(Ida POV – Sports Festival Stadium)
I step onto the stage, facing what may be my greatest challenge yet—Class President Kata Okada.
His composure is unwavering, his movents calm and a neutral expression that almost never cracks.
'As calm as always… as if nothing ever phases him.'
"It will be an honor to face you, Class President," I declare, standing tall. "Please, give it your all!"
He simply nods. "I'll do my best."
A simple reply, as always.
'But that's not the full truth.'
Kata Okada never struggles. He never goes all out. I've heard him say those words to others, but he doesn't lie.
'Doing his best doesn't an fighting his hardest.' But I don't know what he's doing his best for.
Present Mic's booming voice announces our match, but I barely hear him. My mind is racing. My plan must be airtight—I only have one chance.
'It's all or nothing. If I hesitate, I lose.'
I tense my muscles, readying my engines.
"START!"
The world slows.
"Recipro Burst!" I roar, flas igniting from my exhaust pipes as I surge forward in a blur of speed. Most wouldn't even register my approach.
But Kata sees .
His eyes remain locked onto my form, watching with unnatural precision. He doesn’t brace himself, doesn’t dodge—he simply stands there, unshaken.
'I'll make him take seriously!'
I reach him in an instant, launching a side kick at his torso. 'No stance, no guard—he’s wide open! This will land for su—’
I miss.
No—he dodged.
He never even seed to move, yet he’s suddenly out of reach.
I pivot, using my montum to spin and launch a second kick aid at his head.
Without looking at , he ducks—at the very last mont. His movent is so fluid, so precise, that even as I watch, I can’t comprehend it. My kick slices through empty air.
'Eight seconds left.'
What follows is beyond reason.
Every attack—dodged. Not with frantic movent, not with any wasted motion or exertion. Just impossibly effortless evasion.
A light hop carries him away from sweeping kicks like he’s weightless. A single step places him ters away in an instant.
To the audience, our movents must be a blur. To , it’s a nightmare. I strike again and again, but he doesn’t counter, doesn’t block—he just dodges. With crushing ease.
Until—
Contact.
An overhead kick. My rotation accelerated by my quirk, my foot colliding squarely against his head. The impact reverberates through the stadium.
Excitent ignites in my chest. 'I did it! I actually—'
"That's ten seconds."
His voice cuts through the air, like a hot knife through butter. The flas from my exhaust sputter out, as my Recipro Burst ends, and my engines stall.
And then I realize the truth.
My kick landed, yes—but only against a barrier. A thin, invisible film, ten centiters from his face.
A surge of energy grips . I try to pull back by kicking off the barrier. I find small success, but I imdiately stop midair. Gravity and inertia having abandoned .
"You were fast," Kata remarks, his tone as calm as ever. No pride. No mockery. No excitent. Just calm.
Then, without warning—I’m flung backwards.
I shoot across the air, accelerating beyond my control—until I cross the boundary line. Then, just as suddenly, I drop.
"Tenya Ida is out of bounds! Kata Okada moves on to the third round!" Midnight’s voice rings across the stadium.
The crowd erupts.
I clench my fists, rising to my feet. I refuse to accept it. "Did you let land that hit on purpose?!"
He stops, turning back to . The sa unreadable expression. Then, after a brief pause—he sighs.
"I couldn’t keep dodging forever."
And then he walks away.
'He didn’t deny it.'
If this were anyone else, I might have believed them. But Kata Okada is a liar—one who comforts people by letting them know only half the truth. Lies by omission from a liar who never lies.
I sigh, tension draining from my shoulders.
'That was his way of not discouraging .'
I turn and leave the arena, fists still clenched. From the very start, my attacks would never have reached him.
(Kata POV – Sports Festival Stadium)
As I return to my seat, I reflect on my match. 'That was worthwhile. I showed my speed, reflexes, and defensive power. It should be enough to leave an impression on heroes with close combat battle styles.'
By the ti I arrive, the next match is already underway. It's Momo vs. Mina.
The mont Present Mic announces the start, Momo moves decisively, creating acid-proof shoes and a large shield before charging forward. Mina, quick on her feet, dodges fluidly and retaliates with a spray of acid—only for it to sizzle harmlessly against Momo’s shield.
