Chapter Text
11 – Neito
“How dare they?!”
Itsuka gives him the usual side-eye and tries to discern what it is that has triggered his anti-1-A agenda now. “What?” she asks, as if she really doesn’t see what the problem is. Oh, how she loves to pretend that there’s nothing wrong with their neighbouring class! But Neito. Neito knows the truth.
Class 1-A has summoned an actual demon to pose as one of theirs.
It’s absolutely unfair! How are they allowed to keep an overpowered son of Satan and all 1-B has to boast is a ghost girl, who isn’t even dead! So far, unfairness seems to be a staple of UA’s 1-A-oriented politics.
Neito finds it truly detestable. He points at the demon, whose name is so fake it’s laughable: Midoriya? And he’s green-haired? Wow. One couldn’t have made it more obvious he’s a plant! ...ugh. Bad unintended pun. “This! What is this about, huh, class president?!” he shrieks.
“That’s... two people enjoying lunch together? Which could be us, for the record. I’m starving.” Itsuka deadpans, motioning towards their still untouched food.
“Eating, pah! As if I could enjoy my lunch, knowing UA decided to – unheroically, might I add – keep a demon around! Demons are creatures from Hell and you, dear class prez, let it slide that one of them resides in our ranks?! Think about poor Ibara! She must be praying overtime just to keep the demonic aura suppressed!” Neito cries out his woes, only half lying. Ibara has been clutching her cross and sending out prayers whenever Midoriya’s near. In fact, he saw her consorting with Tokoyami Fumikage, evidently 1-A’s very own Harry Price and Mineta Minoru, recently converted monk who was targeted by Midoriya’s ire.
Neito thinks they’re overdoing it a bit (and that’s got to mean something, coming from him of all people) because he overheard them talking about exorcising Midoriya. He hates the fact that 1-A got the advantage of consorting with one of hell’s occupants but he’d never kick the aspiring demonic hero out had he happened to be part of 1-B instead... and that, dear readers (oh yes, if Neito wants to break the fourth wall, he’ll do so in a flashy and magnificent manner!), just goes to show, yet again, the superiority of Class 1-B.
(Ibara might’ve fainted if Midoriya were one of theirs but her loyalty towards her class would have surely outpaced her religious aversion of him. Of that, Neito’s absolutely sure! ...okay, maybe only seventy-ish percent sure but whatever. He’d have talked her into accepting Midoriya – and the advantages that come with his presence, like demonic contracts and such, which far outweigh his mindfuckery.)
Itsuka sighs. She just shakes her head, evidently giving up on the entire conversation. Like the fiend that she is, she then digs into her meal and firmly keeps her eyes shut... as if a little blindness could part her from Neito’s ultimate wisdom. (Naive.)
“I see...” he murmurs, gaining vigour with every word he speaks, “I see that you fail to see. Just keep yourself blind – metaphorically as well as physically – and don’t you dare beg me for forgiveness when dear Ibara collapses after her prayers become fainter and fainter until, one day, they’ll cease forever.” He ends his speech by whispering the dark premonition into Itsuka’s ear.
However, like the saying goes: It goes in one ear and out the other. “Man, did you try the oni giri yet? They’re heavenly.”
Neito grimaces, ignoring his own body’s whining because he hasn’t actually tried the oni giri yet. “Heavenly, yes, unlike our demonic problem at hand.”
Itsuka opens her eyes again. For a very long moment, she stares him down with raised eyebrows. “Neito, just eat your lunch or I’m gonna force-feed it to you.”
Unluckily for Neito, Itsuka means her threats. Which is why he ultimately has to submit and postpone finding a satisfying solution to the Midoriya Problem for the time being.
Damn you, Kendo Itsuka! Damn you and your very much correct opinion on Lunch Rush’s oni giri.
12 – Fumikage
Wednesday descends upon Fumikage’s vessel with a warning grumble from the gods above. A single wave of shivers unsettles the inky black feathers on his head as he dresses the birdcage that is his slowly decomposing body – mortal, unlike his endless soul – in the colours of UA. He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, the fluorescent light letting the shadows stand out starkly, and grasps the talisman hanging from his neck.
