Chapter Text
Tokoyami breathed as he stepped onto the stage. Yamaoka Takao was a plain man. Or, he would have been, if he'd been born outside of Asia and in a world without quirks. As it stood, the golden brown hair and vaguely European features made him stand out amongst the contestants here in Japan.
Both young men raised their hands as Present Mic prattled on above their heads, introducing the new contestants before pausing for the signal whistle. It blew, and Tokoyami stepped forward, hard and fast, as he blitzed the young man. Midoriya had filled Tokoyami in on Yamaoka's quirk. Rather than give him time to make use of it, Tokoyami had decided to take the first round quickly.
Yamaoka's eyes went wide as Tokoyami rapidly stepped inside his arms and, tucking himself into Yamaoka's chest, grabbed his right arm. Tokoyami swept his opponent's leg with his own before placing all of his weight into Yamaoka's compromised footing. Both men went down hard. Yamaoka's back hit the mat first, driving some air out of him before Tokoyami's full weight slammed shoulder-first into his chest, removing the rest of the air from his lungs.
A quick twist from strong, well-toned arms and Yamaoka found himself flipped and pinned, face pushed into the squishy ground. Seconds was all it had taken before the reset whistle sounded again. The audience screeched, causing the hero students with sensitive hearing to wince throughout the stadium. Sero held his head in his hands, any hope that he wouldn't have to wrestle the birdman slipping away with the cheers.
As they stood, readying themselves for the next round, Yamaoka raised his hands again, eyes hardened. Tokoyami sighed as he resigned himself to what was about to happen. He raised his arms, but even as he stepped forward, Tokoyami felt as if he were suddenly encased in concrete. He could move, so it wasn't as absolute as he had believed from the description Midoriya had given him, but it was a struggle to do so, It burnt in the muscles and reminded Tokoyami of trying to lift several times the weight you were capable of lifting.
Yamaoka kept one hand pointed at Tokoyami as he stepped forward, his chest heaving a sigh of relief. Quickly, he reached for Tokoyami with his other hand.
Midoriya shook his head as he murmured, "There went his guard."
"Uh oh," Kirishima muttered.
"This is gonna hurt." Mezo echoed him.
"What do you mea-" Tetsutestu stopped,wincing as Dark Shadow seemingly materialized low to the ground and grabbed Takao by the leg.
Dark Shadow, to their credit, was rather gentle about it. Or, about as gentle as Dark Shadow ever was in training, which was to say that Dark Shadow had slung the poor man over their head, ankle still caught firmly in his grasp, before slamming him back into the ground.
"Yamaoka Takao, quirk name: Force. He can manipulate anything within the clear range of his vision, telekinetically. The caveat is that it doesn't work on other quirks." Sato winced when Tokoyami, now released from the quirk by Dark Shadow, placed his knee in Yamaoka's back.
"So this was the worst possible match-up for the guy."
"Yup," Midoriya said, giving a small pop to the word, the utter disinterest in his tone relaying how he believed the rest of this match would go.
…
Kirishima grinned as he stepped up to his opponent. Watching the last couple of bouts had gotten his blood boiling. He wasn't really sure how or where he might use his quirk for this, but he was certain that he was ready to show off what they'd been learning, or, he considered for a moment, more of what they had been learning. Sero and Tokoyami had both demonstrated pretty well that 1-A had grappling skills. Now, all he had to do was not fuck up.
Present Mic was currently in the process of introducing the two contestants once more, using his inherent charisma and enthusiasm to whip the crowd up into a frenzy of excitement. "... so! Will class 1-A take yet another victory? Or will Shiketsu break their streak and get their second win on the board? We…"
Kirishima tuned him out as he focused on his opponent. He'd asked Midoriya for quirk information, just like Tokoyami had. Strangely enough, though, Midoriya had only grimaced, his gaze panning over to Kirishima's opponent with a dead-eyed stare. He still wasn't entirely sure what kind of advice "prepare yourself for a bit of body horror" was. Still, Kirishima wasn't going to chicken out because of a little horror.
But, as he squared up with his opponent, Kirishima wondered what flavor of horror he was about to be subjected to. Something like Dark Shadow? Kirishima shuddered mentally at that thought. Normally, touching Dark Shadow felt no different from petting a bird. How that was possible, he had no idea. But when it was fighting with them? It felt wrong, like the ghosting of feathers and the pure distillation of wrong. It lit up every nerve and woke up alarm centers in the brain that Kirishima hadn't even known he'd had.