Momo quickly realizes that a direct charge won’t work. With a sharp pivot, she subtly creates a stun gun behind her shield. Her stance changes, mimicking another aggressive push. Mina, anticipating the attack, dodges—right into the stun gun’s path. A crackling shock fills the air, and Mina collapses, unconscious.
The crowd cheers as the next match is set: Bakugo vs. Shoji.
As expected, Bakugo dominates with raw power and maneuverability, using explosions to propel himself at angles Shoji struggles to counter. But Shoji isn’t defenseless—his multiple arms allow him to block, grab, and strike from unpredictable directions. Bakugo is forced to keep his distance, knowing that one well-tid grapple could end him.
After a relentless barrage, Shoji finally falters, unable to keep up with the continuous explosions, securing Bakugo's victory.
With that, the semi-finals are set as the large screen lights up.
Okada Kata vs. Todoroki Shoto
Bakugo Katsuki vs. Yaoyorozu Momo
I rise from my seat and head toward the tunnel leading to the arena. But as I round the corner, I sense soone waiting in the shadows.
'This will be annoying.' A small frown briefly appearing on my lips.
Sure enough, Endeavor steps forward, his massive fra blocking my path.
“There you are,” he says, voice deep and commanding.
I stare at him, unimpressed. 'He really irritates ... reminds too much of my own parents.'
"Endeavor," I acknowledge coldly.
His eyes narrow slightly, displeased by my lack of deference. “Your performance has been impressive. I think you'll be a good test for my son.” His tone is condescending, with an eerie fascination that is devoid of warmth. “Push him to his limits.”
I say nothing. I don’t care about his obsession with surpassing All Might... but... I really hate how he goes about it.
Seeing my indifference, his expression hardens. “Are you listening to ?” He reaches out as if to grab my arm—
And stops mid-motion, blocked by my aura.
I tilt my head. 'He thinks he can touch ?'
"You’re not my father," I say evenly. 'And you’re really lucky you aren't.'
His scowl deepens, but I continue before he can speak. “I have no reason, nor desire, to entertain your delusions.”
I step forward, walking around him and imdiately, the flas on his body surge. "Know your place." He says slowly, an angry glare and nacing aura emanating from him.
"Or what?" I give him a dismissive look.
The surroundings begin to heat up, as his flas surge even higher. 'Is he trying to intimidate , or will he attack? I wouldn't put either past him.'
So, I'll do what any logical person would do.
The air rapidly cools as Endeavour's flas imdiately extinguish, much to his surprise.
He staggers, clutching his neck, as he breathes heavily, gasping for air.
I make no move as he continues to struggle helplessly against an invisible enemy he can't defend against. He slumps against the wall and slides down, his face turning red, as his heart works overti to pump blood to his lungs.
I watch impassively and finally speak. “Fire can’t burn without oxygen,” I remark. “And without it, everything you built your ego upon is aningless.”
A long, tense silence stretches between us. Then, I stop pushing oxygen molecules away from him.
He gasps, sucking in air as his flas flicker back to life. But he doesn’t move. He won’t. 'He’s too proud to admit being bested by a student. And even more, he'd have to explain why he was here when he shouldn't have been.'
Without another word, I turn and step onto the stadium and continue onto the arena.
Todoroki is already waiting.
(Todoroki POV – Sports Festival Stadium)
'He's finally here.'
Kata steps onto the arena, moving with the sa composed and carefree deanor. His gaze locks onto , sharp and expectant—like he's waiting for sothing.
'I don’t like it.'
I shift into my stance, analyzing every detail I can about him.
"Our first Semi-finals match. Kata Okada versus Shoto Todoroki!" Present Mic's voice booms across the stadium, igniting the crowd into cheers.
The energy is electric. The stakes are clear. But despite all of it… sothing about him unsettles .
"Give it your best, Class President," I say neutrally.
He doesn’t respond imdiately like he does with others. Instead, he actually takes a mont to consider my words. Then, he speaks. His voice is calm, yet firm.
"Everyone asks to do that. And I always tell them I will."
I narrow my eyes, sensing an exception coming.
"But I can't agree this ti."
"Why?" I demand, my voice colder than before.
His reply cuts through .
"Because they give their best. Yet you're still holding out on ."
The words hit harder than I expect. I clench my fists. 'I’ll prove him wrong. I don't need my fire to win.'
"I won't give my best," Kata continues, his tone devoid of mockery. "But I'll let you know that you'll never succeed against if you half-ass everything."