“I never imagined I would need to battle the forces of darkness so soon after entering high school.” he voices out loud, velvety smooth tone echoing slightly in the white-tiled room. Fumikage meets his own determined eyes within the depths of the mirror and whispers, with the very same conviction he once upon a time decided to dedicate to heroics: “Whatever it takes... I will find a way to pierce Midoriya with the light of justice and remove this vile curse that has been cast upon our class.”
After a moment of hesitation, he swears with a finality only those who dance with the unknown forces could muster: “Or I will no longer be able to call myself Tokoyami Fumikage, the Jet-Black Hero: Tsukuyomi.”
He has been a silent observer right from the beginning. Fumikage remembers all too well that fateful day when he first met his sworn nemesis.
Midoriya Izuku sat in front of him in the auditorium and barely kept his demonic glee at bay when Present Mic explained the exam. At first, he seemed like your usual eager middle school boy. Maybe taller than average, yes. But Fumikage smelt it on him – the stench of insanity; the mist of abyss. And he saw the Dark One’s aura sizzling sickeningly as it warped unnaturally, became stronger the longer they were seated there, as if it were undergoing change... perhaps even siphoning energy off of unsuspecting exam takers. (There was another boy, Fumikage recalls. The one who later turned out to be his vice class president, Iida Tenya, who had caught his eyes across the seat row. He’d been prepared to scold Midoriya when he, all of a sudden, stiffened and turned pale. Oh yes, Fumikage remembers the Dark One’s technique to subdue his enemies.)
Fumikage didn’t say a word to the creature. It was a priority to gather facts and compile them before deciding on a course of action. He observed as the entity known as Midoriya made a mockery of their teacher on the first day of school. He, too, sat back and watched as Mineta and Uraraka went up against Midoriya and his secret worshipper, Bakugou Katsuki. While all the others equally put their attentiveness to all four members of that battle trial group, Fumikage focused on Midoriya alone.
He and he alone saw what truly occurred that day.
The forces of darkness that led to Mineta’s capture were undeniable in their strength and preciseness, which, admittedly, worries Fumikage deeply. Usually, supernatural activity to this extent simply did not happen... or it didn’t happen for long before the natural order restores itself by equalizing the Other’s might and their lifespan. Complex theory compressed: Midoriya should not exist as he does, since he’s too powerful. Normally, a being such as him would have imploded upon unleashing his forces upon a human.
There is only one explanation for why Midoriya is still alive and it... it scares Fumikage.
Because if it’s true, then he isn’t dealing with a thing that trespassed from one realm to another. No, he would instead be dealing with something that was born into this world.
A manmade monster.
Either way, Fumikage has to be extremely careful. One wrong move and the Dark One’s going to notice his silent observer, which would mean one thing and one thing alone for Fumikage: His death.
Therefore, he treads with great care. Takes care to never be alone with Midoriya. Takes care to never leave others alone with him either, lest he wants a repeat of the Mineta Situation.
There is one other thing he will certainly need to do... and soon, unless he wants to bypass his chance to get rid of Midoriya once and for all during the Sports Festival, where... accidents... are prone to occur.
It is still Wednesday when Fumikage leans back in his black leather armchair and the heavens growl menacingly. Outside has become a raging wolf, as the wind howls and droplets of rain audibly splatter against the wall of his apartment like frothing, anger-induced drool. The room is dimmed, not only because of the heavy blood red curtains framing his window but also because evening is slowly pushing afternoon aside. One single light source, an unscented white candle, has just been given flame.
Fumikage internally debates for a second before he, too, swiftly sets light to his pipe he’s stuffed the day before.
“You smoke?!” a shrill voice demands.
Fumikage takes a deep drag. Exhales. “Occasionally.”
“Are you quite sure you should do something like this when you are aiming to become a sword of God to uphold justice?” another voice – softer, gentler and as light as an angel’s feather – inquires.
Dark Shadow bursts from him to steal a drag while Fumikage is left to answer: “No serious medium is complete without an unhealthy coping mechanism, I’m afraid. This sort of work – dealing with spirits, the supernatural and the... unnatural... – is not for the faint of heart. Were it not for my indulgence here” he taps the pipe after his companion presses it back into his hand, “I couldn’t have possibly kept my sanity as intact as it is to this day. With Heroics, you can ask others for help. With medial work, however, you are most often on your own. True mediums are rare. And solitude, dear friends, is even more harmful when you are facing an envoy of darkness.”
