Chapter Text
Waiting in the crowd of students for the first event to begin was, in Denji’s opinion, boring as shit. Close by, Bakugou seemed to share a similar sentiment, casting Denji dark glares as sparks erupted from his palms.
At least Midoriya’s endless stream of commentary offered some entertainment.
“The obstacle course format will give an edge to the faster and more mobile members of 1-A; Iida and Kacchan will probably be able to get ahead from the very start…” Midoriya’s face was pulled with a mix of stress and determination, his endless stream of words functioning almost as a self-soothing method.
How many of them would move on to the next round? Even if they’d been told Denji had likely missed the announcement, having been a little distracted by Bakugou’s annoying face.
“...Ojiro, Asui, and Ashido too, now that I think about it…” Even though he was only muttering to himself, Midoriya’s words were clearly audible. The other teen was not nearly as quiet as he must have thought.
Denji tipped his head to one side, then the other until something popped pleasantly in his neck. A countdown alarm began to blare, and a thrum of energy passed through the crowd as everyone prepared to run for the starting gate.
“Would someone like Todoroki focus on getting ahead first or hindering the competition…?”
This had Denji turning his head toward Midoriya. ‘Hindering the competition’ – that could be a problem. Which one was Todoroki, again?
“With his competitiveness and that powerful ice, he may be able to do both at once-”
“START!”
A distracted Denji was shoved forward by the stampeding mob before he could even process the start of the race. Jabbing elbows and pressing bodies propelled him forward with such force he found himself staggering. It was thanks to sheer instinct and a dash of luck that he kept his feet beneath him, saving him from being trampled by the relentless crowd. It wasn’t until he caught a flash of Midoriya’s green hair through the throng of students, pushing ahead with every ounce of drive and passion his small body contained, that Denji finally righted himself and began to charge for the starting gate.
Ice? Midoriya must have been talking about the red-and-white-haired guy. Denji scanned ahead in the crowd, then behind him. For the life of him, he couldn't pick out the other teen; he’d underestimated both the size of the entire first year class and the way everyone's matching uniforms made them all blend together.
Darkness fell on all sides and bodies pressed in tight. Passing through the starting gate had taken them into a tunnel, far too narrow for so many people at once. It was hot and cramped, packing them in like canned sardines. Raised voices echoed off the high, vaulted ceilings, ringing out unpleasantly.
Denji did his best to press forward, pushing one person out of his way with the entirety of his weight, then dragging another kid back with a yank on their hair that sent them staggering with a yelp. He could clearly see the end of the tunnel, the light pouring in from the outside. If he could just get out into the open, get some space, then he could clear his head and figure out what this 'obstacle course' was actually about.
A body crashed into Denji's side and sent him stumbling into someone else, who retaliated by shoving their hand into his face. He snapped back with gnashing teeth, face twisted into a snarl that had the student drawing back with a cry. His heart raced unpleasantly, the high stakes and cramped environment heightening the impact of every involuntary touch, every too-loud shout. Fucking crowds-
His next harsh exhale came out cold, breath fogging from between his lips. Goosebumps broke out across his arms, a chill shuddering its way down his spine. But it was so hot just a second ago?
Ice – Oh, shit-
In an undignified scramble of flailing limbs, Denji launched himself onto the back of the nearest student, arms latching onto his shoulders and legs tangling around his waist. Before the teen could process Denji clinging to him like an oversized koala there was a shift of pressure and a burst of a rushing chill. Cold exploded through the tunnel, coating the entire floor in a thick sheet of ice. The attack was instantaneous and devastating, trapping every foot still in contact with the ground in place.
While cries of displeasure and fury rang out, Denji matched them with his own laugh of triumph. Oh, he is a fucking genius.
It was at that same time that the student he'd precariously draped himself on top of bucked Denji angrily off his back, sending him falling onto the cold, hard ground. As tempted as he was to cuss out the other student and gripe over his bruised tailbone, a popping round of explosions rang out overhead as a familiar, blond-haired boy flew over the crowd. No way was Denji going to let Bakugou take the lead already.
Other students who'd avoided getting trapped in the sheet of ice were beginning to progress forward, their feet shuffling carefully and arms spread wide for balance as they did their best to avoid slipping. But Denji didn't have time for that; launching himself out of his sitting position, he began to scramble forward without care or shame. His shoes slid on the ice, leaving his legs flailing and pushing him forward with rapidly building momentum. His hands hit the ground, ice chipping at his nails as the biting cold cut deep into his palms. One foot slipped out from under him entirely, his body dropping and knee banging on the ice till a throbbing pain rattled through his leg, but he ignored it and forced himself to continue.
He was an animal charging ahead on all fours, more beast than man. Other people may be too embarrassed to act in such a manner, but Denji couldn't bring himself to care, not when his low center of balance and flying limbs propelled him between the trapped students and sent him skittering across the slick ice.
Breaking out from the cramped tunnel and into the light, Denji saw the path open up and the few faster students who'd beaten the ice close ahead. Emboldened, he continued to lurch and throw himself forward, hands now going numb from slapping against the freezing ice over and over.