Barring that, he wondered if it were something more akin to the ghost girl in their sister class. Perhaps, even still, it was closer to Mezo. The class had only heard rumors of his private training with Midoriya, but they all knew from what he'd told them that he absolutely shouldn't do it with civilians around. And there was that word again. It frustrated Kirishima a bit that he couldn't exactly identify when normal people had become civilians, and they had bec-
The whistle blew, and all other thoughts left Kirishima, leaving nothing except his opponent in front of him. The first thought that Kirishima had was one of surprise. The man in front of him was, at the very least, as strong and as fast as his classmates. The second one was that the man had the same style of grappling that Setsuna had used before she'd been taught better. Kirishima sidestepped the lunge, wrapping his hands around one of his opponent's sizeable, he noted, forearms.
Kirishima pulled before twisting as the man moved past him, flinging him towards the outer edge of the ring. Kirishima heard the pop, and he grimaced before his brain could fully comprehend what that sound had entailed. "You alri-?" He wasn't even able to fully get the question out before Inouye Yoshio was heaving himself back at Kirishima.
The man was grinning as he yelled back, "I'm doing great, Red Riot!" Kirishima caught his opponent's hands with his own and clamped down. "Let's get really interesting now." Kirishima felt the pressure on his wrists begin to mount as both sides put their all into overpowering the other. The amount of strength the smaller man could put out was absolutely shocking to Kirishima, and if he'd still been as strong as when the semester had first begun, he'd probably have been overpowered. It was around the time Kirishima was debating pulling out of the stalemate and getting the match on with that he heard another series of pops and a crack.
Kirishima's head snapped to the sound, and he felt like gagging as he realized it was coming from Inouye's arms. Muscle fibers twitched and popped, and muscles snapped and writhed back into place under the man's skin. "Huuk." The retching gag that worked its way out of Kirishima made Inouye laugh. Kirishima's face twisted in mounting horror as the grip itself seemed to wane and wax. Having had enough of that, Kirishima forced both pairs of arms outward before releasing and slamming into Inouye's chest.
…
Kirishima sat with his head between his legs as his gag reflex warred with his willpower. Midoriya rubbed his back slowly. Kirishima had ultimately won the bout. The man with the pain blocker quirk had a healthy amount of regeneration capability baked into the quirk. But just because he could match Kirishima for strength didn't mean that he had the technique to take him in the match. Kirishima had fought him down to the timer, but in the process, his opponent had turned into a fleshy bowl of rice krispies.
A shudder ran through Kirishima, and Midoriya grimaced. He could empathize. It had taken him years to really get used to body horror bullshit. The other students watched Tetsutetsu attempt to siege down his opponent in much the same way Kirishima had in the previous round.
Unfortunately for him, his opponent had no interest in a contest of strength. Matsumura Kasumi darted in and out of Tetsutetsu's guard, looking for an opportunity to,it seemed to the audience, lock him at his joints. Midoriya knew the woman's quirk, however. He had put her on a watchlist, in fact, just in case she didn't get it under control and still tried to pursue heroics. Luckily for both of them, Isamu had taught her temperature control well.
Tetsutetsu overextended on a single grab, and Matsumura found her opportunity. Her hands reached out, pulling a thin strand, maybe an inch across, of blue silk from the ether. She wrapped it around Tetsutetsu's elbow while stepping forward and, pulling her foot back from behind his, brought him hard to the ground. She stuck the strip of silk to the mat and backed up easily out of reach. The location where the silk met the mat was crunchy with a sudden thick frost.
Tetsutetsu, attempting to sit up, found himself stuck by the silk to the ground. He turned his body for the briefest of moments, and she was on him again. This time, she bound an ankle to his throat and the other ankle to the opposite arm. Tetsutetsu yelped at the touch of the silk, instinctively activating his quirk and turning gray, which, from the yelp that followed, somehow made the entire situation worse.
The whistle was blown, and the silk immediately released Tetsutetsu, causing the large man to flop as the tension dropped. Midoriya narrowed his eyes at the silk's seeming ability to release on its own. Some kind of latent fabric quirk? Why silk? Why the temperature manipulation with silk? Maybe some kind of mythological or story quirk? Needs checked out, either way. Phoenix. A small chime in his ears. Mark down Matsumura Kasumi for another look. Something doesn't pass the examination there, not with what we currently know. Frigid silk doesn't even begin to cover that quirk.