One of his guests, the shorter one, nods to show his understanding. “I know what you mean...” Mineta Minoru says quietly and withdrawn as he visibly remembers his encounter with Midoriya, “Ever since that day, I have been practising abstinence to... to cleanse myself. Nowadays, I can’t even look at porn without having a panic attack. A-and it was just this one time for me. I don’t want to know how much being an actual medium messes you up.”
Fumikage sends a plume of smoke to his star-speckled black ceiling. His eyes find the flickering candlelight. “I took my first case when I was thirteen. It’s only been two years but what I have witnessed during that time... well, I don’t want to bore you with longwinded stories. Just know it was a lot.” He sighs, continues: “In any case, the reason why I have invited you to my humble abode is not to share the tragedy that was bestowed upon me at birth. No, quite contrary, what I desire of you is your aid in the perhaps most significant case I have taken on yet.”
The second guest blinks at him, her long green thorny hair rustling in curious fashion. “Our aid?” Shiozaki Ibara repeats, ideas undoubtedly already forming in her bright mind. Fumikage knows her to be a clever young woman and his preconception is confirmed when she lets out a small gasp, puts her hands in front of her mouth in a praying gesture and asks with fear in her eyes: “This... is this about him? About...” she swallows before whispering, as if his name alone could summon him into this very room: “Midoriya Izuku?”
All at once, the flame of the candle goes out, Mineta sobs and Shiozaki clutches her rosary, uttering prayer after prayer. Only the fact that Dark Shadow’s staying calm instead of raising alarm has Fumikage remaining collected as ever, fishing once more for his ornate pure silver lighter and lighting the candle anew.
The light reveals a much paler Shiozaki and a ghostly white Mineta.
Fumikage feels awful for bringing them here; for asking for help when he knows the other teenagers have only briefly dabbled into the realms of the supernatural. Alas, he thinks as he sucks on his pipe, this is not a one-man mission.
“I see you are acquainted with Class 1-A’s dilemma.” he addresses Shiozaki, “I apologize for calling you in when you are lacking experience in the field – both of you.” He eyes his guests equally, making sure they are ready to hear what he will propose.
A minute or two pass by in solemn silence before Mineta breaks: “Why us?”
And that’s the question, isn’t it? Why them? Well, Fumikage has his reasons, of course. He would never endanger other people willy-nilly; making them enter his world is not his preferred choice of action. He knows that things like these – civilians poking their heads into such matters – can quickly go sideways.
However... “You are both training to become heroes, therefore you are bound to your oath to protect mankind.” he answers, “More importantly, you are the only ones who see the danger he poses. You, Mineta-san, were targeted by him. You know how he operates... how his presence feels. In this, you have an advantage not even I can claim. You, Shiozaki-san, are practising a religion that opposes forces the likes of his. I have observed you during lunch hours and you seem to take your worship seriously, which could greatly turn the tables in our favour when dealing with... him. Should he have the ability of possession, he would be unable to enter your body as it is a temple – or, more accurately – a fortress of pure religious devotion. You are a trump card against the Dark One’s abyssal might.”
“Oh” Mineta voices faintly.
Shiozaki bows her head slightly. “I understand now.” she says, “I am honoured you think so highly of my devotion. Why now, though? Shouldn’t we wait until we have more information and absolved internships that’ll be beneficial in training our combat abilities?”
Mineta frowns. “No” he shakes his head, “We can’t risk him gaining even more strength. If we wait, then he, too, is going to benefit from the internships.”
“Not only that” Fumikage says, “but the main reason why we need to act urgently is that he’s starting to entice others. Previously, only his secret worshipper Bakugou dared to approach him but now... I fear for our classmates. Jirou has begun interacting with the Dark One and should we not step in now...”
“Oh no!” the green-haired girl gasps, “Jirou-san could be in serious danger!”
“Exactly.” Fumikage agrees.
“Bu-but how can we stop him?!” Mineta demands, “Do you have a plan? I’m not going to face this monstrosity without one!”
For the first time in this conversation, Dark Shadow emerges to speak for herself: “’Course Fumi and I have a plan, who d’ya think we are? We’re professionals! Fumi’s gonna tell you all the details!”