“And here comes Hayakawa!” Present Mic's voice rang out over the speakers, bright with showmanship as he naturally embraced the role of Sports Festival announcer. “Already catching up with the leading group by- well, er... That's... Certainly, one way to do it!”
If Denji had the focus to spare, he would have rolled his eyes.
His animalistic scramble was eventually brought to an end as the massive floor of ice gave way to hard dirt. Standing upright and stealing a second to shake out his tired arms and protesting wrists, Denji finally took off at a reckless sprint. In the midday sun with an open track ahead of him, heart racing and limbs pumping, he found himself actually enjoying the thrill of the race. If it weren't for the few heads of 1-A students bobbing ahead of him and the increasing beat of footsteps behind him, he could have almost forgotten the stakes at hand.
Surprisingly, he found himself catching up to the small cluster of students. They had all come to a stop, staring ahead at a large open space. Puzzled by their hesitance, Denji slowed down as he reached them, falling into step beside Kirishima. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on when his throat went dry, trying to take in what was before them.
“Every obstacle course needs obstacles!” Present Mic’s voice rang out, grating and too-pleased. “Starting with the first barrier…”
A towering shadow fell over the growing group of students, mechanical eyes glowing with menace.
“Multiple targets acquired.”
“Robo infernoooo!!!”
Looming high above the tree line and filling the only path forward, their obstacle proved both impassible and unmovable. Red-eyed, mechanical monstrosities glowered down at the crowd of students. They were all too familiar with their fists the size of cars, the dreadful mechanized whir of firing pistons, and the rolling traction of their wheeled bases. However, in this case, familiarity didn't bode well.
The Zero-pointer from the entrance exam. And not one, but three.
Panicked cries and shrieks rose from all sides. Students who'd participated in the hero course practical exam were immediately cowed, fully aware of the destructive capabilities of even one of these walking skyscrapers. The rest of the students – inexperienced in combat and woefully unprepared to be faced with danger – blew into a frenzy of disbelief and terror. A feedback loop began to form where the non-fighters turned their hope to the hero course, only for their distress to be further exacerbated by the hero course's mounting panic.
Meanwhile, Denji didn't cast the robot so much as a passing glance, his focus having fallen to his gym uniform which he roughly manhandled. With jerking motions, he tugged at the zipper of his jacket as it got caught only halfway undone. His face twisted with frustration and concentration as he tugged at the zipper one way and then another. Still, it remained stuck, and he found himself struck with an appreciation for his public safety uniform for more than the simple fact that it was new and clean. A button-down made it so much easier to get to his ripcord than this stupid gym uniform.
The grinding gears of the encroaching robots grew louder, shaking the ground as the trio of machines lumbered closer. Nearby, one of the Gen Ed students began to cry.
A chill rippled through the air accompanied by a thin blanket of frost. "So, these are the faux villains they used for everyone else’s test?" a low voice pondered.
At the front of the crowd, not far ahead of Denji, that vexing boy with the red and white hair stood with shoulders pulled back, limbs loose and relaxed – Todoroki. In one smooth motion, the teen dropped down, left hand splayed out on the ground. That biting cold only grew stronger as it was carried on a buffeting wind.
An explosion of ice erupted forward, tearing across the open field and ravaging through robots. Their threatening advance came to a grinding halt as ice locked up their every function, limbs screeching and shuddering. They were trapped, frozen in place as their internal functions slowly died, glowing eyes dimming.
The crowd watched on in shock, each student as unmoving as the towering, frozen machines. Denji shared a similar sentiment, jaw hanging slightly slack. He’d figured this guy was pretty good, sure, but where the fuck did that come from?
As if what he'd done was simple and not an overt display of massively destructive power, Todoroki silently rose to his feet and began to run for the narrow gap between the frozen zero-pointers. Snapped out of his momentary daze, Denji jerked where he stood before stumbling forward on slightly weak legs. He resumed his fight with his zipper as he staggered forward, finally yanking it just right and unzipping the uniform jacket. With a triumphant hum, he sped up his run, hand snaking up beneath the white t-shirt under his uniform at the same time. He was fast on Todoroki's heels, a burst of excitement tearing through him as he began to take the lead ahead of the gobsmacked crowd.
Too easy; Todoroki had made this way too easy. While Denji would have been happy to tear his way through the zero-pointers himself, he was more than willing to get ahead by skipping them altogether. He was tempted to even laugh at the teen in the lead for accidentally making this obstacle a breeze for the rest of the trailing students.
Yet as Denji ran beneath the nearest looming robot, drowning him in their endless shadows, Todoroki turned his head. Those mismatched eyes locked with Denji's own, and Denji’s even pace stuttered. Todoroki's expression was even, almost expectant – no, more than that, his expression was pleased.
Directly overhead there was a low creaking as the zero-pointers began to tip over, shards of ice breaking off and tumbling down on all sides.
“Bad idea,” Todoroki remarked over his shoulder. “I froze them in pretty unstable positions…”
Denji's eyes blew wide as horror set in.
“So they’d fall.”
