It took a moment for the words to register and Shouto glanced down in surprise at where his foot had landed.

He’d…lost.

Shouto barely remembered the walk to the infirmary room, Recovery Girl’s scolding falling on deaf ears even as she forcibly threw blankets and brought a mug of hot chocolate at him.

Of course he hadn’t assumed winning would be easy, but he hadn’t even made it to the finals. Hadn’t been able to prove to his father that he didn’t needs his fire and that he could win without it.

He remembered acidic green eyes with perfect clarity, merciless and unyielding as he tore apart everything Shouto had held as the truth.

A loud slurping noise drew his from his thoughts.

The green reaper himself sat on one of the beds, one knee propped against his chest while the other dangled of the edge. He’d been given a blanket too, and a twin mug rested in the other boy’s hand.

He looked small like this-fragile. None of the earth-shattering power and cold calculation visible as he brought the cup to his lips. The bright lights of the infirmary made the scars decorating Midoriya stand out, his pale freckled skin looking gaunter than Shouto had ever seen.

“Why did you do that?”

Shaded green eyes met his. “Do what?”

He scowled. “Fight like that.” Because there had to be a reason-he couldn’t have been imagining the killing intent Midoriya had been leaking.

There was a long pause.

“One day, you are going to be in a position where you are hopelessly outclassed. You are going to be afraid for your life and need every single scrap of ability and power at your disposal just to survive.” A tilt of the head that sent shivers down Shouto’s spine. “You’ve been privileged to not have had to use your fire, but one day you will need it.”

Anger rose inside him like a flood. “My father-”

“Is an abusive asshole. I don’t see why that has anything to do with your future survival.” Midoriya grinned and it was all teeth.

“Damn green bean, did I forget it was my birthday or something?”

He startled as a tall purple haired teen slunk into the room, gym uniform hanging loosely off his lean frame.

Midoriya turned his head to face him, one eyebrow raised. “I thought your birthday was in July.”

“So did I, but that performance was just-” he did a chefs kiss. “How’d you know my fetish was watching entitled assholes get stomped on?”

It took Shouto a second to realize that he was the asshole in question. This conversation was giving him whiplash. He didn’t think he had ever interacted with this boy, so why…?

Midoriya’s lips quirked into a small smile, so different from the one Shouto had just seen. “Isn’t your match next? You’ll get to stomp your own entitled asshole soon enough.”

The taller teen rolled his eyes. “There’s a commercial break while they try to fix the damage you did to the arena. Poor Cementoss should be payed overtime for the shit he has to do.”

Midoriya snorted and shook the blanket off his shoulders. “My fifteen minutes are over, so I can leave without Recovery Girl taking my head off. Let’s go see how Iida is doing.”

The two left, not even sparing a glance towards him.

It was…jarring to see the difference. Was one side of Midoriya an act? Or was this just how he was in a fight? Thinking back on it, his behavior seemed similar to how it had been during the U.S.J..

“One day, you are going to be in a position where you are hopelessly outclassed. You are going to be afraid for your life and need every single scrap of ability and power at your disposal just to survive.”

Shouto had a lot of thinking to do.

…

Katsuki was pissed.

Not only had Half n’ Half been beaten by Deku of all people, now he had to fight some nobody who hadn’t even made it into one of the Hero classes. The fucker had pulled some weird shit in his fight with Pinkie, and like hell he was going to get caught up in it.

It didn’t seem to be physical, so at he very least he’d be able to get some rest for his wrists. His consecutive fights with Round Cheeks and Shitty Hair had his arms fuckin’ hurting, the recoil sending sharp waves of pain whenever he flexed them.

It was unlikely he’d need much for this purple fucker. He looked like a strong breeze would make him fall over-little to no visible muscle mass and no crazy gadgets like pink girl from the Support Department.

It would be an easy win as long as he could keep his mouth shut.

He’d interrogated Pinkie, but Purple Einstein had fucked with her memories somehow, so the only thing she could remember was walking into the ring. She’d gone all zombie after talking to the fucker though, so that was probably the trigger.

“Are both sides ready?” Midnight questioned, her whip high in the air.

Purple Einstein grinned unsettlingly and nodded, his gravity defying hair swaying with the motion.

Katsuki responded with a bloodthirsty smile of his own. “Fuck yeah.”

A low chuckle. “You seem pretty confident.” A smug tilt of the other boy’s head.

“Start!”

“Why is that, Kacchan?”

“THE FUCK DID YOU JUST-!”

Katsuki froze mid-lunge, his limbs refusing to obey his commands no matter how much he strained. He wasn’t in control anymore, and from Purple Einstein’s smirk, it was pretty clear who was.

“Walk out of the ring.” He ordered, and Katsuki hated him.

He hated that he could do nothing but obey, hated the triumphant look in his eyes, hated the noise of the crowd as they cheered for his defeat.

 Katsuki Bakugou didn’t lose. It had always been a fact of life. He’d always been able to crush any resistance, destroy those who thought they could stand on his level. This tournament was supposed to be one of his steps to becoming the number one hero, and yet-

“BAKUGOU IS OUT OF BOUNDS. SHINSOU IS THE WINNER!”

His limbs became his own again, and he scowled at the purple haired teen across from him.

“Something to say?” He questioned.