“Indeed I will” Fumikage says, patting his shadowy companion’s head. Dark Shadow easily takes offense on his behalf, which she really shouldn’t – he knows he, they, are particular individuals and can come across as pretentious or worse when one isn’t thoroughly acquainted with them.
“Um... sorry, I didn’t want to insinuate something.” Mineta apologizes.
(He has matured greatly since the incident, Fumikage muses to himself.)
“No worries, Mineta-san. Let’s go over my tentative plans and afterwards, you tell me whether I can count on you or not. I won’t hold it against you if you decide to opt out from the beginning or at any point during our preparation phase.”
“I will hold it against you and kick your ass if you let us down!” Dark Shadow harrumphs with crossed wings, which has Fumikage and the other chuckling. (Mineta hesitantly and Shiozaki gracefully.) Trust her to break the tension.
The slightly lifted atmosphere has Fumikage bouncing up from his seat with a wry grin. He walks to the corkboard that’s currently hidden by a black veil and lifts it maybe a little more enthusiastically than he really needs to. “This here” he says meaningfully as both of his guests let out simultaneous sounds of disbelief, “is every bit of information I could gather about our target.”
“This is insane...!” Mineta murmurs wonderingly.
“Incredible!” Shiozaki comments as she reads over a few of the manifold points.
“Oh, and here we have” Fumikage opens up the large wall scroll right next to the corkboard, “all the plans Dark Shadow and I made.”
There is silence. There is astonishment. There is hope.
After a ten minute rundown of the most important parts, Fumikage ends the spontaneous meeting with two promises from his new acquaintances.
The sense of accomplishment almost manages to drown out his guilt over having kept quiet about Midoriya’s potential earthly nature.
13 – Shouto
The day of the Sports Festival arrives quicker than Shouto can comprehend. He blinks awake at four o’clock in the morning and sits in his dark room for an additional ten minutes before he crawls out of bed and heads into the kitchen, where the first step of his plan to win the festival will take place shortly.
Leading up to this morning, he’s spent the last three days obsessing over Fuyumi’s cookbooks and watching tutorials on culinary basics. He now knows how to cut vegetables correctly and how to season just the right amount. The Todoroki household also does not come with a rice cooker, so he had to learn how to cook rice the right way as well. It made him anxious to learn that there’s more than a fair share of different rice types but, in the end, he managed to choose one he thinks will perform just fine.
His shitty father was, of course, not impressed by Shouto ordering 22.500 yen Kinmemai Premium rice with 3.000 yen express shipping but when he gave him the reason for this purchase he was... well, alright, he still wasn’t particularly appreciative of his son’s decision making. Not that Shouto cares about his old man’s opinion when Endeavor’s own decisions led to such ridiculous things as Shouto’s existence.
Shouto rubs the sleep out of his eyes and trots to the pile of premium ingredients he bought online (all in all priced at just a little over 80.000 yen). He checks everything again, then washes his hands and gets going.
The meal he’s cooking is deceptively simple: Onigiri. One would think rice balls would be hard to mess up... but one would think wrong. Shouto had to do exactly eight test runs with cheaper rice until he was finally satisfied with his own handiwork.
After washing the rice, he puts it in a pot, measures out the exact amount of water he needs and pours it in with spiked adrenaline. As soon as he realizes he didn’t accidentally cause a disaster already, he sighs in relief and places the pot on the stove, which he turns on. (That’s an important step; failing to turn on the stove has the undesired effect of the rice not cooking at all, wonder of wonders.)
Shouto uses his phone’s timer to add a few alarms – some to stir the rice to keep it from scorching, others to remind him of the fact that he needs to add certain ingredients to the rice at different times. Usually, he’d have full trust in his capabilities to remember simple stuff like that but he only has the one attempt this day. There is no margin for failure here.
Luckily, everything goes according to plan and when the last timer goes off, stating “praise yourself if done right, punish yourself if done wrong”, Shouto hugs himself and takes in a calming deep breath. Then he packs the salty onigiri and vegetable stir fry bento, as well as that fancy glass bottle of mildly sparkling water infused with lemon juice, in his school bag and is out the house before Fuyumi even has the chance to gently draw him into a hug and tell him it’s alright if he loses.