That absolute fucker-
Denji pushed his muscles faster and harder with a burst of panic. His vision narrowed into a pinpoint, unable and unwilling to process his surroundings beyond somehow, someway moving out of the path of the tons of metal and ice crumbling above. Sweaty palms slipped slightly on his ripcord, and his gait faltered as he redirected his focus to hook it with his curled finger.
This was nothing but a race against time, a bid to outrun a looming threat.
Unfortunately for Denji, running away wasn’t exactly his strong suit – just ask the zombies that stabbed him to death earlier that year.
The result should have been similar; a tragic incident, an untimely death, all wrapped up in a package of unimaginable pain. The only reason history didn’t repeat itself this time was because Denji had something now that he didn’t have back then.
With a sharp yank, he pulled the ripcord in his chest and blindly swung his arms upward just as the trio of zero-pointers collapsed down on his head.
Denji heard it all before he felt it. The rattling clatter and clang of metal reverberating through the ground as it crashed down. The sudden, whirling whine of blades revving, familiar in the way their thrumming pulse shook through his very core. Then the sharp, high-pitched scream of metal shredding through metal.
The burning pain in his arms flared to life, somehow taking priority over the falling metal pressing in on all sides with immense and sudden weight. The all-encompassing pressure was suffocating, threatening to break his small body under the overpowering strain. Still, he refused to break his stride even as he was caught under the collapsing machines, swinging his now spinning chainsaws in front of himself and upward with as much force as he could muster, desperate to clear a path.
For a split second, he was drowned in darkness, only for his world to burst into blinding light. Yellow-orange-white sparks sprang out in all directions as blades ripped through metal like a hot knife through butter.
Denji couldn't help but let out a quick, surprised gasp. He remembered the way he'd struggled with cutting through the zero-pointers, his saws fighting to tear through even a chunk of their thick metal frame. He couldn't claim his current efforts weren't without difficulty – sweat beaded at his temple and his arms shook with the force of each devastating strike – but he was doing it. He was cutting through each falling and broken frame with one vicious swipe, then another.
He'd gotten better, way way better.
Though it was hardly a surprise; cutting through a couple of measly robots was nothing compared to fighting against that Nomu.
With a grin dripping ferocity, Denji let loose a manic shout and redoubled his efforts. The isolation of his predicament was perfectly ideal as he began to swing with even more fervor, entering a wild frenzy as he carved himself a means of escape. Sparks continued to fly in tandem with torn metal scraps and shards of ice, and the weight bearing down on his body began to shift and alleviate before it could crush him entirely.
His next flying punch, wet with blood and glowing with the spark of metal grinding through metal, broke out into the sunlight. Denji blinked quickly, startled, then grinned even wider. Drawing himself back, he used what little space he'd fought for to wind up and charge forward, throwing all his weight into his next two-bladed strike.
Denji crashed out of the wreck of robots, his legs carrying several additional steps with the force of his momentum. Slowing to a stop, he began to spin in place as he regained his bearings.
“It looks like 1-A’s Hayakawa isn’t pulling any of his punches!” Present Mic’s voice rang out across the arena. “Todoroki may sabotage his opponents all he likes, but that won’t stop someone who can cut through each obstacle in his path!”
Denji felt a swell of pride at the announcement. Todoroki’s little trap may have tripped up – or physically maimed – any other student, but Denji was a special case. While the other teen may have just given himself a giant lead over all the other competing students, now that everyone's path ahead was blocked off by the endless remains of the downed robots, Denji was just as capable of taking advantage of that same opportunity.
Whipping his head one way then another, he finally spotted the open and empty path ahead. Putting the massive pile of broken machines behind him, he raced forward, chainsaws out and at the ready. If he were to push himself hard enough, maybe he could catch up to Todoroki by the next obstacle.
With pumping limbs and a manic grin, Denji tore down the winding path. He was alone, save his racing heart, his ragged breaths, and the occasional announcement over the intercom by Present Mic and his significantly less enthusiastic co-host, Eraserhead. Still, Denji ignored the ambient noise providing updates on his competitors in favor of keeping his focus squarely in front of him, searching for any sign that Todoroki wasn’t too far ahead.
That sign came as the path widened, revealing the next obstacle, so daunting that Denji’s stomach dropped and chainsaws stilled.
Denji had never had any issue with heights before. But then again, he’d rarely ever contended with heights to begin with. There was his plummet to the earth during his fight with the bat villain, sure, though he hadn’t been thinking of much of anything at the time except for getting his earned chest fondle from Power.
Now, slowing from a run to a trot and then finally a complete standstill, Denji’s head began to swim as he took in the gaping chasm before him. It was the kind of thing he’d seen online or watching television, yet images couldn’t have done the real thing justice. The wide expanse stretched out so far he could scarcely make out the other side. Rising from its immense depths were an assortment of rock structures with flat tops, wide enough to hold a body or two but little else. Risking a quick glance down made him feel unsteady, the pit so dark and unfathomably deep that he could scarcely make out the safety net strung along the cavern's base.
Going down or around was nothing but a waste of time. Across was the only option.
Yet the only way across that he could see was nothing but a few cords of rope stringing together the outcroppings of stone. His hackles rose at the sight of one rope being iced over, its path revealing Todoroki who was already halfway across the manmade canyon.
