disasters, and project authority without force.
"A hero's job isn't just fighting villains!" All Might announced. "It's maintaining order, keeping people calm! Your presence should make civilians feel safe, not scared!"
Arthur watched his classmates work through the scenario. Iida was natural at it, his organized nature and commanding voice perfect for directing crowds. Yaoyorozu's eloquence and planning made her effective. Even Bakugo, surprisingly, could get people to listen through sheer force of personality, though his methods were aggressive.
"Young Himura!" All Might called. "Your turn!"
Arthur stepped into the simulation. Holographic civilians panicked, running in different directions, shouting over each other. A disaster scenario with no immediate threat, just chaos.
He took a breath, and spoke. "Everyone, stop." His voice carried authority without volume, that weight of command born from leading armies. The holographic civilians paused, turned toward him. Too much, Arthur realized immediately. They're not soldiers to command. They're people to reassure.
He adjusted, softened his tone. "I know you're scared. That's normal. But panicking makes things worse. I need everyone to line up in single file. We're going to evacuate in an orderly fashion. Children and elderly first, then everyone else."
The simulation complied, but All Might was frowning.
"Young Himura, that was... effective, but perhaps too authoritative? Heroes should inspire confidence, not demand obedience."
"What's the difference?"
"Inspiration makes people want to follow. Authority makes them feel they have to." All Might's smile was gentle. "You have a natural commanding presence, which is wonderful! But remember, heroes serve the people, not rule them."
Serve, not rule, Arthur repeated mentally. That's the lesson, isn't it? I was a ruler. I need to become a servant.
Different philosophies, different approaches. Kings commanded. Heroes inspired.
He was still learning which he wanted to be.
Lunch was on the roof and he had company before he'd even finished climbing the stairs. Tokoyami and Shoji, an unusual pair.
"Himura," Tokoyami's voice carried its usual dramatic weight. "We wish to request your assistance."
Arthur gestured to the roof space. "What do you need?"
"Tactical advice," Shoji said, his multiple arms arranging lunch items with practiced efficiency. "We've been analyzing potential matchups for the festival. Your combat experience could provide valuable perspective."
"You fought five villains in eight seconds at the USJ," Tokoyami added. "Dark Shadow and I have been training, but our coordination needs refinement. You seem to understand combat instinctively."
"Show me how you fight together," Arthur said.
Tokoyami summoned Dark Shadow, the sentient quirk manifesting as a large, bird-like entity of darkness. "Dark Shadow is strong in darkness but weakens in bright light. The challenge is maintaining effective combat capability across different light conditions."
"And I provide reconnaissance and defense," Shoji added, manifesting eyes and ears across his extra limbs. "But my offensive capabilities are limited."
Arthur watched them demonstrate their current coordination. It was functional but basic, Tokoyami attacking while Shoji provided information and backup.
"You're thinking about it wrong," Arthur said after a minute. "You're working parallel to each other, not together. Shoji, you said your offensive capability is limited, but you have six arms. That's not a limitation, that's versatility."
"How so?"
"Dark Shadow is powerful but vulnerable to light. Shoji can create barriers, block light sources, give Dark Shadow more operating space. Meanwhile, Shoji's sensory abilities can feed Tokoyami information about enemy positions, let Dark Shadow attack from unexpected angles."
Tokoyami's eyes lit up. "Using Shoji's arms to create pockets of darkness, letting me extend Dark Shadow's effective range."
"Exactly. And Shoji, your arms can set up combination attacks. Hold enemies in place for Dark Shadow, create distractions, force opponents into disadvantageous positions."
They spent lunch working through applications, Arthur sketching out possible tactics. It reminded him of war councils, planning siege strategies, coordinating different units for maximum effectiveness.
"You should be a strategist," Shoji said as lunch ended. "Your ability to analyze and adapt is remarkable."
"I just think things through."
"Most people don't," Tokoyami said gravely. "They rely on instinct, on power. You treat every engagement like a puzzle to solve."
Because that's what kept me alive, Arthur thought. Raw power failed at Camlann. Strategy, tactics, positioning, that's what let me survive against Mordred's army.
Afternoon training was with Todoroki, surprisingly. The dual-quirked boy had sought him out specifically, asking to spar.
They faced each other in an empty training room, and Arthur could feel the intensity radiating from his classmate.