Shouto usually listens to music with both earbuds in and as loudly as possible but today he only has one in and the other stuffed into his collar. He has it playing on approximately half volume and by the time he arrives at the stadium (an hour and a half too early at that), his hand has wandered off more than a dozen times to make sure the food is still safe and sound and that he hasn’t somehow managed to create an elaborate visual hallucination of there being food when it’s never been there in the first place.
Maybe he’s being a little bit paranoid.
Or he’s just appropriately cautious. He doesn’t know which one it is.
Shouto passes the security check without much trouble, even though there’s one moment where his heart stutters as the officer’s quirk passes over his bag.
But then he’s good to go and... and there he is.
He is sitting in Class 1-A’s waiting room and wringing his sturdy hands. His motions and gestures are captivating – one part of Shouto is awed and the other fearful, just as it is intended. Jirou Kyouka, his confidant, is leaning against his side, listening to the low earthy chants only she can decipher. (Shouto doesn’t know whether it’s because of her ear mutation or because she’s his miko.) She whispers something in his ear and all of a sudden, Shouto’s knees are quivering under the attention of jade green eyes and his hands are starting to sweat.
“Todoroki-kun?” he inquires.
Shouto swallows down his fear and nods.
Jirou asks: “What business d’ya have with Izu?” and Shouto is once more confirmed in his deductions.
“I, um. May I have a moment alone with you, Midoriya-sama?”
“-sama?! Uh, o-okay?” Midoriya says and Jirou snorts before wishing them a good time with a casual swish of her hand. After Shouto bows slightly to her – he’d never disrespect a miko as powerful as her – they search for an empty alcove to have their conversation in. They end up standing face to face in a dim unused corridor.
Shouto’s heart is beating out of his chest. Nonetheless, he swiftly offers him the bento and the high quality water.
“Uh, why...?”
“This is an offering to you, Midoriya-sama. To... appease your might today.”
“What?”
Shouto kneels down. Shit, shit, shit. He hopes he didn’t fuck this up already. He sounds unimpressed. “Midoriya-sama” he says, keeping his posture submissive and unthreatening, “I need to win the Sports Festival. That’s why... that’s why I’m asking you to hold back your full powers.”
That was the false thing to say. Shouto tastes the forest. Only due to his father’s “training”, he’s able to suppress a fearful whine.
“You want me to lose on purpose?!”
“N-No! That’s not what I want at all!” Shouto all but whimpers and, luckily, this seems to be enough to make the wave of nauseating fresh taste recede. “It’s just...” he continues, hoping for the best, “You’re objectively the strongest in our class – no, what am I saying... you’re the strongest in our school because of... you know.” Your godly nature, he doesn’t say out loud.
“What?!” Midoriya hisses quietly, “What do you mean?”
Holy shit, I’m dead, Shouto thinks hysterically as a suffocating amount of pure nature fills his throat and nostrils. It’s as if he’s overdosing on oxygen, something as natural as breathing turned against him. Now he knows what it means to upset a god.
“The- the thing we don’t talk about! I can keep a secret, please! Please don’t-” Shouto sobs.
Another whoosh and every inkling of Midoriya’s power sort of just... vanishes for a moment. It should’ve been relieving but Shouto’s terrified. That duality is stifling – it’s as if time itself has halted in its tracks.
“How do you know about it? About me?” is asked so softly he almost doesn’t catch it.
Shouto swallows, mouth dry. “I... have a background, dealing with stuff like this.” he admits and thinks of gentle feminine hands guiding him through his maternal family’s shrine. On some days, when Endeavor agreed to let him rest, his mother brought him to the Himura’s residence, which is located right next to the shrine dedicated to the founder of the family, Himura Reiko, a pacifistic miko who lived almost two hundred years ago and guided the people of her ravaged village through the rough times of the Quirk Wars. After his mother was institutionalized, his sister continued the tradition, although, in recent years, Endeavor demanded more and more time of Shouto.
When was the last time he visited the Himura Shrine? Has it been two years already?
The steady flow of life slowly returns to its natural state.
“Oh, I didn’t know... well, it makes sense, in hindsight. Do you want to share the bento with me? I didn’t get to eat breakfast.”