Another round passed fairly quickly between the two, ending nearly the same way, but Tetsutetsu managed to surprise Matsumura this time. The timing of her dipping into him was off, and quickly she found herself bound up on the ground by the sheer weight of the steel man. Another reset whistle and a wince as Tetsutetsu slapped silk strips off of his skin.
…
Midoriya tilted Tetsutetsu's head, a hand holding his jaw, one side to the other before ordering him to turn. He examined his legs and arms next, humming at a couple of spots on Tetsutetsu's wrist. "For the most part, it just looks like frostnip, but head to Recovery Girl, all the same. I don't like a few of the patches on your wrist. The strand she stuck on you when you surprised her was probably a bit too cold."
"I can't believe I broke our streak like that." The large man pouted like a child. It would have been almost cute on someone smaller. Unfortunately, he was not smaller.
"Don't do yourself or your opponent the disservice of that thought. You both did your best without being able to outright strike at each other. Now, Recovery Girl, go." Midoriya poked him in the direction of her office before turning back to the bleachers. Mezo was rolling his neck, staring lightly at Midoriya.
"Anything I need to know?"
"Five-point quirk. Don't let him touch you." Mezo dipped his head before walking towards the mats.
…
Kaya Taro had thought that this event was made for him and his quirk. Draining people's energy when he touched them? It was perfect. Every time someone would grapple with him, they would end up more tired and more sloppy than before.
That thought had suffered a bit when Flex had fought that Maita guy. But he had been taken to the mat at least once! And he didn't have a perfect quirk for this. The thought had sputtered as if dying when Tokoyami had completely obliterated his opponent. His shadow could hold a person down for god's sake. The final nail in that coffin, however, had been when he'd watched Red Riot literally grind the bones of his opponent down, resulting in him being stretchered off the mats.
Three 1-A students had wiped the floor with their opponents. One of them without his quirk. Now, here Kaya stood, across from someone a full foot taller than him, and he couldn't help but blanch. Maybe those were just three freaks in their class? The entire class couldn't be like that, right? That 1-B student had a normal match, right?!
Mezo stared down at his opponent with as neutral of an expression as he could manage. The man was working himself into some kind of anxiety attack, and Mezo had no idea what he was supposed to do here, considering that they'd be wrestling as soon as the signal came.
The whistle blew, and the man lunged. Mezo took a step back, grabbing one of Kaya's wrists. The man panicked harder, reaching for his currently immobile wrist and the hand wrapped around it. His fingers barely brushed Mezo's skin when that wrist, too, was grabbed. Slowly, making a point of it, Mezo pulled Kaya's arms out away from each other before placing another set of arms onto the shoulders of the man in front of him.
Kaya's pupils dilated as he looked up and laughed in a horrid mixture of anxiety and primal fear. "I'm in danger."
…
Mezo sat back down with a huff and a small, tiny, so insignificant he would deny it, amount of satisfaction. Present Mic hadn't stopped yelling about Kraken retaking U.A.'s streak with style, so he was able to shake his head and at least try to make himself look modest rather than preen. That being said, the praise was still nice.
"How do you think Sato is going to fare against this Kawata guy?" Kirishima asked.
"That depends on what Midoriya meant by spirit companion. Is it more ghosty," Sero waggled his fingers, miming the word ghost, "or is it closer to what Tokoyami's got going and is its own being?" A low groan came from Tokoyami as Dark Shadow muttered about being recognized by everyone but the person they were stuck to.
"It's not likely that he is going to do well. It's closer to Tokoyami's quirk than it is the former."
Mezo looked from person to person. "That's his polite way of saying he's fucked, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is."
…
Setsuna wanted to toss her equipment aside and just take off running. She wouldn't do that, of course. There was an order to these races that were followed for everyone's safety. That didn't mean that she couldn't feel the anxiety creeping up as she stowed her biking gear. Several students had nearly caught up with her. One had, in fact, but seeing as he was only a minute or so ahead of her, and his quirk had motorized the bike, she wasn't worried about overtaking him.
The drones were the easiest way to keep track of where the contenders generally were. They puttered along through the skies, tracking the leaders and groups. The next drone was only a couple of bends back and seemed to be gaining fairly quickly.