“So the first barrier was a piece of cake?! How about the second?!” Present Mic jeered over the speakers. “Fall and you're out! You gotta crawl across if you wanna make it! This is The Fall!”
Denji's face contorted into an ugly expression, a look caught somewhere between bafflement and frustration. He backed away from the ledge with uneven steps, shaking his head one way then another as he attempted to slow his racing heart and still his clattering thoughts.
Crossing on the ropes was the most obvious option, and that in itself was the problem. Nearly everyone was going to have to crawl their way across on the half dozen different ropes that branched from one perch to the next, giving ample time for the rest of the students to catch up and the more mobile students to tear ahead, wasting whatever lead he'd earned.
Could he jump? Denji was strong, but he wasn't that kind of strong. Besides, one missed leap would all but guarantee his loss. So, what-
The building beat of running feet could be heard from behind him.
Denji whipped his head over his shoulder, eyes blowing wide as a crowd of students appeared further down the trail, quickly growing closer. Already? He’d overestimated his lead. Denji’s hands flew to his head, anxiously pulling at the roots of his hair with his fingers, nearly scratching his scalp with his chainsaws in the process. No more debating, no more hesitating; he needed to make a decision now.
Pushing himself to approach the nearest cluster of ropes, he bent down, steeling himself to grab on and begin crawling. Chainsaw-laden hands reached out, forcing him to move gingerly so that he didn't cut the rope. Yet his careful actions had him pausing, mind beginning to buzz with a new idea.
What if… he did cut the rope?
A single drop of blood trailed from his blade, down his arm, and dripped from the tip of his index finger.
Raising his arm without sparing a moment to second guess, Denji swung his arm down just as his blade spun back to life, slicing through the first rope in one clean move. A toothy grin took over his face as the limp rope began to flap lifelessly in a slight breeze.
“It looks like Hayakawa is taking a page out of Todoroki’s book by sabotaging the next barrier for his classmates!” Present Mic’s voice boomed across the open space, ringing in Denji’s ears.
If Denji was going to have to crawl his way across, was the solution really as simple as making sure the other students couldn’t? Present Mic didn’t seem to have a problem with Todoroki dropping a bunch of robots on his classmates' heads, and he certainly wasn’t condemning Denji’s actions now. Shaking off any concern, he pressed on with his act of sabotage, slicing through another two ropes with a wide and energetic swing.
“Hey, is he cutting the ropes?!”
“That’s allowed?!”
“Someone stop him!”
Arms were grappling Denji before he could react, dragging him backward and sending him falling onto his butt with a painful thud. There were few people brave enough to get so close to Denji’s chainsaws and sure enough, he noted how the skin on the arms holding him back was striated, hardened well beyond what was natural.
“Let go, jackass!” Denji gritted out as he began to twist and jerk himself in random directions.
Kirishima’s hold only tightened, his legs swinging up to wrap around Denji’s torso so his hold was even more firm. “What, and let you sabotage this for everyone else?” While his words were condemning, a slight smile could still be heard in his voice. “Not manly, dude!”
They continued to tussle on the ground, limbs flailing blindly in hopes of striking the other. Out of the corner of his eye, Denji saw the Frog Quirk girl tearing across one of the remaining ropes, Iida leaping forward to propel himself with his leg engines, and some pink-haired chick launching a grappling hook to the nearest pillar to drag herself across.
Meanwhile, Denji was stuck, quite literally eating dirt.
Unable to buck Kirishima off and unable to stab his way out of this mess, Denji thought through all of Kirishima’s weak points as quickly as he could. He only tended to harden his arms, and maybe his chest as well. Denji had gotten the other teen in the crotch before but that wouldn’t work here, so…
Denji threw his head back straight into Kirishima’s face with a gnarly crack. The other boy immediately loosened his hold, yelping out unpleasantly. Denji scrambled upright, sparing a moment to observe the way the other teen was bent over, holding his bleeding and possibly broken nose.
And just when he and Kirishima were starting to get along… whoops.
Staggering forward, Denji’s heart sank lower than the very cavernous pits before him as he took in what a nightmare the ropes course had become. With several points of entry eliminated, everyone who attempted to cross by typical means had been forced to compete even more fiercely with one another. Similar to the entrance to the Obstacle Course that forced students into a tight and overcrowded space all at once, The Fall had become a mess of bodies scrambling atop one another, all vying to traverse the same tremulous ropes and cross the same cramped rock formations as quickly as possible.
Now that he was thinking about it, maybe Denji should have waited to sabotage the ropes course until after he’d made it to the other side.
A concussive blast rang out from above as Bakugou went flying overhead, explosions sparking from each palm that propelled him clear over the many struggling students. Denji's eyes went wide, watching as the hot-headed teen yelled out violent expletives as he tore across the sky, quickly gaining on Todoroki who had just gone beyond The Fall and was now out of sight.
Burning annoyance bled into a spark of inspiration.
Up and over. The only way Denji could hope to get ahead was up and over. But unless he suddenly sprouted a pair of wings that wasn't an option. He simply couldn’t brute force this whole thing on his own.