Katsuki jerked his head the other way and stalked back towards the arena entrance.

…

Talking to the police was about as pleasant as it always was, but at least they weren’t trying to arrest him this time.

“Make sure to call us if you remember anything else.”

Dabi shifted where he stood. “Can I go now?”

The policewoman interviewing him looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Yes. Are you sure you don’t want to be taken to the-”

“I’m sure.” He interrupted, ignoring the scowl she sent his way. “I’ll get a check up soon.” It was a lie, and she looked like she knew it, but there was nothing the officer could do.

“Don’t worry! I’ll make sure he gets home safe!” came a cheerful, entirely unwelcome voice.

His expression twisted into a snarl. “I can make it home on my own.” He refuted, glaring at the Hero.

Hawks let out a laugh. “Of course you can! I was just planning on getting a bite to eat and wanted some company.” The Hero expertly maneuvered his wings so they blocked everyone from Dabi’s line of sight. “I’ll even pay for you.”

Considering his salary was more money that he would make in a year, that wasn’t exactly a large boon. “I don’t want your charity.”

Hawks continued to herd him towards the street and away from the police officers. “It’s not charity, just think of it as a friend treating you. You’ve got to be pretty hungry after that fight.”

Dabi’s traitorous stomach chose that moment to growl. Ignoring the heat that rushed to his face-it wasn’t like he could get much warmer at this point-he sighed. “Fine. Where are we going?”

…

“-at it why as U.A. students, it is our responsibility to-” Iida paused mid speech, an insistent ringing coming from his pocket.

“I apologize.” He said, a strange expression crossing his face. “I need to take this.”

She shared a look with Hitoshi.

That was weird.

…

Momo stared at Midoriya across the arena.

This was the boy who had scared Todoroki enough that he’d backed out of the ring.

Midnight started the match.

Neither of them moved.

His expression was icy, cold in a way that chilled her very bones and she knew, even if later in her life she met men and women much more powerful than this boy, he would frighten her still.

She could fight him. She could bring out tasers and flash bombs and knives and cannons, but even if he hadn’t been capable to ripping anything she created away, she doubted it would work.

Momo was smart, and unlike many of her classmates, she knew which battles were lost causes. There were some things worth fighting for, worth blood and tears and broken bones.

But this? This Festival?

It wasn’t one of them.

So the Yaoyorozu heiress raised her hand and spoke clearly and calmly.

“I forfeit.”

…

In hindsight, Dabi really should have known better than to follow the Number Three Hero anywhere, but he was especially regretting it now.

“Fried chicken? Seriously? Isn’t that like, cannibalism for you, Bird Brain?”

The man in question gave an offended squawk, even as his feathers carried the bags of food. “Of course not! I’m not actually a bird you know, and fried chicken is my favorite food thank you very much.”

He rose an eyebrow. “Well, I could have guessed your lack of taste from your outfit, but this just confirms it.” The walk had been…surprisingly pleasant so far, the Hero somehow steering them away from crowded places.

Hawks clutched his chest dramatically. “You’ve killed me. I shall never recover.”

“Good.”

Hawks let out a sigh. “You’re so mean. Here I was hoping that we could be friends, and you attack me like this.”

Dabi lit his hands lightly, ignoring the wave of heat that threatened to rise once again. “If you want me to attack you birdie, all you have to do is ask.”

The Winged Hero’s grin revealed inhumanly sharp canines. “I’m not that fond of playing with fire, but if I ever feel like it, I’ll let you know.”

His tone was casual, but in the corner of Dabi’s vision he saw red feathers that were already detached, floating in the air and ready to move.

So Dabi sneered. “You wanna test what’s faster? My fire or your feathers?”

Predatorial gold eyes met his own. “I think that it doesn’t really matter, because we’ll both be dead in the end.”

“I’ve picked enough fights today.” He said with a scoff. “Besides, I wouldn’t get chicken if I set you one fire.”

And just like that, the calculation and sharpness disappeared. “I’ll keep that in mind, firecracker.”

…

Hitoshi stared across the arena at Midoriya.

His friend stared at him with an unreadable expression, but there was a glint in his eye that made him wary.

He didn’t want to fight his roommate-partially because he could send him flying into the stratosphere and partially because he didn’t want to hurt him-and it wasn’t like he really stood a chance. Second place was bound to be high enough to get him into the Hero Course.

Why would they every want a villain like you-

“Start!”

Hitoshi braced himself, opening his mouth despite knowing that Midoriya was far too smart, far too even tempered to ever fall for any trick he could pull. He had considered flirting, but that felt…wrong somehow. He liked flirting with the other boy, but didn’t want to do it to win a tournament.

Mirdoriya held up a single finger.

He blinked in confusion, closing his mouth in surprise rather than any real intent to follow instructions.

Midoriya then proceeded to walk to the edge of the ring, heels touching the concrete border.

He turned to stare directly at the camera for three solid seconds.

The crowd began to murmur, confusion and bemusement spreading as they contemplated what he could possibly be up to.

Midoriya bent his legs, his jump propelling him into a backflip that ended with him just outside the barrier and his arms in a solid dab.

The stadium was silent.

Midoriya lifted his head, and took a bite out of an apple Hitoshi hadn’t realized he’d had.