"No holding back," Todoroki said. "I need to see where I stand."
"Just ice?" Arthur asked, already knowing the answer.
"Just ice."
They began, and Arthur immediately understood the problem. Todoroki was incredibly skilled with his ice, creating walls, projectiles, mobility options. But he was fighting with half his quirk, deliberately handicapping himself.
Arthur pressed the attack, energy blade cutting through ice constructs, lightning melting frozen barriers. He didn't go easy, showed Todoroki exactly what fighting with self-imposed limitations looked like.
Within three minutes, Arthur had his blade to Todoroki's throat.
"Again," Todoroki said.
They reset. Same result, faster this time.
"Again."
Five rounds, five losses. Todoroki's frustration was palpable, ice forming unconsciously around his feet.
"You're skilled," Arthur said after the fifth match. "Very skilled. But you're fighting with half your power against someone using everything they have."
"I don't need his fire."
"No, you don't need it. But you want to beat me, and you can't do that with one hand tied behind your back." Arthur dismissed his blade. "I understand pride. I understand making choices that handicap yourself just to prove a point." Arthur met his eyes. "I also understand that the only person you're hurting is yourself."
Todoroki was quiet for a long moment, ice slowly receding. "At the Sports Festival. If we face each other. I'll beat you with ice alone."
"Then I look forward to seeing you try."
Day nine, his promised rest day, Arthur woke at nine AM instead of five. His body felt strange, foreign, too rested. Royal Core hummed quietly, recovering, consolidating growth.
His mother made breakfast, with eggs and rice and miso soup. "What's the plan today?" she asked, setting food in front of him.
"No plan. Just rest."
"Good. Because I'm taking you shopping."
"Mom, I don't need, "
"Not for you. For me. I need company, and you're going to provide it."
There was no arguing with that tone, so Arthur found himself wandering through downtown Musutafu, his mother examining store displays while he carried bags.
"You've been pushing yourself," she said while examining pottery. "I can see it in how you move. Tired, even with your quirk healing you."
"I needed to train."
"Past tense. Needed. Not need." She selected a bowl, examined it critically. "Your father told me what he said. About burning out."
"I'm not burning out."
"You're fifteen, Arthur. Fifteen. You survived a villain attack that put pro heroes in the hospital. You're preparing for a nationally televised competition. And you're training like the world will end if you're not perfect."
"I'm not trying to be perfect," he said. "Just prepared."
"For what? The Sports Festival? That's a school event, not a battlefield."
"I just want to do well."
His mother looked at him, really looked, and he saw understanding in her eyes.
"You know what I see when I look at you?" she asked quietly. "I see someone who cares too much. Who feels responsible for things beyond their control. Who can't forgive themselves for not being strong enough, fast enough, good enough."
Arthur felt something twist in his chest. "Is that so wrong?"
"It's not wrong. It's just... exhausting. For you, I mean." She touched his shoulder. "You're allowed to be a kid sometimes. Allowed to not carry everything."
"I don't know how."
"I know. That's what worries me."
They walked in silence for a while, and Arthur let himself just exist.
It felt foreign.
But also, in a way he couldn't quite articulate, necessary.
That evening, the class had organized a group dinner. Everyone chipping in for hot pot, gathering at Kirishima's apartment because his parents were traveling.
Arthur almost didn't go. Social gatherings felt like time he should be spending training. But his mother's words echoed, and he found himself at Kirishima's door, carrying ingredients.
"Himura!" Kirishima's grin was brilliant. "You came! Honestly thought you'd skip to train more!"
"Rest day," Arthur said. "Doctor's orders."
The apartment was chaos. Ashido and Kaminari were arguing about vegetables. Sero was trying to set up the hot pot properly. Jirou had claimed the best seat and refused to move. Bakugo sat in the corner, present but aloof, pretending he didn't want to be there.
"This is a disaster," Yaoyorozu observed, but she was smiling. "We should have organized better."
"Organized is boring!" Ashido declared. "This is authentic teenage chaos!"
"Is that what we're calling it?" Tokoyami muttered.
Arthur found himself pulled into the chaos, assigned to cutting vegetables by Sato, who'd taken charge of food prep despite it being Kirishima's apartment.
"You're surprisingly good at this," Sato observed, watching Arthur's knife work.
"Lots of practice." Centuries of field meals, preparing food with knights between battles.