Shouto’s mouth plops open in wonder. A kami wants to eat with him? “O-of course, Midoriya-sama!”
Midoriya sits down next to him and, suddenly, everything that once made him overwhelming and frightening softens immensely. No longer does the forest feel dark and dreary but warm and inviting and beautifully alive.
“Um, you don’t have to call me Midoriya-sama. My friends call me Izu – uh, only if you want, of course!”
Oh.
“Izu, huh? Then call me Shouto.”
Izu smiles and it feels like the first day of summer – sunny and blooming.
Oh!
Shouto... Shouto has been blessed by this deity.
As they eat, side by side, the kami asks him quietly: “Um, I’m not good at this friendship thing but Kyou-chan said to share things with each other – so, ah, do you want to share something with me?”
Shouto, who’s never been one to confide in others, and who’d usually never disclose anything about his messed up family, finds himself starting his tale with: “Have you ever heard about quirk marriages?”
And Yatsukamizuomitsuno, god of the forest, god of life and death, listens.
14 – Setsuna
First of all, Setsuna doesn’t know what’s going on.
She thinks the unrest in Ibara has something to do with a Class 1-A student – is she evolving into another Neito or what? – but in any case, whatever it is has some people acting real strange.
Setsuna watches as some Bakugou Katsuki says he’s gonna win instead of actually giving the school pledge. Is that even allowed? Well, Midnight doesn’t seem to particularly mind. Okay. Setsuna looks around a bit, tries to find her parents in the stands but doesn’t succeed. Man, this stage is hella big.
Ah, alright. The first part is an obstacle course. She thinks she’s going to do well on that, since she can just split and manoeuvre through the obstacles that way. She’s glad that third year – Toogata or whatever – made the school reconsider materials because now she gets to have a split-able gym uniform instead of having to be extra careful with her quirk. She doesn’t wanna end up naked on TV, no thanks.
“Start!”
The candy cane kid freezes over the ground but Setsuna lets herself float over the heads of the others and through the narrow gate. She sees Ibara carrying a very small purple 1-A kid on her shoulders. What the hell? It’s her decision but, man, this is a competition first and foremost.
Setsuna’s kinda intrigued, though, especially when she sees the purple one discreetly throw sticky balls at some green-white haired boy with a leaky fear quirk. Aren’t they in the same class? She opts to observe what Ibara and Purple Orbs are up to, since she only wants to pass through to the next round instead of going for podium placements.
What the actual-?! Fear quirk is trapped by the balls under the robots from the entrance exam and apparently can’t move his arms. Do they want to kill him or what?!
Luckily, Candy Cane takes notice and freezes the robots, then comes to Fear Quirk’s aid and uses his ice to freeze off the balls. Fear Quirk then tears off a sheet of metal from a robot, for some reason.
Setsuna watches open-mouthed and wide-eyed as Ibara and her companion try for Fear Quirk’s life again when they arrive at the trench. Ibara – religious, caring, angelic Shiozaki Ibara – stealthily sends her vines to Fear Quirk’s feet. Only the intervention of a support course student, because Candy Cane is a try-hard who wants to win and left them all in the dust, prevents Fear Quirk from tripping head-first into the abyss below. Yeah, what the hell indeed.
“Ibara, what’re you doing?!” Setsuna screams to be heard.
The answer she receives is as puzzling as it is worrying: “I’m cleansing the world from evil!”
Setsuna thinks this whole hero thing must’ve fucked with Ibara’s head or something. She watches as Fear Quirk advances fast with Ibara’s attention on her instead of his early demise. He digs up mines at the last stage after he sparks up green and simply hops from pillar to pillar.
Setsuna herself easily bypasses the trench while Ibara struggles to find balance with her vines. She hears a “BOOM!” that’s louder than Bakugou and somehow Fear Quirk lands himself on first place. Setsuna herself is seventh, which suits her just fine.
Midnight explains what the next event’s going to be – a team event – and that Fear Quirk has ten million points. Uh, okay. Setsuna would have usually built a team with Ibara, since their quirks combine well, but she’d rather not risk it with how... unstable she seems to be today. Therefore, she goes for the General Education kid, who was all “I’m gonna join the hero course” when she saw him in front of 1-A’s class.