But then again... the teachers had never said anything about working together. And if Denji could get away with something as underhanded as sabotaging the other students' chances, then something as good and heroic as teamwork would totally be allowed. They may all be competing but this early it would be better to team up to get ahead.
Racing toward the small crowd of students fighting to get onto one of the remaining ropes, Denji was quick to spot a familiar brown bob of hair. Uraraka’s expression was oscillating rapidly between resolve and panic as she was jostled and jerked back and forth by the small, confrontational mob trying to bully their way onto the ropes. She was pushing as best she could to break through but plenty of the remaining students were bigger and stronger than her, drowning her in their collective force.
A brilliant plan began to form in Denji’s mind, and it all came down to Uraraka.
With a yank of his ripcord, his blades revved with a renewed energy that rattled through his arms and sent a thin spray of deep red blood arcing through the air. He charged headfirst into the crowd toward Uraraka, a bull seeking out a waving red flag without a care for anything in its way. Students shrieked in terror at Denji’s blind charge, parting on all sides to reveal a clear path toward the gravity-bending girl.
“Uraraka!” he called out, excitement and adrenaline electrifying his every move. Her big, brown eyes blew all the more wide at Denji’s approach, her face flitting through so many expressions that he had no clue what she was thinking. Even more confusing, the look her face settled into was oddly stoic, with a worried crease to her brown and a sharp tension locking up her every muscle.
Denji forced himself to slow as he got closer, doing his best to hide his worry over her reticence. “Hey,” he breathed out, his smile a bit exaggerated. “I got an idea. You wanna win this shit with me, or what?”
Uraraka watched Denji intensely, one foot behind her as if ready to turn away. Hands came together in front of her chest, resuming that familiar prayer-like posture subconsciously. Her lips hung slightly parted, perhaps deliberating on what to say, or maybe just regaining her breath from running through the obstacle course.
Most of the other students had hung back since Denji's charge to the edge. Yet his act of intimidation only seemed to last for so long as a girl with billowing hair made of woven vines strode closer, snaking around them with a calm expression. As she lashed her vines across to the nearest ledge to haul herself over, more students began to creep up within Denji's periphery, their resolve to resume the race beating out their fear of Denji's chainsaws.
They were running out of time to get ahead of the crowd, yet Uraraka still wavered. "...I-"
Ignoring her hesitance, Denji acted. He reached out toward her, one chainsaw shattering apart before his hand wrapped around one of her wrists. Uraraka startled at the contact, staring with those emotive brown eyes at the point where their hands connected.
Still, she didn't pull away, so Denji pressed on. "C'mon!" Yanking her arm, he guided her with quick steps close to the ledge where the few cords of rope remained. Kaminari scrambled past them, launching himself onto one of the ropes to anxiously shimmy his way across. Denji let him; so long as at least one rope stayed unoccupied, they would be just fine.
"Denji," Uraraka finally spoke up, clearing her voice so that her words came out more assertive. "I don't know if this is a good idea..."
Denji came to a standstill, letting go of her wrist as his mind whirred till he finally put two and two together. "Oh!" he called out, a sudden wave of relief overtaking him. Dropping low to inspect one of the ropes, he did his best to assuage any of Uraraka's nerves. "I get why you're worried, but you don't gotta be. Teamwork's not, like, against the rules or anything."
"...Oh," she offered in response.
Lowering his off-hand, Denji let the teeth of his one remaining chainsaw settle close to the rope. "You can lift two people with your Quirk, right? So, here's what we need to-"
His words were cut off as a pair of hands shoved into his back, sending Denji tipped forward into the abyss.
"Denji!" Uraraka screamed.
Losing his balance, Denji caught sight of Uraraka's look of horror and the smug sneer of an unfamiliar blond boy standing right where Denji had been. “That's what you get for cutting the ropes!” the teen shouted with a smirk.
As he began to fall, Denji panicked. He blindly reached out with his hand for the nearest intact rope, only to suck in a sharp gasp as he inadvertently sliced clean through it, accidentally grasping at it with a chainsaw-laden hand. Flailing his limbs, he lashed out with his other hand to grab for the long end of the rope. Fingers coiled tight and desperate around the rope as he pinched his eyes shut in anticipation, waiting for his body to succumb to the pull of gravity-
Until it didn’t.
There was no rush of wind buffeting his clothes and screaming in his ears, no sharp drop of his stomach, no loss of control as he plummeted toward the earth. There was only a light sense of weightlessness, a still peaceful feeling that had him cracking open an eye curiously.
Zero Gravity was a seriously awesome Quirk.
Suspended midair was Uraraka, her hair haloing her face, a frame to the delicate painting that was her expression of equal parts determination and pain. Casting a glance down between them, Denji sucked in a sharp breath; while his chainsawless hand was grasped tight around the rope connected to the nearest outcropping of stone, the other hand was held in a five-fingered grip by Uraraka. It created a bloodied imitation of his previous hold on her, Uraraka’s small hand and slender fingers pressing tight around the blade of Denji’s chainsaw, activating her Quirk and cutting open her palm simultaneously.
Guilt was a lance that pierced his heart as he reflexively broke the remaining chainsaw apart, letting it shatter and rust into nothingness. Yet for all his good intentions the damage was already done, Denji’s drying blood from his sealed-over wounds mingling with the fresh bleeding injury Uraraka had subjected herself to for his sake.