"Dude is good at everything," Kaminari said. "It's kind of annoying. Like, leave some talent for the rest of us."
"I'm terrible at social situations," Arthur offered.
"You're literally at a social gathering right now."
"Under protest."
"He's joking," Kirishima stage-whispered. "Himura doesn't joke."
"I joke."
"Name one time."
Arthur considered. "I have a dry sense of humor. It goes unnoticed."
"See? Even his humor explanation is serious!" Kaminari threw his hands up. "This is what we're dealing with!"
The dinner was loud, chaotic, wonderful. They ate too much, argued about nothing important, told terrible jokes. Bakugo eventually joined the conversation, still aggressive but less hostile. Even Todoroki, who'd arrived late, seemed to relax slightly.
"Sports Festival predictions!" Ashido announced as they finished eating. "Who's winning?"
"Me," Bakugo said immediately.
"Obviously Todoroki or Himura," Kaminari said. "They're stupid strong."
"Midoriya's got crazy power," Kirishima added. "If he can control it, he's a contender."
"What about you, Himura?" Ashido asked. "Who do you think will win?"
Arthur considered seriously. "Whoever wants it most. Power matters, but determination matters more."
"That's such a non-answer!" Kaminari complained.
"It's the truth. All of you are strong. The difference will be who's willing to push furthest."
"Deep thoughts from the cutting board," Sero said. "But he's right. We're all pretty close in capability. It's going to come down to heart."
"And strategy," Yaoyorozu added. "Understanding matchups, playing to strengths."
"And luck," Jirou said. "Random bracket placement could determine everything."
They debated for another hour, predictions and counter-predictions, analysis and wild speculation. Arthur mostly listened, observing.
This is what I missed in Camelot, he realized. Not the formal dinners, not the official gatherings. This. Casual friendship without hierarchy.
His knights had been brothers in arms, but there'd always been distance. He was king, they were subjects. Even the Round Table, designed for equality, couldn't erase that fundamental separation.
But here, with his classmates, he was just Arthur. Another student, another competitor. Equal.
It felt good.
Walking home, Arthur's phone buzzed. Todoroki.
Todoroki: "Thanks for today. The sparring."
Himura: "You don't need to thank me. You asked, I agreed."
Todoroki: "You could have humiliated me. Made me look weak. You didn't."
Himura: "What purpose would that serve? You're trying to grow. I'm trying to help."
Todoroki: "Why? We're competing against each other."
Himura: "Competition doesn't require cruelty. We can both get stronger."
Todoroki: "That's a very heroic perspective."
Himura: "Still learning to think like one."
Todoroki: "You're doing better than you think."
Arthur stared at that message for a long moment, something warm settling in his chest.
Maybe he was.
The final four days before the Sports Festival passed in focused intensity. Arthur trained hard but not excessively, listened to his body, rested when needed.
Class training intensified. All Might pushed them through combat scenarios, rescue simulations, endurance drills. Everyone was reaching their peak, ready to showcase their abilities.
The atmosphere shifted from nervous anticipation to eager readiness.
"Tomorrow," Aizawa said on the final day of classes before the festival, his bandages finally removed, face mostly healed. "Tomorrow, you'll step into that arena in front of the entire nation. Everyone will be watching, judging, evaluating."
He paused, looked across his students.
"Show them what Class 1-A is made of."
That night, Arthur lay in bed, unable to sleep despite exhaustion. His mind ran through scenarios, matchups, strategies.
His phone lit up. The class group chat, active despite the late hour.
Kirishima: "can't sleep. too excited."
Ashido: "SAME. tomorrow's going to be EPIC."
Kaminari: "I'm terrified and excited simultaneously. is that normal?"
Jirou: "unfortunately yes"
Midoriya: "Everyone's quirk data is reviewed. Strategy is planned. Just need to execute."
Bakugo: "I'm going to CRUSH everyone. Sleep well, extras."
Yaoyorozu: "Confidence is good, but perhaps excessive bravado is counterproductive?"
Bakugo: "I'll show you EXCESSIVE"
Iida: "Everyone should be resting! Tomorrow requires peak performance!"
Himura: "Iida's right. Get some sleep. We'll need our energy."
Todoroki: "See you all tomorrow. May the best hero win."
Arthur set his phone down, and closed his eyes
Tomorrow, the Sports Festival began.
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