“Yo, you looking for a teammate?” she asks with a sharp-toothed smile. The boy – Shinsou, as he introduces himself – seems to be relieved at her arrival. Together, they find themselves two others: Asui Tsuyu (“Call me Tsu, ribbit.”) and Shouji Mezou, both from 1-A.
She takes a glance at the other team formations. Fear Quirk, Candy Cane, a girl with long earlobes and the Support Course student are standing in a circle, while Ibara, Purple Orbs, a boy with a bird head and a boy with a thick tail are all glaring daggers at them. Setsuna hopes this isn’t going to end ugly.
Shinsou frowns. He points at the two teams. “What going on with them?”
Tsu answers: “Tokoyami thinks Midoriya-chan is a demon and wants to exorcise him. It’s obvious he’s wrong but he wouldn’t let me talk him down, ribbit. I just hope Midoriya-chan gets his odd aura under control because half of our class is angst-y about it and it’s starting to get on my nerves.”
Shouji agrees: “I don’t care about Midoriya’s thing. It’s just annoying how everyone’s reacting to it.”
“Ooooh, so that’s why Ibara tried to kill him? Because she thinks he’s a demon?” Setsuna muses.
Shinsou turns to her. “I’m sorry, did you just say she tried to kill him?!”
“Yeah” she nods, “Like two times in the obstacle course.”
The frog girl pats him on the shoulder when Shinsou fails to produce a coherent sentence. “It’s alright.” Tsu says pragmatically, “As long as we target the other teams and keep far away from Team Todoroki, Team Bakugou and Team Mineta, we’re probably not going to be involved in... that, ribbit.”
“Let’s, uh. Let’s do that, then, I guess.”
Setsuna is elected rider, since her ability doesn’t come with much stability. With Shinsou and Tsu at the front and Shouji at the back, they’re good to go.
Tsu’s bit of wisdom proves to be essential, as Team Mineta and Team Bakugou immediately target Team Todoroki. Their own team gets by just fine. Taking headbands from Gen-Ed, Support Course and other hero course teams is maybe unfairly easy because Tsu’s tongue and Setsuna’s splitting are both made for this but they really don’t care. Shinsou keeps his quirk hidden but he gives good calls, while Shouji’s ears warn them from attackers.
Team Setsuna takes fourth place without involving themselves in the death match between Teams Todoroki, Mineta and Bakugou.
And Setsuna ends up with three new numbers in her phone, which is altogether more important than the festival itself, in her opinion.
15 – Enji
After his failure to procure a win in the first event, Shouto finally shows his prowess and gets his team to first place in the second event. Enji is reluctantly proud but... Shouto still isn’t giving it his all. He’s stubbornly clinging to his ice, never using his fire and Enji will have a word with his son before the third stage. (His masterpiece needs to show he has what it takes to usurp All Might's throne in due time.)
So Enji stands up and walks out of his seat row to Class 1-A’s changing rooms.
Enji blinks.
What?
Why is the third stage already advancing?
He turns to Burnin, who accompanied him to the festival. “Kamiji, what’s going on? Why are they fighting already?”
“Hah? Old man, what are ya sayin’? The half hour’s up!”
“But. I. Didn’t I leave to talk to my son?”
Burnin turns to him and raises her eyebrows. “Eh, you don’t remember? You stood up, walked away, came back five mins later and said something about Shouto being unavailable. You goin’ senile?”
Enji shakes his head, stays silent. Something must have happened but he really doesn’t remember.
There’s a foreign taste in his mouth. He sniffs the air. “Is it just me or does it smell like pine in here?”
1 – All Might
Toshinori is cheering when his boy lands in first place the second time. He’s grinning from ear to ear. When he told his successor to let himself be seen, he didn’t think Midoriya would do that well with a quirk he received only weeks prior.
“Come on, Izuku!” he whispers, accidentally using his boy’s first name without noticing the slip-up.
His boy’s first fight is against young Ojiro.
Oh! Ojiro goes out flying! “FUCK YES!” Toshinori screams in elation, scaring just about everyone in his vicinity. “Oops, haha, sorry...” he apologizes sheepishly when an old lady whacks him on the knee with her cane.
But even then, his grin can’t be tamed.
He chose well.