One drop of blood then another freed their way from her deep cut, clotting and bubbling to suspend weightlessly in the air between them.
Denji blinked his eyes rapidly, looking away.
“Uraraka,” Denji finally forced out with an oddly scratchy and unpleasant rasp to his voice. Clearing his throat once, then twice, he tried again. “Uraraka, can you reach the ledge?”
"...Just barely, but I can."
Denji nodded, willfully ignoring Uraraka's hesitation. Her palm was slick in Denji's hand. "Ya gotta push off from it, okay?"
When she didn't respond with a clear affirmative, Denji shoved down any of his remaining shame to hit her with as self-assured a look as he could muster. Yet when he turned to face her, he was struck by the way her eyes were locked on him already, lost in a deeply pensive state. There was such consideration in that look and it took all of Denji's effort not to retract his hand to simply get away. People don't look at Denji, don't think about him, don't care. Makima was the only true exception.
What was it with everyone here at UA trying to make him feel seen?
"You want us to go over The Fall."
Uraraka’s words snapped Denji back into the moment, and he offered a jerky, belated nod in response. Voices began to rise from the cliffside as the swarm of remaining students finally built the courage to approach, dismayed as they realized how they were now left to fight over a measly singular rope to begin their trek across. In the commotion, Denji spotted Hagakure’s uniform beginning to shimmy across the one remaining rope.
Tightening his grip on the rope in one hand and Uraraka’s warm palm in the other, Denji flashed the most reassuring smile he could muster. “Uraraka, now!”
Uraraka kicked her feet out behind her, connecting squarely with the side of the ledge.
A beat. A lurch.
And then they were tumbling upward.
The wind rushed, battered, and blew from all sides as Denji and Uraraka fell into the sky, hand in hand. The world passed in a dizzying haze of blue-green-brown-blue-green-brown as sky then treeline then earth all whirled by too fast to track. Their vision became a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors, and it was all they could do to simply hold tight to one another and weather their forceful ascent.
The momentum from Uraraka’s hard kick to the cliffside didn’t just send them flying, but spinning as well.
Without the pull of gravity to right themselves, it seemed as though they would endlessly tumble through the sky with no sense of control or chance of stopping. Yet after what must have been only seconds a soft jolt wracked its way through Denji’s arm, rope burn stinging his palm the slightest bit as he refused to let go. With Denji brought to a semi-halt, Uraraka lifted past him and over his head, her ascent slowing as Denji’s arm was pulled straight. They were both righted as the rope Denji held went completely taught, now floating them in a smooth arc directly over The Fall.
At its full length, the rope now guided them easily through the air as the rope carried the forward momentum from Uraraka’s original push. They floated in the right direction, easy and controlled in a way that could almost be called pleasant. From their birds-eye view, the many students fighting their way across The Fall were nothing but small smudges. If he squinted hard enough, Denji could have sworn he saw Midoriya’s mop of green hair shimmying the final length of the course.
“What’s this!? It looks like two of 1-A’s students have teamed up to go over The Fall!” Present Mic screeched over the intercom. “Is that even fair?!”
“Denji?” Uraraka’s breathless voice pulled Denji back to his companion. He instinctively tightened his hold on her, eliciting a soft flinch from the girl as he squeezed her injured hand.
“Sorry,” he began, guilt flaring up all over again.
But Uraraka was already shaking her head. “It’s fine.” The pale and stressed look on her face indicated otherwise. “What now?”
Denji’s eyes widened, and he looked back down the gauge how far they’d drifted. “I let go of the rope once we’re far enough, we drift over The Fall, and you lower us down.”
Before Uraraka could muster up a response, Denji deemed it time to let go, lest they continue their arc so far that they were pulled toward the ground. Carefully, he released the rope, the one point keeping them stable. They began to drift faster through the air without the drag of the rope to slow them down, lazily floating around one another in a way that was less dizzying and more soothing. Denji basked in the way the slight wind played with his weightless hair.
They were already more than halfway across when Uraraka raised her voice with the slightest trepidation. “I don’t know about this.”
Denji turned to look at Uraraka who floated lightly by him, just the slightest bit above and behind. “Is it too much weight or somethin’?”
“No,” she bit out, face pale as she avoided looking down. “But when I release my Quirk, we’ll fall. We’re too high up, there’s no way we can survive that.”
“But you’ll catch us.”
“...What?”
“You told me when we met that you were gonna do the saving when you became a Pro Hero.” Denji wasn’t sure where his next words came from, somewhere deep within that he didn’t even realize existed. But as he said them, he knew they were right. “So; save us, Uraraka.”
Uraraka’s expression was so open and vulnerable, a soft look that made her seem so young. It was as though she were lost and uncertain, looking at him with watery eyes. Denji feared he may have fucked up.
Then a smile shuddered across her face. “Okay,” Uraraka said with sure finality. “Okay. I’ll save you. I’ll save us both.”
The jackrabbit beat of Denji’s heart, for the first time that day, finally began to slow. “Good,” he sighed with a clear sense of relief.