Setsuna began her sprint, shifting mid-step. Feathers sprouted as bones broke and rearranged, a process that was always uncomfortable at best and incredibly painful at worst. Setsuna had long gotten used to the process, the shift almost immediate from everyone else's view. With a single step, suddenly a raptor took the place of where Setsuna should have been standing. The shift from plantigrade to digitigrade was always the most awkward for her.
She took a couple of quick, stumbling steps as her talons clicked on the asphalt, attempting to gain purchase in the change, before she managed to regain her stride. Setsuna picked up speed quickly, her arms tucked up against her body as she tilted her head forward. The student that had passed her appeared suddenly and then disappeared, a green blur the only thing he'd registered before Setsuna was already around the bend in front of him and tearing down the final stretch back to U.A.
…
Iida skidded to a stop alongside a student who seemed to have a perpetual tailwind. He had stuck close. Perhaps not the most fair of reasons to stick close to another competitor, but the man had seemed to enjoy the company well enough, and the advantage would have been foolish to give up when the exchange was simple company.
Both men had stopped just as green tail feathers dipped around a corner in the distance. They looked at each other before scrambling off their bikes. They had made better time than either had thought they would, and every second was another gap in their final times.
…
Toga had long since lost sight of either Iida or Tsyu, who had taken a notable lead on her. Oh man, if I had known those legs of hers would be so good for biking, I would have asked her to help me stock up on her blood over the week. Those legs, and oh, those thighs. Toga let out an audible moan as her head tilted back towards the sky. She blinked, letting her head roll back down to look in front of her. "Well, that's new."
…
Monoma groaned. He was barely holding his lead in his group. 1-A was long gone, plus a handful of others, and how the hell that was possible, he didn't know. His lungs were on fire, his muscles burned, and he was drenched in enough sweat that he just knew he was going to lose a couple pounds in just water. Yet, he pushed forward and kept his lead on the other hero students by the skin of his teeth. Monoma couldn't help but think of the 1-A students that had had the gall to behave like this nonsense was a warmup.
Little did Monoma know that by the end of their time at U.A., Midoriya planned for precisely that.
…
Midoriya stretched as they announced his first match. Finally, he thought. It had taken long enough to get through the first round of matches. At least the second round would be faster. Midoriya stared up at the drones, which held their scores and competitor lineup. His round, Tokoyami and Sero, Kirishima and Matsumura, and Mezo and Kawata. Sato had lost, to no one's surprise. It was difficult to pin an opponent, and to Sato's credit, he'd almost managed several times. As there'd been a spectral wolf slamming into him as he'd attempted to do so, the match had been a testament to his own strength, if not his training.
Midoriya stepped up onto the mats with a smile and a wave. The smile strained a bit as he focused in more closely on the noise coming from the audience. There was a considerable amount of cheering, those that were excited to see the match regardless of their opinions of him, or what outcome they expected. But there was also silence from a number of spectators, and subtle but noticeable booing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his classmates sit up a bit straighter, their faces darkening. Midoriya just shook his head. He was quirkless. That bought him at least a few uncharitable remarks and reactions, no matter where he went. Besides, with the USJ so fresh in everyone's minds, a large portion of the audience would be thinking of the number of bodies at his feet.
Midoriya took in a breath and slid into a grappling stance to await the whistle blow. His opponent glanced between him and Vlad, looking a bit… sick? Constipated? Midoriya wasn't really sure what was running through his mind.
"Uh, sir? Do I actually have to wrestle the quirkless freak? You guys just seeded him to be nice, right?" Midoriya felt the all too common sick feeling rise up in his gut. It was always like this, even before he'd been put in the coma, worse now that he thought about it. He'd had the option of not interacting with these kinds of people after coming back. The sick feeling was swamped with the usual stirring of bitter anger. Why did he bother trying to protect these people? He should just-
Carefully, Midoriya adjusted the smile on his face as he raised a hand to Vlad King. He was lucky that U.A.'s heroes were worth their title. "It's fine, Vlad. Let's get on with this." Vlad had half a mind still to kick the kid out of the competition, but he supposed that wouldn't make a point nearly as well as what Midoriya was about to do to the man.
Midoriya came to the conclusion that he was very much about to enjoy what he was going to do to this Shiketsu student. Very much, indeed.
Notes:
Very Minor Warning for : Body Horror
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