The panel was reaching its fourth and final segment, and the anticipation was palpable. Present Mic had been hyping up this part of the event for days, making it clear that it was going to be something truly unforgettable.
“Alright, folks!” Present Mic shouted, his voice crackling with excitement, “It’s time for the fashion challenge! And I’m not talking about those suits you wear when you save the day. Oh no, heroes! It’s time for the audience choice! You all voted on what our heroes should wear, and let me tell you, some of these outfits are going to be wild!”
The audience cheered, clearly eager to see what bizarre, over-the-top outfits they had chosen for their favorite heroes. Hawks, Miruko, Fatgum, and the others had all been dressed in various wacky, outlandish outfits: anything from superhero-themed onesies to floral patterns and ridiculous props.
And now it was time for Endeavor.
As he walked into the dressing room backstage, he was expecting the usual fare—a ridiculous, embarrassing costume, something that would make him look utterly ridiculous. Maybe a clown wig or a goofy t-shirt. He had braced himself for that kind of humiliation. But when he entered, he froze.
On the rack, hanging like some twisted joke, was a stunning red dress. It was elegant, silky, and luxurious, designed to fit perfectly with his powerful, muscular frame. The vibrant shade of crimson seemed to reflect his fiery quirk, and the dress had delicate, intricate beadwork along the neckline that sparkled under the fluorescent lights. It was paired with high heels that could only be described as glamorous—black, with a thin heel that made his stomach drop just thinking about walking in them.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. A red dress?
A full makeup artist was there, ready to style his hair, and a makeup kit laid out on the table. The entire room seemed to mock him, daring him to embrace this absurd request from the audience.
There was no way out. The audience had chosen this, and he knew the show wouldn’t continue until every hero had donned their chosen outfit. After a long, silent moment of deliberation, Endeavor sighed and ran a hand over his face.
Fine. If this is what they want, this is what they get.
It took a full half-hour for the makeup artist to work her magic. She carefully applied foundation, made his eyes pop with subtle shadowing, and expertly lined his lips. His usually stern expression softened a bit under the makeup, but he felt his masculinity slipping away with every stroke of the brush. The stylist then went to work on his hair, pulling it into a neat, but still fierce, style that added to the overall polished look.
And then, there was the dress.
He slipped into it, the silky fabric cool against his skin. The heels were surprisingly comfortable, though Endeavor still felt unsteady in them. He had never worn heels before—never—but somehow, this dress made him feel like he had been wearing it his entire life.
The final result? The embodiment of elegance, but in a way that was absurd for someone like Endeavor. The red dress clung to his form, complementing his fiery quirk in a way that felt almost theatrical.
He stepped out of the dressing room, his heels clicking softly on the floor as he made his way to the stage. His mind raced as he walked, the unfamiliar feeling of wearing a dress making him even more self-conscious. The thought of walking out in front of a live audience—and his fellow heroes—was almost more than he could bear.
But then, as he stepped into the spotlight, something unexpected happened.
The crowd gasped. The heroes on stage, who had been prepared for their own share of ridiculous outfits, now stared in surprise and awe. Hawks’ mouth dropped open, eyes wide, as he took in Endeavor’s transformation. Miruko raised an eyebrow, her hand resting on her chin as she looked him up and down.
Endeavor felt his face heat up. He tried to maintain his usual confident posture, shoulders straight and chest out, but every part of him screamed to leave the stage.
But when he caught his reflection in a large mirror, something strange happened. He could feel the eyes of the audience on him, but for the first time in the entire panel, he didn’t feel like a failure. He didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. The dress—this dress—had an undeniable power to it. It made him stand taller, feel more confident, and oddly, more graceful.
“Whoa,” Hawks said, breaking the silence. “I gotta say… Enji, you’re rocking that dress.”
Endeavor gave him a deadpan stare, though it was more of a half-smile than a glare. “I’m not here to entertain you,” he muttered.
“Oh, but you are!” Hawks teased, still looking impressed. “You’re totally killing this. Look at those heels! You’re like… like a supermodel, man!”
Endeavor took a deep breath and straightened his back. He was not going to let Hawks get the better of him. He adjusted the dress slightly, feeling the fabric shift as he made his way to the center of the stage.
Despite everything, Endeavor worked that outfit. With every step, he grew more comfortable. The heels, while still foreign to him, didn’t trip him up. His posture remained perfect, and though his expression remained stoic, there was a quiet strength in the way he carried himself—no longer an awkward hero in a ridiculous costume, but a man who had embraced the challenge, and was owning it.
The crowd’s reaction was immediate—applause, whistles, and cheers filled the room. It wasn’t mocking applause. It was admiration. The outfit had a strange effect on the audience, and Endeavor, despite his initial embarrassment, realized something: this moment, however bizarre, wasn’t about his pride. It was about his ability to push past his own discomfort, to stand tall, no matter what the world threw at him.
Even in a dress.
Present Mic, who had been watching the entire transformation with increasing amusement, grinned widely. “Well, well, well! It looks like Endeavor’s not just a fiery hero, folks! He’s got some serious flame in his fashion!”
Endeavor took one last sweeping glance at the audience, nodding once to himself. “I’ve got work to do,” he muttered under his breath, ready to exit the stage.
As he left, the applause didn’t stop. Hawks, still grinning like a maniac, couldn’t resist one last jab.
“Who knew the No. 1 hero was also a fashion icon? Maybe next time, we’ll have you walk the runway instead of chasing down villains, huh?”
Endeavor’s response was a low growl, but even he had to admit—it had been worth it. The panel had certainly pushed him out of his comfort zone, but in the end, he’d come out stronger than ever.
And somehow, a bit more fashionable, too.