It's not a taunt. It’s a declaration of a fact. One he truly believes.
Anger surges through . "You'll regret underestimating ," I say icily.
He rely shakes his head, and to my continued irritation, I catch a flicker of disappointnt in his expression.
The match begins.
"START!"
I waste no ti. A wave of ice surges forward, spikes racing toward him. ‘He’ll destroy them, then I’ll close the distance—’
But then—
A deep, unnatural chill spreads through the arena.
My ice spikes don’t just break—they shatter. A biting, bone-deep frost creeps into the air. The once-roaring crowd feels muted, their cheers distant and hazy.
My lungs burn with every inhale and my breath fogs with each exhale.
"I won’t fight you," Kata's voice carries through the cold like a winter storm. "So I’ll give you a choice."
I grit my teeth, already knowing what he wants.
"I’ll keep decreasing the temperature. We're already below zero. Either use your fire and give a fight, or keep using only your ice—" He pauses, voice emotionless. "—and pass out from hypothermia."
A shiver I can’t control wracks my body.
‘Fight with fire, or surrender to the cold…’ That's what he an.
I don't have the ti to wonder how he's controlling the temperature, as warmth seeps from my body.
"No… I can still win!" I growl, forcing my legs to move.
My breath cos in sharp gasps, fogging the air. I launch another barrage of ice, but Kata dismantles them without effort. I rush him—only to be pushed back effortlessly.
He's proving his point. This isn't a fight. It never was. Anger grips . Not because of him, but because I'm weak. Unable to force him to even take seriously.
The temperature drops further. My limbs feel sluggish. I stop shivering—a dangerous sign of hypothermia. Proof that my body has given up fighting the cold. ‘No, I can’t lose like th—’
"You said you wanted to be a hero?" Kata's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "What kind of hero will stubbornly refuse to use all his power while people are dying?"
The words burrow into my mind, deeper than the cold itself.
"Why do you want to be a hero?" He demands.
I try to answer—but my voice fails .
'Why…?'
I don’t even realize I’ve fallen to my knees until I feel the rough texture of the arena floor against my palms. My eyelids grow heavy, my body desperate for warmth, as it compels to rest. A short nap and my struggle will end…
'No… If I close my eyes now, it's over…'
"Was it to prove Endeavour wrong? That you don't need him to be the best?" His voice remains the sa, but I feel insulted.
"Then, you were never aiming to be a hero." Kata finishes, as my vision entirely fades.
Then, it hits .
A mory, buried beneath years of resentnt.
When I was a child, sitting on my mother's lap and smiling, All Might spoke during an interview.
"Quirks are passed down from our parents… but that’s not all that matters. We shape ourselves. We decide who we beco. That's what I an when I say it. When I say, 'I AM HERE!'"
I had forgotten.
I decide.
I decide who I want to beco. What kind of hero I want to be.
Not my father. Not my past.
'Was this… what Kata was trying to make realize?'
He could’ve just finished the fight, but instead, he chose to break my resolve. To break the shackles binding to my past.
A bitter laugh nearly escapes .
'I see now…'
'Thank you… Class President.'
(Kata POV – Sports Festival Stadium)
I watch as Todoroki collapses to the floor, frost crawling over his skin. His breath cos in weak gasps, eyes unfocused.
'Hmm... Maybe I overestimated myself.'
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. 'I'm not Izuku. I can't heal people's trauma with my bullshit.'
Midnight catches my eye, already raising her hand to call the match.
'Yeah, it's over.'
But then—
A spark.
A flicker of light, small but growing.
Fire erupts from Todoroki's body, roaring to life as it pushes back the cold. The frost coating his skin lts away, steam rising in the air. His breaths deepen, his body steadying.
I narrow my eyes as he slowly gets to his feet.
His eyes, once clouded, now burn with an intensity I haven’t seen before.
"It’s... not over yet!" he shouts, his voice raw but firm. "I... I want to be a hero too!" His fists clench. "And I won’t hold back anymore!"
I
exhale through my nose, watching him carefully.
A small smile tugs at my lips. "Will you do your best?" I ask, this ti with real curiosity.
Todoroki ets my gaze, eyes unwavering. He gives a slow, deliberate nod. "I will."
His flas burn hotter. His ice sharpens.
I nod back. "Then I'll give you my best too."
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