Breaking eye contact, Denji peered back down to determine their distance left, only for his eyes to bulge wide. What he saw was most decidedly not the threatening drop of The Fall. “Hey, so… don’t look now, but I think we kinda overshot.”
“What?!” Uraraka pinwheeled her arms in panicked surprise, causing Denji to awkwardly veer off to one side as they continued their drift through the sky. In unison, the two peered backward to see the receding drop of The Fall, then down directly at the ground below, taking in an open and cleared stretch of land. Only a few people were visible and even then were hard to keep track of thanks to the sudden bursts of explosions popping left and right.
It was pure and utter chaos.
“This Minefield!” Present Mic shrieked, his voice somehow piercing its way clear through the sky. “It’s a deadly Afghan Carpet! A quick glance is enough to reveal the mines’ locations! So keep both eyes open and watch your step!”
“A minefield?” Uraraka questioned with clear disbelief.
Denji could have sworn he saw Bakugou and Todoroki wrestling toward the front of the pack. “New plan,” Denji announced. “We drift over the minefield, then you lower us down.”
“...Yeah. Good plan.”
With both of them quietly observing the mayhem below as more students arrived at the minefield, Uraraka and Denji silently relished in shared relief at not having to fight through such a mess. It was a true mad dash charged by pure desperation as students broke into the last leg of the obstacle course, determined to place high enough to make it to the second round. Meanwhile, Denji and Uraraka’s unobstructed flight through the air kept at an easy and steady pace, steadily overtaking many of the battling students.
Their quick moving float had nearly caught them up to the two leads when a massive clustered explosion set off all at once. Propelled through the air in an arc just below them was a familiar blob of green, flying on the back of a piece of shrapnel that sent him soaring past everyone in one explosive go.
Present Mic’s voice rang out across the field with pure elation. “And class 1-A’s Midoriya rides the wave in hot pursuit!”
“Midoriya!” Uraraka exclaimed.
All the while, Denji couldn’t contain a sudden burst of barking laughter. “Crazy! That guy’s absolutely crazy!” Eagerness tore through Denji all at once at the sight, and he began to squirm in the air. “Uraraka, we gotta get down. Like, now.”
“What? But we still have to go a little further!”
Another massive explosion rang out as Midoriya landed amongst the leads, dangerously launching their friend even further ahead. Denji shot her a pleading look, desperate to rejoin before anyone else pulled a stunt to tear ahead.
“...Right. We’re going down,” Uraraka folded, her nerves carefully hidden away as she steeled herself. “We need to let go of each other, but whatever happens, stay close.”
It took an active effort for Denji to let go of Uraraka’s hand. It was as if their blood had bound them together, as if his limb had cramped and locked entwined with her own. Releasing his hold on Uraraka, the two began to drift apart rapidly, something Denji hadn’t anticipated. Out of their control, an arm width already spanned between them and began to expand further still.
Yet just as the first dregs of panic begged to lace doubt and regret into Denji’s mind, Uraraka’s face fell into an expression of fierce concentration and utter resolve. As if calling out to a higher power, she brought together her fingertips into a false position of prayer. “Release!”
Gravity cracked down on them all at once.
Denji’s stomach dropped then leaped clean into his throat all in one motion as he fell headfirst toward the minefield below. The easy weightlessness of his limbs was ripped away with force, his body now racing down as if curious to see if it could achieve terminal velocity before going splat across the ground. The wind and pressure were harrowing, his ears popping and eyes watering through his desperate attempt to keep them open.
Closing his eyes meant losing Uraraka.
Sure, falling from a seemingly lethal height on live television only to survive wasn’t exactly the worst impression he could impart on the world. And sure, there was a decent enough chance he could walk it off. But he didn’t want to leave it up to chance.
Chance wasn’t going to guarantee his win at the Sports Festival. He didn’t want to leave Miss Makima to chance.
Blinking rapidly while narrowing his eyes against the battering and stinging wind, for some reason Denji couldn’t see Uraraka. Even turning his head one way, then another, did him no good. His arms began to pinwheel out through the air, a movement almost comparable to an attempt at swimming, but all it did was upset his state of semi-balance and cause his body to awkwardly flip in the air and face up toward the sky. He immediately concluded that this was worse as the ground approached rapidly while he was unable to witness just how close it truly was. He was a turtle flipped onto its shell, out of control, and left to flounder helplessly.
Yet his fuck up did offer a reconciliary prize. Scanning the skies overhead, Denji ignored the burn of the beating sun in his retinas as he finally spotted another body in free fall. Uraraka fell directly above, close yet just out of reach. She stared down at him, her face twisted as it took the fierce beating of wind which forced unwilling tears to slide up her cheeks and into the air. Still, she didn’t give up, keeping one arm reaching down toward Denji below her, determined to see their plan to its fruition.
With a burst of adrenaline, of determination, of desperation, Denji reacted. He was quick to mimic Uraraka as one arm stretched toward the sky, toward her. Still, while they were close, the tips of their fingers barely brushing, it wasn’t enough. Denji practically willed his limbs to be longer, for his fingers to stretch further because without that five-fingered touch, he was all but screwed.
Their fingertips brushed again, index finger to index finger, ring finger to ring finger.
In Denji’s periphery, the world shifted from a stark blue-white to the tall gray of encroaching walls, the forest green of treetops.
His arm ached with the stretch, hands growing close only to slip past one another.
The screaming in his ears built louder, so much louder – it occurred to Denji that the sound he was hearing may be more than just the wind.
Closer-
Closer-
Just a little closer-
Bloodied hand and bloodied hand met, slapping together in a tight and unrelenting grip. Their hold was fierce and desperate on both ends, nails scratching blindly as they held tight to one another. Uraraka’s fingertips applied harsh pressure to Denji’s pulse point but the discomfort was nothing compared to the rush of weightlessness that enveloped his body, bringing him to a sudden and jarring halt midair.
Gravity then zero gravity, gravity then zero gravity; with such jarring shifts applied to his body over and over again, Denji was beginning to feel as green as Uraraka looked. Still, nothing could erase the sense of pure relief that flooded his body as he hung in the air, Uraraka dangling directly over his head, her other hand pressed with all five fingers to her own chest. Her face was pale, eyes slightly glassy and wild, but the exhilarated smile that crept across her features made her utterly effervescent.
It never even crossed Denji’s mind to find Uraraka attractive at that moment.
All he could think about was how this girl was going to be a real hero someday.
As Uraraka’s hands came together they were simultaneously released from the hold of zero gravity. Denji’s back thumped into the ground directly below, kicking up a puff of dirt that made him cough. Uraraka, unfortunately, tumbled right onto his stomach, punching the breath out of him as the two lay in a collapsed pile of trembling limbs and shaking breaths.
He’d barely even fallen far enough to leave him winded. The chill of realization rattled through his body. “Ya didn’t mention how close we were to the ground.”
Uraraka pushed herself up and off of Denji’s chest, rolling to lay beside him as she let out a stressed laugh. “I would say I’ll make sure to remember next time, but I do not want there to be a next time of this. Ever. Got it?”
“Yeah, I’m good with that.”
“And Honenuki races into the stadium!” Present Mic announced, his voice ringing through the air. “That makes him the second student of class 1-B to complete the obstacle course!”
Denji and Uraraka locked eyes, startled back into the present.
They had both been so distracted by their death-defying feat that they’d almost forgotten; the obstacle course.
In unison, the two proceeded to scramble to their feet. Getting his bearings, Denji was relieved to see most of the minefield and swarming students far behind them. Their unintentional gamble had seemingly paid off, placing them well ahead of the crowd floundering across the open field, setting off one explosion and then another. Turning away from the chaos to look ahead revealed a wide open entrance gate that would take them back into the stadium.
Uraraka was already stumbling forward, building up momentum until she broke back into a well-paced sprint, so Denji pushed himself to move. He was quick to catch up to her side, then pushed slightly ahead as his long-legged stride carried him ahead.
“Next, blasting into the stadium is Iida Tenya! With a Quirk like that, it's no wonder he did so well!”
For Makima. Denji was going to finish this for Makima.
A popping explosion rang out behind him, but Denji refused to turn back, eyes set on his goal as he entered the dark tunnel guiding him back into the stadium. The cool shade was a blessing on his sweaty body, his labored breaths echoing in the wide chamber, amplifying the beat of his pounding feet. The cheers he’d already grown to love built in volume, just beyond the gateway, and he pushed his muscles that extra bit more with the knowledge that their first trial would be coming to a close.
“And after narrowly escaping a disastrous accident, Hayakawa Denji and Uraraka Ochaco have both made it back to the stadium in one piece! Seriously Eraserhead, what are you teaching these kids?!”
An infant freed from its mother's womb, Denji burst out from the dark of the tunnel and into the bright, blinding light of day. The roar of the crowd rang twice as loud and five times as passionate, so electrifying that Denji couldn’t help but play into it. He ignored his exhaustion in favor of throwing his head back in victory, pumping his bloodied fist into the air with pride. As he slowed to a walk before coming to a full stop, Uraraka caught up to him, bending over to rest her hands on her knees as she caught her breath.
Standing in the open grounds of the stadium were a handful of other students, both familiar and unknown. A boy with gnarly exposed teeth stared out at the audience, seemingly fine despite having completed a massive race. The only other girl aside from Uraraka stood off to the side, her long hair of green vines doing little to hide her expression of apathy which she pointed at Denji.
He saw Todoroki, cool and reserved as ever. Iida, whose stoic professionalism was cut through with an undercurrent of frustration. He saw an emotional Midoriya, smiling as he fought off prickling tears. A vindictive Bakugou, his heated glare bouncing from Denji to Midoriya, then back again.
Denji’s eyes trailed away from the few students and back into the crowd, settling on a massive screen which displayed the current rankings of those who’d completed the obstacle course. While he’d gone the whole race without knowing how many students would make it to the next round, the board now clearly displayed a total of 42 spots for the taking.
And there, sitting at a comfortable seventh place was Hayakawa Denji.
“Not bad,” Denji muttered, his voice lost to the endless cheers of the crowd.
But seventh place wasn’t first.
Not bad, but not good enough.